I Only Want What I Can't Have

Chapter 19

Patrick squeezed me securely to his side as he pushed open the front door of his house. "Mom?" He called into the empty living room, "Dad?" I was numb beside him, all of my worries flooding my mind the second I stepped out of his car. I'm sure I looked almost sick standing next to Patrick as his mother appeared at the top of the staircase.
"Hi honey," she called down to him, smiling pleasantly. She looked kind. I could only hope she would be kind to me. "How was your date?"
"It was wonderful," Patrick said, beaming as his mother descended the stairs. "Mom, I want you to meet Sophie." I swallowed my nerves and stuck out my hand, forcing a smile to my face to match the smile on Mrs. Stump's face.
"It's nice to meet you," I said, my voice shaking slightly. Mrs. Stump shook my hand firmly, and I wondered if my hand was sweating as profusely as I imagined it was.
"It's nice to finally meet you too, Sophie," she said, "My goodness, you do look a lot like your brother!"
"Yeah," I said, laughing nervously as I let go of her hand and moved back against Patrick's side. "We get that a lot."
She smiled again, and I watched as her eyes scanned me up and down for a short second. I felt like she was appraising me, looking for a reason to reject me. For a moment, I thought she'd found that reason, when her eyes landed on my head. "The only difference is that purple in your hair," she said, with a teasing smile, "I'm not sure if Andy would wear that as well as you do!"
Stunned at the compliment, I blushed bright red and glanced at Patrick. He was still beaming, and he smiled at me with a look that said, I told you so. I looked back at Mrs. Stump. "Thank you," I said, "No, I don't think Andy would like having purple hair very much."
She laughed lightly at that, then motioned to the living room behind us. "Well come on in, make yourselves comfortable! Patrick, did you offer her anything to drink?"
"Not yet mom," he said, propelling me towards the loveseat. "Do you want anything?" He asked me, "Water? Soda?"
"I'm alright," I said, smiling warmly at him. He pulled me down beside him on the sofa, and I was surprised at how comfortable he was with pulling me tight against his side and pressing a kiss to the side of my head. I could feel myself blushing again.
Mrs. Stump called up the stairs to her husband, then joined us in the living room. She sat across from us, on one side of a bigger couch, and she was still smiling. "So," she said, watching me, "I hear you've been on tour with the boys this summer?"
I forced a smile back at her. Did she mean to say that she'd heard I was arrested and the tour was a last-ditch effort to "fix" me? "Yeah," I said, feeling Patrick's arm tightening around my shoulders. "It's been a lot of fun. I've never really listened to the band much before this, so it was cool to see my brother do what he loves."
"I can imagine," she said, still with that smile that made me almost believe that she liked me.
"She's been a trooper," Patrick cut in, "Putting up with a bunch of loud, sweaty guys every night." We all laughed at that comment, including a deeper, louder voice that I hadn't met yet. I turned to see Patrick's dad descending the stairs, a sarcastic smirk already plastered on his face.
"Hopefully she puts you boys in your place," he joked, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he walked by. "Nice to meet you, young lady. You must be the Sophie we've heard so much about?"
"That's me," I said, smiling genuinely. Something about his dad was much less intimidating than his mom. Maybe it was the fact that Patrick had the same smile as him. I relaxed into Patrick's side as the conversation continued to flow effortlessly with his parents. They asked all sorts of things. Was I enjoying the tour? Did I like Fall Out Boy? What was it like growing up with a drummer for a brother? They even shared some great stories about Patrick learning how to drum when he was younger.
Surprisingly, I actually had a great night getting to know Patrick's parents. They even trusted us enough to leave us alone at around ten o'clock, telling us that they were both exhausted and needed to get to bed. Patrick and I said good night to them and watched them disappear up the stairs, and then Patrick pulled me tight against his side. He pressed a long, unnecessarily loud kiss to my cheek, and then grinned like a lunatic. "You were fantastic," he whispered, "I told you they would love you."
I giggled and turned to face him on the couch, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I'll admit, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
"See?" He teased, leaning in and nuzzling his nose back and forth against mine. "All that worrying, for nothing."
I felt myself blushing, and I smiled widely before Patrick pressed his lips to mine. He surprised me when he pushed me backwards into the cushions of the couch, deepening the kiss. I let him get away with it for a moment, enjoying the fact that all of my stress just melted away at his touch. Unfortunately, I had another pressing need that had to be taken care of. I gently pushed at his chest, making him lift his head in question. His eyes were glazed over, clearly still lost in kissing me, and I couldn't help but smile at him. "I need you to hold that thought," I whispered, cupping my hand around his cheek and running my thumb over his bottom lip.
Patrick still looked concerned. "Is this okay?" He glanced down, as if I would honestly have an issue with the way he was draped over me, and I giggled.
"Believe me, Patrick, this is beyond okay. I just need to use the bathroom real quick."
Understanding hit Patrick like a brick, and he immediately blushed and lifted himself off of me. "Sorry," he chuckled, before gesturing toward the stairs. "You remember where it is?"
I nodded and stood up, leaning down to kiss him once more before I made my way upstairs. I walked down the short hallway to the bathroom, briefly passing his parents' bedroom, and I could hear them still talking to each other and getting ready for bed. I paid no mind, and continued to the bathroom. While I was there, a nagging question entered my mind; I wondered what they had been talking about. Had they been talking about me? I didn't necessarily think that they were saying anything negative this time, since our night had been so pleasant and they seemed to genuinely like me. Still, I was too nosey not to wonder.
