Let's be alone together,
We could stay young forever.
Scream it from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs. Say yeah!
(Yeah!)
Let's be alone together,
We could stay young forever.
We'll stay young, young, young, young, young...
~
I didn't go to Pizza Night with Patrick. Instead I'm in my Batman pyjamas, listening to the birthday mixtape Izzy made me last year. Alone. I guess it's my own fault.
~
I declined the offer in the last lesson of the day, French. I zoned out while Madame Lambert was droning on about French verbs or something. But then I felt my top pocket vibrate, so I put a textbook craftily in front of me as disguise and pulled out my phone to read:
(1) NEW MESSAGE - PATTYCAKES
Hey, beautiful. You said you'd text me, but I had to text you! I sure am good to you ;) Pizza Night still on?X
How could he still call me beautiful? He should be calling her that. She's his now.
I looked up from my textbook, scanning the room for him until I saw him at the back of the room. I shook my head—no, I would not engage in pizza eating with Pat, surely his girlfriend could do that. After seeing the whole awkward kissing thing, I felt even more bitterly envious. I felt then like I couldn't spend time alone with him like we always do. There's no doubt about it, it will be weird from now on.
Patrick looked under the desk for a minute or two, and when he resurfaced I felt another vibration from my cell:
(1) NEW MESSAGE: PATTYCAKES
Homework thing still? Aw, Nona. That sucks. I'll bring you back some cheese + pineapple pizza ok? Ily X
I know I was acting incredibly childishly, but I still glared at the "ily". No you don't. I love you. Not the other way round, remember?
COMPOSE NEW MESSAGE: PATTYCAKES
Whatever. If you want. Ly2.
There. That text oozes sophistication and confidence, I had thought smugly. For one, I resisted the allure of my favourite pizza flavour. And I didn't text back an X, to show how little I cared about his stupid one day relationship with stupid Anna Smith. Because I totally don't care *cough*. I don't need Patrick's text kisses, thank you very much. I mean yeah, I still said "I love you too," but he doesn't know that I meant it seriously and not platonically. So yeah. It was still damn cool of me, if I do say so myself.
~
Only now, as I listen to some indie band play some nice song that I don't know, but I kind of want to know, I'm having an epiphany. I won't go into more analytical bullshit, but let's just say I'm pissed at him for being happy, and I'm starting to think that isn't right.
I'm in love with him. So yes, I want to be with Pat, of course I do. I have for so long, as you know. But I would rather he be happy with someone else than unhappy on his own or, worse, unhappy if he were with me. Anything, as long as is it makes Patrick smile. He, like Pete, deserves all the happiness in the world.
So why am I acting like this? Okay, so I don't like Anna much. But I think I'd probably be acting like this if it were someone else too. God, I need to get my act together and grow the fuck up. Maybe I should be a little more mature.
And, like Patrick said; they're not officially a couple. That kiss was one that she prompted, not him. I need to stop freaking out and remain hopeful. There's still a chance for he and I. An unlikely one, but still, y'know, a chance.
Even if there isn't a chance (this is more likely) avoiding my best friend won't help things. I'm being mean to him just because I was too late to tell him how I feel, and that's dumb. Really dumb. It's not like it's his fault. Maybe I should call him.
So, I make the appropriate decision to grow the fuck up, and flip open my cell again.
(2) NEW MESSAGES: VARIOUS
I frown at the screen, pushing stray hairs behind my ear. Two new messages? This has to be a record. Never have I felt so popular.
I bet one's from my mom.
I open the first:
(2) NEW MESSAGE: IZ
omfg, winona. I am so sry about pat and anna. u 2 r meant 2 b! i srsly can't believe this. will talk 2 u @ sleepover 2moro ok? remember, he doesnt know what hes missing. chin up hon xoxo
Izzy's barely legible yet meaningful text is sweet. Izzy always texts like that, so that sometimes you need a dictionary to decipher some bizarre acronyms she uses. Seriously. Or as she would say—"srsly."
