Volume II - The Gabriel Saga

Chapter 13—First Date

Aaron

My room wasn't doing me any favors by echoing the rhythmic pattern of my anxious hands against my denim thighs.

Tap-tap-taptaptaptap. Tap-tap-taptaptaptap.

For about the fifth time in the last minute, I glanced at my phone. The fact that it was just as quiet as every other time was more daunting than I really wanted to admit to myself. I knew what it meant.

So I sighed, again.

7:04 PM. Did I not have service or something? Maybe my phone was broken and wasn't telling me I had a missed call or text. Or, maybe I really was going crazy by sitting around all day to wait on a message.

So I checked again.

Nothing.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh."

I threw myself backwards into my giant bed, the cloudy white comforter padding my fall and silencing the loud thud I was aiming for. I wanted something to show my frustration.

And then, it happened.

I felt it before I heard it, a dull buzz that swarmed through my bed and shook me in my chest. My phone lit up like the fourth of July. My own reflexes scared me with how quickly I palmed the small device like it was my lifeline.

One New Message from Patrick.

I swiped so quickly that the phone didn't even register my finger. The second swipe was hardly as gentle as I jabbed at the screen to make my way to the message.

Triumphant, I read over the message three times before I decided it wasn't going to change.

Hey.

Ah, so we were back to this game. Either he was trying to mask the fact that he'd been wanting to text me all day, or he was really dreading it and only said "hey" to keep me from going full-blown psycho and blowing up his phone with texts of my own.

Hey, I messaged back.

Minutes ticked by like hours, and I swear, he was doing it on purpose.

What are you up to?

I typed back too quickly, so I waited a few minutes before responding. I had to fight fire with fire with him. I needed to keep cool.

Not much, just working out. What about you? Are you out of work yet?

Shit. Why the hell did I send it like that? I had plenty of time to edit it, and it wasn't like I was really working out to distract me from the finer points of texting. Asking him if he was out of work 'yet' made it sound like I'd been spending every minute of my day waiting on him to be off.

Which may or may not have been true. But still, the principal…

Haha, someone's anxious. Yeah, I'm finally off, I had this table of chatterboxes that would NOT leave. What else are you up to, Flex Armstrong?

God, I really hated him sometimes. Like...part of me hated how smug and sarcastic he was. And then there was this huge part of me that liked it. Like...a lot. Probably like a 40-60 thing. It damn sure kept things interesting.

Hah, that's cute. Nothing planned, though. What about you?

There we go, play it cool again. If he wasn't going to act excited about seeing me, I wasn't going to either. Level playing field, that's what my Dyn would say at least.

But then the silence settled in.

I kept reading over my message, wondering if I'd done something wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have fought fire with fire. Maybe he didn't like me being sarcastic back. Or maybe he decided it just wasn't worth it to keep texting back and forth like this was our first time trying to make plans for a night. Maybe I was the one acting like I wasn't interested in whatever the hell this was becoming.

And then my phone started buzzing again. But this time, it was a different type of buzz.

He was calling me.

What? Why the hell was he calling me? We never talked on the phone. Maybe it was because it made the fact that we were actually talking to each other undeniably and unshakably real. Over text, it was sometimes easy to forget who I was talking to.

But you never forget a voice.

I cleared my throat and answered, "hello?" Like I was really expecting someone else to answer or something…

"Hey," he said back, and his voice was like my favorite part of a song.

"Hey."

When did my mouth get so dry?

"Sorry, I'm driving now and it's easier to talk than it is to try voice text on this stupid phone."

I offered a small chuckle while I played with the loose fabrics on my sock.

"So, anyway," he said, breathing heavily, "no plans for the night?"

I tried to hide the smile from my voice. "Nah, nothing really."

"Dude, I know I hate Jay, but you haven't hung out with him in forever. Did you two get into a fight over who has the biggest biceps or something?"

I rolled my eyes. I didn't wanna talk about Jay. "No, it's not like that. He's busy, I'm busy. It's whatever. Besides, my 'ceps are way bigger."

He laughed and responded slowly. "Right." The pace of his voice changed as he changed the topic. "Well, I'm glad you're not busy, because I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out. Or...something."

