Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Time Will Come..(Won't It?)
Come Reality.
2 reviews“Aw, you rhyme now. How cute. I should let Pete know. Hey, did that one work on Cindee, too? I seem to be getting all of her leftovers. Are you sure you didn’t fuck her before you used your gre...
1Exciting
At one point around 10:00 a.m. the brightness of the sun’s rays reflected off the walls and covered her face like lasers of doom. Even without her eyes open, it was a wake up call from hell. She groaned from her spot on the bed and in less than the ten seconds it took for her sit up, a wave of realization hit her like a ton of bricks and she blinked, trying to put images of last nights memory together. It was all so clear and yet it was all so jumbled and unrealistic. Her dancing, Patrick shoving her into a cab, Patrick kissing her and touching her. His lips on her skin and the sound of their heavy breathing. Him holding her close and thrusting hard and the sensation of cumming for the first time with him. Then there was him placing her on the bed, his arms wrapping around her. It shaped her look of annoyance into a smile when she thought about it and she peeked to the side to him there, lying in a tangle of sheets, shirtless and most likely without anything else on. His mouth was slightly open and his breathing was even; he looked so goddamn peaceful lying there. Even after everything it was so fucking hard to hate him. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. So many things were clouding her mind, it was difficult to try and focus it hating him. It was stupid yes, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Two days ago she had been and now she wasn’t. What if her mom found out? What if her brother did? He would surely rip Patrick to pieces. She felt somewhat dirty. Sex wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing so why did it feel like she was lying to everyone, like she was a bad person? Why, when it had felt so good?
Patrick turned in his sleep, licking his lips before settling down again. He was still here. It should have made her happy but it kind of hurt. It made the memory of waking up alone the day before so much more intense. Why was she always hurting? What the fuck was up with that?
She sat there, a sheet tucked around her body and under her arms to cover herself and stared at the down comforter with confusion deep in her dark eyes. Why was he still here? Was it just because he’s been drunk the night before and had forgotten of because he wanted to be here or because he was lazy or what? Things could never be simple with her. There always a catch. She just didn’t know if it was because she created one in her mind or if she was just paranoid or what.
Once again, she turned to sneak a glance at him even though he was asleep stared. He was so, so beautiful. It was inhuman to her. That made her feel a little crazy but there was no other way to explain how he was. Just seeing him made her stomach flip. His face was so fucking adorable. Soft and round, yet intense and deep. That face could make her melt. Those lips could make her scream his name in levels that weren’t appropriate in most places.
She scooted closer to him, her teeth on her lip, contemplating whether she should follow her urge to let her hand disappear beneath the sheets to where she knew he was unclothed.
Fuck it, she thought.
If last night had meant what she thought it had meant then it was perfectly okay. She slid her hands down his sides, to his cock and ran her warm hands over it. It wasn’t huge…when he was relaxed, but it was amazing but hormones could do to a person. She swallowed nervously and rubbed him, looking at his face for a reaction. He wasn’t fully awake yet, but that smile on his lips let her know that having a good dream right then. Her strokes grew faster and so did his length and she chuckled to herself. Hey, she wasn’t completely bad.
Patrick let out a low moan and she gripped him and ran her hands from the bottom all the way to the top then back down again. He was half awake now. Slightly out of breath and horny as fuck. His body was aching to do more and well, this was how a real man was woken up and he didn’t have a problem with it. He couldn’t see too well this early, especially with his glasses lying in the lamp table next to him but he knew he liked what was happening. She wrapped up his balls and squeezed them, and he groaned in pleasure, his eyes shutting tight. “Oh, fuck, Cindee. That feels so good.”
Cindee?!
She stopped. Her hands frozen on his skin and she inhaled a sharp breath. This was one of those time where she felt like someone had tripped her on purpose in front of everyone then kicked her hard when she was down.
She swallowed, her mouth going dry because she was at an evident loss for words and tears formed in her eyes. Tears she wouldn’t allow herself to cry because that would only make her weak. This wasn’t happening. Not after last night.