I can't think of a reply, so I open the next text:
(1) NEW MESSAGE: PATTYCAKES
Hey. I'm outside your door, invite me in! You really look like you're doing a lot of hard work there, huh, Batman? ;) X
I check the time that I received it. 2 minutes ago. That's convenient. But damn. He's outside. He's seen me lazing around in my PJs. Maybe, I think hopefully, he's gone within two minutes. I stand and approach the window.
Uh, nope. He's there. Time to face him.
I open it up and stick my head out. "Hi."
Patrick is stood in my front yard, trying to avoid the mud, but failing miserably. He's wearing his beloved trilby hat still, and juggling two boxes of pizza in front of him. "Hey, you."
"How long have you been out there? And how could you see my Batman pyjamas? Have you been perving on me, Mr Stumph?" I joke. Why can't I stay mad at him?
"Nona! I am a gentleman! I assure you I have done nothing of the sort." Pat feigns offense, his eyes twinkling. "C'mon, you were dancing a minute ago. How could I not see those sweet moves and those sweet PJs?"
Ah. I didn't mention that, did I? One of my favourite songs came on like ten minutes ago, so I had an impromptu dancing session. Maybe he's been here longer than I thought he had. Oops.
"Shut up." I blush, and he giggles. God, his giggle is cute. "I'll get my mom to let you in."
"Thanks."
I turn around and yell downstairs. "Mom, can you open the door? Pat's here."
I hear the door open a few moments later, and Patrick greeting her cheerily and loudly. "Hello, Mrs Meadows. Looking beautiful as always!"
"Oh, Patrick, you charmer, you." My mom laughs. She'd always liked Patrick. "You can knock on the door, you know. You don't have to stand in the garden and wait for Winona to open her window."
"I didn't want to interrupt your evening, ma'am. I thought you might be eating dinner."
"You're too polite for your own good, honey. Go on up."
I smile to myself, leaning back on my headboard, as I hear Pat ascend up the stairs. The good thing about having a room nearest to the stairs is that you can eavesdrop a lot. That conversation was really cute. Aw, Pat.
I hear his signature knock. "Knock, knock, knock! Pizza delivery!" He sings.
I get up and open the door. "No, sorry. I didn't order any pizza."
"Aw, man. Do you want some anyway?"
"Might as well. Come in, you dork." I smile, shutting the door behind me. Patrick enters. He places the pizza boxes on my bed and looks at me, his head on one side. "What?"
"Winona?"
"Yes, Pat?"
"I need to ask. Are you okay?"
Am I okay? What does he mean, "am I okay"?!
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." I lie. "Why?"
"Because, I—this sounds really dumb, but you missed Pizza Night. And that made me sad. You never miss Pizza Night." Patrick approaches me slowly. "Plus, we both know you have no homework."
"That's not true. I have homework, I'm just not planning on doing it." I shrug, scrunching up my nose. I'm trying to make him laugh. So I won't have to explain why I blew him off. But he isn't laughing. He looks a little concerned.
"Nona. Seriously. What's wrong? Have I upset you? Please tell me."
Oh, Pat. No. You haven't upset me, sweetheart. I'm just moody because you got the girl, and I'm not the girl. I'm not your girl.
"You haven't upset me. I promise."
Patrick's face kind of starts to crumble, a little, and his voice starts to shake. "I would hate to upset you, Nona. You know that. I couldn't live with myself if I did."
My heart hammers at my chest. I feel awful now. Just because I had to send that stupid "sophisticated" text, I've hurt my Patrick. I reach for him, and wrap my arms around his taller frame. "Pat. I swear it, you haven't."
Patrick's arms mold around my body, and he put his chin on my head. "So what's wrong?"
"I don't want to say."
Patrick pulls us apart, his hands on my shoulders. "Nona. Please."
"It's just. I..." Come on, Winona. Tell him. "Is Anna actually your girlfriend? Like, officially?
"Um. Well. She introduced me as her boyfriend to her friends. So. Maybe."