I grinned all out, my teeth breaking past my lips like they were on a mission to show everyone just how ridiculously excited I was about the fact that this guy still wanted to hang out with me. I'm not sure why I was so surprised. I mean, we'd spent nearly every single night hanging out in his car in random parks around the city. We didn't do anything spectacular, just talked. But that's what made it amazing.

Nobody talked like Patrick. I used to hate it, because it made me feel stupid—like I was somehow always two steps behind him or reading from a different book entirely. But...then I started paying attention to his speech pattern, to the shapes his mouth made when he said certain words. And he told stories with so many little details that made me feel like I was a part of his own memories.

It was nice.

And when it was silent, it was comfortable. It was always filled with music from his radio. Sometimes, it was quiet; other times, he would rock out and get me to join in. And when we'd get tired or hungry, we'd pick up food from a drive-thru or something, and then he'd drive around town like he was just wandering through Reefside aimlessly.

Now, I'd be lying if I said that was all we did. I mean...as weird as it was, I couldn't fucking keep my hands to myself. And I'd never been like that. Ever. But there was something about him being right there, right next to me, barely lit by the lights outside with his aura pulling me closer. It...it was like a drug.

I snapped back to reality, adjusting myself and trying to formulate a response.

"I mean, yeah, that's cool. What'd you have in mind?"

I heard the radio in the background, quietly filling in the silence that he seemed to be using to form some sort of answer. I pictured myself next to him, his hand on the steering wheel while the other rested on his thigh.

"Well," he said, "what about a date?"

I felt my face burning, starting at my neck and snaking all the way up to my cheeks and ears.

"Like...like a date-date? Like...out in public?"

"Doesn't have to be," he responded quickly, but nonchalant all at the same time, like it wouldn't matter either way for him. "I'm just tired of driving around everywhere and sneaking into your parents' house at 2 am, then climbing out your window at 4."

He ended his sentence in laughter, but I knew he was serious. And I had to admit, the secrecy was addicting, like an adrenaline rush that I just couldn't get enough of. I knew it was wrong, I knew it wasn't fair to treat him like a dirty little secret, or to cheat on Beth, or to ditch my best friend. But...I dunno...I guess I was still going on kamikaze mode, just a little less crazy. Now, I was just isolating myself and keeping as far away from anybody that could find out the truth. And to be honest, it wasn't because I was afraid of them knowing...it was just because I didn't feel like dealing with it. I liked what we had. It was simple. It was complicated, but simple in all the right ways. This date was just gonna mess shit up, I just knew it.

But it didn't stop me from feeling like a 13 year-old girl.

I was ecstatic.

He wanted to date me. Not just…"you know...'hang out.'"

"So what, you gonna come pick me up in a limo with flowers and a suit?"

His infectious, booming laugh broke through the speaker as he started to speak. "That's so adorable it almost makes me want to puke through the phone, all over you."

"Eeeeeeeeeegh," I groaned, "seriously, dude? That was the worst visual ever."

He laughed again.

"That's what you get," he said, "the whole flowers and limo and suit shit is a close second for the worst visual ever."

So he wasn't necessarily romantic. So what? Why would I care anyway? It wasn't like I wanted sappy romance novel shit…right?

He must've picked up on my silence, because he started talking again.

"Sorry, I'm not a mushy kinda guy. Did I hurt your feelings?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nice try, asshole," I said with a laugh. "No, I was just picturing you looking like an idiot on Valentine's Day."

"So you're planning on keeping me around until Valentine's Day?" There was humor in his voice, but a slight trace of hopefulness. Happiness. Excitement.

"I...that's not…" I couldn't do it. I wasn't as good at this banter shit as he was.

He laughed. "Oh, I love it when you get all articulate, Aaron."

I felt my body tingle when he said my name.

When the hell did that start happening?

"I'm just kidding, I knew what you meant."

I was quiet now, still trying to figure out what to say or do about this.

"Listen," he said, a sigh coming up. "It's cool if you don't want to, man, I get it. I was just..."

"No!" I interrupted. "No...no, I do want to. I just...don't know where we'd go, you know?"

I heard him clap excitedly. "Dude! Let's go to LA!"

