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It starts on a random Wednesday without warning.
Pete is staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’s an hour away from a date with a girl he spent a week romancing before she agreed to go out with him. After dozens of hours and probably hundreds of dollars spent eating at the same Jamaican restaurant daily, Pete got the hot hostess’s phone number.
He is twisting to see if he looks good from the side when his little sister’s best friend appears in the doorway. He is an awkward kid. Probably not old enough to drink yet. He wears glasses and hideous fucking cardigans that drown him more than they compliment him. At first, he looks shocked to see Pete there. Like he was rushing in to use the bathroom and didn’t expect an obstacle. Pete is about to apologize and step out of the way when the kid turns to leave. He takes a few steps back in the direction of Hilary’s room and pauses. He looks over his shoulder. His face partially hidden by his hat.
“You look really fucking hot today.” The kid nods approvingly.
Pete gapes at his back as it disappears into the bedroom down the hall. He doesn’t move for a full minute. Too confused by what the fuck just happened. There’s a weird ball of excitement sitting in the pit of his stomach that he can’t explain. When he turns to face himself in the mirror again, he is blushing. Fucking pink from his chin to his forehead.
Unable to pull himself from the moment, he leans against the bathroom sink. Trying to recall any interaction he had with the boy before that would embolden him to comment on that. But no matter how far back Pete goes into his memory bank, the only recollection he has of the kid is him hiding behind hats and hoodies and being too afraid to ask someone to pass the green beans when he’s invited to dinner.
Needless to say, Pete’s date with the hot hostess is not his best. He tries to be charming and flirty, but she can tell something is off. At the end of the night, she asks him why he bothered to show up at all. Why he’d waste so much time chasing after her if he wasn’t really interested? It’s not like he can explain what is distracting him. The unease flows through his veins like poison. Or maybe like an antidote. He hasn’t decided yet.
When he gets home, Hilary is in her room alone. She’s lying on her stomach with headphones in her ears and a laptop in her face. When she sees her older brother standing in her doorway, she pulls out the left headphone and stares up at him expectantly.
“Where’s your friend?”
“What friend?”
Pete shifts uncomfortably. Not sure if he should tell his little sister about the interaction. Considering it wouldn’t be worth potentially causing a rift between the two. They seem close enough. The damn kid is at their house every week. Sometimes for hours on end. That weird ball in his stomach becomes lead when a thought hits him.
“I-Is he your boyfriend?”
“Is who my boyfriend?” Hilary sits up in bed. Confused enough to be invested in the conversation now. “Pete, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“The kid that was here earlier. With the stupid hat and-”
“Patrick?” She snatches the other headphone out of her ear and snorts unattractively. “Are you talking about Patrick?”
The name sounds familiar enough. “Yeah? I guess?”
“Patrick is not my fucking boyfriend.” She’s still laughing through the words. “Patrick is gay as fuck.”
The admission eases the feeling in his stomach. “He is?”
But she’s not listening to him anymore. She’s grabbing her phone from its place on the bed. “I have to tell Patrick. He’s going to die.”
“Don’t!” Pete’s voice comes out louder than he intended. Hilary flinches and stares over at him. Confused again. Waiting for an explanation for her brother’s series of strange behaviors. Pete swallows. Stalling. Thinking. “I don’t want to offend him.” It sounds stupid to his own ears. So, he’s not surprised when his sister rolls her eyes dismissively.
“He’s not going to be offended. Disturbed by the idea maybe. But not offended.” And then her thumbs are moving at lightning speed. A stupid smile on her face as she conveys the conversation to her friend on the phone.
Pete knows how it’s going to seem to the kid. Patrick. Hours after the guy complimented him in the bathroom, he went around asking if he’s single. But he didn’t mean it like that. Really, he didn’t. He’s a second away from overexplaining himself when his sister suddenly freezes. She eyes him suspiciously, placing the phone down to focus on him fully. Pete shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“What?”
“Why did you come in here?” Her eyes narrow.
“I just came in to check on you?”
“Then why are you asking about Patrick?”
“I saw he was here earlier and then I didn’t see him, so I was just asking you where he was.”
“Why do you care?” She leans forward a little as she speaks.
“What?” Pete needs to get out of here.
“Why do you care if my friend is here? Why do you care what his name is or if we’re dating?”
He laughs and hopes it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. “Can’t a guy be interested in his baby sister’s life?”
