With his hands stretched behind his head on either side of him, Patrick was barely able to balance his long body on the bright blue inflatable ball Robin had insisted he pick up. She had was in an alternative position with her arms in front of her, her stomach resting on a yellow inflatable ball, and her legs behind her. Before the blood rushed completely to his brain, he asked tentatively, "How exactly is this exercising?"
Swiping the bangs spread across her sweaty forehead away, Robin responded, "Are you kidding? It works out your entire body." Assuming he was satisfied with her answer, she shot her eyes to the television in which a workout model was telling them what to do. She had muted the big-breasted boneheaded blonde a few minutes ago, deciding they were smart enough to see the position and attempt it.
"All we're doing is lying on a ball." Patrick pointed out, his hands going numb from the stress of pressing them into the beige hotel carpet. It was a beautiful day outside, the temperature nowhere near Port Charles', and yet, they were inside playing with balls in the most literal sense.
"Don't you feel the pull of your body?" Robin inquired with a huff, rolling onto her back. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and she was clad in tight black and white workout clothes. Patrick had opted for a long white t-shirt and a pair of black workout shorts.
"I feel something pulling." Patrick muttered to himself, but he was sure Robin heard him.
"Would you get me a water bottle from the fridge please?" She requested, closing her eyes.
"Sure." Patrick replied, happy to have something productive to do. This isn't exactly how he had seen today going. "What's on the agenda for today?" He knew she had peeked at the hotel brochure on their way in about two hours ago.
"I thought maybe I would get a massage." Robin answered, sighing when Patrick pressed the cool water bottle into her open palm. "This hotel promises a very stimulating experience."
"I bet it does. But I don't see why you have to leave our room to get a massage." Patrick reasoned, stretching out on the couch while she continued her game with the exercise ball.
"Of course I thought of you…" Robin told him, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle.
"Well now." Patrick grinned like a child about to be rewarded with an extra scoop of ice cream.
"But then I…" Robin took a long drink and averted her boyfriend's eyes.
"You what?" Patrick prodded, about ready to snatch the water bottle from her for all the attention it was stealing away from him.
"I remembered about your probation." Robin explained, getting to her feet and putting both of the exercise balls in the corner.
"My…what?" Patrick looked dumbfounded.
"Your probation. I told you all about this--" Robin smiled.
"No." Patrick put his hand out in front of him. "No, I was not party to any kind of probation discussion."
"Oh, well…" Robin glanced down at her bare feet.
"Why am I on probation? You said you'd forgiven me." Patrick reminded her.
"I never said such a thing." Robin shook her head. "I said I was willing to give you a chance to prove to me that you deserve to be forgiven."
Instead of asking, "What did you say?" because it would have gotten him in even more trouble, Patrick simply inquired, "I seem to have gotten confused on the terms of this particular probation."
"Well, you can look all you want, but there will be no touching." The words were barely out of her mouth before Patrick was on his feet, more than ready to argue the point into the ground.
"No touching? That's a pretty harsh probation." Patrick whined.
"Maybe if you had been paying attention to my mouth when I was telling you the terms, you might have had the chance to put in your two cents. Since you obviously blocked out what I was saying, you're just stuck." Robin declared.
"How long does this probation last?" Patrick wondered, his expression pitiful.
"Until I can trust you again." Robin clarified.
"It doesn't make you any less of a man." Robin promised, air patting his left leg as he sat on the right side of her in a stiff black computer chair.
"We're at a nail salon." Patrick shot back, glaring at the tiny Asian woman seated at the table in front of him because she kept pulling on his fingers and scraping away at his cuticles.
"You should really take more pride in those fingers. Lord only knows where they've been and you should be taking better care of them." Robin mumbled to him, handing over her desired color of nail polish.
"We both know where they could be if you didn't keep dragging us all over town." Patrick whispered back, his words causing the middle-aged woman in charge of his hand to slice at a piece of skin, causing him to cringe.
Robin gave him a withering glance. "I thought you were going to try to see past your own needs today."
"Did I say that? Then I guess I'll try harder." Patrick bit back every other response that rested sizzling on the tip of his tongue.
"I need to know whether or not you're committed to what you said. Otherwise, I'd rather not waste my time." Robin said, her eyes drifting back to her hands.
"I'm still here, aren't I?" Patrick challenged in a soft voice.
"Yes, but are you under the impression that I'm going to reward you for your efforts today?" Robin wondered, lifting an eyebrow in his direction.
"You already are." Patrick responded without a moment's hesitation, his answer silencing Robin.
"It'll take two seconds honestly." Robin rolled her eyes at Patrick's impatience that they head back to the hotel. There was no way she was going to spend that much time alone with him. It was sure to cloud her judgment and she had been doing so well today. All she had to do was make it a bit longer and surely he would break.
