For two weeks we don't talk. I don't acknowledge him and he doesn't acknowledge me. It seems as though he goes out of his way to make sure he doesn't see me in the hallway. And all along I wish I could say this didn't bother me. I wish I could say I didn't give a crap if he greeted me or came outside to eat lunch with me like he used to, but I can't. My feelings are so conflicted. I'm furious with him, but it doesn't stop a little piece of me from hoping he'll make eye contact with me when we pass in the hallway by some unavoidable coincidence.
I've never understood how girls can get hurt by a guy and still want him to want her, but I slowly see myself coming to a situation similar to that. If he treated me like crap then why do I want him in my life? What makes me think he won't betray my trust again? I hate this feeling that I have gotten weaker since the very first day Patrick walked into my life. He didn't even apologize; he didn't show any semblance of regret. It was as if he thought he was right to do what he did with that girl. Maybe it isn't that I am mad at him for what he did, but more that I can't stand for him to think he was right.
I'm walking to my car, lost in thoughts of how I'll spend my Friday night, when I am blocked by a familiar leather jacket. I raise an eyebrow, and glance beyond him at my car, implying that I want to be inside said car driving home instead of standing anywhere near him.
"Hey."
"Hey," I say with mock cheer.
"Been quiet lately," he states. I nod and shrug a little bit.
"Yeah," I reply, "it must be because every time I look at you I get this fierce desire to be lonesome."
I start to step around him but he expects the movement and steps in my path, putting my body less than an inch away from his, "And why's that?" he asks.
"You know why."
"Do I?"
"I'm sorry, did I overestimate your intelligence a little bit there?"
"Of course, that must be it since you're so much smarter than I am."
"Obviously so, since I am not the one who doesn't understand the concept of loyalty."
"At least I understand how to let things go."
"I've noticed," I reply. "You didn't have a problem letting me go."
This time I successfully make my way around him and get to my car. I open to the door, get in, and start the car. I see Patrick round my car in my rearview mirror and before I can hit the locks, the passenger side door opens and he slides inside.
"I don't like this," he says.
"I don't like you."
"I don't believe that and neither do you."
"Don't tell me what I believe," I say firmly. "Get out of my car."
He's quiet for a moment and I can tell that he is thinking, but not about getting out of my car, "I thought if I gave you time to cool off you might be easier to talk to."
"This is me being easier to talk to. I'm not shoving you out of my car, am I?" I say, "But that might change any second now," I mutter.
"I'm sorry."
The words sound odd coming from someone who is so unapologetic about everything else in his life, but I know he means what he is saying. If he waited three weeks thinking that he might get away without saying them only to crawl back and apologize when he really thought he was losing me, then they must be sincere--he must be sincere.
I stare at him, searching for some hint of insincerity to get me out of having to give in to the apology. My heart is telling me that I should forgive him, but my head is telling me to stay strong and refuse to give in to this apology; he had one chance and he blew it. Why should I believe he won't do it again? Why should I trust him and risk the betrayal?
Because it's all part of it. Because we're curious cats. We creep where we don't belong and find out what we already knew. I know I'll probably get hurt if I get back into this relationship, but the curiosity inside me begs me to go ahead and do it just to make sure; just to see how things will actually go so that I don't have to ask 'what if?' later on. "Did you take her to the beach, too?" I ask quietly, wanting to get the thought off of my mind before we make up and stop speaking about the situation.
"No," he answers, "You're the only one."
I can tell he isn't just talking about the beach now and I offer a little bit of a smile as I nod.
"I…have to get home," I put the key in the ignition. He nods.
The best part about Patrick Verona's kissing is that even when expected it still manages to surprise me. How he manages to do that might always remain a mystery to me.
"See you tonight," he says as he opens the door and gets out. I start the car and watch as he gets on his bike and rides away.