“You never have before.”
“And with this attitude, I never will again.”
With that, Pete is closing her bedroom door behind him. Practically running to his bedroom down the hall. Hoping like hell Hilary doesn’t follow him with more questions he can’t answer.
The next time he sees Patrick is a week later, which is the longest -as far as he can remember - that the kid has gone without appearing in their house. Hilary seems to have forgotten their conversation about her friend. Or she just didn’t give a fuck after the initial humor wore off. Either way, Pete is grateful. He almost manages to push it to the back of his head too. He was walking to the kitchen for a snack that following Thursday, when he walks past his sister and her friend on the couch watching TV in the living room.
Pete keeps his head straight. Refusing to make eye contact with the guy accidentally. He doesn’t understand why he’s so worked up over the interaction. It wouldn’t be the first time one of his sister’s friends had a crush on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time one of them made a pass at him. But this doesn’t feel like… that. Something is off. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he’s spent enough time with him to get a decent read on his personality. And Patrick is shy. Quiet to a fault.
“Are there any more of those?”
Pete jumps at the voice too close behind him. He turns around and of course it’s Patrick. He was so in his head; he didn’t hear the other guy follow him into the kitchen. He’s wearing another one of his ugly cardigans. This one is too long for his arms and the sleeves droop to the middle of his hands. He is looking at Pete like he’s waiting for something. Pete has nothing to give him.
“What?”
“Are there any more of those.” He says again. Smiling a little.
Pete furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He follows the kid’s eyes and realizes he’s looking at the bag of mini donuts in his hand. He’s asking about the snack. Of course he’s asking about the snack. What did he think? That the kid followed him into the kitchen to harass him?
“Yeah.” Pete reaches into the pantry and pulls out another one. Holding it out to the boy. He takes the bag slowly. Letting his cool fingers slide across the back of Pete’s hand in the process.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Patrick leans against the wall. Effectively trapping Pete in the entry way of the pantry. He crosses his arms over his chest. Crumbling the plastic of the snack bag in his hands. He gives Pete an obvious once over.
“What made you start growing out your hair?”
Pete blinks. Not expecting that question. He thinks about ignoring him. Shoulder checking him and going back to his room. He doesn’t move.
“I don’t know. I just thought it’d look better long.”
Patrick purses his lips and nods a little. “It does.”
“Thanks.” He can feel that weird feeling in his stomach again.
“I feel like,” The kid takes a step closer to him. Invading his personal space without warning. Reaching a hand over to push Pete’s unruly hair out of his face. “You’d look so good with it pulled back.” His fingertips are soft on his hairline. “Like in a bun or a ponytail or something.”
“Really?” Pete frowns. Not moving away from the touch. His hair is barely shoulder length. A bun might be out of the question. “I don’t think so.”
“I do.” Patrick moves his hands away from Pete’s face. His lips part but no other words come out.
Pete finds himself mirroring the action. His chapped lips separating just a little as he watches Patrick watching him. Hilary’s laughter booms through the air and Pete flinches. Feeling caught. The other man doesn’t move. He can hear that his sister is still on the couch. Most likely laughing at something on the television. Still, the reminder that she’s here; that this boy is her friend is enough to make Pete nervous.
“I should head back upstairs.” He motions over Patrick’s shoulder
He steps to the side. Leaving just enough space for Pete to squeeze between him and the door. There’s no way Pete would get past him without touching him. So, he stays where he is. The kid wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He holds eye contact instead of following the movement.
“Maybe you should watch tv with us.” Patrick’s suggestion doesn’t feel that much like one.
“I think that would be weird.”
Patrick pouts, the facial expression is exaggerated. “Why?”
The ball in Pete’s stomach is tingling. He’s becoming frustrated with himself. “Dude, how old are you even?”
“I’m twenty. I’ll be twenty-one soon. If you wanted to buy me a drink.”
Pete eyes thin. “I’m good.”
“Damn.” Patrick steps out of the way fully. Pete can breathe normally again. He rushes out of the pantry before the kid can trap him a second time. He can hear light chuckles behind him as he rushes from the kitchen.
He doesn’t see Patrick again for two weeks. Embarrassingly enough, he’s been looking for him. Going downstairs more in case they’re hanging out in the family areas. Spending more time in the bathroom in case he pops up there again. Listening to his sister’s door when she has it closed to see if he hears the guy’s voice on the other side.