"Right." I nod as maturely as I can.
"Winona?"
"Yes, Pat?"
"Are you upset because I have a girlfriend?"
Oh God, oh Jesus H. Christ, oh dear Lord and Saviour Dave Grohl! Does he know? Does he know how I feel?
"Why do you think that?" I ask quietly, looking at my feet.
"I know you. I know all your different moods. And you're upset. Plus, you keep asking about Anna. Why?"
Because I love you.
"Because, now you have a girlfriend, I'm just a little worried."
"Worried?"
"I'm worried that you and I won't be as close now." I sigh. This is, actually, the truth. "Your girlfriend should always come first, and that's great, and fair, it's just that I'm—um, like I said. Worried. About us. I'm worried that we won't be Pat and Nona, Nona and Pat anymore."
Patrick stares at me, shaking his head, his face filled with emotion. "Nona. I swear to you. No matter what happens between Anna and me, I won't ever ditch you. You're my Winona, you will always be my bestest friend. You mean the world to me."
He pulls me in for another hug, rocking us slightly so that we're swaying to the song playing. I don't know what it is, but it is sad, and sweet. Pat kisses my head a few times.
"Promise we'll always be friends?"
"Promise. We're Pat and Nona, right? We're forever, you and me."
~
We're laying on my bed now, talking. The pizza disappeared within minutes; all that moping around sure got me hungry. He lies on his back, one arm behind his head. I lie next to him, with his other arm wrapped around me and my head on his chest. His chest rises slowly, and falls slowly. Rise. Fall. It's really peaceful to watch, and feel. I can hear his heartbeat, steady and rhythmic, and I want more than anything to kiss him, this living, breathing wonder. But this is platonic. It's a friend thing. We always do this. It's not romantic, unfortunately. I'm too delusional.
And yet I am so content on his chest. I wish I could stay here forever.
"Patrick?" I start.
"Yes, Nona?"
"Can I ask you something about Anna?"
"Nona, please. I told you. You will never be replaced, okay? You couldn't be." Patrick leans down and kisses my head again, my heart beat hard again, and my breath shallow. Every time he does this I get the same feeling. So I've had this same feeling for years now.
"No. No. It's not that. I want to know something about her."
"Okay. Fire away."
"Why her?"
"Well, she asked me. I told you that this morning, remember?"
"Do you like her, then?"
"Yes. I do."
"Oh."
"At least, I think so. She kissed me three times today. On the lips."
"3 kisses?! You fox, you! Someone scored." I laugh. Hopefully that seems like I don't care.
"Shush. You're mean." Patrick giggles shyly, then starts to tickle my sides.
"No! P-Pat!" He knows how ticklish I am, and soon I'm writhing around in fits of laughter, tears coming to my eyes. "Stop!"
Pat stops finally, chuckling himself as he props himself up over me on his elbows. He puts on a Southern accent. "Don't make fun of my ever-exciting love life again, y'hear?"
"No." I stick my tongue out. "You brought the kissing up, therefore I have the right to mock it."
"No you don't!"
"Do too!"
"Nu-uh."
"Yeah, now get off me, loser!"
I wriggle away under him so that I can sit and look at him. He sits up too, our legs both crossed under us as we face each other. Patrick's soft fingers reach to poke the dimple in my cheek "Aw. Your dimple's got bigger, I'm sure."
My fingers reach to his pale face—bravely, gingerly—and I find his dimples too. "Twins." My smile grew.
This was our thing we used to do, as kids. When we were really young, Pat and I were convinced we were long—lost siblings or something. So to prove the case to my mom, he and I used to point out our "facial similarities" (i.e none). But the dimples seemed pretty legit. Within a year we stopped calling each other brother and sister. I don't know why. I sure am glad I did stop referring to him as my brother now, though. In love with my brother. Woah. That'd be creepier than fanfiction. Good call, younger Winona. It's like you knew.
"Twins." Patrick whispers. He takes one of my hands in his, each finger slowly curling around each of mine. I blush fiercely. He's so sweet sometimes I can't take it. "See this?"
