Fields of Clover

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Chapter TEN

Yevette Feilds

It's almost midnight and you have been laying in the darkness for hours now trying to get to sleep.. You just can't stop thinking about Patrick. The way he reeled you in and then rejected you..
It makes you mad..

But it's not just that.. It also makes you feel guilty..
Because you had kept so much of yourself hidden from him.. You still are.. So maybe he is just as confused as you about where you stand..
Or intimidated by your family and history..
Or maybe he just sees you for the mess you are and wants no part of it..
Whatever it is, you can't take it any longer..

You slide out of bed and cross to the window, looking down at the dimly lit street below.. Sure enough, Patrick is still standing there, still leaning against your car, his hands shoved into his pockets, his watchful gaze looking back up at your window..

You pull on a cream coloured oversized knitted sweater, covering the black crop and hipster briefs you wore to bed.. Grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter before you pad downstairs in bare feet..

As you reach the glass entrance, you hold your breath, not knowing what to expect.. The chilly night air hits you immediately as you push the doors open..
You don't venture out into the coldness - which only amplifies your guilt - instead you stand there with the door wide open, just staring at him while he watches you.. "You cold?" You ask, calling out across the lawns..

"You still mad?" He calls back..

So you shrug one shoulder noncommittally.. He does the same, before pushing off the passenger door of your trashed car and striding over to meet you at the entrance..

"I feel like a bad dog being punished for nickin' table scraps out here.." He smirks..

You give him a restrained smile.. "You're more like a naughty puppy than a bad dog.."

He grins now, dimples on full display, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.. "Now that sounds promisin'.. Maybe there's hope for me yet.."

"Maybe.." Rolling your eyes you turn to head back inside, he pauses in the doorway.. You stop, patting your thighs and giving a little whistle.. "Come on puppy.."

He laughs heartily as he begins to follow you upstairs.. "That's jus' cruel.."

You reach the landing and turn to him.. "I suppose, it is an insult to innocent puppies everywhere.." You smirk cooly, but hearing his smooth chuckle sends a thrill up your spine.. You turn around and unlock the apartment door..

Flicking on the large floor lamp by the door to illuminate the living room in a soft glow you motion toward the kitchen with a wave.. "You can feed yourself, you know where everything is.. I'm going back to bed.."

He looks over at the kitchen, then back at you like he's making some kind of choice.. "Wait.. Can't we talk about earlier?"

You fold your arms across your chest defensively, the sting of your bruised ego lingering still.. You've already exposed yourself more than enough for one night.. But if he wants to talk then you'll listen.. "Alright.. Talk.."

He looks back over to the kitchen.. "Can we do it while I eat? I'm pretty sure I'm dying.."

You hesitate.. The last time you were in the kitchen with him had been intimate.. Not in a saxual way, but in a 'defences down' kind of way... "The human body can go weeks without food, you're not dying.."

He quirks an eyebrow.. "Why do you know that?"

So much for him doing the talking.. "I like to watch those extreme survival stories on Discovery.. I find it fascinating how much a person can endure.. It's more than most people would think.." You circle around him and head to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the leftovers you saved from the stir fry you had cooked for dinner and plop the container on the counter..
Next, you twist the top off an imported beer and slide it over..

"I can believe that.." He peels the lid from the container and begins to dig around, stabbing at the sautéed veggies with the fork you placed on the counter.. He scoops several mouthfuls in the space of a few minutes before he speaks again.. "So.. That was shitty of me before.. How I acted when you got home.."

You hop up onto the counter and cross your legs, studying him as he leans over devouring his meal.. His casual demeanour has returned and you're finding it hard to maintain any anger you had been feeling towards him.. "It wasn't your finest behaviour, no.."

He finishes off the last few bites and then his beer, before crossing to the sink with the now empty plastic box..

"Listen, can we just forget about it.. You were a jerk - I was out of line.. Can we just go back to being friends.. Call a truce?" He keeps his back to you, busying himself washing the container that is obviously already clean.. The silence stretches on and you begin to think he didn't hear you.. "Patrick?"

His sudden low growl startles you.. "I don't wanna jus' be yer friend, Yevette.." He turns and prowls toward you, a heat burning in his eyes, his smouldering gaze raking over your bare legs, up over your breasts which are peaking beneath your sweater, coming up to rest on your surprised face.. "But you're not the only one whos been keeping secrets, and I doubt you'll wanna' be my friend for much longer once you find out about mine.."

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