Jamie
I walk to the pathway leading to the front porch and watch as Benji jumps all over Patrick and licks his face. I ignore my brief feeling of jealousy as Patrick smiles at Benji and pets him.
"What are you doing here?" I say. I can't ignore the nerves I'm feeling, but I try to control them. I hope I don't sound as nervous as I feel.
Patrick stands up and Benji eagerly runs up the steps to the front door, eager to get inside. But I stop moving. For some reason I'm unsure of what to do, or how to act.
"A little late to be going for a walk isn't it?" Patrick says. I could be wrong, but he sounds kinda nervous too.
"I could say the same thing to you." His car isn't in my driveway, he walked over here.
He nods and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
"I didn't like how I left things earlier. I'm sorry." He's not looking at me, his eyes are darting around, like he's trying really hard to look at anything but me.
"Right" I say quietly. My turn to not look at him.
"Jamie, I -" he sighs, like he doesn't wanna say whatever he was about to say.
Benji whines at the door, and I decide I need to go inside. It is fucking freezing. And there's no reason I shouldn't invite Patrick inside. I don't normally invite him, normally he just shows up unannounced and makes himself at home. This entire situation is just making me feel uneasy. Maybe if we go inside it'll feel more normal.
I walk past him up the porch steps and unlock my front door. I open it and step into the front hall without a word to Patrick. Benji walks around me and heads straight for the stairs. It must be after midnight now, Benji doesn't usually stay up this late. I know I won't see him again until I go up to bed. I turn around to see Patrick standing awkwardly on my porch. It's weird that he hasn't just followed me inside and closed the door. I don't like it. I'm not inviting him in, he knows he's always welcome.
I walk through to the kitchen and hang up Benji's leish (I didn't even use it) then lean against the kitchen counter, waiting for Patrick to appear. When he does, he still looks awkward. I feel so uneasy. Is this how it's gonna be now? If so, I know The Middle are doomed. I feel my stomach lurch at the thought, and my head spins a little. I do not like this at all, and suddenly I wish he would just leave.
"You're never normally so shy around here." I point out. My voice is still quiet, and my eyes still aren't meeting his.
"Well, considering what happened the last time I was here..." He trails off at the end. We both know what happened.
"I haven't heard from you since you left." I wanna know why he hasn't messaged me.
"I can't find my phone." Patrick says, before shoving his hands into his front pockets again. I get the feeling he's trying to mask his nerves, just like me. "I think I left it at the hotel, hopefully Jay has it."
The mention of Jay's name reminds me that this world doesn't just consist of Patrick and me and our awkward tension. I pull my phone out and turn it on. While it's loading, Patrick speaks again.
"Have you heard from Jay today? Or Joel?"
"They've been talking in the group chat, nothing significant. I haven't read all the messages."
My phone comes to life and I open our group chat.
"They've asked what we're doing and if we're alive. Jay tried to call me a couple of hours ago too." I sigh and put my phone down.
"Aren't you gonna reply to him?"
"What's the point? He'll be asleep now."
I turn to face the kitchen counter, I'm struggling with this whole not looking Patrick in the eye thing. And I'm pissed that he's wearing a beanie. He looks far too cute like that. I move my hand up to remove my own beanie, but I pause. I'm wearing his headband underneath. After he stormed off with it earlier then brought it back. And I'm wearing his hoodie underneath my coat. He'll think I'm a total nutcase if he sees.
"Are you okay?" He asks from behind me.
I swallow hard, then turn to face him. I wear his hoodie and his headband all the time. This isn't that weird.
I take off my woolly hat, then unbutton my jacket and shrug out of it. I make no move to remove my scarf, these hickeys are staying hidden. But he knows they're there. He doesn't say anything as I walk past him to put my hat and jacket in the coat closet in the hall. When I return, he's leaning back against the kitchen table studying me. He seems a little more at ease now. I wish I could say the same for myself.
"What?" I snap, as I quickly walk past him towards the refrigerator. My mouth is suddenly really dry, I need some water.
"You're wearing my hoodie. And that headband." He states.
I rummage around in the fridge for a bottle of water, "10 points for Patrick, outstanding observation skills".
He laughs, but it's short and forced. This is starting to get a little unbearable, and I hate it. We really have completely fucked up our relationship, haven't we?
"When I came back over to give you them back, you weren't home." He says. "I wasn't trying to hurt you by wearing them earlier, I swear. I just didn't wanna walk home in a fucking tux."
"Sure." I say, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge. I consider offering him one, but he always helps himself to whatever he wants out of my fridge. I shouldn't need to offer now.
