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"Nice to see you, Pete. Is Patrick here?" She asked, pushing past him.
"Excuse me, but no he's not. And you have no right to be, either. This is my house. Hey!" He said, as Christina sat herself down in his armchair.
"Do you mind if I wait for Patrick?"
"And what exactly makes you think he'd be here?"
"Oh, I don't know. Seeing as this is the only place he'd be, and the fact his jacket is hanging on your banister."
Pete glanced into the hallway and cursed Patrick in his head, then snapped back to attention.
"Christina, look, whatever you want to discuss is between you and Patrick, and I would appreciate if you didn't discuss it in my home."
"Pete, stay out of it." Christina snapped at him. Pete raised his eyebrows.
"I beg your pardon? Did you just order me around in my house?"
"Shut up." She hissed.
"Maybe you should... leave." Joe piped up from the corner of the room by the TV.
"And maybe you should shut your mouth, junkie." She spat at him.
"Oh she did not." Andy replied, standing up. Joe laughed.
"Whoah. Cheap shot. I would throw some 'cheating slut faced hoe bag' remark at you but, I just did."
Christina stood up and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
"Satan's minion." Andy said, shaking his head.
"She's so stupid, the definition of a junkie is someone who is addicted to drugs. I only do weed." Joe said, his nose in the air.
Pete half smiled, thinking as Andy and Joe returned to their game, shaking their heads and muttering about Christina. Pete had been right about her all along. She was insane. He'd first noticed how strangely she acted when she and Patrick were having a conversation she didn't like. If Patrick disagreed with her, she'd pout and stamp her foot until he caved in. Pete had raised the issue in a conversation with Patrick, only to be snapped back at. He shrugged it off, obviously Patrick liked her, so she must be nice. He remembered all the times when Christina thought she and Patrick were alone, sometimes in a hotel or behind the van they used for touring. He would hear her whispering furiously to him, and whenever he stated his opinion or argued against an accusation, she snapped at him and he hastily agreed. Pete never doubted his suspicion about Christina, and came to the conclusion Patrick was either too scared to fight back, or a fool in love. Or maybe both.
"Aloha my friends, I'm back." Patrick called, once again struggling with all his belongings he'd packed in an excited rush. Andy, Joe and Pete waited for him to come into the living room, but heard a thump in the hallway.
"Now he's back." Andy said, hearing Patrick pick himself up and enter the living room.
"Hey." He grinned, resting his hands on his hips. Andy, Joe and Pete waited for each other to say something. Joe averted his gaze to his knees and Andy coughed to clear the silence.
"What?" Patrick asked, his smile fading and his voice dropping. Pete stood up.
"Uh, you should sit for this." Pete said, walking over to him and putting his hands on his shoulder.
"OK..." Patrick said slowly, his hands dropping from his sides and sliding into the pockets of his hoodie. Pete led him over to the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of him.
"All right, uh, I don't know how you're gonna react to this but... Christina came round here."
Patrick sat up, his eyes wide.
"Really? What did she say? Did she talk about me?"
"No, she talked about the weather." Pete said, rolling his eyes, then meeting Patrick's glare. "I mean, she was wanting to talk to you. But she was..."
"She was fucking mean!" Joe butted in.
"Joe! Shut up. What he means is that she was a little... sharp, with us. And I don't think she was wanting to talk to you about anything good." Pete said.
"What did she say?" Patrick asked, slowly.
"She, uh... you know what? It doesn't matter. We just thought you should know she was looking for you."
"She called me a junkie! And she barged into the house!"
Patrick opened his mouth but stopped, shaking his head.
"Come on you guys, I don't think..." He started, but was interrupted by a hammering on the door and his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He looked at Pete, dithering between the door and his phone.
'I got the door." Pete said, standing up. "You answer that."
"I don't want to answer it, Pete, don't answer the door, please." Patrick pleaded. Pete turned round in the doorway, surprised. He'd never heard Patrick use that tone before. Patrick's eyes were wide, fixated on his own.
"Why not?"
"When she's angry she's..."
"Why should she be angry?"
"I don't know!" Patrick replied, throwing his hands up in the air, one hand clutching his ringing phone. "But if she was that rude to you, then... I don't know."
"Look, Patrick..." Pete only moved an inch but Patrick was by his side in a second, grabbing his arm.
"Pete, please. Don't answer it." He said, desperately. "I don't want to see her."
"You can't keep running away." Pete replied.
"Pete! Please, I'm begging you, don't."
Pete's heart began to race. Was Patrick in danger or was he paranoid about seeing his ex? He could understand not wanting to see the person who shared so much of your life, but Patrick was almost on his knees, his eyes wide and desperate. He ran his hands through his hair. Damn women.
"OK, we'll just not..." Pete was cut off by a banging on the window.
"Answer the fucking door!" Christina's voice rang through the window, muffled but still audible. Very audible.
"Oh great. The company's arrived." Joe said, sarcastically.
"I better..." Patrick broke off, pushing past Pete and going to the door.
"Oh, oh this is not gonna end well." Andy said, shaking his head and putting his head in his hands.
"Never does." Pete said, sitting back down.
Patrick took a deep breath as the banging on the door started up again. Why was he going to open the door? Was he going to just let her walk straight back into his life after breaking his heart and telling him he meant nothing to her anymore? Was he absolutely crazy?
No. /He answered himself. /I love her. But why's she acting so insane?
Patrick shook his head in an attempt to shed the questions running through his mind. He opened the door and as soon as he did, Christina flung her arms around his neck, knocking him backwards into the banister. She kissed him, but it was a forced, controlled kiss. She dominated it, pressing her mouth against his until his breathing was stifled, harder and harder, until he could hardly breathe and his face started to turn red.
Oh my God. This is how I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die by being kissed. How lame is that?
Patrick shook his head once more and pushed her off with all his strength. As he caught his breath, he paused, gathering his words. If they could come out.
"What... the fuck?" He gasped. Christina grinned and threw her hair back.
"I know, did you feel that sexual tension?"
Patrick looked horrified and threw his hands up in the air.
"What do you want? Why the hell are you coming back to me?"
"I have news."
"Oh, really?" Patrick said, sarcastically. "What? You're engaged? You want me to sing at your fucking wedding?"
"Can we go somewhere private?"
Patrick paused.
"Sure, up there." He motioned upstairs and turned around. Patrick felt nauseous as he climbed the stairs, Christina behind him. They'd done this so many times, but never with this feeling in his stomach. Christina sat on the bed in Patrick's room and looked at him.
"OK, explain. Explain why the fuck you wanna come walking back into my life when I'm trying so hard to get over you."
"We're having a baby."

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