All for nothing.
There’s no chance in hell he’s going to ask Hilary about the boy again. He barely got away with it last time.
It’s an all-time low when he’s scrolling through his sister’s Instagram to find Patrick’s handle. He tries searching for variations of his name in the search to no avail. He’s thirty-two weeks in when he sees a photo of the two of them together. They’re eating froyo in the grass. Patrick’s not looking at the camera. Just a figure in the background of his sister’s selfie. Still, he touches the photo and preens when the black rectangle appears on the screen with a username. It’s an obnoxious series of letters and numbers. Pete hovers over it for a few seconds. Not understanding why this feels like a big deal. Like the point of no return when all it really is, is him stalking some guy’s Instagram.
He taps on it.
It slides him to an account with a blurry profile picture and five photos. The most recent one being a cap and gown flick from a graduation ceremony. He can tell its high school because the background looks identical to the one in his sister’s own photo from a couple of years ago. So, he’s not active on Instagram then. Pete glances at his profile picture again. Squinting in hopes that it’ll make the picture clearer. As if by pure will, a pink ring appears around it. He’s a second away from opening the story when he realizes that Patrick will be able to see him view it a second after posting it.
So, like the mature adult that he is, he switches over to his finsta. This time going to his sister’s profile and scrolling quickly to the photo he’s looking for. He clicks on Patrick’s username again. Not wasting a second before he’s clicking on the story. It’s just a picture of a bunch of shot glasses. Nothing in the photo but drinks and fingers cheering to the night. There’s a napkin on the bar beneath them that reads Smuggler’s Cove.
It takes one minute for Pete to google it. Two minutes for him to find the fastest route from their house to the bar. Ten minutes for him to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie and into a nice pair of jeans. Three minutes to start regretting his decision behind the wheel of his car. Thirteen minutes for him to pull into the crowded parking lot of the bar. Four minutes for him to find a spot. Five minutes of standing on the outside of the door convincing himself to go in. And three minutes to spot Patrick and his group of friends once he’s in there.
Pete goes to the bar and immediately orders a shot. Opening a tab because he can already feel that it’s going to be a long night. The bar tender is short and cute with long, blonde hair. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d spend the night trying to get her phone number. She smiles at him. Making eye contact from across the bar when she’s speaking to other customers.
“Hey.” A voice that is not Patrick speaks softly from too close.
He twists on the stool and sees a girl. Tall, Dark hair. Amazing smile. “Hi.”
“Are you alone?” She sits in the empty seat beside him anyway. Not really caring about the answer. “I’m Regina.”
“Pete.” He motions for the bartender to bring him another shot. She nods.
“You have great eyes.”
And maybe it’s okay if he gets a little distracted from the mission.
“Thank you. You have a cute smile.”
The bartender pours the second shot. Sitting the glass down a little harder than necessary. If Pete were a lesser man he’d console her with a wink. See if he can get the gorgeous girls to play nice together.
Regina notices the attitude of the bartender and leans in close to whisper. “Friend of yours?”
Pete laughs, the sound almost drowned out by the music blaring. “Not really.”
“Good.” She’s not whispering anymore but she’s still leaning in close. “I would tell you to buy me a drink but I’m not sure it’ll go over well.”
Pete throws the shot back. Maintaining eye contact with Regina. “Yeah.” He ignores the burning in his throat. “I don’t think so either.”
“There’s another bar upstairs. Her hand comes to rest on his knee. She’s not being subtle. Pete has never really liked subtle anyway.
“Oh?”
“Stace!” He hears Patrick before he sees him. He reaches over the bar. Tapping on the countertop to get the bartender’s attention. Positioning himself in the middle of Pete and Regina. Forcing himself into the nonexistent space between them. It’s rude. Terrible bar etiquette. But casual enough to seem like a drunken accident. He lets his free arm rest on Pete’s lap. “Stace!” He calls louder over the music and the pretty blonde walks over to him.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Can I have another round of shots? Five this time.”
Pete thinks back to the picture on his Instagram. There were only four of them. He’s 90% sure there were four of them.
“Coming right up.”
