Rich Man

I found my eyes fluttering shut again, this time with limited thoughts floating around my mind. Goal achieved. I’m proud to say that Looch is officially on the fast track to awesome and this kid… Well, he’s alright for now. I think I’ve humbled him up enough to put their friendship to the test if need be. This situation isn’t over yet, though. If Milan takes Patrice staying the night with me the wrong way, there’s going to be some heavy issues.

“It might not be a good idea,” I mumbled, “to tell Milan about you falling asleep here. It doesn’t look good, y’know?”

“I already thought about that. I won’t say anything if I’m not asked, but you know I’m not going to lie.”

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t get it, though… Why didn’t you just shut up and give him a chance? Why did you have to tell him what you’re doing?” he questioned this in a far more interrogative tone than I was comfortable with. Then again, that was my job, right? Lying and manipulation were my specialties. “I don’t get what you’re playing at.”

I thought that maybe feeling uneasy because I was too at ease around him was something that I would just grow accustomed to. Obviously I was dead wrong about that; just as wrong as I was about my conscience dissipating eventually. Yeah, not going to happen. So the decision was set early on, far earlier than my position lying with him then that I would adjust and adapt to my new thinking conditions. No longer was I allowed to operate like a robot. There was evidence that maybe my gut was okay to trust.

So it was my instincts I was to rely on from here on out.

“What I’m playing at? You’re making this sound like an accusation,” I replied simply and let my eyes calmly flicker between his. My senses were heightened now and ready to read him for all he was worth. His brow narrowed, just barely and in the form of a slight twitch. He’s thinking—too much. Listen for his breathing. It was shallow, as if he was too focused on maintaining a cool exterior and keeping his thoughts in line to really care about all aspects of his body language.

“You never answered my question,” he challenged.

I already had an answer on the tip of my tongue. “I got scared. I started answering, but I couldn’t do it.” My voice was small, eyes dodging his and finding a nice spot on his t-shirt to settle on.

“Well, what’s the answer?” There was no rush in his voice nor impatience. It was all genuine curiosity.

“It’s personal, so shut up,” I whispered, feeling my stomach tighten. My gut was telling me to say it, screaming to just let the truth ring free. “I was working with this girl a few years back. She was one of my first ever patients. See, I started out as a relationship councilor of sorts. I did family, marriage, the whole nine… Well, she came to me with the idea that maybe her boyfriend was cheating. I didn’t think anything of it; I dived right in.

“However she couldn’t bring him in. I asked why and she told me he hated this sort of thing; that he didn’t believe in councilors and stuff. I asked her to let me meet him; let me try to analyze him in person and give her advice simply based off of what I could gather. I got one shot at it and she let me take it…

“To make a really long story short, he and I became friends when she decided that she was strong enough to handle the situation on her own. At first, we were just kind of flirting. It wasn’t even that; it was harmless, but eventually I got irresponsible and… I’ll never forget how angry I was with myself because I didn’t see how much of a Casanova he was. It took me until he had me pinned against the back of my bedroom door to realize that not only was I a pathetic excuse for a psychological analyst, but his girlfriend was right to be wary.

“Milan scares me in that I see a lot of David in him. Uh, David being the boyfriend. I see the alluring qualities in him that got me totally screwed in the first placed.”

Patrice interjected, watching me with slightly wide eyes. “But Looch wouldn’t do anything that screwed up.”

“Well no shit, he wouldn’t. It’s the idea that I let my guard down with him if I’m not careful. That’s what gets to me. And the way he so eagerly and easily picks up on things… It just makes me nervous. I can’t explain it. There’s no justification for the feeling, it’s just there.”

“So he makes you nervous. Adapt. You’re kind of a ridiculously smart girl. You could just adapt to that fear and discard it if you really wanted to.”

“Touché.”

“See? Now will you give him a chance?”

“Nope.”

Patrice’s eyes narrowed now, displaying the frustration I was waiting for. “Why the hell not?”

“Like I said-“

“Pride and nerves… Wow, weak.”

“No,” I mumbled, “You have to understand that my level of pride, my ego, my job; it all takes precedence over everything in my life. Well shit, it is my life. I mean, it’s all I really have. David was the one time I ever showed any sort of… Weakness in my abilities. He out-manipulated me, actually.”

At the sound of that word, “weakness”, his eyes slightly widened in obvious recollection. I was almost surprised when he didn’t bring up that very subject, but at the same time, it made perfect sense. I had revealed to him the root of all that I feared. It was the single seed that planted the tree of paranoia in the back of my mind; that allowed any fear in my actions to exist in the first place. Patrice breathed and, in understanding, nodded. “It’s way too early to talk about this,” he replied, “But I think I understand.”

