Hey! How're you all? :) Thank you so much for the amazing response to the last chapter; all the alerts, reviews, everything! THANKS GUYS! I really appreciate it :) xx Love you all!
Sorry for the late upload- way too much homework to even think about writing, sadly.. :( Sorry!
I hope you all like this anyway, and please leave a review! :) xxx THANKS!
Patch's Point of View
"Nora," the feminine voice gasped. "I swear to God, I'm going to kill you."
Fighting the smirk from my face, I dodged Nora's lethargic gaze and shovelled a mushy pancake between my lips.
She let a sigh slide her teeth. "Vee," she said complacently. "I'm sorry for not calling you but-"
Barrelling through the phone line at alarming decibels, Vee growled and Nora paused mid-breath to flinch. "But? But? Don't give me a but, Nora," Vee snapped crankily. I could imagine steam puffing from her ears. Badly muffling my laughter, Nora spared me a puzzled glance before gingerly bringing the phone back to her ear again. "I'm really sorry, Vee," she repented quietly.
"I thought you were dead!" Vee groused in a shrill tone.
"Yeah, I know-"
Vee's laughter was bitter. "Yeah, you know? Yeah, you know? Nora, I was this close to calling the police! This close! I was calling you all yesterday, and last night, and this morning, and now it's, what, noon and you call me now?"
Nora's expression was tired as she ran a hand through her hair. "Vee, listen, I really am sorry," she insisted, a guilty glint dancing in her voice. "But me and Patch just kinda left.. And I forgot to call."
"Nora, I-"
Now sick of hearing Vee's grumbling and muttering for the past ten minutes, I pried Nora's fingers from the phone and ignored her wide eyed expression. "Vee," I said calmly into the speaker. Nora blanched and lurched for the phone, but I held a finger in the air at her protesting squeals. "Nora's sorry. She made a mistake. She can make up for it later. We're going now. Goodbye."
"Patch! I-" The shrieking was finally cut short with a quick snap of the wrist.
Though painting her face with a feigned put, Nora's eyes filled with relief tinged with amusement. "Well, that's another thing I'm going to have to make up for," she said thoughtfully, shrugging a shoulder.
"Seems like you have a lot of making up to do," I commented casually, cocking an eyebrow at her. Nora agreed wholeheartedly with a grizzly growl and a roll of her pale eyes. Folding her arms onto the countertop, she rested her chin on top. "No doubt my Mom will call next," she grumbled, flickering her gaze to mine just in time to catch my toothy grin.
Her phone buzzed abruptly, and the caller ID lit up. For a beat, we both stared incredulously at it.
"Are you serious?"
"Seems like you're also psychic, Angel."
Nora's Point of View
With a wicked, secret smile, I held our destination silent while Patch continued to pick away at my unwavering self control.
"I'm not going if it has anything to do with fish," he said sceptically.
With a moan, "If you're seriously thinking of dragging me to an opera house, Angel, let's just put an end to that now."
"A zoo? Spare me, please," he muttered, bitterly grimacing at the thought.
This time with enlarged, slightly worried smoky eyes, "Have I ever told you how much I hate shopping, Angel?"
"Stop asking," I chuckled, smiling sweetly at his narrowed stare. "You'll find out when we get there." Lacing my fingers through his, I tugged him from the hotel room/apartment/huge-thing.
Gripping Patch's hand tightly, I pulled him down into the seat next to me. "You're causing a scene," I said disapprovingly, though a smile was evident in my murmur. The twenty -give or take a few- people in the room were blinking at us with baffled expressions and fish gape mouths.
"You.. you.." Patch sank into the chair next to me, and I crossed my legs beneath the table. Nodding at a few of the staring humans politely, I flashed them a friendly smile.
"You.. Angel, you didn't."
I slid my eyes back to Patch. His expression was just too funny. It was like someone had gotten a cold bucket and splashed him with a hard, horrified and appalled expression. "You okay, Patch?" I asked, eyeing the middle aged woman who strolled through the door, laden down with equipment.
Patch took a deep breath. "You brought me to school?" he wondered, strangely sounding like he was wounded. You'd think I had dragged him to an Army Base to run a million laps or something! No, he probably would've enjoyed that- boys are weird.
"Not school," I chirped. "A cooking class."
Still resembling a cowering puppy dog -an unfamiliar face for Patch-, his eyes flickered to mine briefly, before bouncing away to nervously land on the woman at the top of the room, who was now introducing herself and explaining that we were going to be making chocolate cake.