Something was wrong, he knew that much because she had stopped but his brain didn’t working fast enough to put two and two together before the bed flew out from under him and he hit the floor with a loud, rough thud. “The FUCK!” He cried, squinting up at the bed. The sudden fall must have kicked his gears up a notch and things started to fall into place.
Oh shit. Of fuck, oh fuck, oh SHIT.
By the time he was stumbling to get up she was already throwing on her panties and throwing clothes around because she couldn’t find her goddamn skirt. The anger was Rolling off her in furious waves and despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, he knew that if looks could kill, he would probably be lying on the floor with little X’s where his eyes should be and holes throughout his body. It had been an honest mistake that never should have made and well, he wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. What did you say to a girl after she had sex with her the night before and then she jerked you off and you called her the wrong name? ‘Oh, gee. Sorry, Hon. Wrong girl, she was the other day.’
She grabbed his jeans and pulled them, only thankful that it came with a belt before reaching for her bra. They wouldn’t fit perfectly but it was enough to cover her body.
The entire time she was trying to keep her back to Patrick because the whole ‘act mad, ignore him’ bit wasn’t exactly bulletproof and she was most likely going to burst into tears the moment she met his gaze.
“Troian, I’m Sorry! That—I—it was a mistake, that’s not what I me—“
“Yeah, its always a mistake,” She snapped. She was trying desperately to stay strong this time, but it wasn’t proving to be easy. That…that just been a hit below the belt, accident or not. She clasped her bra and snatched up a random shirt that was probably his. Where the fuck was her clothes? The fact that she didn’t know what he had done with then only made her situation worse and she pushed past him very roughly. She was pulling on his shirt when he took a hold on her and spun her around to face him. “Wait,” His eyes begged her to stay and she looked up him up and down in disgust from his beautiful face to his half erection.
“You’re not worth a damn.”
His features twisted into a glare. “Wait the fuck up. You’re calling me worthless? I didn’t know I was screwing a saint.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. His brain was screeching for him to not say another word because he was only making the situation worse but his mouth seemed to work on its own. He knew she was right. This time he had fucked up badly and there was no easy way out but the asshole in him refused to let himself fall for her and he refused to let himself be degraded by her when she didn’t know anything. She couldn’t know anything, she just couldn’t. Innocent, naïve people like her didn’t act this way. They didn’t fight back and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her of all people tell him he was worthless. It was one thing if people threw a pen at him and told him his writing was shit but this…when the words were flying from her mouth, it was worse.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t exactly know one if one fucked you in the ass.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call you ‘the best fuck ever’ little miss priss.” There he went again, digging the hole he was in just a bit deeper. Had there been a lie detector hooked up to his ass, the lines would have been going crazy.
“Aw, you rhyme now. How cute. I should let Pete know. Hey, did that one work on Cindee, too? I seem to be getting all of her leftovers. Are you sure you didn’t fuck her before you used your greedy little ways to taint me?”
“TAINT YOU?” His mouth dropped for a second then he straightened did what he knew would piss her off: laugh. “Sweetie, I did you a favor. If I hadn’t, no one would have.” Every little egotistical piece of crap that spewed from his mouth clawed at her heart and he knew it but he couldn’t bring himself to not say anything at all.
“Oh, is that what you call it?” She sneered, pulling up her pants. She looked downright ridiculous wearing his jeans, holding them up with one hand, arguing with him and halfway ready to cry. Her hair was a mess and her eyeliner was starting to smear even more. She had a headache from hell now, the alcohol had taken it wrath upon her and the sound of his voice was not only sharp but loud in her ears.
“Dear, God, here we go again.” He said, throwing his hands up. “Have you always been this bitchy?”
“Have you always been this much of a lying, two faced asshole?” He failed to notice the clothes she was wearing until now when she placed her hands on her hips and glared daggers at him.
“Are those my—Dude, NO. You—“ There was this big, surprised look of utter agape on Patrick’s face. He kept looking her up and down and blinking. He was caught between the fact that she was about to leave, with his clothes on, once again trying to make him the bad guy and the fact that she had HIS CLOTHES ON.