"Khaki shopping? Who does that?" Patrick grumbled, staring at the mall activity that lay beyond them. They were still in the entrance. If only he could convince her to turn back now…
"We do. Come on. I want your opinion." Robin explained, taking his hand and dragging him into the first store she saw. He thought about complaining further, but was too caught up in the feel of her skin touching his to want to. She didn't seem to have realized her mistake either.
There must have been twenty clothes racks on the way to the khaki section. If he had wanted to eat his words, he might have mentioned that he wasn't particular when it came to what she wore around him. She had great taste. He might have peeked in her suitcase and found a nice little reminder of the last night they had spent together. He wondered if she had brought the little green number on purpose or done so on an unconscious level, much like she was doing now, her hand firmly tucked in his.
She chose that moment to disentangle their fingers and throw a pair of perfectly pressed khakis across his shoulder as if he was standing in for the clothes rack she had just taken it off of. She repeated the motion with each rack they came to, and it only began with khakis. By the time they reached the dressing room, he looked like a Christmas display with multicolored pants, tank tops, and even a pair of pea-green flip-flops tossed over each of his shoulders. And he had had thought working on his upper body strength had been a waste of time?
"Are we clothing a whole army?" He mocked as she started to reach for one last item.
"No." Robin replied curtly, relieving him of his current responsibility and stepping into the dressing room. The curtain made a loud swooshing sound as she pulled it shut.
"Not much of a shield is it?" Patrick asked, fingering the folds of the pale pink curtain. "I bet it doesn't provide much cover for you."
"Patrick Drake, don't you dare." Robin warned him, stressing each word.
He knew her well enough to know that it wasn't an invitation, but her tone was challenging and he'd never been able to walk away from a challenge before. Think damn you, a little voice snapped at him. You pull back that curtain you'll get what? A few seconds left on this earth to live? A chuckle? To die without ever having sex again? "No worries, babe. The only one who gets to see you naked is me."
"Are you done? Can I show you this outfit?" Robin wanted to know. He could almost hear her tapping the bottom of her black flats against the floor.
"By all means." He didn't add, "I'll have a lot of fun taking it off of you."
Robin pushed the curtain back and folded her arms, trying to look put off, but coming off as adorable. She had chosen a pair of white khakis that, on her, reached her ankles and a blue tank top with rice-thin straps. On her feet, she wore a pair of white sandals. He hadn't even noticed her pick them out and he had been paying attention, not wanting to be caught with his foot in his mouth again. "What do you think?"
"Beautiful." Patrick responded, knowing never to actually look the outfit over before commenting. It was a charming little outfit, but she could have worn a paper bag and even that wouldn't have been able to offset her natural beauty.
"Sitting-out-on-a-yacht beautiful or stick-to-bike-rides-in-a-secluded-area beautiful?" Robin inquired ambiguously.
"What does that even mean? You're beautiful. The outfit is fine." Patrick assured her.
Robin lifted a quizzical eyebrow at his explanation. "What do you mean, 'fine'? Is it really that bad?" Staring down at the shirt and khakis as if they had suddenly gone out of style, she met his eyes with an expression that could only be described as hurt.
"It's not bad at all. It fits nicely." He was screwing this up. He knew he was. This was why women were not supposed to bring their boyfriends khaki shopping with them! It was amazing the clerks had even allowed him in the store.
"Forget it. Maybe this was a mistake." Robin started to retreat back to the dressing room where, she hoped, less offensive alternatives were.
"What was a mistake? I told you I liked it. Why are you mad?" Patrick felt as if he was in a house of mirrors, not sure which way to turn.
"I'm not mad." Robin argued, shutting the curtain quickly.
"Then what's the matter? What are we even doing here?" Patrick insisted.
"Are you not having a good time? Well why don't you just leave? I'll call a cab." Robin snapped from behind the curtain.
"You're being ridiculous. We're talking khakis Robin."
"No. This isn't about khakis anymore. It's never been about khakis." Robin countered, stripping the outfit off and throwing on the white knit top and hip hugger jeans she had come in.
At five, Robin left Patrick alone in the room while she went off to get her massage. He wasn't brave enough to offer up his own hands out of fear she might break them. She hadn't said a word to him on the drive back to the hotel or even as she was leaving. If she hadn't pointed to the picture that advertised the spa, he would have thought she had gone back to Port Charles.
He didn't want to analyze the scene they had started in the store because it would just make him mad all over again. He still had no idea what he had done to make her turn on him the way she had. She was irrational. She was upset. And now, she had traded in his hands for a stranger's. Patrick didn't want to think about her being naked under a sheer white towel while some paid professional touched her skin when he, himself, wasn't allowed to.
