yeah, so. this is my first post. be harsh though, plz, cuz i kinda have experience lol. so, yeah. thanx!
Chapter 1:
“Pat. Move. I can’t see.”
Pat turned around, raised a dark eyebrow so that it arched perfectly over his green, pool deep eyes. They bore into my own chocolate brown ones.
“What?” I yelled, starting to get uncomfortable.
Pat broke into laughter.
“What!” I demanded.
Pat laughed again. “Nothing. Just…your face….okay never mind.”
“Why did you give me that look in the first place, then?”
Pat gave me the look again, except he looked genuinely confused this time. His dark matted curls were actually pretty perfect looking, splayed across his round head. He didn’t have afro-like curls, he had the gorgeous type of curls that were short but curly in a guy way. “Oh, that? ‘Cuz you told me to move.”
I threw my hands up, palms upturned, giving my head one vigorous shake and said, “And?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”
I stared at him, my head titled, my eyes giving him that look, my mouth slightly open. “Wow, Pat. Okay.”
He smiled at me, medium-sized, perfect, flush red lips. His cheeks were nicely toned, not too thin so they stretched across his skin, but not puffy and round. Perfect. Boyish. Cute. Young, unlike Pat himself. Well, kind of. Pat was mature, but he looked a lot younger and more gorgeous than you’d expect if you just listened to his voice and what he was saying. His skin was a creamy olive color, a result of his Italian descent. Perfect, again. Gorgeous.
Pat had a voice that sort of made your heart melt and pretty much made girls throw themselves at their crushes. He could cover any song in the world, so long as he had his guitar and the lyrics in his hand. And he was wicked smart⎯not just academically, but wise too. He always knew the answer to everything, and what to do when. Sometimes I thought he was a vampire. Sometimes I thought he was Edward Cullen without the pale skin⎯instead, more perfect, beautiful skin that didn’t sparkle, thank God, ‘cuz real men don’t sparkle.
Other times, I considered Pat a mix between Edward Cullen and Jacob Black⎯Edward’s manners and chivalry, both of their beauty, Jacob’s skin color, and Jacob’s arrogance.
“Hey. Ebi. You still there?”
“Oh! Uh, yeah, I’m here.” Not. I’d zoned out trying to soak in all of Pat’s hotness, which of course, in turn, had earned me a Name Butcher⎯or, that’s what Pat and I called it. It was a game we played. When one of us zoned out, we got to butcher their name. Of course, Ebi wasn’t really that off from my actual name, Eboni, but still. Kind of annoying.
Pat smirked. “Am I too much for you? Should I cover up? I mean, I think I could get a space suit…”
“Pat! Shut up!” I smacked his arm, but I was grinning.
“Ow.” Pat rubbed his arm like a little kid, and then looked up at me. “All right girl, you asked for it. I herby challenge you to⎯”
But before the words could get out of his mouth and he could finish his declaration of war⎯or, pillow war in our case⎯I smacked him in the face with a couch pillow and he got a mouthful of fabric and covers.
“Agh!” His voice got muffled, and he yanked it out and stared me down. “I see how it is. You’re on then,” he spat, fake-mad, then grinned at me and hit me hard⎯not enough to hurt me, but enough for me to fall back a steps, then yank a pillow and smack him back. We started laughing, and a few minutes later, we were rolling around on the floor, trying to hit each other with a pillow, but we were laughing too hard to really do much damage to the other person. Suddenly, Pat rolled over so he was close to me and got up on his hands and knees. He hovered over me, and stared at me. Slowly, my laughs died out, and I stared at Pat’s face, trying to read it. His face was getting closer, and I was starting to feel his hot, minty breath on my face.
So sexy, yet something about it felt almost…dangerous. Best friends who fell in love and became couples usually were pretty happy, but their friendship would always be wrecked…which meant that as soon as they broke up, which was almost always inevitable, things could never go back to being the same as before.
And then, before I could think too much, Pat leaned in and closed up the rest of the space between us and suddenly his mouth was on mine…and everything else stopped, including my heart.
I woke up the next morning lying on a warm shag rug dressed in a white, oversized t-shirt that wasn’t mine. That scared me immediately, not being dressed in my own clothes. And then, all the events of last night came rushing back to me in one flow. It was like the thin twig that was holding the dam shut snapped and all the water, or, in my case, memories, flowed back into me. Most of the time, that would have overwhelmed me⎯but this time, I thought of everything, and I realized that everything I remembered was good. Everything Pat and I had done had felt so…right. Every single second.
I got up from the floor and headed down to the bathroom. Inside, I discovered I had a pair of blue-and-white pinstripe boxers on and no bra. Oh, boy.
After I’d ransacked Pat’s drawers and scavenged a new tooth brush and a half-full, crusty tube of Colgate, I sauntered into the hallway and back into the living room, finally finding my flannel pajama bottoms that I’d brought for our sleepover (Ugh, God, what were we thinking? Seriously? A sleepover? With a guy and a girl? Both of us straight? C’mon, really?) and slid them on. As I was putting on my own clothes and tugging a comb through my long auburn hair before tying it up, I started to smell something really good. Something like cinnamon with toast, bacon, eggs, and pancakes wafted from the tiny kitchen of Pat’s apartment and into his tidy little living room, where I was sitting, on his small couch, fixing my hair. I jumped up and sauntered over to where I sensed the smells were coming from and just as I stepped into the kitchen, Pat spun around, stepped into me, with a smile on his face, and kissed me.
“Hey, there, sleeping beauty. I was just about to wake you. How’d you sleep?”
I smiled back. “Fine, but. I, er…how much did we even sleep?”
He gave a sly grin. “Well, me? We were, uh, I’ll admit, a little busy for a while last night⎯” Pat paused, his smile went away, and a troubled look crossed his face. He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand that wasn’t holding a slightly greasy spatula. “Hey, Eb, I hope that was okay. You know, what we did last night. I just⎯I needed. I⎯” Pat paused and took a deep breath and finished, “ I just needed to express my feelings for you. And I…I didn’t know how else to, you know, express that to you with us being such good friends. I hope that was okay.”
I stared up into Pat’s gold-tinted eyes, which were deep and earnest and searching. What I felt for him had started out as a simple friendship, but I knew now just how badly in love I was with him. So I reached out and grabbed the collar of his clean polo shirt and pulled him towards me. “Pat. I love you. And last night? Well, we didn’t even go all the way but I can promise you that was the best night of my existence.”
Pat stared into my eyes, his mouth open slightly, eyes widened, looking extremely surprised, and then a slow smile crept onto his face. “Really?” he whispered.
“Without a doubt,” I grinned back.
He sighed in relief. “Well in that case, as I was saying…I didn’t get much sleep after that, but you…phew. You were knocked out, girl.” Pat smiled at me, and I smiled back. Little did I know how true the words I’d just exchanged with Pat, about last night being the best night of my existence were. I’d thought that as soon as we actually did make it all the way, I could tell him that I’d changed my mind⎯that was my new greatest night of my life. But I was wrong, so wrong it actually hurt. This is my story.
