Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I Know I'm Supposed To Love You
Like the seasons, the spring turning into summer, Pete and Beata's relationship bloomed after their chance meeting. A long winded conversation over steaming cups of coffee and intricate bakery smells left them both besotted with each other. They enjoyed the similar taste to extents; bands, movies, lyrics. Often when they were in each others company they would quote scenes. They had the optimum friendship level with each other. And the perfect amount of lust electrifying their passion.
As most couples go, the sex was great. After many dates, to movies, restaurants, they fell, embracing each other, into bed. It was a pinpoint of the relationship and the sparks they created when there bodies connected burned alive with passion. And for both of them, it was far greater than any of them had ever touched before. Making their skin quiver and any other cell that hadn't been touched before alive with new found thirst. Commencing and satisfying their hearts, each with a brand new leash of love.
~@~
Patrick sighed, flicking his phone against himself, no messages, no calls. He flipped it back down again and repeated his movements. Apprehensive and frustrated. It had been a month, a month of Pete indulging in boasts. Boasts about his new girlfriend, his new love. Beata. That is all he heard. Patrick would try to intervene, interrupt, with his own news, perhaps a new song he had written, but his desperate attempts were drowned out by another display of admiration for the girl. Frankly, he was sick to the death of it.
It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Pete, but being single for while, he couldn't help but feel the pang of envy. His green eyes representing jealously. Every verb, sentence, noun that Pete mention of Beata just seemed to highlight Patrick's loneliness, and part of him resented Pete for it.
Patrick pinched the sides of the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses down while he slammed his eyes shut. A jagged air of breath released itself and he regretted every foul thought of Pete's new relationship. He felt foolish and selfish. And he couldn't help but let an ambience of irritation filter through his bloodstream. Patrick lamented the passing of the girl in the café, and if he was truthful he thought of no other girl than her. Her perfect hips in a curve contrasting to the flattening of her stomach. Her quirky movements when she tapped her toes to Ray Charles. His pulse did flips every second she entered his mind. She liked Ray Charles. Indignantly, he sighed again.
A knock on the door interrupted his self-pity; a burst of remembrance entered his veins. Patrick had invited people over, nothing big, nothing special, a gathering of friends and lovers. Maybe a film or a board game. An event that could make them catch up or spoil each other in a trip through memories. And of course, Pete could show of his new girlfriend.
A heavier knock fell upon the wood of the entrance, and Patrick, slowly, scuffed his way up his front door. Grimacing as he opened it to a image of Pete and a girl upon his arm. He barely noticed her until the purple streaks within her black hair struck him. He skimmed his eyes over her green jacket and orange trainers and found himself staring straight at the girl in the café. Patrick could feel the pounding of the heart within his chest. Cursing himself for every time he had tuned Pete out on her descriptions. She smiled at him but her eyes were vague. It seemed as though Patrick was the only one of the two who could remember each over.
"Patrick, finally," Pete muttered, holding out his hand in a presentation stance, "This is Beata, the girl I've been telling you about."
Beata lunged forward to take Patrick's hand. Patrick, of whom, had to snapped out from his wild eyes coveting every detail of her. He grinned back and took her hand. Appreciating the raising of hairs down his neck, "Beata, that's a really beautiful name."
Beata reflected a moment of gratitude to his face and nodded her head, "Thank you, it was my grandma's."
"Ah cool, what does it mean?" he asked, guiding her and Pete into his house. Pete stood somewhat awkwardly but let the moment pass into joy as his girlfriend and best friend got on. A seal of approval, that was all Pete needed.
"It means "blessed" my family are freakishly catholic." She giggled.
"What about you?"
"Agnostic. I like the concept of faith, yet don't have much belief in it," her speech wrapped in casual intelligence, "but that doesn't stop me going to church every now and then."
"Forced?"
"Oh you bet" Patrick and Beata laughed at the shared joke then looked down at their joined hands. Patrick blushed nervously and let go.
"Would you like a drink or something?" Pete turned and asked her, sheepishly. If he questioned his emotions or truly thought about them, he would realise that he felt out of place in the presence of Patrick and Beata, though the two had never met.
"Erm, yes please," her eyes glinted as Pete pressed his lips on her cheek. Patrick felt his stomach sink; there was obviously something more with Pete and Beata, something that he could not touch, or even comprehend.
"Do you want to pick some CD's or something?" Patrick asked Beata. Beata felt a rush of heat sit perfectly on her cheeks. Turning into nerves as she didn't know how to answer the question.
"Is that okay?"
"Of course," he held his hands out to the front room and she walked in the direction of a collection placed beside the speakers. She bent down and Patrick guided his eyes around every part of her.
"Omg! Nat King Cole!" she nearly squealed, causing to Patrick to leave the room in a haste, not trusting himself anymore, he entered the kitchen to a scurrying Pete.
"So what do you think?" Pete asked hesitantly.