Patrick stays standing between them. Pete can’t see Regina, but he has no doubt she’s annoyed. Though, she remains quiet. Stace has a few other drinks to make before she pours the shots for Patrick. So, he taps impatiently on the counter and hums along to the pop song blaring from the speakers. Stace comes over and pours the alcohol in the glasses on a flight tray. Patrick thanks her with a lazy smile. Making eye contact as his only acknowledgment to Pete as he backs away from the bar. Removing the barrier between him and Regina. Pete follows Patrick’s back through the crowd. Staring openly until Regina mutters,
“That was fucking rude of him. Drunk little asshole.”
Pete snorts at that. “Yeah.” He’s standing up before his brain realizes what he’s doing.
“Pete?”
“I should- I have to- It was nice talking to you.” He pats her arm.
She sputters in protest or shock. But no words come out. Pete pushes through the crowd of people. Following the direction he saw Patrick disappear. He finds the kid at a standing table in the corner. Clinking glasses with a group of other kids. They smile as they swallow the liquor down together. After the shots, the group disperses into the crowd. Leaving Patrick standing there by himself. Pete approaches the table like he’s supposed to be there. Patrick doesn’t pretend to be surprised to see him. He picks up the fifth shot and hands it to Pete who takes it without thinking.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey.”
“It’s so weird running into you here.” There’s a spark in his eyes when he says it. Like he knows.
“Yeah.” Pete puts the glass down on the table. His head was already too light from the first two shots. He still has to drive home safely. “I was chilling with a buddy who lives like five minutes north and he recommended this spot.”
Patrick lifts one side of his mouth. “He didn’t come with you?”
“Nah.” Is all he offers back. “I thought you were twenty.”
“My birthday is in two days and Stace is a friend of a friend.” He runs his hands through his hair and Pete realizes this is the only time he’s seen him without a stupid ass hat on. “You don’t like whisky?”
Pete shrugs. “I’m driving.”
Patrick nods his understanding. “Here.” He lifts the shot to his own lips and sips it. Grimacing after. “I’ll take half.” He presses the cool glass to Pete’s mouth. “And you take half.”
He should say no. It’s idiotic to mix alcohol. He knows how his body, his head, his meds will react to it. But when Patrick tips the glass, he swallows. His hand is unsteady, and a drip rolls down the corner of Pete’s mouth. Patrick Catches the drop with his thumb.
Pete swallows. “I don’t understand what you want from me.” His voice is dry.
The kid sits the glass down. “Everything.”
The ball in the pit of Pete’s stomach explodes into a series of bats. Fluttering in his abdomen in a way that’s almost painful. He can feel them moving up his chest. Forcing his heart to beat faster. And then to his head. Making him feel confused and unsure.
And then Patrick steps into his space. Pushing their lips together in a way that makes the skin push against Pete’s teeth. He opens his mouth and Patrick’s tongue slides in. His fingers grasping the sides of Pete’s face desperately. Holding him into place as he has his way with his lips. Pete’s movements feel just as desperate. He wraps his fingers around the curve of the other man’s waist. Yanking his body as close to his as their clothes will allow. Patrick moans into his mouth. Pete’s stomach clenches hard. He’s the first to pull away and it feels weak. The need to breathe.
“Fuck.”
” Listen, we need to set boundaries if we’re going to do this.” Pete demands an hour later.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his leg bouncing furiously with nerves. He glances up for the umpteenth time to make sure the lock is twisted. And for the umpteenth time, he sees that it is. Patrick is on his knees behind him on the bed. His shoes, pants, and glasses having been disposed of the second he walked into the room. His hands are twisting in Pete’s hair. Pulling the strands to the side so he can kiss his neck and shoulders freely.
“Mhm”
“I’m serious, Patrick.”
The man untangles his fingers from Pete’s long hair. Resting his palm on the nape of his neck. Slowly he slides his hand from the back of his neck to the front. Letting his thumb and middle finger press into the soft skin as he bites down on the bottom of Pete’s ear. To his horror, he whimpers.
“I hear you, baby.” His words are whispered warmly against the side of his neck.
The nickname makes Pete’s heartbeat stutter. “Patrick.”
The touches on his body come to a halt. “I hear you, Pete. I’m listening.” He lays back on the bed. “Tell me the boundaries.”
“Hilary can’t know.”
Patrick snorts. “Shocker.”
“Hey fuck you. She’d kick my ass for fucking her best friend.”
He stretches out in the bed, pulling his shirt up a bit to expose the skin of his stomach. “You gonna fuck me, Pete?”
Pete grabs his hand to stop him from removing it completely. “Can you take this seriously please?”