"Are you serious? That's like...2 hours with traffic. You do realize it's Friday, right?"

"Not like we haven't driven for longer."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. I was pacing now, burning circles in my carpet as I walked back and forth like a damn sentry. It was like I could see myself doing all these stupid things that were so embarrassingly not me, like this nervousness, but I couldn't stop. I was powerless.

"You really want to?" I asked him, all out of witty comebacks. "You want to take me on a date?"

He laughed again. "Isn't that what I asked you like, 5 minutes ago?"

I felt my own laugh coming up, face stuck in a stupid ass smile. "I know, I know. I just...I dunno."

"I can feel you blushing through the phone."

—13—

Patrick had learned too much about me in the past two weeks. It was barely even a week into October and he knew my favorite movies. He knew what songs I liked and what my favorite parts were, and he knew which words to use in what way, and he seemed to just know everything.

It was terrifying, to be honest, but I loved every second of it. I never got tired of being surprised by something else that he would do, like making fun of himself by showing up to my house with dandelions.

"Seriously?"

He must've liked my smile, because he put on one to match. "I had to."

"You are absolutely ridiculous," I said to him, taking the bunches of yellow weeds in my hand. "But thank you, they're beautiful."

He rolled his eyes, a mocking "hah" escaping from his mouth as he turned on his heel to face his car. "You ready, your highness?"

"I guess so."

"You guess so?" he asked, turning to face me once more as he opened the passenger door for me. "Dude, don't even pretend like you haven't been counting down the minutes until you got to see me."

I stepped past him at the door, turning toward him as I put one foot in the car while preparing to sit. "More like seconds."

And I stole a kiss.

It was dumb. It was so dumb. But I did it. I wasn't sure why, I was just feeling...weird. Was this what crushes were like? Did they make people do and say stupid things until they ended up looking like straight up jackasses?

Patrick didn't seem to mind at all, though.

In fact, for the first time in forever, he was speechless. He stood there, holding the door, staring at me like he couldn't believe what I'd just done. And I fucking loved it.

"Hello? Chauffeur? Can you please close my door, I have a date in LA and I refuse to be late."

That got him.

He broke out of his dumbfounded stare with a grin that stretched his whole face.

"As you wish, sire."

And he bowed, like an idiot, and then closed my door before sliding across his hood to the driver side.

"Let's ride!"

And the car roared to life, his radio blaring some alternative rock from the early 2000s. Patrick pulled out of my driveway, headbanging the whole time like he was the lead singer of the band. His hands were beating the steering wheel in rhythm with the drums, and it was only when I really listened to it that I realized what band it was, and what song it was.

"Are you really playing this right now?" I asked him over the music.

He responded by dramatically whipping his head in my direction and belting out lyrics at me. "In the car, I just can't wait...to pick you up on our very first date!"

He snatched my hand from my lap and held it up between us.

"Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the way he mimicked the whininess of the song, his nasal notes just close enough to be good, but just exaggerated enough to be funny.

He pulled up to a stop light and sang harder, swishing a hand back through his tall hair.

"Do you like my stupid hair?" Then he grabbed his polo shirt and pulled at it. "Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?"

I couldn't let him have all the fun...I had to chime in or something, because this was way too good to pass up.

"I'm just scared of what you think," I sang with him. "You make me nervous so I really can't eat."

Bam-bam-bam!

He beat the steering wheel three times and then grabbed my shoulder as he pulled off from the stop light.

"Let's go!"

Da-da-da-da!

"Don't wait!" I sang back at the top of my lungs.

Ba! Ba! Ba! Ba!

"This night's almost over!"

Bam-bam-bam!

"Honest..."

"Let's Make..."

And then, we both chimed in together. "...This night last forever."

"Forever...and ever…let's make this last forever..."

So we did. We went on and on, singing the entire song like absolute idiots. Every single second that passed, every note the guitar hit and every tap of Travis Barker's insane drumming, I loved it. Even Patrick's air-guitar solo and my over-excited mimicking of the sound the guitar made throughout its solo.

"I didn't think you knew any Blink," he said to me when the song ended, fading out slowly.