Cause that was just so fucking hot.
She rolled her eyes. He must really be slow, she thought before spinning around to storm out. She didn’t care how he stared at her, how cute he smiled, how much he pleaded, she was out.
At that moment though, a familiar tune of ‘Clothes off!’ filled the air and she backtracked to get her phone. She knew it was Calista. And she knew if she was going to get phone back, she was going to have try and run because he was reaching for it.
He glanced at her before heading for the phone too, eager to let her say whatever it was she was going to say. He wasn’t too sure how he was going to fix this, but he would. “Oh, no you don’t,” He went to grab the phone and “—oof” Was all that came out of Patrick’s lips and she ran and shoved him out of the way. Linebacker style.
“Hello,” She panted into the phone. She pushed her hair back and glared at Patrick who was on the phone groaning.
“Troian?”
“Yes. Calista?”
“Of course.” Calista paused. Did she really want to figure out why it sounded like Patrick was groaning in the background? Yes. “Is he that good, or am I missing a game?”
She narrowed her eyes on the naked Patrick who was crawling on the floor toward his boxers and then reaching for a pair of jeans, halfway under the bed. The scene disturbed her. It just did. “Come get me. Please. I’m going to shoot myself any minute now and if I die with only Patrick by my side then I’ll know for sure that my life has been worth nothing.”
“HEY!”
She flipped him off and pouted into the phone. “Seriously. If I have to spend another minute with this dick knowing that you aren’t coming to get me, I’m going to climb to the roof and jump because I can’t take this shit anymore.” She choked back tears at the words, even though it did help a bit if she made fun of the situation. That’s all this was to him anyway, a game.
“Yes, yes, you’re the victim here.” He muttered in the background and she threw the magazine lying on the dresser at him.
“Thank you. Seriously. Fuck. If I don’t shoot myself, I’m going to shoot him. Yes! No, dude, he’s a fucking prick. Damn straight I’ll tell you when I get home. Fucker actually called out her name—“
“Hi, still here,” Patrick shot her from his spot near the bed. His ears had turned the most charming shade of red; working its way from his neck up. “And I can still hear what you’re saying.”
She aimed another item at him and Patrick ducked from a hairbrush. “FUCK YOU,” She mouthed.
“Stop telling people our business!”
“I’ll tell people what I please, thank you.”
He had had enough of this bullshit. It didn’t matter what had happened, he wasn’t going to let her make a fool of him. “Give me that,” He growled, snatching the phone away from her.
“The fuck!” She slapped at his arms and tried to grab it back from his clutches. She was taller than him but he was stronger. Keep away was a game that was played more than often when the boys went on tour.
“Calista?” He said, speaking into the phone. He had one arm out, a sock in his hand while he held her away. “Hi. Patrick here. Thanks for listening to her; we all know she had problems. Buh-bye.”
Her temper flared as he hung up on Calista’s voice still talking. “You’re such a jerk, fuck, I just want to go home.” She snatched the cell phone from him, the sight of his smirking at her was enough to make her want to cry. He really did enjoy hurting her. He must, the way he was looking at her like she was stupid.
“Not yet.”
“No, NOW. I think you realize how much your stupidity hurts. I’m tired. I just wanna go home and forget about you. I’m going to take a long show and scrub myself until the smell of you is gone from my skin then I’m going to make friends with Mr. Jack Daniels and you, well, you, I don’t care what you do. You can go fuck yourself. Just leave me out of it.”
“Why do you have to be that way? I’m sorry! It was an accident. You act as if I did it on purpose and or I enjoy it or something. It was a fucking ACCIDENT. Damn. I don’t know what to say to you because either way I’ll end up saying something that will piss you off.”
He was right. Anything he would he had to say at the moment was going to piss her off one way or another.
“Too late, fuck face.” She pushed past him once again with a growl on her face and headed for the door. She was going home whether she had to walk again, something she seemed to be doing a lot these days—even if hitchhike or whatever.
