i'd like to dedicate this chapter to Hope (the guest) who requested i continued! thanks Hope!

"Patrick!" I yelped quietly, as to not alert Spongebob.

He did not listen to my small outburst, he only scanned his bright blue eyes over the lilac dress I had worn.

I wanted so badly to ask what this was all about, but I knew that too much noise would alert Spongebob and I'd be the closest thing to dead. Instead of talking, I placed my hand on his chest and gently tried pushed him back to no avail.

"Your husband is downstairs!" I whispered forcefully.

He stayed quiet as he looked down at my shoes. In the blink of an eye, his lips captured the sensitive nape of my neck and I pursed my lips together into a fine line in order not to let a sound slip past them.

What was I to do? I knew this was terribly wrong, but wasn't this what I was asking for? Wasn't this what I had wanted all along?

"Patrick, what is taking so long?" Spongebob called from his seat at the table. Patrick halted abruptly and stepped back, staring deep into my eyes. I broke eye-contact after what felt like an eternity, but was actually mere seconds, and he stalked off, back in the directed of the seats in which he came.

I looked down at my own hands in pure shock. Had that really just happened? I shook my head and entered the bathroom.

I inspected my neck in the mirror and found a mark on the delicate skin of my neck and I swore under my breath. How was I to cover this up? Why did Patrick have to do this? I groaned in contempt and swept my hair over my shoulder to cover the crimson mark. I inspected my appearance in the mirror before I slowly walked back to the table. I sat down in my seat, enduring the unwelcoming silence and burning stares of the couple.

"You have a… beautiful house." I said lowly, in order to interrupt the silence, otherwise dampened by the organic sounds that filled the room.

"It's not a house. It's a pineapple." Spongebob said, sourly. I clenched my teeth.

"My mistake. Pardon me. You have a beautiful pineapple." I said, obnoxiously emphasising the last word. He mumbled a thank-you and the room returned to its familiar, silent state.

After a few moments, Spongebob spoke up again.

"I've come to notice a little… mark on you." He said, his voice tinged with suspicion.

My eyes widened and I clamped my hand over my neck.

"W-What?" I asked. My eyes nervously flitted over to Patrick, who kept his eyes down on his plate.

"Aha! I never said where the mark was, so you obviously knew about it." Spongebob, said, squinting.

"Yeah, while I was doing my hair the iron burned me." I lied. Spongebob squinted at me and Patrick finally looked up at me, giving me a slightly knowing look. I looked away from him and down at my food, just like he had done to me.

"Clumsy, isn't she?" Spongebob mumbled to Patrick. Patrick said nothing, but he nodded. Something inside of me felt almost betrayed. He was the one who did this to me and he decided to agree with Spongebob? I took the napkin that was neatly folded on the table and dabbed the corner of my mouth clean and stood up.

"I'd better be getting home." I said coldly. I pushed my chair and walked straight out of Spongebob's house.

How could Patrick do that to me? Who did Spongebob think he was? I huffed and kept walking towards my home, upset.

"Trisha," somebody called. I kept walked until they called once more and I turned around sharply. Patrick was standing in front of Spongebob's home, his hand grasping something.