"Dude, we've definitely been over this before. My dad basically raised me on Blink 182."

"Oh…" he said, like he had just realized this, "I guess you did tell me that once before, huh?"

"You're not slick at all, bruh. Not even a little bit."

He beamed.

"I'm not saying I'm romantic," he said, "but…"

I punched his arm and laughed.

As we sped down the highway, I felt the entire road trip become more and more magical. It was the same as every other night, but it wasn't dark yet, like we still had hours left in the day. It was only 8 now, and the sunset was beside us and made him look like he was backlit by a spotlight. In his voice, in every song he sang, I felt a sort of sincerity to what he was saying, no matter what the lyrics were. But when they were real, when they hit home for both of us and called us on whatever situation we were in, it was even more surreal and chillingly amazing than anything else. I never knew I could feel the way he made me feel.

I was starting to worry.

Even though I didn't show it, even though I didn't say anything or let him pick up on it, I was so terrified this wasn't real. I was waiting for him to tell me at any second that he was just pranking me. That he wasn't taking me to LA, but was actually going to drop me on the side of the road and laugh at me while he sped off.

But he didn't.

He kept singing to me and having conversations with me about random things, like people he met at work or if I'd ever been to LA.

"I'm not a big fan of cities, to be honest with you," was my answer.

"Seriously? Dude, I love the city. I swear, one day, when I'm a famous rockstar, I'm gonna have a home in every big city."

"I don't doubt that. You seem like rockstar material."

He risked a glance at me, taking his eyes of the road for a second. "Really?"

"Yeah, man, you have a pretty good voice. And you've got the look."

I don't think I'd ever seen him smile so big.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate that," he said. "I like to talk a big game, but I dunno if I could ever do it, you know? A lot of people go to hollywood with their dreams in their hearts, spending their whole life trying to make it."

I shrugged. "Well, yeah, but...it's the same with anything, really. Besides, you're different. If you went somewhere with a dream, we all know you'd go with your dream in your head, because you think before you do anything."

I watched the lines in his face as he laughed. "You know me a hell of a lot better than I thought."

"You learn a lot about someone when you're supposed to hate them."

"Touché."

"Is that what you wanna do when you graduate, though?"

"What?"

"Be a rockstar—is that what you want to do?"

There was a moment of hesitation. I noticed the smile on his face fade a little, his eyes going distant as he stared back at the road and chewed his lip lightly. "Yeah...I mean, it'd be cool, but I'm not gonna pass that up for college. If I can't be a musician, I really wanna get into Intergalactic Politics. There's a lot of stuff with Xeno reform going down that's pretty exciting right now and—" he stopped short and looked at me. "Well, I guess you probably already know about that, huh?"

I smirked self-deprecatingly. "All too well."

"Well, then you know what I mean. I think it's probably the defining moment of our generation like the Civil Rights Movement or Immigration Reform or Gay Marriage or Marijuana Legalization—all that shit defined our parents and grandparents. If there's anything our generation is going to be responsible for, it's that."

I was speechless, but I found myself nodding in agreement like I was just some bobblehead along for the ride. This was one of those moments where he was showing how he wasn't just smart, he was informed, and mature. Sure, we had all thought about these kind of things—but short of Grace, nobody was actually doing anything about it. And here was Patrick, with the ambition to take on the galaxy on a mission to deliver balance and equality.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked me, his head darting back and forth between the road and me.

"Like what?"

"Like...I dunno...like that."

It was easier to be ashamed and embarrassed and blush like I always do...but suddenly, after hearing him talk like he did, I didn't want to. I wasn't ashamed. I was proud to be with him, proud to be able to talk to him like this and consider him...a friend, I guess.

"I guess it's just a look of awe," I explained to him, shrugging. "You're like, a genius, dude."

He sniggered, eventually laughing all out. I heard him laughing, I saw it even, but I knew it was because he was too modest to take the compliment. His ears were pink, like a dead giveaway that I had hit just the right spot of flattery.

"I'm serious," I pressed on. "And I think you know it, you're just too 'you' to say it."

He shook his head, still smiling and ears still lit up. "You're crazy, man. I'm not a genius, I just...I just like to know what I'm talking about."

