Out In The Wind

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I walk into Patrick’s room and fall down on the bed. It’s something I haven’t done before, not in anybody’s house, but there is probably a first time for everything and if I really want to change I need to get out of my comfort zone fast.

“Want anything to eat?” Patrick asks.

“You always ask me if I’m hungry,” I mention to him. He really always does. It’s like he is trying to fatten me up. “Are you into chubby boys or something?”

Patrick laughs his almost silly laugh and falls down on the bed next to me.

“I’m just trying out the hospitality thing you know. I guess I’m really just trying to be a nice guy,” he says, his smile so wide that I actually feel like reaching out my hand and touching his mouth. There’s something home and warm about it that I can’t seem to shake.

“But if you still like me then you need to start thinking about whether you like chubby guys as well,” I say in my very best flirty voice. Gosh, I hope I am actually being flirty and not just awkward.

“With this body I don’t think you can ever get fat,” Patrick says as he touches my stomach, sending electric jolts through my body. “I mean, you’re like Sheldon. All nerd on the outside with a hidden six pack underneath.”

“I barely have a six pack,” I giggle. “And I knew I shouldn’t worn my Poison Ivy shirt.”

“Nope. I like it. You look good in green,” Patrick says. “So, still up for something to eat?”

And just like that the magic I was hoping for vanishes into thin air. I thought this conversation was going somewhere. I just look at him for a moment, not even knowing what to say. I was almost certain there for a second that I wouldn’t be a virgin in an hour from now and all he can think about is food.

“Sure, why not,” I mumble, sitting upright on his bed, trying my best not to take it personally that my flirting didn’t work on him.

“Oven pizza or waffles and ice cream?” he asks.

Being the complete sugar junky which I always am and which doesn’t make sense with my body type at all, I say: “Waffles it is.”

I jump up from the bed and follow him down the long hallway, down the stairs, through two huge rooms, and into the kitchen.

“Dude… You seriously need to get a lift installed. Or get a few golf carts for around the house. I mean, how many bedrooms does this house even have?” I say to Patrick. I am pretty sure the kitchen is bigger than half of the motel we are staying in.

“Not actually that big. The high ceilings makes it look a lot bigger. Only nine bedrooms in this house. Our house in Kent has twenty-four bedrooms, but my mom’s been working on making that one into some sort of a guest house. She’s been flying back and forth for two years now, overseeing the renovations,” he says in the same manner I would tell someone about the second pair of shoes I have in my closet that I need to clean. Almost like it doesn’t faze him at all having two houses.

It does seem to hit a bit of a sore spot. Here he is, with more bedrooms than what they need even if they each had three bedrooms. Not even counting the second house. Why couldn’t people like this reach out to people like my mom and offer up a room? I mean, what do you need with nine rooms if you are only three people. I have been wondering this a lot lately, and I just don’t know what to think about it anymore. Sure, you don’t want a stranger in your personal space, but with a house this size you will probably walk around for three solid days before bumping into each other.

“Why do you guys need so much space?” I can’t help but ask.

“I don’t know actually. I’ve never been really big on the expensive mansion type of thing at all. Or the money thing to be honest. Sometimes I wish it can all just go away so that I can be normal and not be called Rich Rick by the kids in school,” Patrick says as he takes out the waffles and puts them into the iron.

“You should never wish that,” I say with my eyes wide. “Maybe you could just be a bit different from your parents and also rich? Maybe do some good with the money if you don’t want to live excessively like them?” I ask. I don’t want him to wish something and then it boomerangs back in his face. All he has ever known is money. He has no idea what it feels like to know you will literally be on the streets within the next forty-eight hours.

“If only everything was as easy as you make them out to be,” Patrick says with a smile. “That’s why I like you. You see the good in everything. I think I’m too cynical sometimes.”

“You’re being logical,” I answer. “But remember, the grass is only greener on the other side, because there’s more cows and therefore more shit.”

We both laugh at my poor attempt of a wise quote for a moment before he takes my hand in his, putting his serious face back on.

“This is what I want Cory. This. Something like this, I think. Where two people just click and get each other,” Patrick says.

“Did you click with Jaycee like this? Is that why you slept with him?” I ask. I know I am on my way to blowing everything up in my own face but I have to ask. Why would I be special? Patrick’s already shown he will sleep with someone he’s not in love with, unless he does really like Jaycee as well. In which case it puts me back to square one where I am really nothing but someone to help pass the time with.

“Jaycee was an accident,” he answers. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud off.”

“Why?” I ask. I need to know what is going on in his head. I just need to.

