I think I'm psychic, because I was already in the process of writing this chapter about jealous Patrick when someone commented and suggested it. Great minds think alike I suppose. Thank you to everyone that commented. It definitely helped give me the motivation to write a great chapter, so please keep them coming. It feels great to hear everyone say how much they enjoy this story because I enjoy writing it for you guys.
I slam my car door shut and saunter toward my house, which I am particularly happy to see on this dreary, rainy Monday. I'll be even happier to see my loving bed, but I stop short as my gaze lands on a recognizable and unwanted face staring up at me from the front porch step.
"What are you doing here?" I demand, sounding more panicked than I intend. How did he find me? What could he possibly want with me? Why do I even care at all that he is here? He comes to the standing position and takes a step toward me. The gray eyes and the auburn hair have remained the same since I last saw him, but I don't have the same weak-in-the-knees feeling that I always used to get when he looked at me.
"I have family that lives about two hours from here," he explains. I shed the shock that had washed over me and gather myself enough to respond with something intelligible.
"So why aren't you two hours away from here?" I snap. Something is different about him, but I can't quite figure out what it is.
"Because I wanted to see you."
"Really?" I smile a little bit as if I am amused by this statement, "You weren't too thrilled to see me the twenty times I tried to talk to you after we got drunk and slept together, though, Evan." I study his face as he conjures a lame reply. Now I know what has changed; The overwhelming confidence that he used to speak to me with is now gone. He isn't smooth-talking me or trying to charm his way to my heart. I like the change, because I am finally getting my chance to treat him like trash like he did to me.
He inhales sharply, becoming increasingly frustrated, "Can you please--I came all the way here. Can you please just give me five minutes?" he exhales. I'm about to refuse when I recall something Patrick said to me. You're like a brick wall. You make up your mind and that's that. This seemed to have been one of few qualities in me that Patrick has ever blatantly displayed distaste for. I decide to change that, not because I care what qualities Patrick dislikes in me, but because I know he's be honest with me about my negative qualities and improvement has been my game lately. I reluctantly turn back to Evan, contemplating giving him a chance to speak to me. Seeing this, he speaks again, "I'll make it quick."
I check in the kitchen quickly to make sure we can get through the living room without being seen by Bianca, and then we head up to my bedroom. My dad will be home soon, but surely I can just sneak him out the window.
"Close the door behind you," I say as I enter my bedroom. I drop my backpack down beside my bed, waiting for him to start speaking so I can start counting down the five minutes before I get the pleasure of kicking him out.
"How are you?" He inquires nervously. He takes a quick but perceptive look around my room and then turns back to me, waiting for an answer.
"Great," I reply with a mocking smile even though for the most part it is true, "You?"
"I'm okay," he replies, "How's California?"
"Are you really wasting your five minutes asking me a bunch of pointless questions?"
"Look," he begins timidly, "I made a bet with Kyle that night that I could…have a better night than him. I won the bet, and afterward I just--"
"Lost interest? The game was too easy for you after that point, right?"
To my surprise, he nods, not only confirming, but agreeing that he was a huge jackass that night, almost as if he has developed a conscience. "I'm sorry."
I look back on our situation. A week after we went to Taco Bell on our first date, he asked me to come to this party with him. In fact, he practically begged me, so I felt obligated. I thought it was sweet that he wanted to spend time with me so badly, when in reality it was all just a scheme; he brought me to that party for the sole purpose of winning that bet. I look at the passing weekend, wondering if maybe Patrick had done the same thing, just to win the bet with the part of himself that said he would never be able to have me. Just to prove that no girl was too big of a challenge. I hate the thought of having been fooled in the same way twice, so I push it out of my mind. I am about to open my mouth and release a bitchy response, when I am stopped.
There's a knock on the shaded window across the room and I feel my heart nearly leap out of my chest. I panic. I can't get Evan out of the house without Patrick seeing, and I certainly don't want to risk running into my dad on the way out, so I turn to my closet and open it with such force that I'm pretty sure it almost comes off the hinges.
"Go!" I demand, giving him a nice thrust to quicken the response. I close the closet door and rush to the window. I let the shade fly up and spin around the reel a few times while I unlock the window that acts as a barrier between us.
"Hey," he says. I hope that the panic isn't reading on my face as I smile at him. I step aside for him to climb in, because I don't know how to keep him out without seeming suspicious.
"Hi," I reply, "You're early. I'm not used to seeing you in my window during daylight hours."
"I thought it would be a pleasant surprise," he says, properly greeting me with a kiss. It's a surprise seeing him here, but I can't say that it is pleasant at this specific moment.
"It is. But if my dad comes home and catches you here he'll kill you….with a dull knife."
He smiles, "I believe that," he says. "I walked the bike here because I saw his car in the driveway."
With a smile, he passes me, and walks over to my bookshelf where he begins reading silently through some of the titles. I'm about to suggest that he comes back later, but before I can even begin I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs nearing my room.
"So, have you--" he begins, but is cut off.