“Yeah, you better,” I whispered, turning onto my stomach. I was still facing him. He didn’t move an inch, eyes fixated on my face. He studied me with a sort of hollow curiosity that I couldn’t place or classify. It was almost as though he was possessed by something that he wouldn’t allow himself to show to me. I snapped him out of his trance the best I could by whispering, “I’ve never told anybody that and I know you and Looch are buddies but-“

“I won’t say a word, I swear,” he interjected with a soft smile. This wasn’t the second time I found myself gazing at his full lips, wondering what it would have been like if I would have kissed him when I had the chance. And I didn’t mean our first kiss: I was thinking about the second; the chance I had to reveal whether I felt something for him or not. It just wasn’t in a kiss that I chose to convey my feelings.

Now my insides felt like goo and my mind had gone blank with the shutting of my eyes. In his presence then, I felt like a child who had just relinquished a horrible secret that had been locked up for years and years. A weight in my stomach that I never knew existed was gone just as I was faced with a new one.

“You called me your weakness.”

“Because you are,” I corrected myself without a fraction of a second passing, “were. I felt vulnerable around you,” I softly blurted, eyes lightly shut. Before I could assimilate the extent of my words, he let of a small breath of air as though it was a silent laugh.

“But not anymore?”

“Nope.”

He moved closer, but I didn’t feel the need to move away. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything stupid anyway. Patrice was far too smart for that. “Are you sure about that?”

My eyes snapped open only to find him slightly closer. It wasn’t dangerous distance away; he had moved only a few inches. It was just enough for our slightly bent knees to touch and his hand to easily fiddle with strands of my hair. In my satisfied state, I shut my eyes once again and allowed his fingers to dance against my skin. Only, the bed slightly shook and there was warmth hovering just above my ear. This was followed by the nearly inaudible murmur that sent a wave of goosebumps all over my body. However, there was something oddly humorous in the murmur, “Are you really sure about that?”

Holy fuck. Don’t jump him, don’t jump him, don’t jump him—Do something! Bursting into laughter, I rolled away from him and played my actions off as though I was too tired to care. “It’s like five in the morning. Can you wait until I at least look like a human to try to seduce me?”

Laughing, he pulled me back over to him so my back would be to his front and replied, “As long as you don’t move, sure thing.” His arm wrapped around my center while he draped his jacket over our shoulders the best he could. I hadn’t realized it until then, but we had both slept clad in most of what we had worn the previous day and on top of the covers. No wonder it felt just a little bit cold in the room.

“Hey Patrice?”

“Hm?” he answered back, face obviously right behind my head. He swept my ponytail out of his face and proceeded to wrap his arm around my middle. It was almost hypnotic how slowly he let his hand move over my t-shirt clad skin. For awhile I had to remind myself that I was even wearing a shirt in the first place.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why push me toward Milan when you have feelings of your own?”

“You’re the smart one; you figure it out.”

-

I woke up faced with nothing but two chatty females and wondering how the hell I came to be legit wearing Patrice’s jacket. “Hey, girly, you feeling alright?” Avery asked having been the first of the two to notice I was alive.

Sitting up, I nodded, and rolled the slightly long sleeves a little bit up my wrists. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Patrice said you had a killer migraine. When did you get to sleep?” the question came from Lex.

“I don’t know… Why?”

Avery smirked, suggestively sashaying over and plopping down at the foot of my bed. “Because we came in earlier this morning and found him leaving. Said he passed out while keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth. He wouldn’t stop making me sip water on the clock for like… Ever,” I replied, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. The only thing I had in mind was to end this stupid conversation and get a shower. Luckily for me, Avery’s phone freaked out with an alarm letting us know we only had a few hours to get our shit and get going. We had another flight to catch.

We took an extremely small plane to our next city, New Jersey. This gave me the opportunity to sit alone, which gave me the even better opportunity to break out the journal and scribble down every detail of Patrice.

The kid wants me and he’s changing his tactics. This entire entry is pretty much going to be one big goal, so I’m screwing the usual organization.

“You’re the smart one; you figure it out.”

What the shit is that? Is he challenging me or does he expect me to find out? I wouldn’t doubt this is a combination of the two. Despite our tired incoherencies, there was something oddly alert in him last night. I can’t place it aside from the way he was taking in my words and watching me. Either he’s learning to take after me or his emotions are kicking his brain into overdrive because he has feelings for me and…

I didn’t even want to finish that sentence.

… and probably knows that deep down, I’ve got ‘em too.