Jamie
I shake my head quickly, snapping myself out of this haze. I'm not drunk this time, I won't let myself get hypnotised by Patrick again. He looks down at the space between us on the couch and exhales slowly.
"Do you remember what we talked about when we got back here? Before you dragged me up to your room and started taking all my clothes off?" He's still not looking at me, and I feel my embarrassment warm my cheeks.
"I don't remember much talking, Patrick. No." I am so fucking mortified. What the hell did I say to him?
He looks up at the ceiling again and starts playing with his lip ring like he does when he's nervous. He's clearly struggling with something. But whatever it is, I wanna hear it. I need to hear it, so we can try to clear this mess up.
"Just tell me." I say, trying to sound confident. Whatever I said to him can't be that bad, right?
He takes a deep breath then looks me dead in the eye.
"I'm gonna tell you. Again. Because I think you know deep down now anyway." He pauses and sighs. "But once I do, you have to promise me you won't freak out and run outta here and tell Jay and Joel. Or Erin. Or anyone, really. I'm serious, Jamie. This has to stay between us now."
I nod my head slowly, wondering what the fuck I said to him. I make a silent vow never to drink shots again. At least not until I'm twenty-one.
"Okay." He looks up again, then brings his gaze back down to meet mine. "I said I don't date because I already met the girl for me years ago, and you know I was talking about you. That's why you kissed me again in the hotel, right? Well, when we got back here, you kept bringing it up. You said you didn't believe me, and you thought I was just playing you. So I tried to convince you that I was telling the truth." He pauses and rakes his hands through his hair again. I don't move. I can't breathe.
"So I told you about the first time we met. How Jay, Joel and I had met up after school and walked over to your house. Jay told us how sad you were about your mom, and how you kept telling him you didn't wanna jam with us. He told us you didn't know we were coming, so chances were you'd be pissed. We were totally prepared. And just before we came around the block to your house, Jay told us you were strictly off limits. Joel and I both laughed at him and said we weren't interested in that, we just wanted to see if you wanted to start a band with us. And that was it. He never mentioned it again, none of us guys did. But when I walked in here and saw you that day. You were sitting right there, playing The Chain on your guitar. I don't know. I'd never really noticed you before, but when I saw you that day..."
He shakes his head a little and runs his tongue over his lip ring, looking down at the space between us. He looks extremely stressed, he needs a second to get his shit together. I don't move, and I don't speak. I need to hear all of this, so I give him time to compose himself.
"I knew it was gonna be difficult, being in a band with you. But I didn't wanna mess it up for any of us. And after a few weeks, when I realised how awesome we were as a band and how much we all just clicked, I knew I had to try and get over how I felt about you..." Hold up, I need to butt in here.
"Woah, woah, woah." I cut him off, holding my hands up in disbelief. "After a few weeks? What the hell are you talking about? We were always with Joel and Jay in the beginning, we barely spent any time alone, I don't understand. How could you... You couldn't have..."
"We don't really get a choice with these things, Jame." He looks down again and sighs. "But I knew I had to just try to ignore it and move on. If we were serious about this band thing, which I knew we were, I couldn't risk screwing things up by telling you I liked you. And besides, you'd never given any indication that you liked me that way, so." He sighs again. This is so hard for him.
"You remember that day everyone walked in on us in the music room in Middle school? I was drumming really hard to Tusk, I didn't even notice all those other kids had walked in. Well, after that girls kinda started to notice me more. Girls came up to me at school a lot and asked for my number and all that, and it was cool. I can't say I didn't like it, you know, you were there. And I thought it was about time I met another girl I could like."
He sits back on the sofa again. I don't move, waiting for him to continue.
"Round about the same time, guys were starting to notice you. And I fucking hated it. When you told us you slept with that asshole James, I couldn't believe it. And I felt jealous. I was fucking jealous of some guy who meant virtually nothing to you, just because you thought he was good enough to lose your virginity with. How fucked up is that?" He shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh. I don't know what's so funny.
"I knew I wasn't over you then, not by a long shot. So I decided I needed to take things to the next level with all the other girls that were talking to me. And it got easier then. Girls were a great distraction from you, they still are. You know how I am." He says those last five words very quietly, and for the first time ever, he actually sounds a little ashamed about it. This is beyond belief.
"But what you don't know is, I've never bothered properly dating a girl or trying to have anything more than a one night stand, and it's all because of you. They don't compare to you, Jame. I don't think anyone ever will."
I don't know what to say. He looks like he wants the sofa to swallow him whole, and I'm just sitting here gawking at him like an idiot. My mind is racing. This can't all be true? Surely not.
"What about that girl you were with at the Winter Fayre?"
He sighs. "She was nice, so I thought I'd give it a shot, just like I told you before. Things seemed pretty serious between you and Noah after the Snow Ball, so... But she's not you."
I look at my feet again. I can't believe this. It can't actually be true, can it? He's liked me all along? Everything we've ever done together, all the shit I've ever said to him. Through all of that... After all this time?
For a split second, I am tempted to ask him the question. 'After all this time?' but I know what he'll say. He'll say 'Always'. Because he knows how much I love Harry Potter. And probably because he believes it, too. Because based on everything he's just said to me, and the emotion in his voice, and the look in his eyes... I know he's telling the truth. He isn't playing me. He has actually liked me as a more than a friend, since the moment he met me. Since before I even knew his surname. This is too much to process. I can't make sense of any of this.
"You've never.. I mean. You've never done anything. You've listened to me talk about guys. My first boyfriend, Archie. Will, Shaun Campbell, Noah. It doesn't make sense." I just can't get my head around this.