He sits up. “Do you want me to take it seriously?”
The question hangs in the air between them. Pete can tell by his tone, by the look in his eyes, that the question means more than it seems on the surface. He stares at the boy. Someone whose name he didn’t remember a few weeks ago. Someone who he hasn’t had one full conversation with. Someone whose had his attention from the moment he spoke to him. Someone he followed to a bar just to see in person after what felt like too long. Someone he wants to say yes to. Even with a limited knowledge of who he is, he knows he wants to keep him.
Instead of saying all that, Pete flops down on his back in the bed next to him. Patrick stares down at him for a moment before he lowers himself back down as well. He tilts his head so that it’s resting on Pete’s shoulder.
“What’s your favorite color?” Pete asks after a while.
“Yellow.” The response feels automatic. “You?”
“Blue maybe.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Pizza or sushi.” Pete turns to his side. Resting his head in his hands as his elbow digs into the mattress. “Favorite movie?”
“Ghostbusters.” He stares at him. “Yours is Star Wars.”
It is. “How do you know that?”
“Hilary said it once.”
“Oh yeah? What else has she said about me?”
“A lot.” He admits sheepishly.
“And you remember it all?”
“Basically.” He leans up to kiss Pete and it feels familiar. Like it’s normal. “She loves you a lot, you know.”
“Hilary? She barely speaks to me.”
Patrick shrugs. “She still talks about you a lot. She says you two used to be closer before you went to college. She misses hanging out with you.”
Can’t a guy be interested in his baby sister’s life?
You never have before.
Pete feels like shit.
The next day he finds Hilary on the sofa. She’s halfheartedly watching a documentary on the Amazon rainforest as she scrolls through her phone. Pete has plans with his friends. They’re going to the skate park and maybe seeing a movie later. Instead, he finds himself flopping down on the couch beside his sister, letting his head fall into her lap. She stares down at him, unimpressed.
“What are you doing?”
“Lying down.”
“I see that.” She looks at her phone and then back at him. “Why?”
“Shh.” Pete places a finger over his lips, turning his head to the side so he can get a better look at the television. “What the fuck? I didn’t know chocolate originally came from the Amazon. And now we just order it from Amazon.”
“Oh my god, you’re such a dork.” Hilary groans but she’s smiling.
It goes on like that for a while. Pete makes stupid jokes about the documentary and his sister pretending she hates it. Eventually she locks her phone and pays more attention to the TV. Making her own surprised comments about the rainforest. Even throwing in a pun for good measure. Pete can’t believe he didn’t realize how much he missed her too before now.
The documentary ends. Pete sits up and grabs the remote from the arm of the couch before she can. “What do you want to watch now? Riveting tales of the Sahara Desert? A docuseries about climate change?”
“Actually,” She lifts her phone, and Pete feels a weird sting of rejection. “I have a friend coming over soon.”
“Oh.” He lets himself sound disappointed because he is. “That’s cool. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Hilary shakes her head. “It’s just Patrick. Half the time he’s just here for the vibes. You could just hang with us.”
Pete’s heart is beating twice as fast, and he hopes she doesn’t notice. He tries to maintain a cool demeanor. Patrick didn’t tell him he was coming over today. Patrick didn’t text him at all after last night. It’s not as if he hit and quit Pete. They didn’t have sex at all. Random make outs with a bit of heavy touching? Yes. But most of the night was spent lying in Pete’s bed talking about everything and nothing. Not that Pete wanted to sound like someone with their first crush, but it felt special. The idea of seeing him for the first time after that under Hilary’s watch didn’t sound fun.
“Nah, I don’t want to bother you guys…”
“Shut the fuck up.” She laughs. “Patrick would not care. I’ll text him.”
“You don’t have to.”
But her thumbs are already dancing around the bottom of her phone. Ten minutes later the doorbell rings. Hilary jumps up to get it. Pete sits up straighter on the couch. Suddenly he wishes he put more effort into his appearance. He is dressed to fuck around at the skate park. Not face his emotional one-night stand.
His sister returns with Patrick in tow. He’s wearing a hat and a hoodie that is too big for him. His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose like a senior citizen. He looks so adorable it makes Pete’s stomach clench. Hilary sits back at her spot on the couch. Positioning herself so that her feet are on Pete’s lap. Leaving the only empty spot on the couch on the other side of Pete. Patrick sits down as far away as he can in the small space.
