As I got into the designated black limo on the driveway that was waiting for me, I was flustered and hot, but definitely not bothered. Patrick was already in the back of the car, and judging by his pissed off expression, he had been waiting for quite a while.

"About time you showed up," he said as I opened the door. "I was beginning to think that you were going to bail on me, but then I remembered that you can't." He gave me a sardonic smile.

"Did you just run a marathon or something?" He asked, apparently making note of my flushed and disheveled appearance. I gave him a glare and didn't dignify him with a spoken answer. Instead, I plopped down ungracefully in the seat on the opposite side of the car from him and slammed the door behind me.

"Damn," he said, motioning to the large space I had left between us. "You wanna sit a little closer? You're crowding me, here. I don't bite." He bit his lip seductively and winked at me. "I mean, unless you asked me to."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, turning towards the window and silently resolving myself to stay mad at him for the entirety of the car ride, if not the whole date. Eventually, he stopped trying to make conversation, and I took out my phone so that the silence wouldn't be as painfully awkward. I scrolled through my Instagram and Twitter feeds, as I had become accustomed to doing lately. The other day, I had posted my first picture with Andrew; we had finally made use of the mansion's pool on one of the last truly hot days of the California autumn, and Uriah had taken a cute, goofy picture of Andrew throwing me into the pool. I had to admit, he had a knack for it. I looked pretty good in the bikini Camryn had helped me pick.

I moved to silence my phone as the ding of a text notification sounded twice, glancing over at Patrick quickly, but he didn't seem to notice, as he had now also taken out his phone.


I turned towards him in the back of the car.

"Would you stop it?"

He looked up, ever so innocent. "Stop what? It's the truth, sorry if you can't handle it."

"You are literally infuriating, you know? Just leave me alone."

Now he looked a bit more serious. "Uhh, have you looked around lately? I physically can't leave you alone. That's not to say that if I could, I would, but that's beside the point..."

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with and get back. What's your plan for today?"

He looked to the driver and back at me, shrugging. "To be honest, I'm not really entirely sure. I'm not a big planner. I just told them to drive us to the ocean and I would take it from there."

"No plan? Bold move. How do you expect to sweep me off my feet without a big, romantic plan?"

"Well. I already know that I have you in the palm of my hand. I figured we could just go get tattoos, or go clubbing or something, but then I had a weird premonition that if we did either of those things, I would end up having to defend you from creepy dudes and probably would end up carrying your drunk ass home."

I looked at him mock incredulously.

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel."

"Sorry, babe, but you're a lightweight. We had like 4 beers at the concert and you were giggling like crazy. The Lyra Kennedy I have come to know doesn't exactly giggle."

He was right, but he wasn't making it easy to stay mad at him. The banter just came so easily, to both of us, apparently.

"Alright, so, no plan. But let's get one thing straight," I said, turning deadly serious. "I am not okay with what you said the other day, even if I seem fine today. You made me feel terrible and used. I'll be civil for now, but it's just an act, because I know that the audience would absolutely hate me and I would get voted off in an instant if I just ignored you and was a total bitch all day. Don't try me, Patrick."

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