Slinking back into his chair while I grinned and sat straighter, Patch shot me a hard look. "Kill me now.." he uttered. I had to laugh.
I leaned against the plastic-like, white desk, peeking at the recipe in my hands. "What's the difference between baking soda and baking powder?" I mumbled hypothetically, after scraping my hair into some form of a curly ponytail and tying the bright orange apron around my waist.
Patch, still comfortably seated, let his head fall back and roll to the side. It looked like he was working out the kinks, and I arched an eyebrow at him. "I don't know," he responded sourly.
Impishly smirking, I thrust the second apron in his face. "The rose will compliment your eyes," I cajoled, albeit it was dumb, I lacked something better to say. To say the least, the flash of mortification in his eyes was completely worth anything he'd put me through later.
"Hello, kids," the teacher said happily, smiling amusedly between the two of us as I straightened out from my doubled over position, laughing.
"Hi!" I smiled, puffing out my cheeks.
Patch grumbled, snapping his arms across his chest hastily.
"Are you two getting on okay?" she asked, bending over the table to run her fingers along some of the ingredients. She counted silently to herself, taking account of each of the ingredients before motioning to me to sit. "Yeah, we're fine," I answered, sliding onto my stool.
"Good," she said brightly. "Well, here, young man, you can start. And you, miss, can get the eggs ready." The woman snatched the large, metal bowl from beside me and planted it in front of Patch, who stared with dumbfounded eyes back at her.
"I'm meant to.. what?" he ground out, gluing me to the spot with a stop-laughing look.
Seemingly unfazed of his bluntness, the woman merely smiled patiently. I bit my lip, swallowing back a giggle. She grabbed a little plate of butter and a bowl of sugar. "Since your friend already measured everything so helpfully-" here, she rewarded me with a praising wink and I blushed, "-all you need to do is mix them both. So, take the spoon and the world's your playground."
Facing me, "You know what to do?" she inquired. I nodded eagerly and set to my task: beating the eggs and mixing it with the milk.
"The world's your playground," Patch repreated mockingly once she had flitted away. Chuckling, I admitted that that had been kind of ridiculous.
I pretended not to notice the small smirk that came to his face when he glanced at me through the corner of his eye.
"Patch, for God's sake, just mix it."
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't want to make a cake. That's why we have shops."
Rolling my eyes, I gave him my back to ogle and proceeded to mix the ingredients which were his to manage. So sue me, I brought my boyfriend to a cooking class. It was either that, or see a ballet in the opera house, which I really didn't want to, (ballet is beautiful, but just not so beautiful when you're on a road trip with your boyfriend), or stay in the hotel and waste the day away.
I'd always wanted to do one of these classes anyway- they looked enjoyable in movies. And it was really just too entertaining to see Patch, clad in black on black, slumped in the middle of the bright, washy room with a sour expression. I hid the smirk that slipped onto my face
"All okay?" the teacher all but sang, pausing by our desk. She ran her eyes over Patch's position, typing grumpily into a phone, before shooting me a look, equipped with a knowing spark.
Scooting to his side, I nudged him in the arm. "All's good," I responded happily. His head moved. "What?" he mumbled, looking up at me.
"I said, all's good." My smile was steely.
The teacher cocked an eyebrow.
Unfreezing a little, Patch thankfully muttered, "Yeah, good," before ducking his head to his phone again. The teacher let a breezy laugh leave her lips before skipping on.
I sighed, resisting the urge to grind my teeth. "You could at least pretend to want to be here," I groused beneath my breath.
Patch cocked his head to the left and conveyed a deadpan look through his dark eyes. Speaking quietly, he ran a hand through his hair before pointing out that he didn't.
"Don't be a bore."
"I'm not being a bore-"
"Oh my-"
A shout from the top of the room injected us both with silence. The teacher, strangely wearing a deep frown and crinkled forehead, jabbed an accusing finger our way. Patch's eyes flickered to mine and we exchanged rattled glances. She cleared her throat. "Please, children," she drawled with a condescending hint. "Refrain from the flirting while you're here. You're disturbing the others."
Heat flooded my cheeks. One, we were not that loud.. right? And two, I was so not flirting-
"Don't try to tell me that you weren't." She was at our desk now, and the stares of multiple other participants of the class were gradually drifting away from my red stained face.
"Sorry."
With eyes saying I'm watching you, she narrowed her gaze and walked away.