Patrick swallowed a deep breath along with a thousand words that could describe Beata. Impeccable, beautiful, stunning, he closed his eyes as he tried to pin down one, letting the word mine filter away from his grasp.
"Honestly?" he grinned at his friend, "she's awesome."
As most couples go, the sex was great. After many dates, to movies, restaurants, they fell, embracing each other, into bed. It was a pinpoint of the relationship and the sparks they created when there bodies connected burned alive with passion. And for both of them, it was far greater than any of them had ever touched before. Making their skin quiver and any other cell that hadn't been touched before alive with new found thirst. Commencing and satisfying their hearts, each with a brand new leash of love.
~@~
Patrick sighed, flicking his phone against himself, no messages, no calls. He flipped it back down again and repeated his movements. Apprehensive and frustrated. It had been a month, a month of Pete indulging in boasts. Boasts about his new girlfriend, his new love. Beata. That is all he heard. Patrick would try to intervene, interrupt, with his own news, perhaps a new song he had written, but his desperate attempts were drowned out by another display of admiration for the girl. Frankly, he was sick to the death of it.
It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Pete, but being single for while, he couldn't help but feel the pang of envy. His green eyes representing jealously. Every verb, sentence, noun that Pete mention of Beata just seemed to highlight Patrick's loneliness, and part of him resented Pete for it.
Patrick pinched the sides of the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses down while he slammed his eyes shut. A jagged air of breath released itself and he regretted every foul thought of Pete's new relationship. He felt foolish and selfish. And he couldn't help but let an ambience of irritation filter through his bloodstream. Patrick lamented the passing of the girl in the café, and if he was truthful he thought of no other girl than her. Her perfect hips in a curve contrasting to the flattening of her stomach. Her quirky movements when she tapped her toes to Ray Charles. His pulse did flips every second she entered his mind. She liked Ray Charles. Indignantly, he sighed again.
A knock on the door interrupted his self-pity; a burst of remembrance entered his veins. Patrick had invited people over, nothing big, nothing special, a gathering of friends and lovers. Maybe a film or a board game. An event that could make them catch up or spoil each other in a trip through memories. And of course, Pete could show of his new girlfriend.
A heavier knock fell upon the wood of the entrance, and Patrick, slowly, scuffed his way up his front door. Grimacing as he opened it to a image of Pete and a girl upon his arm. He barely noticed her until the purple streaks within her black hair struck him. He skimmed his eyes over her green jacket and orange trainers and found himself staring straight at the girl in the café. Patrick could feel the pounding of the heart within his chest. Cursing himself for every time he had tuned Pete out on her descriptions. She smiled at him but her eyes were vague. It seemed as though Patrick was the only one of the two who could remember each over.
"Patrick, finally," Pete muttered, holding out his hand in a presentation stance, "This is Beata, the girl I've been telling you about."
Beata lunged forward to take Patrick's hand. Patrick, of whom, had to snapped out from his wild eyes coveting every detail of her. He grinned back and took her hand. Appreciating the raising of hairs down his neck, "Beata, that's a really beautiful name."
Beata reflected a moment of gratitude to his face and nodded her head, "Thank you, it was my grandma's."
"Ah cool, what does it mean?" he asked, guiding her and Pete into his house. Pete stood somewhat awkwardly but let the moment pass into joy as his girlfriend and best friend got on. A seal of approval, that was all Pete needed.
"It means "blessed" my family are freakishly catholic." She giggled.
"What about you?"
"Agnostic. I like the concept of faith, yet don't have much belief in it," her speech wrapped in casual intelligence, "but that doesn't stop me going to church every now and then."
"Forced?"
"Oh you bet" Patrick and Beata laughed at the shared joke then looked down at their joined hands. Patrick blushed nervously and let go.
"Would you like a drink or something?" Pete turned and asked her, sheepishly. If he questioned his emotions or truly thought about them, he would realise that he felt out of place in the presence of Patrick and Beata, though the two had never met.
"Erm, yes please," her eyes glinted as Pete pressed his lips on her cheek. Patrick felt his stomach sink; there was obviously something more with Pete and Beata, something that he could not touch, or even comprehend.
"Do you want to pick some CD's or something?" Patrick asked Beata. Beata felt a rush of heat sit perfectly on her cheeks. Turning into nerves as she didn't know how to answer the question.
"Is that okay?"
"Of course," he held his hands out to the front room and she walked in the direction of a collection placed beside the speakers. She bent down and Patrick guided his eyes around every part of her.
"Omg! Nat King Cole!" she nearly squealed, causing to Patrick to leave the room in a haste, not trusting himself anymore, he entered the kitchen to a scurrying Pete.
"So what do you think?" Pete asked hesitantly.
Patrick swallowed a deep breath along with a thousand words that could describe Beata. Impeccable, beautiful, stunning, he closed his eyes as he tried to pin down one, letting the word mine filter away from his grasp.
"Honestly?" he grinned at his friend, "she's awesome."
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