“Do you guys want to watch a comedy or an action?”
“Action.” Pete and Patrick say at the same time.
Hilary scrolls through the choices on the screen before deciding on one of the new movies. The movie is okay. It takes an active effort to keep his eyes on the screen and not focus on the guy sitting quietly beside him on the couch. He seems nervous and tense. Nothing like the drunken, handsy person who was sticking their tongue into Pete’s mouth every chance they got last night.
“Did you have fun last night?” His sister asks as if she heard his thoughts.
“What?” He knows he sounds defensive.
“I’m talking to Patrick.” She pushes Pete’s back to the couch so she can get a better view of her friend. “He went out to a bar without me.”
“You’re not allowed at the bar.” Pete reminds his newly 20-year-old sister.
“Oh please. You think Mom and Dad didn’t tell me about you sneaking into bars since you were sixteen?”
“This isn’t about me!” He’s mock-outraged. Which has the desired effect. His sister snorts and punches him in the arm.
“Shut up.” She focuses on her friend again. “Patrick, how was it? Did you get drunk?”
“Uh, yeah.” He nods but says nothing else. Not really looking at her.
Hilary frowns. “Dude, you don’t have to be weird. It’s just Pete. It’s not like he’s going to narc. And you’re going to be 21 in a literal day.”
“I know I just… I’m a little hungover.”
“I knew it!” That’s what she needed to hear. “When I saw the third shot on your story I was like he never drinks so he’s going to be fucked up.”
Patrick smiles. “I had like five shots. Well, like five and a half.” He glances at Pete for just a second. “I Barely remember getting home.”
Pete drove him home a little after five in the morning.
“Was Travis there?” She sings the name.
“Travis?” Pete directs the question to his sister instead of who he wants to ask.
“Patrick’s boyfriend.”
Pete’s eyes snap to him. “You have a boyfriend?”
He shakes his head before the question is finished. “Travie isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Oh please, does Travis know that?”
He stays silent after that. Tuning out the remainder of their conversation about the previous night. He doesn’t want to hear Patrick deny the guys he’s dating to make him feel better. He doesn’t want to hear him lie about how his night ended. He’s embarrassed that he let some 21-year-old kid play him so easily. He doesn’t understand what he got out of it. All they did was make out and talk about stupid shit. Still, shame and jealousy blossom in Pete’s chest like a flower. An ugly, lying, manipulative flower.
Pete can feel Patrick’s desperation to have Hilary shut up. She’s probably mistaking it for embarrassment at having his romantic woes discussed in front of a stranger. And not for panic at being exposed by one of the guys he was seeing. Were they seeing each other? Did one drunken night of exposing your souls count as a date?
“Hills, please.” Patrick is trying to bury himself into his hoodie.
“You don’t have to be weird about it.” His sister’s inability to pick up on social cues needs to be studied. “Pete dates guys too. He could probably give you some advice.”
They share a panicked look.
“I don’t think I’m the best person to give advice on dating. I’ve never been in a serious relationship.”
“It wasn’t serious.” Patrick explains too quickly.
“Fuck off.” Hilary lets out a dry, short laugh. “You’ve been with the guy for two years.”
“Two years?” Pete finally looks at him. Patrick is avoiding eye contact. Looking more like the Patrick he new of distantly and less like the forward man he became in the last couple of weeks. How can he have been in a relationship for two years? The guy wasn’t even 21 yet. Pete is 24 and his longest situation was with a foreign exchange student from France. Even that lasted five months before the guy was back on a plane home.
“It hasn’t been two years.” Is all he offers back.
“Well,” Hilary concedes. “On and off for two years.” Well, that’s a little better. “Last time you came over here you were texting him.”
Right. That’s enough. “This,” Pete waves in the space between them. “Is getting a little too personal for my liking. So, I’m going to head out.”
“Dude, come on.”
Hilary groans at the same time Patrick calls out:
“Pete.”
“It’s cool.” He stands up. Gently moving his sister’s legs from his lap and letting them fall on the empty space he leaves on the couch. “You two have your best friend chit chat. I’m going to see if the guys are still at the park.” He looks outside and sees it’s still light. Only a couple of hours passed.
“It’s not that deep.” Patrick manages to look at his face now that there is more distance between them. “We started dating after I graduated high school. He was a dick. He was my first actual boyfriend, so it was hard to just cut him off.” He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “He’s cut off now though. I haven’t spoken to him in like ten days. At all. I blocked him.”
