I Want to Scream 'I Love You'

I stared at my reflection, watching it mimic my movements. My hand goes up, her hand goes us. My body shifts, her body shifts. I smile, she smiles.

I’ve deduced that just leaving my hair in a ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a t-shirt probably isn’t going to be good enough for this party. It’s a Monday night party, though, who knows what to expect.

With a sigh, I twisted a piece of hair around my index finger, watching it fall back flat as I let go. My naturally wavy hair looked out of place, considering I’d straightened it. I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t going to catch anyone’s eye, or to flirt with some guys, or, even, because I wanted to. I was going because of Patrick.

It was 6:15, therefore giving me the slightest amount of time to change my mind. Instead, I sat my brush down, deciding it was too late to redo my hair, and that I was overanalyzing the situation.

I threw on a darker pair of jeans, ones that were more for nice occasions, but I never wore, a black tank top, and a white jacket. It was nothing special, but it wasn’t shabby. I turned back to the mirror, smoothing down any wrinkles and brushing off lint and dust, but always finding more.

Defeated, I decided to just let it be; there was no point, and walked out of my room.

Assuming the only thing to drink at the party will be beer; I stopped by the kitchen, grabbed my water bottle, and sat down on the couch, throwing my head back after taking a drink.

I still wasn’t completely sure why I was going. There was no point. It’s not like I was going to know anyone there, most likely. But it’s an hour that I can sacrifice for Patrick, right?

Right on time, a knock came from the door, followed by Patrick just pushing the door open anyway.

“You know, you should really lock this thing,” he pointed out, tapping the door handle as he said so.

“Yeah, and you should wait for me to answer the door before letting yourself in,” I countered, grabbing my keys and following Patrick out the door.

“I wouldn’t just walk in if you locked it.”

I turned to stare him down, our eyes locked to each other‘s.

“You look nice, by the way,” he interrupted, his eyes not shifting from mine. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I turned instantaneously back to lock the door.

“Thanks,” I mumbled under my breath, my fingers fumbling to get the door bolted.

“You okay?” he asked, seconds before the key found the lock and slid in with ease.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…” my voice trailed off, as I turned the key swiftly, the door’s clicks informing me it was locked. I spun back around and swung the key around my finger. “Let’s go.”

“After you, milady.” He stepped back and held his hand out, gesturing towards the stairs. I scoffed at him, but started walking anyway.

“Because you’re so British.”

He adjusted the hat atop his head, and shot me a crooked smile. “Maybe so.”

I shook my head, laughing at him. He guided me to where he parked, unlocking the car as we approached. I climbed in the passenger side, noticing he had obviously cleared the cassette tapes and miscellaneous wrappers from the seat. Instead, they scattered the backseat and car floor.

“Sorry, it’s a little,” he scrunched his nose up, looking back to the mess, “dirty.”

I shrugged it off and pulled my seatbelt around me. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Ha, well, anyway,” he reached to the backseat, blindly finding a cassette and sliding it into the dashboard, “hope you don’t mind Costello.”

“’Course not.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, maneuvering around the streets for awhile in silence.

“Sorry, it’s a little ways away,” he mumbled after awhile, not taking his eyes off the road, “and, I also apologize for dragging you to this, but I have a feeling that you’ll be happy I did.”

“Why is that?” I questioned, as we pulled onto a smaller street, which, I assumed, meant we were getting closer.

“Just…” he paused, looking back over at me with a small smirk on his face, “you’ll like it, trust me. Well, I hope you’ll like it.”

I looked at him, confused for a moment until he pulled to the side, parallel parking between two other cars. I pushed my door open, standing on the tips of my toes to see cars lined up all down the street, and the obvious party house come to life. A block away, I could hear the music and smell the musky scent of alcohol caught in the wind.

I glanced back at Patrick and he raised his eyebrows, obviously noting the same things I did.

“Once again, I apologize,” he said, before leading me down the sidewalk, his hand on my shoulder.

“A few more things you should know, you’ll be meeting Pete. Pete is, well, Pete’s a character. I promise, I won’t leave you alone with him. Also, most people here a bit older than us. They’re Pete’s friends, and Pete’s five years older than me, so, just, be careful, okay?” Patrick finished as we entered the house. Some kind of rap music and the shrieks from the party guests filled my ears, making me almost wish I’d brought earplugs.

Patrick’s hand found mine and guided me through the crowd, leading me to wherever we needed to be, even when I could barely see him.

He pulled me into the dining room, where a group of wasted guys were playing beer pong, but at least they were at a normal volume compared to the rest of the house.