“Because I got drunk, and he was drunk and it all started with a dare and then things went too far,” Patrick answers sitting down on one of the barstools at the island, putting ice cream on the waffles that just came out of the iron.

I walk over and sit next to him. He pushes one plate in front of me and pulls one toward him.

“Thanks,” I mumble, but before I take a bite I add; “How do things just happen to go too far? It’s like what everyone blames. Alcohol.”

“You’ve never been drunk, have you?” Patrick says and I shake my head. “Well, you feel like your entire world is spinning and you need to hold on to the person next to you. And everything feels so light, and almost unreal, like you are playing a video game and your body is an avatar that you are only controlling partly because the pc keeps on lagging. Everything registers a bit too late. And even though you know you should stop doing or saying something, there is this extra little voice that tells you to just go with it, and you let it because you feel kinda sleepy as well. That’s what it’s like. And it’s honestly not the nicest feeling in the world.”

I think about what he has said. I wish I could feel like that. Just let someone else take over my body and become some backseat driver not giving a damn about what happens to me for the rest of my life. Anything would be better. Maybe that way I won’t have as many emotions about everything either.

“I thought something was going to happen between us before we came down for food,” I say looking down at my plate, getting a bit of a lump thinking about how much Chloe would’ve enjoyed some ice cream right about now.

“That’s why I distracted us from it,” Patrick says making me look at him.

“But why?” I ask shocked. Why would any guy just say no to sex, especially one who has done it before.

“Because I like you,” Patrick says in earnest.

“I don’t get it. Wouldn’t that make you want to do it with me?” I ask. I am getting some pretty mixed signals here, or at least that’s how it’s feeling to me.

“Cory, please don’t take it personally,” he answers, taking my hand but I pull my hand from his.

“Then how I am supposed to take it?” I ask. I can feel my throat closing up. My voice is already hoarse and if I don’t do my best now I will start crying.

“Look… I have messed around with almost every boy I have wanted to be in a relationship with up to now. I was thinking… Maybe if I take things slow… You know, maybe it will work out then?” Patrick says trying his hardest to lock eyes with me, but I try my best to avoid him. I can’t stand him being a good guy when I am like I am. A fucked-up nobody who lies about everything. It would have been better if he just used me or something. It would’ve at least leveled out the playing field.

“So I’m just an experiment? So see how things will turn out if you do it differently?” I mumble under my breath knowing perfectly well that Patrick can hear every single word I am saying. I must be sounding like a child, but he has no idea the rejection I am feeling, no matter how noble his reasons might be.

“Cory… Please… Be reasonable. Sex isn’t what makes a relationship if that’s what you want. After what you said in the car I thought that was what you wanted to try for at least,” Patrick says taking my hand again, but this time holding it just a bit tighter, keeping me from pulling it away from him.

“Probably not,” I answer. “But I would really like to go home now.”

“But I thought you were staying the night?” Patrick says raising his eyebrows.

“I’ve made things more than awkward enough. I’d like to spare myself from any more humiliation,” I answer and I mean every single word I say. I have no idea how I will ever be able to look Patrick in the eyes ever again. This day will always play off inside my mind. The day I tried to be different than what I usually am and it all just backfired on me.

“Please don’t,” Patrick says standing up from his stool, pushing his plate away from him. “Stay tonight please. I’m seriously worried about you Cory. You’ve been acting strange. Pushing people away. Please don’t do the same to me.”

“Why? After everything I just said. I’ve behaved like a child. I don’t want to be here any longer Patrick. I feel like shit,” I say and I can feel I am close to tears, but I swallow them down once more.

“Don’t feel like shit Cory. I promise you I want to have you here. Please stay. Maybe we can work things out, just talk a bit or something,” Patrick says standing so close to me that I need to open my legs a bit so that he can move in between them.

I can actually smell whatever cologne he uses. It smells a little bit like musk, but there’s something spicy to it as well. It’s not overwhelming, just enough to make him smell clean and fresh and good, all at the same time.

“Patrick…” I sigh, but I never get a chance to finish my sentence.

His lips are on mine, pushing my lips apart, gently brushing with his tongue over my bottom lips in encouragement for me to give him access to more of me. I start moving my lips the way he is moving his, cocking my head back in order to give him more access, and also to relax myself into his arms that’s somehow snaked their way around me. When his tongue touches mine, electricity sends shivers down my spine, and back up to my brain making me feel dizzy and drunk, the drunk Patrick had described, but unlike him I don’t want this to end. I want this to go on forever.

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