"So…everything? You like to know everything?" I started chuckling before I could even finish my sentences. "I mean...cuz that's what you talk about."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, his vulnerability only slightly obvious.

"I think it's amazing."

The smile never left his face, even when he turned to me to thank me. And in his eyes, I could tell that something changed. They were softer, almost. When he looked at me, I could see there was more going on behind the face I saw, that his brain was putting something together. I just wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing. But I liked being able to look at the steel-toned irises he called eyes and not feel like I was being cut down to size.

—13—

Steak.

As a football player, protein was in my everyday diets, so I was no stranger to steak. The only thing was that I never ate it unless my dad made it. He was a chef whizkid, who could literally make just about anything in the kitchen, which, to anyone who'd ever met him, was an absolute miracle. My dad was a lot of things, but attentive was one of the few adjectives I would never use to describe him.

But if I thought I liked steak, I was nothing compared to Patrick.

He'd picked a top-notch steakhouse in the area, where the wait was something like an hour. And I had to be honest, I was not a fan of waiting another hour to eat. I was starving.

So Patrick worked his magic.

"Ah, it's that long, huh?" he asked the hostess, who barely paid him any attention while she checked her seating list and shuffled things around on her podium.

"Yes sir. We can call you when a table is ready."

"No, that's cool, I understand," he said, "I know you guys have to try to keep up with rotation. Don't wanna double seat someone."

That got her to look up.

"I work at Thirsty Thursday's in Reefside, so I know how Friday nights get."

"Seriously?" she asked, looking up now. "I love that place! My boyfriend and I got engaged there."

"Aw, congrats! That's awesome! Was that in June?" he asked, talking to the hostess like they were best friends.

"Oh my God, yes! How'd you know? Where you working that night?"

He nodded, grinning. "Yeah, I worked a double that day and I remember because he had your cheesecake prepared special so that we could put the ring in the middle."

"Awwwwwww! Yes! I had no idea he did it special, I thought you guys just put it in the middle."

She was eating out of his palm now. That sneaky son of a bitch…

"Nope, he was very specific about it. Gotta appreciate a guy with attention to detail."

She transformed into a completely different person in less than 2 minutes of conversation, and suddenly, it was like she and Patrick were on the same page. She looked around, probably checking to see if anyone was watching. "Tell you what," she whispered, "I'll hook you up with my friend Dana. She just got a 12-top party, so she'll be super busy, but if you can be patient, I can get you a table in like...15."

"Really?" he asked, surprise and appreciation clear as day in his voice. "That would be awesome! Thank you so much!"

She smiled back. "It's no problem at all, just keep me in mind when I see you at Thirsty's!"

He raised three fingers to his forehead. "Scouts honor."

She handed him a reservation notifier and thanked us before she went back to her list. "I'll see you guys in 15!"

"Thank you," I said awkwardly, turning back toward the exit with Patrick. "How the hell do you do that?"

"What?"

"Oh stop," I said, watching his smile the whole time. "You know what I'm talking about."

"All I did was talk to her. You'd be surprised how much you can get out of someone if you talk to them like a human being. It's called empathy, bruh."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh."

I couldn't complain though. We were seated in the next twenty minutes, and our waitress, Dana, was the bomb. When I asked for no ice, she really got me no ice. When we ordered and I asked for extra sides, she got me extra. And not once did my drink ever get empty.

But I wasn't sure if that was because she was just a phenomenal waitress, or if Patrick kept me distracted so much that I didn't pay as close attention as I usually did.

"So," he was saying, "this wasn't so bad, right?"

"What? Of course not, what do you mean?"

"Well, I'm just saying, we're on a date and it's not awkward. People aren't staring, we're not getting flogged or standing out at all."

I knew he was "just saying" a lot more than that.

"What are you really saying?" I asked cautiously.

He sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie...I don't wanna keep doing what we're doing now. I...I like it, cuz we don't have to tell anyone and we can just do whatever we want. But...it feels wrong. I mean...all this sneaking around and stuff is gonna eventually catch up to us, you know? And when it does, man...shit is gonna hit the fan."

I was afraid of this. This was why I knew this date was going to change things.