He took a step back. “Dear fucking God,” he muttered, running after her with the sock still in his hand, his pats still unzipped and his chest still bare. “Why do I always end up chasing you?” He had to keep pulling his pants up as he followed her through the living room. “Please stop, Troian. Seriously. I didn’t mean it. I’m not even with her anymore!” His pleas fell on deaf ears. She didn’t want his excuses. What was done was done and if she had anything to do with it, nothing else would happen.
Troian threw open the door, glaring into the sunlight that poured through the open doorway. She was trying to think of something mean to say back to him but nothing was coming to her and it was probably better if she just left in silence. She hoped how much she hated him right now. She was still looking at him through narrowed eyes when she nearly slammed into something standing there, hands raised to knock on the now open door.
She immediately sucked in a breath, her hands curling into fists. Leave her alive, leave her alive and just go. She’s not worth it. The hairs on her neck stood on end as she fought to keep her cool. Behind her, Patrick was still stumbling to stand up straight. He looked like he had been caught with both hands in the cookie jar. Let me tell you, this was not the scene that Patrick needed to be caught in. She was wearing his clothes. He was chasing her while shirtless; pants halfway falling down.
“JesusFUCK." Patrick groaned at the sight in the doorway. Cindee was the last person he wanted to see. His body went rigid in irritation but
Troian licked her dry lips and inhaled steadily. “Cindee.”
“Bitch.”
Troian closed her eyes for a second and sighed. This girl was not making it easy for Troian to leave her in one piece. She was not exactly the person she wanted to see at the moment or at any other time for that matter. Troian had to press her lips together to keep from retaliating. “’Scuse me,” she muttered rudely before she started to slip past the blonde but apparently that wasn’t going down. “Oh, no. Uh-uh,” Cindee threw out an arm to block her way. “Are those his clothes? ARE THOSE YOUR CLOTHES, PATRICK?” Troian wanted to break everyone one of her manicured fingers. You could almost see steam coming out of her ears.
“Why yes, they are.” Troian smiled sweetly. “Now move.”
Cindee’s eyes narrowed into slits filled with hate. She didn’t move an inch and Troian knew there bound to be trouble. At this point, she didn’t care. She should have been more surprised or shocked that apparently Patrick had cheated on Cindee with her, or vice versa but it was just too much to process at the moment. “No, seriously, Cindee.” The words came out in a clenched manner. “Get out of my way.” Anyone with half a brain would have moved by now because the results for this could not possible come out any good. “Collins, if you don’t get the fuck outta my way, I swear, you’re gonna regret it.”
“Are you threatening me, you bi—“
Patrick pulled her back because he did have that half of brain we were talking about and well, unless he wanted to help plan Cindee’s funeral it was best to separate these two.
“Get the fuck off!” Troian snapped at his touch. He kept a tight hold on her despite her protests and she wrenched away from him like he carried the ultimate disease and shot him a look of hate.
“If you came here for your precious Patrick then he’s all yours, love,” Troian sneered. “Apparently my turn ended last night and now that he’s done his charity for the year, he’s going back to half priced sluts!”
The blonde’s jaw dropped halfway through the floor. “I swear to God, Patrick, you BETTER HAVE NOT slept with this FAT WHORE.” Cindee spit the words at Troian then tossed her hair back.
“I wouldn’t be talking, Princess. If anyone knows a thing or two about whorish activities, its you.” Troian took a step towards Cindee, ready to knock her the fuck out. Her eyes flashed with anger and she pulled her arm back about to do some damage.
“Troian, Cindee!” Patrick struggled to push them apart. “STOP.”
“Fuck you, Patrick Stump. You’re nothing but selfish, self centered, egotistical fucking asshole!” Troian turned on one heel in the most dignified way she could after being used and slammed the door behind her on her way out. Her steps echoed off the metal stairs as she thundered down them. Just let someone get in her way, they would feel her wrath.
Ten minutes later, Troian was in the car with Calista, trying not to be a bitch and glaring at the scenery through the window. The ride home was silent and for once, Troian was glad that Cali hadn’t asked what was wrong even though it was obvious that once again it was Patrick’s fault.