“So, where’s this Pete-dude?” I asked, jamming my hands into my hoodie pockets and pulling myself closer to Patrick. This was out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t big on parties. Sure, they’re fun when you’re a freshman or maybe a sophomore, but, once you’re a senior, you can see past all the drunken faces and realize that the music’s just as good in the comfort of your own home.

“Probably in the middle of it all,” he sighed, glancing up towards the doorway. “Let’s go find him.”

I grimaced as he took my hand in his, once again, and guided us towards the living room. We ducked and pushed around the gyrating bodies as they “danced” to what had switched to Beat It.

Patrick’s mouth was moving, but whatever he was saying was muted out by the music. For all I know, he could’ve been screaming, but there was no way you would’ve heard him.

We stopped suddenly, Patrick whispering into some dude’s ear. Who I presumed was Pete, nodded and motioned for Patrick to follow him. He led us out of the living room, past the kitchen, through the garage, and out the back door, pulling us into an almost noise-free area behind the house.

“Okay, now that I can actually hear you, what were you saying?” he asked Patrick. Patrick smiled and pulled me forward.

“Pete, Hayley. Hayley, Pete,” Patrick introduced us.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling cockily at me, then turning back to Patrick. “Are you banging her?”

“Oh, god,” Patrick muttered, turning away from both of us. I stuttered out a single, nervous laugh as Pete looked innocent and taken aback by Patrick’s response.

“Whatttt? I was just wondering. It’s a legit question,” Pete defended with a slick smile on his face, knowing perfectly well he did it just to get at Patrick.

Patrick turned back, now, to face Pete, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Anyway, I was asking inside when we start setting up.”

Pete wasn’t too happy the subject was changed, but he let it go. “I was thinking, about, ten minutes?”

“Setting up? For what?” I questioned quietly, though, I doubt either one heard me.

“What about her?” Pete pointed his thumb in my direction, not even glancing away from Patrick. “She looks younger than you. She’s going to get killed in there by herself.”

“Yeah, I figured that. I was hoping maybe she could chill with Jeanae?” Patrick chewed his bottom lip, his cheeks still rose-colored from Pete’s question earlier.

“Sure, sure, let’s go find her.”

“Woah, wait, what are we talking about?” I protested as they started walking. Patrick turned for a moment before smirking and motioning for me to come with.

Stubbornly, I folded my arms across my chest so he turned back around and began walking again. I threw my head back with a sigh, before giving up and following him inside.

He sneered victoriously as I approached his side, earning a glare from me.

Pete guided us to the deck hanging off the back of the house. There, people were just standing around a keg with beer, chatting. Like, water cooler Mondays in the office. Things were calmer, but, down below in the yard were a few people doing god knows what. One fellow, in particular, was chasing after two guys that had stolen his pants. The two running like mad, holding the jeans above their heads as if it were some kind of victory flag.

Pete automatically gravitated to the other side of the deck, where a group of people sat, laughing at whatever was going on below. Immediately, he’d picked out a girl from the group and pulled her away from them and towards us.

He whispered something into her ear, and she smiled, nodding along to whatever he said. She switched her attention from Pete to me, and held her hand out.

“The name’s Jeanae. Nice to meet you.”

“Hayley, you too,” I responded back, giving her a short shake and pulling my hands behind my back.

“So, I hear I’ll be keeping you company for a little bit?” she said smiling, glancing back up to Patrick as he gave her a quick nod.

Subconsciously, I reached over and took Patrick’s hand, my way of silently asking what was going on.

“Hold on,” Patrick said, putting up one finger and pulling me to the edge of the deck.

“So, wait, where are you going?” I asked, leaning on the fence surrounding the deck.

He smiled coyly and leaned next to me. “This is the part that you’ll either be really happy, or really pissed.”

“This would be lots easier if you just told me and stopped beating around the bush.” I glanced up, watching the clouds close in around the full moon.

“You said you wanted to hear my band, right?”

I nodded, our eyes connecting at the same time. “You guys are playing, aren’t you?” Relief swept over me as Patrick smirked, his way of saying yes.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hands together, blowing into them for heat, “yeah, we’re playing. So… happy or pissed?”

I laughed, pulling at the hem of my jacket. “Happy.”

“Good, we’re only doing a couple songs off the old CD anyway, so I’ll be gone fifteen minutes at most.”

“It’s fine,” I said, still smiling. “I’ve got Jeanae.”

He chuckled, looking back down at the ground as the two guys who had stolen the other’s jeans threw them up into the trees, far too high for anyone to climb.

“Yo, Patrick,” Pete called, as he started walking back inside. “Let’s go get ready, man.”

Patrick looked from Pete to me, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

“Showtime.”