I sit in the back of the van, the curtains closed, silence enshrouding Patrick and I. My eyes wander around the makeshift bedroom. Why did he go to all this trouble? I'm so confused. The last ten minutes replay in my head. Over and over. My heart squeezes in my chest. Patrick's eyes when I told him to take me home haunt me. Why did he look so hurt? Why do I care? The car comes to a slow halt, but even so, I jolt due to the lack of a seatbelt. I push open the door and stumble out. I think I'm going to lose it. I slam the door shut and bolt up the driveway.

"Kat." Despite my resentment towards him, I stop short. I refuse to turn, though. He isn't standing for that. He takes my wrist, his rough finger pads touching my bare skin, making me tremble slightly. God, I'm a mess. Patrick turns me around. His hard gaze scares me, but most of all, it hurts me. Was that girlfriend comment all a part of his scheme? I should've known. What the hell is his problem?

"What?" I ask through clenched teeth. He shoves a paper in my hand, and releases me. I watch his tall, built frame return to the van. I run inside the house and slam the door shut. Bianca gives me a smile and mutters something I can't comprehend momentarily. She's busy trying to scrape a burnt piece of meat off one of the cooking sheets. I bolt upstairs and head for the bathroom. I stare into the mirror. A scared, ignorant, and confused girl is looking back. I can hear Bianca ascending the stairs. I turned away from her when she enters and pull my hair into a bun. She makes light conversation. Something about Joey leaving and then she asks about Patrick.

"We had a huge fight. I think it's over." There's no way I can look anybody in the eye while saying that. I'm not ready to come to terms with that fact. I don't want it to be over. No, wait. I do. He's a jackass. Right? I storm out of the bathroom after muttering "I'm fine," and slam the door to my room shut. I throw the piece of paper on my bed and shed my clothes, save the underwear. I stand in front of my full-length mirror, looking myself up and down. Why did I prepare so diligently for this night? Why did I get all dolled up for him? I take off the matching lingerie and pull on a large tee and sweatpants.

I take a seat on my bed and eye the paper suspiciously. I glare at it. What the hell was it? I reach a hand out towards the paper. No. I stop myself. No. I don't want to know what it is. Yes, I do. No. No, I don't. After all, curiosity did kill the cat.

Seconds pass and I continue to stare at the paper. Continue to scrutinize it.

Fuck it.

I grab the crumpled paper and fold it out.

It's the survey. Almost instantaneously, my eyes fly to the question that will kill me.

How many sexual partners have you had in the last five years? Zero.

My jaw drops. There, in his perfect scribble, is the one number I never thought I'd see. Zero? You have got to be shitting me! Is Patrick a virgin? Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. What did I do? Shit he must think I'm such a bitch! I can't believe I said that stuff to him.

I want to smack myself upside the head for being so stupid. Of course, there is always the one part of me that considers his intentions to still be impure. What do I say to him on Monday? Although, that all depends on whether or not he still wants to talk to me.

Sunday has to have been one of the longest days of my life. Mandella and I go see this new documentary that opened up a week ago. The new Michael Moore. Seeing as Mandella isn't particularly fond of Patrick, I don't bring up what happened Saturday night.

Finally, Monday arrives. I find my leather jacket clad ex wandering the halls aimlessly during lunch.

"Patrick. Patrick!" I call after him. He gives an exasperated sigh and turns around. I stop a few feet from him. Now that I've caught him, what am I going to say? My mouth opens and closes a few times, no sounds coming out. He arches a dark, bushy eyebrow.

"I - We need to talk. About stuff. About Saturday." He remains stoic. God, this man pisses me off. "Please. And I'd prefer we talk in private."

"Okay."

Okay? That's all?

"Okay," I reply, nodding my head. Patrick walks away before I can say goodbye.

I stare at my phone. I said we needed to talk, so why am I not talking? Then, I hear a tap on my window. My heart jumps as I run to the window. Patrick is there, but rather than having his usual self-assured smirk, he looks kinda like a lost child. I open the window and let him inside. Even though he's mad at me, I'm still thrilled that he's come to see me.

"What did you want to talk about?" Rather than making himself comfortable like he usually does, he just stands there and stares at me.

"I'm sorry about the things I said. I was rash." I try to scan his eyes for something that isn't there. "I was just a little alarmed about what you said," I pause for a breather, "Okay, I was really alarmed. It's just, I've been fooled by men before and I thought you were different, and when you said that, I just felt so stupid for believing you. You should know this by now, but I don't want to be labeled as a sex object. Yes, I wanted to have sex with you and maybe I still do, but I'm not entirely sure."

Patrick shakes his head and a small smile spreads over his lips.

"You know I'm not good with words. That wasn't what I intended to say. I'm better at expressing myself through my actions. I didn't tell Blank to stay away from you just to get into your pants." I smile, but then he adds, "I could've done that without threatening him in front of you."

I slap his chest and scowl. His hand closes over mine, keeping it against his heart.

"I'm sorry I can't speak well. And I'm sorry you got the wrong idea. We haven't been running a brothel in the van."

I nod. I hate that I keep doubting him. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, but it's cut short when Patrick's lips attack mine. The kiss is raw and passionate. A kiss that conveys all the emotions he's unable to talk about. Instinctively, my fingers tangle in his brown curls. I push against him, desperate to feel that warmth I'd always felt when with him.

We pull away for air and I can't help but smile at how our make-ups always end up like this.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug. He smiles and leans down to kiss me. We stumble over to my bed. Gently, he lays me down, his body looming over mine. The passion of our kisses escalates and soon I find myself throwing his shirt to the ground. I run my fingers along his chest, his lips moving down my neck in an erratic trail. His hands move beneath my shirt, pushing it up.

"Wait. Wait," I'm out of breath and completely frazzled. Patrick releases me and looks down at me, his expression completely puzzled. "I told you that when we do have sex, it'll be nowhere near my father, and he is right down the hall."

He sighs and gets off me. I feel bad, but this isn't exactly the time or place I had imagined us having our first sexual experience together. He pulls his shirt on and sits next to me. I lean my head against his shoulder, my body and mind slowly coming down from the high Patrick gives me.

"Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"Are - Are you a virgin?"

"What?" He sounds offended. "No. Where'd you get that idea from?"

"Well, you answered zero for that question on the survey."

"Yeah, because I haven't had sex since I was thirteen. After I lost it, I just didn't feel like trying it again until I was in a serious relationship."

"I feel like such a dumb ass," I mumble into his shoulder. Patrick strokes my hair.

"It's okay. You're my dumb ass."

I smack his chest, a habit that seemed to be forming quickly.

"So, when do you want to try again?" I ask.

"Friday night work for you?"

I smile and place a chaste kiss on his lips as approval.

I freakin' love this show! This is what I thought should've happened at the end of episode eighteen. Sadly, though, it didn't. I know, I know, it's super short. I didn't really spend too much time on this. Just wanted to squeeze out a quickie before bedtime (wow, that sounds so dirty!)