FicWad

Chpt 9: They write books about this kind of thing.

How ever messy life gets, you'd think it would always work itself out.
Ha.

Later in the night I deleted all the messages. Then went straight to bed.

The next day is a dull one. I'm off and the house is as clean as it gets. So, there is nothing to do with the next five or so odd hours. I hit play on the DVD player and settle in for the first season of Friends.

By the season finale my thoughts have drifted to how much my life seems like a TV show these days. The phone rings and jolts me from my thoughts. How rude. I pull myself to a standing position and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" My voice sounds annoyed, but I dont mean it.

"Hey, should I call back later?" It was Patrick.

"No, sorry. I was just thinking. Whats up?"

"I'm outside. Come down, ok?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute." He complies and hangs up.

Frantic I run from the living room down the hall to my room and peel of the tank top and boxers Id been wearing all day. I exchange them for a gray t shirt and a pair faded jeans.

Hair down and sneakers on I run down the stairs to find Patrick perched on the hood of his car staring at the night sky. I lean against the iron staircase and observe him for a moment before he notices me.

"Hey there." He says just above a whisper. "Beautiful arent they?" His eyes are still glued to the clear night sky.

"Mmmhmm." I nod taking a few steps toward him. He sits up and reaches out a hand to me, I hesitate but I take it.

"I've missed you." He says, lightly pulling me to him. He inhales my hair deeply and I want to keep him like this. Enveloped around me forever. Childlike, I know.

"Me too." I mumble into him. Silly isn't It this over two short days apart. That's not it though. This distance between us has been lingering. Its not geographical or chronological. Its emotional.

The car ride is slow and quiet like most we've shared lately. Music plays background to the little or no conversation that is going on.

My hand instinctively reaches for his and he returns the grasp. I notice for the first time the calluses that have made their homes his finger tips. Rough, but with purpose.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don't come. They won't come. My brain refuses to function. An then my heart takes over.

"I need you to be honest with me." My voice is low and cracked.

"I've never lied." His voice is louder, and stronger than mine.

"I'll give you that, you've never lied. But you know what I mean. I need you to stop hiding from me. Give up on the bullshit excuses and insecurities." My voice is stable and louder now.

He is quiet, his focus stays on the road, and his mind away from my statement.. The stretch of highway is deserted. It has been for miles.
"Stop dodging the fucking inevitable Trick. The road will end and I will still want my answers."

The tires screech on to a halt on the slick asphalt as Patrick slams on the breaks. He doesn't pull over. Just stops in the middle of the highway. He undoes his seatbelt and steps out of the car, into the rain that had been falling the last fifteen or so miles into nowhere.

My eyes are fixed on him as he walks around the car to my side. His hand lingers on the door latch and mine mirrors his on the other side.

He makes the first move, the door opens and his hand extends to me. I take it and he helps me out of the car.

His movements are quick. And before I am able to stand properly his lips cove mine.
I am overwhelmed.

My knees are weak and lean in to him for support. We pull apart a few moments later with red faces and swollen lips Breathing hard, we stay only inches from the other.

I open my eyes slowly, almost afraid to see him. I don't want to ruin the moment with reactions. But I find my fears empty when look up to see him with his eyes still shut tight, lips parted slightly frozen in that kiss.

My instincts kick in; my eyes close and I press my lips into his again. The rain is pouring now. I feel like I'm in a scene out of a movie. But movies are fake. This is not fake. I don't feel fake.

My head is spinning. Too fast for me to attempt to control. Thought process is out the window. I can't keep doing this.

Yes I can. I can. And I will. His lips on mine, how is he doing this? Making me feel all this with a kiss. We pull a part a few seconds later. Both gasping for air, but this time our eyes meet.

It feels like everything we've never said, or had the guts to do is passed in this glance. Its still raining. I'm cold and wet, but that's not what matters now. All the matters right now is him and this feeling. The swelling in my chest. This cant be good, but who the hell cares.

He opens his mouth, but the words fall short. I can't help but smile. We stare at one another for a few moments longer before his hand finds mine.

Here I am, standing in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone and freezing cold, but all I can feel is his hand in mine. The has to be right. We have to be right together.

It's like all the windows are down, and you're so cold you almost can't bear it but you wouldnt roll them up for anything. Then the feeling would stop, and you're not willing to let it go. In that moment, of freezing air rushing around you at eighty miles per hour all that matters is who is there holding your hand. Letting you know everything is okay and always will be as long as you hold on tight. That's only a fraction of what this feels like. Of what he feels like to me.

This is scarier and more wonderful than anything I've ever done in my life. Minutes pass, and still neither of us has had the guts to say the first word. We're too afraid of the others reactions.

"You...me...this, us?" I manage to stutter.

"Us." He says, his voice more confident than my own.

"Us." I echo with a sigh of relief mixed with nervousness. But that fades when his hand squeezes mine.

And this would all be so perfect, if weren't for one thing.

If this is all I've wanted, right here in front of me waiting for me to take it. Why does my mind keep wandering back to Pete?