"Yeah...I see what you mean, but...it's not like we can just announce it to the world."

"I'm not saying to the world, but we can at least be honest with each other, right?"

Dana interrupted by accident, swinging by to check if we needed boxes or checks.

"Oh, no, just the check is fine," Patrick answered before I could.

"Okay, and is that one or…"

"Just one check, I'll take it."

I tried not to gape, but I was definitely staring at him as he handed her his credit card.

"What?"

"Why are you paying for my food?" I demanded.

I could hear the anger in my own voice.

"Dude, relax," he said, "I offered to take you out. It's no big deal."

But it was.

I knew what this was. I knew this was how it started. Now, I was indebted to him. Again. He picked me up, drove me here, and now he was paying for my expensive-ass meal.

"Can we just talk about this in the car?" he asked. "I can tell you're pissed, so can we just wait til we leave?"

"I'm not pissed."

"You're clenching your jaw."

Fuck.

Now I was really starting to hate how well he knew me. How he could pick up on my every little action and know what it meant. It wasn't normal. It wasn't right. No one should know me that well…

But I listened to him. I waited until we got to the car and opened my own door before he could. The silence that settled in wasn't anything like we'd ever really dealt with. My arms were crossed over my chest as I tried to make sense of all the different feelings I suddenly had at one time. And my jaw was still clenched like I was biting down to keep my face together.

"So…" he said awkwardly, "are we gonna talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"You know what."

I grunted.

We were about 15 minutes out of the city now, finally getting away from the chaos and clutter of Los Angeles traffic, when Patrick decided to take an exit that had nothing to do with getting back to Reefside.

"Where are you going?"

"To park," he said shortly.

Great. Now he was mad, too. This was just getting better and better with every passing minute. There was no music, no singing, no lighthearted conversations and banter. Just silence. Deafening, suffocating silence.

We ended up at a lookout, where a park was situated that overlooked the valley below and the outskirts of Los Angeles. I had to admit, it was beautiful. Even in my anger, I still had an unbreakable appreciation for the scenery around me. And the stars were so bright now that we'd escaped all the million lights of the city.

We sat there in the parked car for a minute or two before Patrick took off his seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

Where the hell was he going?

But he didn't go anywhere. He just sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the sky like he was trying to count the stars or something.

Now that he wasn't in the car, and I couldn't feel the tension resonating from him, I felt my jaw loosen. I felt my arms untightening around my chest as I finally breathed in a deep breath of relief.

What was I doing? Why was I being like this? I couldn't figure it out. I didn't understand why I was so upset when all Patrick did was take me out. Maybe he really did care, and that's what scared me. Maybe that's why I was pushing him away so quickly. Was I afraid of him really getting to know me?

I groaned to myself angrily as I flung the door open. It was now or never.

"Look," I said, slamming the door and walking towards the front of the car to face him. "I'm sorry, alright?"

"Are you?" he asked. But the hostility in his voice was gone, now. It was like sitting outside of the car had cooled him off and mellowed him out completely.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked at me, his eyes unreadable in the absence of light.

"Aaron," he said, "I'm not gonna pretend to not like you. We've done that for so many years now that it's hard to keep track of how I'm supposed to feel. It's just exhausting at this point, you know? So if you don't like me, the way that I like you, then just let me know and I'll back off. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone anything, or me hating you, or any sort of consequence at all, really."

I was speechless. I didn't know how to tell him that wasn't what I wanted.

"No."

He looked confused, and to be honest I was too. It was the only word that my mouth seemed to be capable of forming at the time.

"What do you mean?"

I tried again.

"I…" I sighed, gathering in as much air as I could, like I was preparing myself for something painful and torturous. "I...I like you that way. Hell, I really like you. I'm just not...I dunno, I guess I'm not sure of how you feel, and it scares me, to be honest. It scares me because half the time, I'm not sure what I'm feeling or what I'm thinking. It's like my brain stops working when I'm around you."

He grinned, the first sign of hope in the past hour of tension and anger.

"Dude, you say that like it's something new," he joked.

I couldn't bring myself to laugh, though. I was afraid that my dinner was going to come up with whatever came out of my mouth, so I risked a small smile.