As soon as the car stopped Troian was out of it, running up the stairs and pushing open the door before Cali could have even made to the stairs. She took a long shower and scrubbed herself until her skin was raw and red. She knew no matter how long she stayed until the steaming water, his touch, his taste, the feel of his hands were not going to go away. When she was done she stepped out of the shower and wiped away the steam that had collected on the mirror. She saw his face. She had been seeing it everywhere since she had left and she wanted to throw something at it. The feeling of being dirty was never going to fade away. So she stepped back into the shower.
XXXXXXXXXX
A/N: Mmkay, I didn't like this chapter. Anyone else hate it? It felt boring to me. Anyway, let me know. And feel free to throw in ideas/suggestios because I honestly have no clue where I'm going with this.
-XO'Keefe
Patrick turned in his sleep, licking his lips before settling down again. He was still here. It should have made her happy but it kind of hurt. It made the memory of waking up alone the day before so much more intense. Why was she always hurting? What the fuck was up with that?
She sat there, a sheet tucked around her body and under her arms to cover herself and stared at the down comforter with confusion deep in her dark eyes. Why was he still here? Was it just because he’s been drunk the night before and had forgotten of because he wanted to be here or because he was lazy or what? Things could never be simple with her. There always a catch. She just didn’t know if it was because she created one in her mind or if she was just paranoid or what.
Once again, she turned to sneak a glance at him even though he was asleep stared. He was so, so beautiful. It was inhuman to her. That made her feel a little crazy but there was no other way to explain how he was. Just seeing him made her stomach flip. His face was so fucking adorable. Soft and round, yet intense and deep. That face could make her melt. Those lips could make her scream his name in levels that weren’t appropriate in most places.
She scooted closer to him, her teeth on her lip, contemplating whether she should follow her urge to let her hand disappear beneath the sheets to where she knew he was unclothed.
Fuck it, she thought.
If last night had meant what she thought it had meant then it was perfectly okay. She slid her hands down his sides, to his cock and ran her warm hands over it. It wasn’t huge…when he was relaxed, but it was amazing but hormones could do to a person. She swallowed nervously and rubbed him, looking at his face for a reaction. He wasn’t fully awake yet, but that smile on his lips let her know that having a good dream right then. Her strokes grew faster and so did his length and she chuckled to herself. Hey, she wasn’t completely bad.
Patrick let out a low moan and she gripped him and ran her hands from the bottom all the way to the top then back down again. He was half awake now. Slightly out of breath and horny as fuck. His body was aching to do more and well, this was how a real man was woken up and he didn’t have a problem with it. He couldn’t see too well this early, especially with his glasses lying in the lamp table next to him but he knew he liked what was happening. She wrapped up his balls and squeezed them, and he groaned in pleasure, his eyes shutting tight. “Oh, fuck, Cindee. That feels so good.”
Cindee?!
She stopped. Her hands frozen on his skin and she inhaled a sharp breath. This was one of those time where she felt like someone had tripped her on purpose in front of everyone then kicked her hard when she was down.
She swallowed, her mouth going dry because she was at an evident loss for words and tears formed in her eyes. Tears she wouldn’t allow herself to cry because that would only make her weak. This wasn’t happening. Not after last night.
Something was wrong, he knew that much because she had stopped but his brain didn’t working fast enough to put two and two together before the bed flew out from under him and he hit the floor with a loud, rough thud. “The FUCK!” He cried, squinting up at the bed. The sudden fall must have kicked his gears up a notch and things started to fall into place.
Oh shit. Of fuck, oh fuck, oh SHIT.
By the time he was stumbling to get up she was already throwing on her panties and throwing clothes around because she couldn’t find her goddamn skirt. The anger was Rolling off her in furious waves and despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, he knew that if looks could kill, he would probably be lying on the floor with little X’s where his eyes should be and holes throughout his body. It had been an honest mistake that never should have made and well, he wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. What did you say to a girl after she had sex with her the night before and then she jerked you off and you called her the wrong name? ‘Oh, gee. Sorry, Hon. Wrong girl, she was the other day.’