So, when I finished in the bathroom, I walked a little slower down the hall. I hesitated a moment, just a few feet away from their bedroom door. Part of me wanted to keep walking, back down to the couch where Patrick was waiting for me. That same part of me was screaming that this was a bad idea. But I needed to know.
Mrs. Stumph's voice reached my ears first. "She seems very sweet," she said, but I could hear the contradiction in her voice before she continued. "And Patrick is obviously very smitten with her."
Mr. Stumph heaved a sigh. He knew there was a contradiction there too. "You're worried," he stated, and my heart beat a little faster.
"Of course I'm worried," Mrs. Stumph said, her voice a harsh whisper. "That girl was in jail not very long ago, or did you forget? I'm just not sure if she's the right fit for Patrick."
"He's young," Mr. Stumph said, "He needs to make his own mistakes, and you have to let him. If she's one of those mistakes, then so be it."
"She could crush him," Mrs. Stumph said, and I could hear the break in her voice. "Or else, she could lead him down a bad path."
"He's a smart kid. He knows right from wrong."
"And what if she changes that?"
I hurriedly moved away from the door. I didn't want to listen to any more of their conversation. I couldn't. I walked downstairs, tears already burning in my eyes and blurring my vision. I stalked through the living room, right past Patrick, who promptly got to his feet. "Soph?" He asked, but I ignored him. I didn't know what to say. I just walked to the front door and pulled it open. Unfortunately, Patrick was fast enough to grab my hand and pull me back. "Where are you going? What happened?"
I gently pulled my hand out of his grip. "I need to go home," I said, but my voice didn't quite sound like my own.
"Why?" Patrick asked, looking panicked.
"I need to go home," I repeated. My head was swimming, turning Mrs. Stumph's words over and over. She could lead him down a bad path.
"Then I'll take you home," Patrick said, as if it were that simple. "Come on, let me grab my keys." He let go of me, but watched me for a moment to make sure I wouldn't take off. When I didn't move, he turned and went to retrieve his keys from where he'd left them on the couch. He came back to me, still standing there like a zombie, grabbed my hand, and gently led me out of the house. I let him open the car door for me, and I let him press a lingering kiss to the side of my head before he closed the door. I let him drive me home in near complete silence. Not because neither of us spoke, but because I wouldn't answer his questions. He didn't push too much, and eventually sat in abject silence to match my own.
When we arrived at my house, I let him help me from my seat. I let him lead me to the door, and I even let him cup my face between his hands and pull me into a searing kiss. When he pulled away, I was suddenly aware of the tears in his eyes. She could crush him.
"Please tell me what happened," Patrick pleaded, still holding my face between his hands. He looked scared.
I took a deep, shaking breath, and squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn't watch what I was about to do to him. "I'm not good for you, Patrick," I whispered.
"What?" He asked, dropping his hands to my shoulders. "Soph, that's crazy–"
"It's the truth." I stepped away from him, opening my eyes, but staring at the ground. His arms fell limply to his sides. "I'm a mess. I'm only going to drag you into my bullshit. I already have, look at what happened to Pete!"
"That was not your fault," he insisted, "And Pete's fine, you saw him. Where is all of this coming from?"
"I'm just going to drag you down, Patrick. You're such a good guy, and I'm so the opposite. Your parents even said it, I could lead you down a bad path, and I don't want to do that to you. I love you too much to ruin you Patrick."
"You're not ruining me. I know who I am, and I know who you are. You are not what other people say you are. I don't care about your reputation, Sophie, because you are more than that."
I closed my eyes again, shaking my head. "You would be better off with someone else," I said, and I felt Patrick take a step away from me. He was quiet for a moment, as my words sunk in.
"You're breaking up with me," he said slowly, and I could hear the resignation in his voice.
"You'll be better off–"
"Don't," he snapped, making me finally look up at him. He was shaking his head, not really looking at me, but off somewhere, past me. "Don't say that I'd be better off with someone else. I love you, Soph. I don't just throw that word around, and I know you don't either. I don't know what my parents did to freak you out like this, but whatever they said, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to me is the fact that I love you."
He finally made eye contact with me, and it made me feel sick. What am I doing? "Patrick–"
"I know," he said, cutting me off again with an air of finality. "I know, Soph. And you know what? It's fine. It's okay." He shrugged his shoulders, as if nothing that was happening right now was affecting him, but I could see by the way he grit his teeth and shoved his hands in his pockets that it was. "If you want me to back off, until you can see what I see in you, then fine. But I'll wait for you, Sophie."
I didn't know how to respond to that. I didn't think he would be so...accepting. He stood there, staring at me, as if he could will me to say something, but I was at a loss. I don't know any other guy that would be as understanding as Patrick. He waited a long moment for me to say something. When I did nothing but stare at him incredulously, he finally sighed and leaned forward, wrapping his hand around the back of my head as he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. I immediately broke down. I cried, and Patrick pressed his forehead to mine. He was crying too. "It's okay," he whispered, "We're okay." He kissed me once more, then let go of me and stepped away. I didn't even watch as he walked to his car. I couldn't bring myself to look at him as he pulled out of the driveway and left.
I stood on the porch for a long time, trying to stop the tears from falling, and trying to rationalize what I'd just done. It was for the best. Wasn't it? I was bad for him, even if he didn't see it yet.