Would there be soft music and dim lights? Would there be any light at all? Would, at one point, this professional suggest she lose the towel altogether, his excuse being that he needed to touch her in places the towel covered up? Patrick hadn't more than glanced at the name on the pamphlet. Taking it from its place on the side table, he read off the name: Pierre. There was no last name listed. Pierre? What the hell? Were they down in the spa now speaking to each other in a language only they understood? He couldn't stand this. He had to get out of here!
Stumbling to the front door with an uncertain agenda, Patrick stuffed the plastic key card into his back pocket and went in search of this Pierre, went to see what exactly about his process was so damn stimulating! If he appeared crazy and desperate to the passing guests, they didn't mention it as he was scrambling into the elevator. He didn't have a set plan; he would just have to make it up as he went along. The mental image of the surname-less masseuse leaning over Robin's half naked body propelled Patrick out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor landing.
Amazing that he could be out of breath when the spa center was just in front of him, but he blamed the adrenaline. Once he spent that, he'd be a pile on the floor. Startling the receptionist with his abrupt entrance, Patrick braced his hands on her desk and asked, "Can you tell me if Robin Scorpio has already gone in for her massage?"
Maybe it was her training that had prepared her for irate boyfriends showing up at her desk, demanding answers that made her type a few commands on her computer so quickly. Maybe she just understood his desperation. "Robin…Scorpio? Can you spell the last name for me?" She urged, pushing her tortoiseshell glasses back onto her nose when she met his gaze.
"Just like the zodiac sign." Patrick told her.
"She isn't on the list. Are you sure she had an appointment for this afternoon?" She asked politely.
"Yes, of course. She left at five to get her on time." Patrick nodded.
"The office has been pretty empty since after five. I'm certain I didn't notice anyone coming in to inquire about rescheduling an appointment." She assured him.
"Thank you." Patrick felt like he should apologize, but he worried he might just make it worse since his anger had reached an unhealthy level. Where was Robin, and why had she lied to him?
Robin frowned at the empty hotel room. Leaving for twenty minutes constituted Patrick leaving the hotel altogether? She checked the bedroom, but his suitcase was still there. His clothes were still in the drawer. His hair products were still on the bathroom sink right next to hers. The only thing missing was Patrick. She could admit that she had felt a little guilty leaving him all alone like she had and the simplest solution had been to jump in a cab and get her butt back here.
What had been her rush? Patrick wasn't even here. She had rushed back for nothing. She bet he was off somewhere sulking like a child. And she had thought he was starting to grow up a little. Maybe that had been wishful thinking on her part. He had, after all, been asshole enough to talk about Lucky and Elizabeth having sex without so much as a worry or care about how Elizabeth might have liked to keep her private business private.
As if the cosmos had alerted him that his morals were being called into question, Patrick found his way back to the room and his reaction to seeing her was to throw out an accusing finger and demand, "Where the hell were you?"
"I could ask you the same question! What, I leave for a few minutes and you go off to find some other willing woman?" Robin didn't know where her response had come from. Surely she hadn't just insinuated that he was cheating on her. She wasn't that insecure. But, as she stood here, mere feet from her dazed boyfriend, she realized that she didn't trust him any more today than she had when they had first kissed.
"Is that what you think? Or are you hoping that's what I did so you can keep up this little charade of yours?" Patrick shot back furiously.
"I don't know what you mean." Robin was mentally and emotionally exhausted from this tug-of-war game that they constantly forced the other to play. She had thought this whole revenge thing was going to be fun, but Patrick had done everything he could to ruin it!
"The hell you don't! You've got me running errands with you when we're supposed to be on vacation…" Patrick ticked each offense off on his fingers, "Getting our nails done, taking me mall shopping, and then you go and disappear when you were supposed to be on the seventh floor with that sleazy masseuse so that I could defend your honor and beat the crap out of him for touching you!"
"You were jealous?" Robin asked lightly, taking a step toward him.
"No I wasn't jealous. I don't even know the meaning of the word." Patrick countered with a huff.
"You know, if you'd shown up at the spa a few minutes earlier, you might have seen--" Robin baited him easily.
"Fine! I was jealous. And then you weren't even there. But, you wanted me to think you were. Why?" Patrick snarled.
"You mean, other than to see your reaction? It was damn hysterical." Robin admitted readily.
"Hysterical? So this was all a game to you?" Patrick asked incredulously.
"Not that different from the game you made out of trying to get me into bed." Robin recalled, closing the last few feet separating them.
"What are you talking about? It's too damn difficult to play games with you. You see right through them." Patrick retorted.
"And you'll do well to remember that I always win and can change the rules at any time." Robin poked him in the chest with her finger, smiling.
"I don't think I like that gleam in your eye." Patrick muttered.
"Have a good day, Patrick." Robin bid him farewell and slipped into the bedroom. Patrick was right on her heel, but he wasn't able to keep her from throwing the lock. Damn it!