"What was I supposed to do? Tell you never to talk to any other boys besides me, Jay and Joel?" He sighs again. "I don't like seeing you with other guys, but it's your life. I want you to be happy. I knew I was never gonna be that guy for you, so I had to let you figure it out for yourself. It's been shit, but that's what friends do.."
I look up at him, and he's looking back at me. I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"Besides, I knew none of those guys were gonna be it for you." He gives me a small smile. Jesus, he's so gorgeous.
His smiles fades and he looks at the floor again. "Until Noah. I wasn't sure about him, but I've never seen you this way before. You're fucking head over heels for the guy. We can all see it."
I'm not. I'm really, really not. Not right now, anyway.
He sits back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling again. "He doesn't deserve you. The guy doesn't have a fucking clue what he wants from you, and he doesn't treat you how you deserve to be treated." He rubs his forehead with both hands, "but that's none of my business. I just have to sit around and listen to you complain about him and tell us about how crazy he makes you. I just wish he could be what you deserve."
He stands up suddenly. He's had enough, and he wants to leave now. "So I told you all of that in your kitchen last night. I convinced you that I wasn't just trying to play you. I was admitting something that I've been trying to hide for almost six years now. And you still didn't believe me. But it didn't stop you dragging me up to your room."
He throws his beanie back onto his head then shoves his hands into his front pockets. "So I told you I wouldn't sleep with you, to convince you that I wasn't just trying to use you. And you begged, Jame. You really fucking begged. It wasn't easy."
I cringe. That is difficult to hear, even though I already knew I begged him. "And this afternoon? After we both woke up?" I ask.
"We were both sober then." He shrugs. "And I thought you maybe... I don't know."
He shakes his head and stares down at the ground again. Whatever internal torture he's experiencing right now, I hate to think it's because of me. So I stand up and face him. I need to convince him that he hasn't done anything wrong. If he really has had feelings for me all this time... If he really has been bottling all of that up...
"You thought I maybe what?" I grab him by the shoulders to try and stop him looking away. He won't meet my eyes, but I want him to. I need to see if there's any truth in his eyes.
"I thought..." He's still not looking at me.
"Patrick, look at me." I need to look into his eyes.
He looks up, and our eyes lock. And it's intense. I feel like I can see a lot of pain and regret in his eyes. How hard it must have been for him, spending so much time in my company, listening to me talk about my feelings towards other guys, listening to me talk about hooking up with other guys. All of it.
And even worse than that, what about all the times I maybe gave him some form of hope? Wearing his hoodie around my house. Wearing his headbands. Resting my head on his shoulder when we watched my chick flicks together. Making him swear that I come first all the time. Fucking hell, why did I do that? I realise the torment I've been putting him through ever since I met him, and I feel awful.
The emotion in his eyes is almost too much for me to bare, and the way I feel about him now... I can't let him think he doesn't mean anything to me. He means everything to me. He has to know that. I need to tell him.
But he speaks before I do. "You told me I was fucking perfect this afternoon. After you said that, I thought... I thought maybe some part of you..." He sighs, he can't say it.
"You are fucking perfect." I whisper, confidently moving my hands from his shoulders to his neck.
We're still staring into each others eyes, and we're both breathing a little heavier now. I move my hands from his neck up into his black hair. It's still as messy as it was when he woke up in my bed earlier in the afternoon.
"I've always loved your hair." I say, my voice barely audible now. Maybe should have avoided using the L Word. But it's true. I do love his hair. And I usually say whatever the hell I'm thinking; why stop now? He knows me.
"You know how much it killed me every time you told me you loved me? And every time you said I was like a brother to you?" He whispers back.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I realise how difficult that must have been for him now.
"I wish you'd told me." I say.
He's looking deep into my eyes. My hands are in his hair, and I can't fight how I'm feeling right now. I wanna feel his lips on mine again. I wanna feel his hands roaming all over my body again. I want him.
So I kiss him.
I have no fucking idea how he'll respond. This could go terribly wrong. I have absolutely no idea, but right now, I don't care. I've never wanted something so much in my life. I need him to know how much he means to me. And I can't put it into words.
So I put it into a kiss.
I half expect him to pull away and ask me what I'm doing. But he doesn't. He wants me as much as I want him. I know he does. I feel his hands come to rest on my sides, just above my hips. It's too innocent, too friendly. I want more.
So I pull my hands out of his hair, and rest them on his hands. I open my mouth a little as I move my hands, inviting him to deepen this tame kiss. And he does. I feel his tongue touch my lips, and I respond by meeting his tongue with mine. I feel the coolness of his lip ring, and it gives me chills. Just like last night, but different somehow. Maybe because I'm totally sober now. I don't know, I just know that he is an unbelievable kisser, and I can't believe I've been missing out on this for all these years.
I guide his hands down to my butt, then wrap my arms around his neck again once I'm confident he won't pull away. I pull him in closer to me as we kiss. And I feel relieved. It's barely been twelve hours, but I've missed this. I've missed him. I've been in withdrawal. I feel like an addict who's finally managed to score another hit. It's fucking bliss.
His hands move up to my lower back, and he pulls me in closer. This heat between us is unbearable, and I need to lose some clothes. I just need to. This fucking scarf would be a good start. I let go of his neck and try to pull my scarf off without breaking our kiss, but he notices and pulls away.
"Jamie, calm down." He says breathlessly.
I shake my head at him and throw my scarf on to the ground. I do not want to calm down. I want more, I want as much as I can get before we both come to our senses and realise that we should not be doing this. Again. I wrap my arms around his neck quickly and try to pull him back to me, but he resists.
"Slow down. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. I just -" I don't know how to put this into words. I want you? I need you? Come on, Patrick! This cannot be one sided!
"I know." He breathes, before crushing his lips back on to mine.
That's better.