I Only Want What I Can't Have

Chapter 8

When I opened the door to walk back out into the front lounge of the bus, Patrick's head whipped around so fast that I would have bet money he pulled a muscle doing it. When he saw me walking out by myself, he stood up, not-so-subtly trying to look past me into the bunk room. I gave him a small smile as I closed the door, and he visibly relaxed. "How'd it go?"

I shrugged, but smiled a little wider. "We didn't yell at each other," I said, moving toward the couch Patrick had been sitting on. He sat back down, and I settled beside him. "He actually apologized first." I had lowered my voice, aware that Andy could follow me out here at any moment.

"I told you he would come around," Patrick said, even quieter. I stiffened slightly when Patrick reached between us to grab my hand. We'd held hands almost the entire day when we were walking around the city, but now, with my brother in the other room, it somehow felt more intimate. I was most startled by the fact that I liked it, and I was the one to lace my fingers between his this time.

At that moment, because the universe must have decided that I hadn't taken enough shit that day, Pete and Joe came stumbling onto the bus. They were roaring with laughter about something we knew absolutely nothing about, and when they collapsed into the other couch, I wondered briefly if Patrick would let go of my hand. He didn't.

"Did you see the look on that guy's face?" Pete screeched, doubling over again in laughter as Joe wiped a tear from his eye.

"And when the second one hit him right in the face!" Joe added, snorting with laughter like neither of them have ever experienced anything funnier in their entire lives.

At all of the commotion, the bunk room door opened, and Andy cautiously stepped into the room. "What's going on?" He asked, glancing at me and Patrick as we just sat and stared incredulously at the other two.

"Dude," Pete gasped, desperately trying to compose himself so he could relay the story to us. "So, we got these water balloons –"

"Water balloons?" Andy questioned, already confused.

"Yes!" Pete said excitedly, "It was fucking great!"

"We went up on this huge parking ramp," Joe continued, too impatient to wait for Pete to finish the story, "And we threw them off the side of the parking ramp at all of these unsuspecting people –"

"And I hit this one guy," Pete laughed, "And he was so mad, he fucking ran inside and came all the way up to the top floor, just to chase us all the way back down –"

"And on the way out," Joe continued, "Pete lobbed our last balloon over his shoulder without even looking –"

"I HIT HIM RIGHT IN THE FACE!" They were both rolling again, and Pete actually fell off the couch and held his stomach as he cracked up. My jaw had dropped halfway through the story, and Patrick was biting his lip to suppress his own laughter. Andy was just appalled.

"So...did he keep chasing you?" Andy asked.

"Oh shit," Pete laughed, jumping up and looking out the front window of the bus. Our bus driver, who had been reclining in his seat while he waited for us to give him the okay to leave, also looked up in alarm. "Yeah," Pete laughed, "We should probably hit the road." Patrick and I both leaned forward to look out the windshield, and coming down the sidewalk was a middle-aged man, soaking wet, and red in the face as he screamed all kinds of obscenities at our bus. The driver jumped into action, starting the engine and immediately pulling away from the curb as Pete and Joe fell into another round of hysterical laughter.

Andy shook his head, looking down at Pete as if he were disgusted, but the smile on his face gave him away. "One of these times, you guys are going to get your asses kicked," he stated, shaking his head.