"What?" I retort, watching as he lifts our linked hands.
"This. This is easy." Patrick licks his lips awkwardly. "When it's just us, alone together. But it's not easy for me with Anna. I don't know her like I know you. With you, I can give you hugs and stuff just fine. But with new people, and damn, new girls, it's hard. I get shy and I feel dumb and I end up stuttering or messing up in some way. I don't want to mess this up."
I still focus on our hands, trying my level best to avoid his eyes. "Pat. You won't mess this up. Three kisses, right? She obviously likes you."
"But it's been such a short time, I hardly know her. I don't even get why she asked me."
"Because you're—" Wait. Don't list all of his amazing points. That'll make him think I like him! "You're just great, Pat. That's why. But still, I have to wonder."
"What?"
I look up, into those god damn beautiful eyes, and raise an eyebrow. "Why'd you say yes? You avoided the question before."
"Well. She's very pretty. And very kind. I never expected anyone to like me, and then I found out she liked me, and—well, of course I wanted to say yes. It's so weird. How could someone like that like someone like me? Fat Pat is so proud of me right now." Patrick sounds happy, but keeps a reasonably straight face.
"Fat Pat? Patrick, you were never fat."
"Are you kidding me, Nona?" Pat hitches his glasses further up his nose. "I got real bad health problems, you know that."
"You weren't fat." I say firmly. "And so what if you were? All sizes are perfect. You were perfect." My eyes widened as I suddenly realise what I've said. "I mean, you are now too, and um, I guess you know what I mean."
"You mean that? Nobody's ever said that but my mom." Pat is looking at me, so gratefully, so shocked.
"Of course I do. Just because you changed your appearance doesn't change how awesome you already were." I smile gently. "I like your new look too, though. Your bow tie is cute."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." Pat is still looking at me in that heart-stopping, breath-quickening, knee-weakening way.
I gulp, looking back at him. I could tell him. Right now, I could tell him. The way he's looking at me, the twinkle from the fairy lights in my room, the mixtape playing softly in the background. I could tell him.
And then suddenly the song changes. To my favourite song ever, in the history of favourite songs. Patrick's eyes light up. "Nona!"
The intro kicks in and I run to the cassette player, turning it up as loud as possible. Friday I'm In Love by the Cure. Heaven for the ears.
I jump onto the bed, lifting up Pat, and we hold each other's hands as we jump and kick excitedly to the beat, both of us singing madly. It's funny, I never noticed, but the boy can sing. Really well. Patrick's voice is gorgeous, so silky and, and...hot.
I don't care if Monday's blue,
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too.
Thursday I don't care about you,
It's Friday—I'm in love.
Monday, you can fall apart,
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart.
Thursday doesn't even start!
It's Friday—I'm in love.
Saturday, wait!
And Sunday always comes too late.
But Friday, never hesitate...
I don't care if Monday's black.
Tuesday, Wednesday heart attack,
Thursday never looking back.
It's Friday—I'm in love.
Friday. I'm. In. Love.
When the song finishes, Pat and I collapse on the bed, out of breath.
"Do you wanna stay over?"
"Thanks, but I better get home." Pat glances at the retro clock hung on my wall. "Holy smokes. Now, actually. I have to be up early for work. Plus if I'm one minute over curfew, my mom organises a nationwide search party, I swear."
"Aw." I laugh fondly. "Tell her I said hi."
"You're her favourite. She'll be delighted." Pat gets up, grinning, and slings his backpack over one shoulder. "Later."
He kisses my cheek, his breath warm, his lips almost rough. "Bye, Pat. Thanks for coming over."
Patrick lifts my chin with his fingers. "I promise. Pat and Nona, Nona and Pat. Forever."
"Forever." I murmur, and he releases my chin and leaves.
I wait by the window to wave to him when he walks away. As if on cue he turns and waves sweetly. I blow him a jokey kiss, and watch as he laughs, then walks away into the night.
Forever.