She grabbed his jeans and pulled them, only thankful that it came with a belt before reaching for her bra. They wouldn’t fit perfectly but it was enough to cover her body.
The entire time she was trying to keep her back to Patrick because the whole ‘act mad, ignore him’ bit wasn’t exactly bulletproof and she was most likely going to burst into tears the moment she met his gaze.
“Troian, I’m Sorry! That—I—it was a mistake, that’s not what I me—“
“Yeah, its always a mistake,” She snapped. She was trying desperately to stay strong this time, but it wasn’t proving to be easy. That…that just been a hit below the belt, accident or not. She clasped her bra and snatched up a random shirt that was probably his. Where the fuck was her clothes? The fact that she didn’t know what he had done with then only made her situation worse and she pushed past him very roughly. She was pulling on his shirt when he took a hold on her and spun her around to face him. “Wait,” His eyes begged her to stay and she looked up him up and down in disgust from his beautiful face to his half erection.
“You’re not worth a damn.”
His features twisted into a glare. “Wait the fuck up. You’re calling me worthless? I didn’t know I was screwing a saint.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. His brain was screeching for him to not say another word because he was only making the situation worse but his mouth seemed to work on its own. He knew she was right. This time he had fucked up badly and there was no easy way out but the asshole in him refused to let himself fall for her and he refused to let himself be degraded by her when she didn’t know anything. She couldn’t know anything, she just couldn’t. Innocent, naïve people like her didn’t act this way. They didn’t fight back and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her of all people tell him he was worthless. It was one thing if people threw a pen at him and told him his writing was shit but this…when the words were flying from her mouth, it was worse.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t exactly know one if one fucked you in the ass.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call you ‘the best fuck ever’ little miss priss.” There he went again, digging the hole he was in just a bit deeper. Had there been a lie detector hooked up to his ass, the lines would have been going crazy.
“Aw, you rhyme now. How cute. I should let Pete know. Hey, did that one work on Cindee, too? I seem to be getting all of her leftovers. Are you sure you didn’t fuck her before you used your greedy little ways to taint me?”
“TAINT YOU?” His mouth dropped for a second then he straightened did what he knew would piss her off: laugh. “Sweetie, I did you a favor. If I hadn’t, no one would have.” Every little egotistical piece of crap that spewed from his mouth clawed at her heart and he knew it but he couldn’t bring himself to not say anything at all.
“Oh, is that what you call it?” She sneered, pulling up her pants. She looked downright ridiculous wearing his jeans, holding them up with one hand, arguing with him and halfway ready to cry. Her hair was a mess and her eyeliner was starting to smear even more. She had a headache from hell now, the alcohol had taken it wrath upon her and the sound of his voice was not only sharp but loud in her ears.
“Dear, God, here we go again.” He said, throwing his hands up. “Have you always been this bitchy?”
“Have you always been this much of a lying, two faced asshole?” He failed to notice the clothes she was wearing until now when she placed her hands on her hips and glared daggers at him.
“Are those my—Dude, NO. You—“ There was this big, surprised look of utter agape on Patrick’s face. He kept looking her up and down and blinking. He was caught between the fact that she was about to leave, with his clothes on, once again trying to make him the bad guy and the fact that she had HIS CLOTHES ON.
Cause that was just so fucking hot.
She rolled her eyes. He must really be slow, she thought before spinning around to storm out. She didn’t care how he stared at her, how cute he smiled, how much he pleaded, she was out.
At that moment though, a familiar tune of ‘Clothes off!’ filled the air and she backtracked to get her phone. She knew it was Calista. And she knew if she was going to get phone back, she was going to have try and run because he was reaching for it.
He glanced at her before heading for the phone too, eager to let her say whatever it was she was going to say. He wasn’t too sure how he was going to fix this, but he would. “Oh, no you don’t,” He went to grab the phone and “—oof” Was all that came out of Patrick’s lips and she ran and shoved him out of the way. Linebacker style.
