As Seen On TV

23. Three's a Crowd

I stood there, half naked and trapped between two of the three epic romances of my life thus far.

Patrick leaned in, at first, I thought, to kiss me, but instead, he wrapped one arm around me and used the other to touch Andrew's face, drawing a curved imaginary line across the red stubble growing at the base of his jaw. He then leaned in, and before I could process what was happening, he and Andrew were making out. Right in front of me.

"Patrick??!!" I screamed, and something inside me snapped. 

"Lyra," Andrew said, his voice an octave lower than usual, and husky. "Lyra." Someone was shaking me. The smell of morning breath fanned my face. "Lyra, wake up."

I sat bolt upright, blood rushing to my face, the tips of my fingers and toes, my core. I could feel my pulse racing, and I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I propped myself up and pushed off the blankets, blinking wildly as I looked around. I was in bed. Andrew was next to me, now wide awake, his hand on my thigh. I was still clothed. Patrick was nowhere in sight.

"Are you alright? You were screaming."

I looked to the floor, and then over into the bathroom. The bathroom door was open. There was no broken glass, that I could see, on the floor. Hendrix was nowhere to be found.

I started to breath again, very slowly and as evenly as I could. 

"Wh- I- We..." After attempting to form a coherent sentence several times, I finally said some words.

"Bad dream," I said quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying desperately to calm down. I shook my head, willing the flashbacks from the crazy dream I just had to fall out of my mind while I did so. No such luck. Visions of Patrick and Andrew's tongues in each other's mouths flashed before my eyes, taunting me. What the fuck did having a dream like that mean? Had I really made my choice, or was dream-Patrick right? Was I just acting?

Andrew looked at me nervously, like I was not quite sane. He sighed.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'm gonna take a shower. Ma's probably already up making breakfast, if you want to go downstairs and see." He got up and stretched his muscular arms, reaching them above his head and then rolling out his broad shoulders. His plaid, festive pajama pants hung low on his hips, revealing a well-defined lower abdomen and a V trailing further down. My breath caught in spite of my inability to focus on anything.

"That is," he said with a smirk, "Unless you'd rather join me in the shower."

I didn't even have the presence of mind to roll my eyes at him or make a snarky comment.

I was in dire need of a best friend to talk this out with. While Andrew was rummaging around in the bathroom, I racked my brains to think of what to do. I briefly pondered calling my mom or dad before ruling them out because they would almost  certainly judge me for what my brain had just concocted. I hadn't spoken to them as frequently as I would've liked since I got on the show, but they couldn't really blame me. After all, it was my mom's idea, and my dad was totally on board. They wanted me to get married and have grandchildren, stat.

I considered my sister Olivia, but she was younger, and though I wasn't naïve enough to believe that she didn't really know the more adult ways of the world, I didn't necessarily feel like talking through them- especially as the pertained personally to me- with a hormonal high school girl.

The thought of calling or Facetiming Shawn ran through my mind, but... he was an international celebrity. So are you, now, Lyra, a voice in my head chided, but I thought it away. He definitely was busy or had better things to do, although we had become quite the pair of unlikely friends ever since our chance meeting at that concert. It seemed like so long ago now.