“Ten days.” Hilary whistles and both men turn their attention to her. “That’s a new record for you, dude.” She sounds genuine and it makes Pete feel better. Maybe Patrick really is trying to cut him off for good. For Pete. But then his sister snorts. Laughing at something that only exists in her memory. “Dude, remember the time we snuck into Smuggler’s basement to find him, and he wasn’t even working that day? Stacy was so pissed. She threatened to call the cops.”
Hilary is in a fit of giggles now. Holding her stomach as she hunches over in humor. Pete looks at Patrick again. The younger man closes his eyes just briefly enough to exhale. He doesn’t say anything else. He probably realizes that Hilary hammered the final nail in the coffin with that one.
Pete does end up leaving. After promising his sister that they’d have scheduled movie nights twice a month. That’s one thing he can thank Patrick for. He wouldn’t have thought about hanging out with her if he didn’t mention it. He just assumed she was in the stage where she didn’t want to deal with her lame, older brother.
Patrick doesn’t contact him through the entire day. It’s not like Pete expects him to blow his phone up groveling for forgiveness, but he can apologize. Explain why he didn’t mention having a long-term boyfriend. They spent the entire night and the better part of the morning getting to know each other. He didn’t think to mention he was at the bar hoping to bump into his ex. Or current? Whatever.
He is pissed off at himself for not being able to get him off of his mind. His friends don’t give him shit for showing up hours late to their hang-out. They do give him shit for being distant and irritable to them for no reason. Well, no reason that they knew about. Pete wants to text Hilary to see if Patrick is still there. He doesn’t want to come home and run into him. Or be cornered by him in a bathroom or pantry. But he knows there is no way he can ask his sister about her friend without raising questions he doesn’t want to answer.
Which is how Pete finds himself driving home -albeit a little tipsy- after spending hours in a bar flirting half-heartedly with anyone who approached him. A spiteful part of him wants to go back to Smuggler’s Cove and hook up with Stace. Just to hurt Patrick’s feelings. To show him that he isn’t the only one who can share intimate moments with people that he doesn’t mean. But the innocent bartender doesn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in Pete and Patrick shit. Neither does any of the other men or women who show interest in him as he avoids going home and facing the only person, he does have a genuine interest in. It was one night. One conversation. God, he is such a loser.
He ends up parking in his driveway just after one in the morning. He’s had enough alcohol to be less embarrassed and more angry about the situation. He wants to call Patrick and yell at him for being an asshole. But one, he has no right to. And two, he doesn’t have the man’s phone number. In fairness, he can DM his Instagram. For some reason, drunk DMing your little sister’s best friend feels more pathetic than viewing his story on your finsta and driving to the bar he happened to post. Eh, maybe that was the logic of the tequila.
Pete tiptoes through the house. Even at 24 he knows better than to wake his parents up after a night out. Despite his anger, he peeks into Hilary’s room when he gets upstairs. She’s sleeping of course. Snoring lightly as her headphones still play music in her ears. He ignores what the disappointment in his stomach means as he closes her door.
He walks into his room and flicks on the light. He feels his skeleton jump out of his skin for a moment when he realizes someone is in there. Laying on his bed. Sleeping. The yell escapes him before he can slap his hand over his mouth. Patrick stirs in the bed. He blinks rapidly. Letting his eyes adjust to the light. Once his sleep fogged brain realizes where he is and what’s happening, he sits up. Rubbing the sleep away with the back of his hand. Pete is frozen in place. His hand is still resting on the light switch. His wide eyes glued to Patrick sitting on his bed.
“Close the door in case someone gets up to see what you’re yelling about.”
He does. Locks it for good measure.
“Why the fuck are you in my room?”
“I was waiting for you to get back.” He says it like it’s normal.
“Why?”
“Because I needed to explain myself, Pete.”
“So, you break into my room like a stalker?”
“Break in?” He challenges. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“You couldn’t just call or-”
“I don’t have your number?” He shoots back. “Would you have wanted me to ask Hilary?”
“Of course not.” And then a scary thought hits. “How did you explain to her why you’re sleeping in my room?”
“I didn’t. She fell asleep first. I came in here.”