I turned to Patch. He met my stare and a wide, melting smile cracked across his face. Raising an eyebrow, I studied his expression. "Does this mean you're going to help me now?" I wondered, a hopeful smirk crawling up my throat to my lips.
And just like that, his smile withered and was sucked away. "No," he said, pressing his lips into a hard line. He twisted away and began drumming his fingers in a fixed pattern on the desk. Glaring daggers, I huffed and went right back to where I was before; mixing gooey eggs and milk. It lapped over the edges of the jug and coated my fingers in a flimsy, sticky skin.
Three minutes later, I needed the flour. Sadly, it was on the other side of Patch.
"Can you pass me the flour?" I asked over my shoulder, rather snappily. I stuck my hand out backwards, and after a second or so of this, I spun around. "Did you hear me? I asked if-" My flailing hand collided with the chubby back of fluffy powder in Patch's hand and the whole thing fell to the floor. It was a big, fat bag of flour. There was an explosion of minute white flecks, and they dotted our hair and clothes.
Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, my eyes bounced around the room sheepishly. Sure enough, the teacher was pinning me to the spot with hard eyes.
Patch laughed, low and velvety.
"What are you laughing at?" I hissed, tugging my gaze from the teacher's and glancing reproachfully at him. "We just destroyed the place! And the teacher wants to kill us!"
He laughed again. His eyes lit up with amusement.
"Whatever," I growled, shaking flour particles from my hair in vain. "Let's just get this done." Maybe wasting the day would've been better than a cookery class..
"I'll help."
Eyes widening, I forgot my regrets and gaped at him. "You'll what?" He smirked, jerking his chin towards the irritated teacher. "We'll get it done and get away from her faster," he answered.
Feeling a grin tilt my lips, I nodded eagerly. My bad mood was dissolved. "Good idea," I praised in a chirpy voice. "You can finish.. -or start- mixing this." Kicking the pile of flour out of my way with the toe of my shoe, I gripped the large mixing bowl in my arms and held it outstretched to Patch.
"Just mix it?" he responded, smiling weakly at me as he eyed the lumpy dough inside the bowl with unease. Again, I bobbed my head and jiggled the bowl. "Yeah, take it." He reached for it, and satisfied that he had a hold, I let go.
It tumbled to the floor, scraping by the edge of the table. The messy, blobby mixture ended up in various places; some on the table, a lot on the floor and our shoes, the bowl then turned on its side and rolled like a running coin into the middle of the room, dragging flour with it, and emptied its contents there.
I froze. Patch's eyes were locked on his shoes, and slowly, he dragged his gaze to meet mine. I flinched at the laughter I saw there. He shouldn't be laughing!
The teacher's hollow footsteps boomed as she stormed towards us. Everyone in the room was focused on her; on her fuming expression. Cringing, I unconsciously shuffled partially behind Patch as she slammed her palms onto our desk.
"What," she spat bitterly, "Do you think you two are doing?"
"Um, I.. we- uh-" I spluttered, wincing under her baleful, scrunched face. "You what?" she snapped, planting her hands on her hips.
"It fell," Patch mumbled, completely unabashed in regards to her anger as he cocked an eyebrow. "It fell?" she snarled, gesticulating madly at the dough all over the table, splattered along the legs of my pants and floor. A sharp gasp came from her when she spotted more of it in the middle of the room.
"Shoot me," I muttered, wiggling my ankle to shake off a wad of dough on my shoe. Patch chuckled beneath his breath and crossed his arms loosely over his chest.
I'll admit I did feel sorry for the teacher- it really looked like we were two delinquents set on ruining her class, so when she turned to me with a fiery red face, I repressed my natural instinct to hide. "Um, do you need help?" I squeaked, lamely pointing to the cloth on the table.
"No," she barked, rolling her sleeves up into balls. "I want you both to leave."
I felt Patch's grin fill in the room. Yes, felt it. He was that euphoric that we were getting a ticket out of here.
"Don't have to tell me twice," he whistled, inclining his head to her in a weird nod before snatching my hand. "Let's roll, Angel." Roll? Seriously?
Yanking my hand from his, I ignored his impatient glance and sent the teacher a sympathetic, obedient smile. "Let me at least help," I insisted, scrambling for the cloth. My ears rang at her outraged squeal. Fingers finding the sodden fabric, I pulled. As luck would have it, the cloth was stuck under the glass jar filled with beaten milk and eggs, and as I tugged, it plopped to the ground and shattered. The debris -thankfully just liquid, no glass - bounced up from the floor so high that it matted parts of my hair.