"Listen man," he said, leaning back against the hood of his car and glancing up at the sky again. "I don't wanna make things awkward—or at least, any more awkward than they already are. I just...I want more than this, you know? At this point, I don't really care what Amy has to say. Jay, Matt, Grace—whoever—I don't care." He turned his head toward me while he continued to lean back on his car, legs outstretched and his elbows propping him up. "I know it's weird as fuck and extremely corny to say, but...I'm happy with you."

That did it.

My stomach was in flames, knotted and queasy all at once. It felt like my whole body was tingling, like there were a million little fires dancing along my skin and making their way all over. What was this? Why did I feel like my chest was about to explode? Why did I feel like my ears were popping and my eyesight was getting blurry?

"Are you okay?" Patrick finally asked me.

I collapsed against the car as gently as I possibly could, staring up at the sky for fear of meeting his eyes.

"I dunno."

"I didn't give you a heart attack, did I?"

Now I was able to smile.

The sensations were fading now, turning into something much more recognizable.

Happiness.

I was happy with him, too.

I reached out and brushed his hand with my own and he tilted his head to meet my face.

It was instinct to lean in. It was like an old habit to stretch my neck to met his lips with mine. So familiar. So practiced. So natural.

The kisses always started the same—tentative, slow, soft. And they always escalated the same way, with his fingers tracing up my jawline and finding a home in my hair. His thumb always tickled my ear, massaging just behind it where it met with my hairline. And his tongue would always knock first, like it was just asking for permission to be polite. I was nowhere near as patient. I always aimed for his body, my right hand reflexively grabbing hold of his side, right near his hip. His back was the resting place of my left hand, and whenever I was feeling ballsy, I let it slip down to the border of his jeans.

We stayed like that for a while, it felt like. Just the two of us, under the stars and on the hood of his car, with our mouths locked together and our hands roaming free, trying to learn each others' bodies as much as we could.

Slowly, he pulled away, lifting my right hand from his lower abdomen, where it had gotten a little too curious and carried away. I heard the band of his underwear snap as my fingers pulled away, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the smile on his face.

"If we don't stop now, then there's not gonna be any turning back," he said. "I don't have as much self-control as you think I do."

"Who says I want you to."

He laughed.

"You're sexy when you want to be, huh?"

I wagged my eyebrows. "You think I'm sexy?"

"Not when you make your eyebrows dance like that."

The humor was back, all fragments of tension dissipating around us like they just melted away while we made out on the windshield of Patrick's little sports sedan.

"In all seriousness, though," he said, the smile still fading in the lines of his face, "I want you. Officially. Really."

I stared at him for a long time, watching the way his eyes shifted in color in the lights around us. I studied his face, the way his teeth snuck out past his lips to chew on them nervously and the way his eyebrows seemed to rise and fall subtly while he awaited my response.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," I said, "okay."

"You mean okay as in, like, I don't have to sneak around with you anymore? Or okay as in you're acknowledging that I want to date you?"

I loved the way he overthought everything.

"Both," I answered through a foggy chuckle. "I've been feeling this way for a while, now...I guess I just didn't know what to make of it or how to tell you. I thought you were just...I dunno...humoring me."

He sat up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, man. You gotta admit, the idea of you wanting to date me is pretty fucking farfetched."

He blinked. "Have you seen yourself?"

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "So, are you trying to say it's my looks that you like?"

He backhanded my chest. "Shut up."

I faked a look of pain, wincing.

"You're so abusive."

"Like you were expecting anything else. I mean, it is us. You realize this is gonna be ridiculously unhealthy, right?"

I shrugged. "My favorite food is pizza, so I really don't think I care about healthiness."

"Oh God," he groaned, "you eat like a 12-year old. That's gonna change."

"Not even five minutes into being my boyfriend and you're already trying to change me."

He looked at me, and I saw the spark in his eyes.

"What?" I asked him, leaning back on his windshield and resting my arms behind my head.

"You just called me your boyfriend."

He sounded shy. I don't think I'd ever heard him sound so...cute? Was that the word I was looking for? Yeah...I guess so. He sounded fucking cute.

"What else am I supposed to call you?"

"I like that just fine."