“Hello,” She panted into the phone. She pushed her hair back and glared at Patrick who was on the phone groaning.
“Troian?”
“Yes. Calista?”
“Of course.” Calista paused. Did she really want to figure out why it sounded like Patrick was groaning in the background? Yes. “Is he that good, or am I missing a game?”
She narrowed her eyes on the naked Patrick who was crawling on the floor toward his boxers and then reaching for a pair of jeans, halfway under the bed. The scene disturbed her. It just did. “Come get me. Please. I’m going to shoot myself any minute now and if I die with only Patrick by my side then I’ll know for sure that my life has been worth nothing.”
“HEY!”
She flipped him off and pouted into the phone. “Seriously. If I have to spend another minute with this dick knowing that you aren’t coming to get me, I’m going to climb to the roof and jump because I can’t take this shit anymore.” She choked back tears at the words, even though it did help a bit if she made fun of the situation. That’s all this was to him anyway, a game.
“Yes, yes, you’re the victim here.” He muttered in the background and she threw the magazine lying on the dresser at him.
“Thank you. Seriously. Fuck. If I don’t shoot myself, I’m going to shoot him. Yes! No, dude, he’s a fucking prick. Damn straight I’ll tell you when I get home. Fucker actually called out her name—“
“Hi, still here,” Patrick shot her from his spot near the bed. His ears had turned the most charming shade of red; working its way from his neck up. “And I can still hear what you’re saying.”
She aimed another item at him and Patrick ducked from a hairbrush. “FUCK YOU,” She mouthed.
“Stop telling people our business!”
“I’ll tell people what I please, thank you.”
He had had enough of this bullshit. It didn’t matter what had happened, he wasn’t going to let her make a fool of him. “Give me that,” He growled, snatching the phone away from her.
“The fuck!” She slapped at his arms and tried to grab it back from his clutches. She was taller than him but he was stronger. Keep away was a game that was played more than often when the boys went on tour.
“Calista?” He said, speaking into the phone. He had one arm out, a sock in his hand while he held her away. “Hi. Patrick here. Thanks for listening to her; we all know she had problems. Buh-bye.”
Her temper flared as he hung up on Calista’s voice still talking. “You’re such a jerk, fuck, I just want to go home.” She snatched the cell phone from him, the sight of his smirking at her was enough to make her want to cry. He really did enjoy hurting her. He must, the way he was looking at her like she was stupid.
“Not yet.”
“No, NOW. I think you realize how much your stupidity hurts. I’m tired. I just wanna go home and forget about you. I’m going to take a long show and scrub myself until the smell of you is gone from my skin then I’m going to make friends with Mr. Jack Daniels and you, well, you, I don’t care what you do. You can go fuck yourself. Just leave me out of it.”
“Why do you have to be that way? I’m sorry! It was an accident. You act as if I did it on purpose and or I enjoy it or something. It was a fucking ACCIDENT. Damn. I don’t know what to say to you because either way I’ll end up saying something that will piss you off.”
He was right. Anything he would he had to say at the moment was going to piss her off one way or another.
“Too late, fuck face.” She pushed past him once again with a growl on her face and headed for the door. She was going home whether she had to walk again, something she seemed to be doing a lot these days—even if hitchhike or whatever.
He took a step back. “Dear fucking God,” he muttered, running after her with the sock still in his hand, his pats still unzipped and his chest still bare. “Why do I always end up chasing you?” He had to keep pulling his pants up as he followed her through the living room. “Please stop, Troian. Seriously. I didn’t mean it. I’m not even with her anymore!” His pleas fell on deaf ears. She didn’t want his excuses. What was done was done and if she had anything to do with it, nothing else would happen.
Troian threw open the door, glaring into the sunlight that poured through the open doorway. She was trying to think of something mean to say back to him but nothing was coming to her and it was probably better if she just left in silence. She hoped how much she hated him right now. She was still looking at him through narrowed eyes when she nearly slammed into something standing there, hands raised to knock on the now open door.