"Kat!" I hear my dad sing. Looking at Patrick, I freak out and start pushing him back toward the window. For a moment I consider this a blessing; I'll have an excuse to get him out. Or so it seems until he dodges my pushing and smoothly makes his way in the other direction--to my closet. He is inside before I can protest, and as the closet door closes, my bedroom door opens to reveal my dad. I internally cringe, knowing that inside my closet is one very angry boyfriend, staring into the face one very confused, apologetic loser. I know that I am failing miserably at hiding my uneasiness, but my dad doesn't seem to notice as he beams happily at me and hands me an envelope that must have come in the mail.
"How was school?"
"It was…good. I got an A on my Chemistry test."
"Well, that's no surprise," he chuckles proudly, "You did study through dinner last night."
"What's for dinner tonight?" I ask, hoping the question will remind him that something in the kitchen is burning, threatening to set off the fire alarms and potentially burn our house down.
"I found a recipe online that you're going to love. It's for a casserole that has--"
"Oh, surprise me!" I interrupt, throwing my hands over my ears and smiling cutely.
"Okay then, I'll go downstairs and make the…." He smiles, "Well, I can't tell you, because it's a surprise!"
I nod and bid him goodbye as he leaves the room, telling me that dinner will be done in a half hour. The door closes behind him and I listen to the footsteps fade. I turn back to the closet door and before my hand can reach the knob, the door flies open, clipping my shoulder as it does. Though a bruise is forming and I should be wincing in pain, I am so distracted by the situation at hand that I barely even notice. Patrick shoves Evan out of the closet roughly and then follows him into plain view in the center of my room.
"Got something you need to explain to me, Kat?" He asks, his tone more harsh than I have ever heard it..
"Look, I'm not--" Evan tries to explain for me, realizing that he has caused more trouble for me than he intended.
"Shut up and let her talk!" Patrick snaps, his eyes still fixed intently on me, waiting for an explanation.
"This is Evan," I say simply because everything else I want to say is lost in my mind at the moment. He raises an eyebrow.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Evan is from Ohio…" I say, "We, uh, dated."
I don't know Patrick well enough to be able to read him, but as the cliché goes, he can read me like a book, and he knows that this isn't just some guy from Ohio that I dated. He knows that this is the guy from Ohio that I dated.
"Oh, I see," he says, but his voice still doesn't lighten up. He turns to Evan as if he should have something to add. Like I slept with her and blew her off the next day.
But instead Evan just says: "I was just in town and I decided to stop by," Patrick studies him intensely as he speaks. When his eyes meet mine I can see Patrick become even more tense, "I had a few apologies to make."
I'm afraid that if either one of us speaks the ticking time bomb that is Patrick will blow up and beat the shit out of Evan. It's not that he doesn't deserve it, but more that it will make noise and alert my dad that I am up here with not one, but two guys.
And then the fear becomes a reality. With one swift movement, Patrick grabs a hold of the front Evan's shirt and violently slams him against the wall, causing my bulletin board to fall to the floor and scatter pictures and memos everywhere.
"A hell of a lot of nerve you have coming around here," He says through gritted teeth. There was a time when I would welcome Patrick to beat him shitless, but I suppose that time left when the wrestling match began to unfold in front of my eyes. Especially with my dad downstairs in the kitchen apt to hear all of it, rush up here to find two guys in my bedroom, and then send me off to a convent. Plus, if he's going to get the crap beaten out of him, I want to do the honors.
"Patrick!" I gasp. I quickly turn around and look at the door, positive that my dad will be coming through it any second now to make sure I didn't slip and crack my head open in the bathroom, "Patrick, stop!" I say firmly, grabbing at his arm pleadingly. Looking none to happy about it, he loosens his grip and steps away. Evan doesn't move from where he is. Being that Patrick has a few inches on him, and obviously quite a bit of strength, I don't blame him, "What the hell are you doing?" I demand.
"I should go," Evan chokes out, not moving from his spot. Patrick takes his gaze off me and looks back at the boy standing against the wall, who looks completely stunned by what just took place.
"I'd say so," Patrick agrees callously. I shoot a look at him and then advert my gaze back to Evan, who is stealthily retreating from the wall and making his way toward my bedroom door.
"Wait!" I say. He stops and, though annoyed, spins on his heal to face me. I turn to Patrick, wishing I could get this bittersweet taste out of my mouth after what just happened, "You should go. I'll text you later."
He waits for a moment and then accepts the request, "Fine." I watch him climb back out the window he just came through.
When he is out of sight I turn to Evan, who is straightening out the front of his red band t-shirt. Noticing my gaze, he looks up. A clear expression isn't visible on his face, but when he speaks his tone says it all. He's no longer apologetic. "I didn't deserve that."
"I know," I say. I feel bad, because he's right. He came over with good intentions only to be roughed up by my boyfriend for no apparent reason. I can hate him for what he has done to me, but I can't hate him for what he came to do today. "Sorry about that."
"I'm going to get going," he says. Having observed that my window is the preferred way of coming and going, he heads in that direction. He proceeds to climb out my window and disappear.