Riptide - A Short Story

Chapter Two

Nothing was working. Patrick had tried outfit after outfit, and yet, nothing worked. It wasn't like he could just not wear something, though. It was a date. The outfit needed to be nice and presentable, and yet, Patrick was having no luck finding something. 

The date was in twenty minutes, and he had been fussing over what to wear for at least thirty. Nothing looked right on him, and he was growing frustrated. And cold. Standing in his underwear and pairing different pants and different shirts together on his bed left him feeling a little cold. 

Patrick had brought all of these clothes with him, and yet nothing seemed date worthy. He was supposed to impress the High Fae of Winter. Okay. Did he try to wear wintery colors? Or do something that would represent his Summer roots? Or just wear what he wanted? He couldn't decide, and that was the problem. 

He glanced at the clock that was on the wall, groaning when he saw that he only had fifteen minutes to get dressed, do his hair, get down there, and set up the blanket he had found at a good spot. This was already going horribly. There was a chance he could just be ghosted at the date, too. Maybe he just shouldn't go. No no, he had to go. This was his one chance. 

Patrick gathered up all the clothes he had thrown across the room in frustration, sitting them all on the bed in a pile. He needed to start from the beginning. After digging through everything, he pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, then a nice yellow, wool sweater. Did he do that combination before? He didn't remember, but it looked good, so Patrick frantically changed into it, then slipped on a pair of black boots. 

Quickly rushing over to the vanity, Patrick grabbed a comb and started to style his messy hair. It didn't take very long, since he let the fringe fall over his right eye like it usually wanted to. Patrick still didn't exactly like the outfit; the pants hugged his hips and thighs just a little too tightly, but the sweater was fine. It hid his slight chubbiness, just like he wanted. If there was a way to avoid getting potentially called fat by the High Fae, he'd take it. 

After grabbing the blanket he had found earlier, the fae rushed out of the room, practically sprinting down the halls and down the stairs, nearly tripping and face planting on the last step. He hoped no one saw him, he probably looked like an idiot. 

Patrick made it outside, the cool night air hitting his face like a slap as he ran out into the gardens. It was oddly refreshing though, compared to the heat that always filled the Summer Court. He was always especially warm, due to his warm way of dressing. It was his choice though, and he'd rather dress the way he did than show off the body that no one wanted to see. 

He stopped in the middle of the gardens, standing in the grass as he looked around for a good spot. Well, where he was standing was actually pretty good. It was open, and there was a tree nearby. Patrick laid the blanket out, then plopped down on it, stretching his legs out as he sat and waited for his High Fae to show up. He didn't know the time, but he knew it could probably be any minute. 

The minutes started ticking by, and Patrick started to grow antsy. His fingers toyed with themselves in his lap as he anxiously waited, glancing continuously towards the entrance to the gardens. Was he coming? Or was he really getting stood up?

And then, Patrick spotted him.

At first, he was a far away figure, but as he got closer, Patrick could spot features. The white hair, the pale skin, the sharp features. And once he got close enough, the piercing, sharp eyes, that looked like they were staring into his soul as soon as their eyes locked.

Oh gods.

"I'm going to assume that you're Patrick, otherwise this is about to get super weird."