I turn to face him, just as he says, "Okay, this is far too fucking awkward. We need to sort it out right now." He pulls his beanie off and shakes his hair out a little, before folding his arms and finally looking me in the eye.
As far as I'm concerned, this is his fault. Okay, I begged him to kiss me at midnight. And okay, I leaned into him again after he told me he met the right girl six years ago. It was a line, and it worked. He shouldn't have said that to me. He wants to sort this out? Fine, I'm interested to hear his plan.
"So how do you propose we sort it out?" I take a drink of water. Much better.
"We just forget about it and move on and act normal." His eyes meet mine.
I slowly bring the water bottle down from my lips. He wants to forget about it and act normal? As if nothing ever happened? That asshole. He thinks he can use me like that. Me? I'm not like the other girls, I'm his best fucking friend for fuck sake. I come first, how many time has he told me that? I'm gonna freak out.
"Before you freak out," he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He knows me so well. "Let me explain."
He takes a deep breath. "I don't wanna act like nothing happened because I'm a dick and that's what I usually do with girls. I know that's what you're thinking. You're different, you know you are. Jamie comes first, always. What happened... Should never have happened. So that's what I want. I want us to go forward like we were before. Let's rewind to before the ball dropped on New Year's Eve, and take things from there. Best friends. Band mates. What do you say?"
I consider this, and I know he's right. It's the easiest option for everyone. On paper. But will it be easy? I'm not so sure.
"So you think you can just forget about it and act like you usually do around me?" I ask. I'm genuinely interested in the answer to this question.
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He frowns a little. He's not sure. So I go on.
"You think the next time you see me wearing those pyjamas I had on earlier, you're not gonna think about me wrapping my legs around you and moaning into your mouth? It's not as though you have to spend a lot of time with the other girls you fool around with, this is new for you." I say this with a little more emotion. I guess I'm pretty pissed that he wants to just discard what happened between us. Even though I know he's right. What is going on with me?
His mouth opens wider and he just stares at me like I have two heads.
"Forget I said that!" I say quickly, waving my hands in front of me.
"No..." He says slowly. He coughs, then says, "You, um, you have a point.."
I raise an eyebrow at him, then roll my eyes at him before marching down the stairs to the garage. That conversation was going no where, and I needed an escape route. I sit down on the couch, pick up an acoustic guitar and start playing the opening chords to Ed Sheeran - Lego House. I don't look up when Patrick appears at the foot of the stairs, even though I know these chords well enough to play them without looking at what my fingers are doing. Why am I acting like such a bitch right now? He tried to make a play on me by making me think he's liked me as more than a friend for the past five and a half years. His libido is beyond control, so it makes sense that he would try to play me like that. Especially after I french kissed him... And now he wants me to agree to forget about it and act like everything is normal? It makes sense, it's the smartest option. Our band will be ruined if we let this things make everything between us weird. So why am I so hurt that he wants to just brush it off like it was nothing? I don't know, but I can't help it. I don't want to brush it off. I want to get to the bottom of whatever the hell happened between us last night... and this afternoon. I wait for him to sit down on the other couch (not next to me, like he usually would), and then I ask him the question I've been considering asking since I saw him on my front porch.
"Why did you pretend you bought those Ed Sheeran tickets for Steph?"
He looks shocked and confused. He can't believe I'm bringing this up right now. But I don't care. I want an answer. I continue playing, and I know he knows the song. It's my favourite Ed Sheeran song, and I've played it in front of him plenty of times before.
"Jamie, what are you -"
"Cut the crap, Patrick." I continue playing, and thankfully my voice stays even. "I know you didn't get the tickets for Steph. So why did you tell me you did?"
I almost feel sorry for him. He has that pained look on his face again. But I can't care about that. I need an answer to this question. I don't know why I'm asking him this now after all these years. I just need to know.
"I didn't want you to read too much into it." He says quietly, looking down at his feet.
I stop playing, but I keep a hold of my guitar. "Why would I have thought anything of it? Friends buy each other concert tickets all the time."
He rakes a hand through his hair, and he still looks like he's in pain. "I know, but Jay and Joel didn't offer to help you with the tickets. I just thought..." He sighs. "I just didn't want anyone thinking anything of it. That's all."
"So why bother getting me the tickets at all?"
"I knew how much you wanted to go to the show. I like it when you're happy."
He looks up at me and we stare at each other for a few seconds. But it's too much. I look down at my guitar and start playing a mindless melody. I don't know what else to say.
"And Joel was suspicious. Otherwise, I probably would have just told you I got the tickets for you."
I look up at him again, but he's looking at the floor again now. Joel was suspicious? Of what, exactly?
"What do you mean 'Joel was suspicious'?" I'm afraid of the answer to this.