There’s a new ball inside of Pete’s stomach. Rolling around and making him feel dizzy. He’s not going to admit that Patrick sneaking into his room to talk to him makes him feel good. Like he’s not the only one last night meant something to. He will admit that, despite Patrick’s adorable gesture, he is still offended and hurt. So, he kicks off his shoes and strips his jacket off his arms.
“Get out of my room, Patrick.”
“Baby, come on.”
Ice floods his veins. “Don’t call me that.”
“Pete.” He stands up and walks over to him. “I was not at the bar to find Travie. He stopped working there over two months ago.”
That makes him feel better. Marginally. “Does he still hang out there?”
Patrick shakes his head. “I don’t fucking know.”
Pete glares. He’s still lying. “He quit two months ago. You were still talking to him ten days ago. You don’t know if he’s been there in two months?”
He swears under his breath. “Okay. Pete. Yes, he still shows up from time to time.” Pete chokes out a laugh and brushes past Patrick. Heading towards his closet. Patrick follows him like a puppy. “But I wasn’t there for him. My friends wanted to take me out for my birthday. And Smuggler’s Cove is the only place that isn’t going to ID us. Well, ID me. So, they chose the place. I didn’t even choose the place.” He’s talking with his hands now. Too low. Almost too fast to keep up with. “Did I think there was a possibility that Travis could be there? Yeah, Sure. He’s been there before. But I didn’t go there for him. I went there for my birthday. And okay, maybe I wouldn’t have hated if he were there. Because fuck he’s the only guy I’ve ever loved. And it was my birthday celebration and, yes, he was blocked. But he makes me feel good. Sometimes. And I wanted to feel good that night. But he wasn’t there. Or maybe he was. I don’t even know. Because then I saw you.” Pete stops pretending he is looking for something to wear to bed. And decides to stand there and stare at Patrick as he rambles on. “I saw you and it felt like a sign. Because I’ve had a crush on you since before I knew I was gay. You were there and you were real, and it looked like you liked seeing me there too. So, I took a shot. Literally. And I know I’ve been accosting you lately. But I didn’t think you’d take me seriously. Until Hilary told me you asked her if I was gay. And I felt bold, and I was a little tipsy. And god you looked so good-”
Pete kisses him. Partly because that explanation was good enough for him. Partly because he needed the man to stop talking. Mostly because he looks really cute and sleepy. Patrick inhales deeply at the contact. It takes a second before he exhales. His shoulders slump in relief. He lets himself relax into the kiss. His body leaning forward and finding balance against Pete. The younger man is the one who deepens the kiss. He tilts his head and opens his mouth. Inviting Pete inside easily. He tastes like Pete’s favorite beer and candy. Pete is going to kick Hilary’s ass for sneaking his drinks from the fridge. Pete pulls back first and the way Patrick chases his mouth makes him want to melt. So, he leans into another kiss that lasts longer. Goes deeper. Before he remembers he was going to say something. He tries to follow Pete’s mouth when he leans back the second time, Pete’s hand in his hair stops him. He is left straining weakly as Pete tilts his head. Taking him in.
“Patrick, wait.”
He stops. Opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I just- fuck.” Pete’s hand tightens in his hair. “Does this… mean something?”
“Wha- Of course, it means something.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What does it mean?”
“It means this is real.” He says without hesitation. “It means I’ve wanted you for so long and now that I have you and I’m never letting go” He stares into Pete’s eyes like he means it. “It means this is the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.” He strains against Pete’s hold on his hair to press a chaste kiss on his mouth. Ignoring the pain.
“Fuck.” Pete whispers inches from his lips. “Hilary is going to kill me.” His fingers slide out of Patrick’s hair to rest on his neck. “You’re her best friend.”
“I know.” He doesn’t look sad about it. He’s too busy staring at Pete’s mouth.
He takes a step back. Patrick lets him put the space between them.
“Does this mean we’re like exclusive now?”
The shorter man’s eyes light up. “Do you want to be exclusive?”
“Yes.” Pete doesn’t have to think about it. The idea of Patrick with someone else makes him want to punch a wall. The idea that Patrick will be his first relationship makes his stomach somersault in the best way. “If you want.”
“If I wa-” He repeats incredulously. “Of course I want. Are you crazy?”
They kiss again. Leaning in at the same time to commemorate the moment. Patrick immediately tries to deepen it. Opening his mouth like a gift to Pete. The older man pulls back with a soft chuckle.
“Happy birthday, Patrick.”