She immediately sucked in a breath, her hands curling into fists. Leave her alive, leave her alive and just go. She’s not worth it. The hairs on her neck stood on end as she fought to keep her cool. Behind her, Patrick was still stumbling to stand up straight. He looked like he had been caught with both hands in the cookie jar. Let me tell you, this was not the scene that Patrick needed to be caught in. She was wearing his clothes. He was chasing her while shirtless; pants halfway falling down.
“JesusFUCK." Patrick groaned at the sight in the doorway. Cindee was the last person he wanted to see. His body went rigid in irritation but
Troian licked her dry lips and inhaled steadily. “Cindee.”
“Bitch.”
Troian closed her eyes for a second and sighed. This girl was not making it easy for Troian to leave her in one piece. She was not exactly the person she wanted to see at the moment or at any other time for that matter. Troian had to press her lips together to keep from retaliating. “’Scuse me,” she muttered rudely before she started to slip past the blonde but apparently that wasn’t going down. “Oh, no. Uh-uh,” Cindee threw out an arm to block her way. “Are those his clothes? ARE THOSE YOUR CLOTHES, PATRICK?” Troian wanted to break everyone one of her manicured fingers. You could almost see steam coming out of her ears.
“Why yes, they are.” Troian smiled sweetly. “Now move.”
Cindee’s eyes narrowed into slits filled with hate. She didn’t move an inch and Troian knew there bound to be trouble. At this point, she didn’t care. She should have been more surprised or shocked that apparently Patrick had cheated on Cindee with her, or vice versa but it was just too much to process at the moment. “No, seriously, Cindee.” The words came out in a clenched manner. “Get out of my way.” Anyone with half a brain would have moved by now because the results for this could not possible come out any good. “Collins, if you don’t get the fuck outta my way, I swear, you’re gonna regret it.”
“Are you threatening me, you bi—“
Patrick pulled her back because he did have that half of brain we were talking about and well, unless he wanted to help plan Cindee’s funeral it was best to separate these two.
“Get the fuck off!” Troian snapped at his touch. He kept a tight hold on her despite her protests and she wrenched away from him like he carried the ultimate disease and shot him a look of hate.
“If you came here for your precious Patrick then he’s all yours, love,” Troian sneered. “Apparently my turn ended last night and now that he’s done his charity for the year, he’s going back to half priced sluts!”
The blonde’s jaw dropped halfway through the floor. “I swear to God, Patrick, you BETTER HAVE NOT slept with this FAT WHORE.” Cindee spit the words at Troian then tossed her hair back.
“I wouldn’t be talking, Princess. If anyone knows a thing or two about whorish activities, its you.” Troian took a step towards Cindee, ready to knock her the fuck out. Her eyes flashed with anger and she pulled her arm back about to do some damage.
“Troian, Cindee!” Patrick struggled to push them apart. “STOP.”
“Fuck you, Patrick Stump. You’re nothing but selfish, self centered, egotistical fucking asshole!” Troian turned on one heel in the most dignified way she could after being used and slammed the door behind her on her way out. Her steps echoed off the metal stairs as she thundered down them. Just let someone get in her way, they would feel her wrath.
Ten minutes later, Troian was in the car with Calista, trying not to be a bitch and glaring at the scenery through the window. The ride home was silent and for once, Troian was glad that Cali hadn’t asked what was wrong even though it was obvious that once again it was Patrick’s fault.
As soon as the car stopped Troian was out of it, running up the stairs and pushing open the door before Cali could have even made to the stairs. She took a long shower and scrubbed herself until her skin was raw and red. She knew no matter how long she stayed until the steaming water, his touch, his taste, the feel of his hands were not going to go away. When she was done she stepped out of the shower and wiped away the steam that had collected on the mirror. She saw his face. She had been seeing it everywhere since she had left and she wanted to throw something at it. The feeling of being dirty was never going to fade away. So she stepped back into the shower.
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A/N: Mmkay, I didn't like this chapter. Anyone else hate it? It felt boring to me. Anyway, let me know. And feel free to throw in ideas/suggestios because I honestly have no clue where I'm going with this.
-XO'Keefe
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