Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Situation Hopeless
Chpt 12: Actions are always louder than words.
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Chpt 12: Actions are always louder than words.
Later that night, after and eventless rehearsal, Patrick and I are sitting on the edge of his bed watching infomercials. This is probably the best chance I'm going to have at a good time to have that conversation that I've been dreading for a week.
I cleared my throat, " Have you ever thought about your wedding?"
Patrick's eyebrow shot up and he gave me a curious look, "Not really. I mean its not something guys go thinking about ahead of time, ya know?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Why do you ask?" He said moving closer to me on the bed and turning so that we were now sitting face to face.
"I don't know, could be that awkward conversation I had with your mother about our hypothetical wedding last week."
Both eyebrows were now up, and he nearly sprayed me with a mouthful of soda as his eye doubled in size behind the thick rims of his glasses, "Our what?"
I couldn't help but smile at his expression, "You mom called last week to see if you'd left with that box, anyway, somehow the conversation turned to when you and I were going to get married. And how she can't wait to hear those bells."
"And what did you tell her?"
"I told her that, that I didn't think you and I were anywhere near those bells. I mean we aren't even dating."
His eyes fell, the shock was replaced with mild hurt, "We're not?"
Shit. Shit. Shit. I had to go and open my goddamned mouth. Why can't I ever let myself have a good thing? "I uhh...well..." I tripped over my words trying to fix something I'm almost sure I'd just broken.
He sighed audibly.
"You never really asked, so I mean I guess it was never made official." I ventured hoping he wouldn't walk out of the room. Instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine gently at first, then with more pressure as his free hand found its way into my hair. I leaned into him wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the other snaking its way around his middle. I could feel his tongue trace the line of my lips asking for an entrance. I obliged and parted my lips.
My eyes flutter closed. This whole making out with Patrick is still all a little new to me. I mean sure we fooled around as teenagers, but this is something totally different. This means something.
He moves us up toward the head of the bed slowly laying me on my back careful not to break our kiss. Did I forget to mention how amazing this feels? If I did, it is. His lips move from mine to the line of jaw, he traces it with kisses up to my ear where he says he loves me just above a whisper.
This is what every girl dreams of. What first times are supposed to be made of. Not clumsy, sticky, fumbling limbs and lips colliding with out a clue. His kisses continue, soft and strong. Before too long clothes litter the already cluttered floor of Patrick's bedroom.
Looking over me, weight resting on elbows above me, he whispers, "God, you're beautiful." almost breathlessly before our lips and hips collide. The rhythm is slow and steady at first, but its only after the stars subside and his name escapes my lips one last time that I'm able to comprehend what just happened and how lucky I am to wrapped around the body that I am.
Rolling on his side to face me, Patrick pushes the matted hair from my face, " There is one thing in this world I never want to you to doubt, and that is the fact that I love you. You were made for me, and by some cosmic glitch I got to hold on the best gift anyone's ever given me." His lips meet mine again, "Now, any doubts as to what we are now?"
I bit my lip to hide a smile, "Not a one."
Later that night, after and eventless rehearsal, Patrick and I are sitting on the edge of his bed watching infomercials. This is probably the best chance I'm going to have at a good time to have that conversation that I've been dreading for a week.
I cleared my throat, " Have you ever thought about your wedding?"
Patrick's eyebrow shot up and he gave me a curious look, "Not really. I mean its not something guys go thinking about ahead of time, ya know?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Why do you ask?" He said moving closer to me on the bed and turning so that we were now sitting face to face.
"I don't know, could be that awkward conversation I had with your mother about our hypothetical wedding last week."
Both eyebrows were now up, and he nearly sprayed me with a mouthful of soda as his eye doubled in size behind the thick rims of his glasses, "Our what?"
I couldn't help but smile at his expression, "You mom called last week to see if you'd left with that box, anyway, somehow the conversation turned to when you and I were going to get married. And how she can't wait to hear those bells."
"And what did you tell her?"
"I told her that, that I didn't think you and I were anywhere near those bells. I mean we aren't even dating."
His eyes fell, the shock was replaced with mild hurt, "We're not?"
Shit. Shit. Shit. I had to go and open my goddamned mouth. Why can't I ever let myself have a good thing? "I uhh...well..." I tripped over my words trying to fix something I'm almost sure I'd just broken.
He sighed audibly.
"You never really asked, so I mean I guess it was never made official." I ventured hoping he wouldn't walk out of the room. Instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine gently at first, then with more pressure as his free hand found its way into my hair. I leaned into him wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the other snaking its way around his middle. I could feel his tongue trace the line of my lips asking for an entrance. I obliged and parted my lips.
My eyes flutter closed. This whole making out with Patrick is still all a little new to me. I mean sure we fooled around as teenagers, but this is something totally different. This means something.
He moves us up toward the head of the bed slowly laying me on my back careful not to break our kiss. Did I forget to mention how amazing this feels? If I did, it is. His lips move from mine to the line of jaw, he traces it with kisses up to my ear where he says he loves me just above a whisper.
This is what every girl dreams of. What first times are supposed to be made of. Not clumsy, sticky, fumbling limbs and lips colliding with out a clue. His kisses continue, soft and strong. Before too long clothes litter the already cluttered floor of Patrick's bedroom.
Looking over me, weight resting on elbows above me, he whispers, "God, you're beautiful." almost breathlessly before our lips and hips collide. The rhythm is slow and steady at first, but its only after the stars subside and his name escapes my lips one last time that I'm able to comprehend what just happened and how lucky I am to wrapped around the body that I am.
Rolling on his side to face me, Patrick pushes the matted hair from my face, " There is one thing in this world I never want to you to doubt, and that is the fact that I love you. You were made for me, and by some cosmic glitch I got to hold on the best gift anyone's ever given me." His lips meet mine again, "Now, any doubts as to what we are now?"
I bit my lip to hide a smile, "Not a one."
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