He rakes both of his hands through his hair and continues staring at the floor. "Nothing, never mind." He says quickly. I frown.
He coughs, then says, "So, are you gonna tell me what's going on with Noah?"
I look away from him and continue playing whatever melody this is I've come up with. It's slow. And I don't wanna talk to him about Noah. Patrick changed the subject so swiftly just now. What was Joel suspicious about? I wanna know, but at the same time, I don't.
"Noah called to apologise. He wants to see me when he gets back from the City." I'm staring down at my fingers, watching them move across my guitar. I need something to focus on, to distract me from this conversation.
"Right. And you wanna see him?" There's an edge to Patrick's voice now.
Seeing Noah is the last thing I wanna do right now. Because when I do see him, I need to tell him about what happened between me and my best friend. My annoyingly attractive best friend. My best friend who I now know can kiss me like no one else ever has.
Before I can think of a more diplomatic answer to Patrick's question, I say "No" under my breath, still staring at my guitar.
"Why not?" Patrick asks.
I sigh. I am not getting into this with him. Not right now. Probably not ever.
"It's none of my business, I know." He says quietly.
With my peripheral vision, I notice him slouching back into the sofa. He puts both hands onto his head and exhales. I don't know where this conversation is going, or what the hell we're doing right now.
And now, I seem to be playing the chords to You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift. Why am I doing this? I fucking hate Taylor Swift. But I know Patrick loves her. This was a mistake, he might 'read too much into it.'
But why shouldn't I? I've played this song in front of the guys before. Of all Taylor's annoying, whiny songs, this is the one I hate the least. Honestly, I kinda like it. It's cute. I guess a few of her older songs aren't too bad. Still doesn't explain why I'm playing this right now! What the hell am I doing?!
"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said. Cuz she doesn't get your humour like I do." And now I'm singing. One of Patrick's favourite 'guilty pleasure' songs. What. The. Fuck?!
I glance up at him as I sing, and he's looking at me like I'm crazy again. No surprises there. Jesus Christ, what am I doing? ("I'm listening to the kinda music she doesn't like") I need to stop this now.
So I do. I stop singing, and I stop playing. I notice my shoelaces are undone. Wonder when that happened.
"Keep playing. I've never stopped you before." He says, as he stands up and walks across to join me on my couch.
Oh, so now you wanna sit next to me? I play a little old school Swifty and suddenly we're best friends again? Well, shit.
"Walking the streets with you and your worn out jeans, I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be.." I continue playing and singing.
He listens quietly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands. I think he may have noticed my undone shoe laces too, seems like that's what he's looking at anyway.
"I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're about to cry. I know your favourite songs and you tell me about your dreams..."
He looks up at me and sits back a little. I'm still looking at my feet, but I can tell.
"Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you?"
I chance turning my head and looking up at him, and our eyes meet.
"Been here all along..." I trail off, understanding flooding my senses.
"...so why can't you see?.." I can't sing the last line (you belong with me) so I lay my guitar down on my lap and stop singing.
We're inches apart, sitting next to each other on the sofa, eyes locked on each other. I'm searching for the blue in his eyes, it's gone again. I know that's his favourite Taylor Swift song. I can't help but wonder... The way he's looking at me. That line he used on me last night. Does this song, remind him of me?
I already met the right girl for me. The words echo around in my head. Was he being serious? He wasn't just trying to work me, like he does with every other girl? No. He can't have been serious. I mean, I totally fell for it when he said it. And it worked. We made out the rest of the night, then he came home with me, then...
Oh my god. He only came home with me because I asked him to. He didn't expect it, he didn't put any moves on me. I put all the moves on him. Who was the one ripping the other ones clothes off? Who was the one begging to be kissed when the clock struck midnight? It was all me. And he wasn't just playing into my drunken emotional state. Maybe, just maybe... He was telling the truth?
He wouldn't sleep with me though. That's not the Patrick I know. Patrick loves sleeping with girls. He loves sex. So why would he make out with me, and give me about twenty hickeys, and refuse to remove my dress, and refuse to sleep with me. Because I was drunk? We were both drunk though. Damn, this boy has some serious self-control. I don't understand.
"Why didn't you sleep with me?"
I expect him to look away and get awkward again, but he doesn't. "I couldn't let it happen, not like that. We were both wasted."
"So... you did want to?" A bold question, but I need to figure this out.
"Of course I wanted to." He's whispering, we're so close.
"And you know I wanted to. You could have had me arrested for sexual assault." I'm trying to make a joke, but my voice is completely serious. He doesn't laugh.
"It's not sexual assault if you're a willing participant." He's looking at my lips again. And I'm looking at his.
Fuck.