A vein in the teacher's forehead throbbed, her face flushed with angry colour, and she stamped her foot forcefully. "Out!" she shouted. I swear the glass in the windows shook. Jumping in fright, I grabbed Patch's hand, effectively covering it in goo.
"I'm so, so sorry," I gushed to the teacher, slipping on the flour, eggs, milk, and dough colouring the floor as he pulled me towards the door where all of the class' belongings were. "Thank you."
"I don't care!" the teacher boomed, resembling a ticking bomb about to go off. "Get out!"
Patch nudged open the door and I spilled inside, hastily leafing through the thick mound of coats, bags and sacks which belonged to each of the cookery students. Once I found purchase on mine, I turned to Patch.
"Ready, Angel?" he asked happily, shrugging into his black jacket. I nodded and he beamed. I couldn't help the smile I felt slip onto my face.
"Ready," I replied, a chuckle hidden in my voice as I reached to the coat hanger where my bag was swinging. I pulled it over the rung. One of the other rungs was stuck under a pile of plastic dishes, which were on a shelf behind the coat hanger. And, you know, just to add the embarrassment of the whole day, when I pulled my bag, the coat hanger wobbled, and sent all eleven dishes soaring to the floor.
Clatter. Boom. Smash.
"Get OUT!"
Patch's laugh was maniacal as I ran from the room, fiddling with the door handle of the front door before tearing outside. He trailed behind, waving innocently at the teacher before closing the door.
"That was," I gasped, bending and bracing my hands on my knees when I reached the Jeep, "Awful."
Overlooking my ashamed face, Patch pulled me into him and wrapped his arms fully around me. His chest shook with laughter. "I don't even regret you bringing me here," he chuckled into my hair. "That was too funny."
I pulled back, and scowling, sent him a glare. "That wasn't funny," I protested. Eyes falling on the building behind, my cheeks flamed with colour again and I hid my head in his chest. "So embarrassed," I muttered shamefully, sucking in a breath as he ran his hands along my back.
"Nah," Patch said. "That was the best entertainment. You know how many things you knocked over?" He tightened his arms.
"Don't remind me!"
Patch laughed loudly again, and the sultry sound reverberated through me. "I love you, Angel," he said with a grin, and kissed my hair.
Half an hour later, we were finally away from the stupid cookery class building, and parked by the side of a semi-busy road. Patch was leaning against the bonnet of his beloved Jeep, and I was sitting on a wall beside it, eating ice cream from a small, foam tub.
"It's like you've never been fed or something," Patch commented lightly, pointedly looking at how I was shovelling the vanilla between my lips with a crazy smile.
"What? I'm hungry."
"No, really? Never would've guessed," he joked.
"Then you're missing some brain cells or something," I replied, shrugging a shoulder as I scraped the remnants from the bottom of the tub and spooned it into my mouth. He hung his head and scratched the back of it absentmindedly. When he snapped it back up, his signature smirk graced his face. Something in my stomach twisted.
Hopping off the wall, I planned to brush past him and climb into the car. I wanted to go back to the hotel- I was still suffocating in cake mixture and I yearned for the hot water of a shower.
Patch caught my elbow and gently pulled me backwards a step. "You still have flour in your hair," he smirked, stretching up to a curl by my cheek.
"Oh," I said, frozen by the way he was looking at me. His black eyes sent tingles up and down my spine and warmed my face.
He leaned forward, his cool hands on my face. "Let's go," he whispered softly, leaving a long, lingering kiss on my lips before winking and clambering into the car. A jolt of desire trickled through me, and my body felt cold with his absence.
To my right, glued haphazardly to a telephone pole, was a colourful picture of a carnival-circus event. Squinting, I ran my eyes over the details printed on the glossy paper. "Patch!" I called out, turning to look at him through the front window. He cocked his head to the side in question. "It's a carnival!" I announced, a wicked smile taking hold of my expression.
Grimacing, he shook his head defiantly.
"Oh, yeah," I said to myself, dragging my feet around to the passenger side. "We are definitely going."
So, what'd you think? XD Leave me a review please! :) xx
On another note, if any of you have/will/do read my other story, Annabelle, then I've decided it's going on hold. I'll upload my new one pretty soon! :) (Yes, I have way too many stories! XD) So have a look at them if you want! :)
THANKS GUYS! See you soon! xx
