I Hate You Like I Hate Tuna

Patrick never visited me at the hospital. It saddened me in a way, if I was his 'girlfriend' why didn't he come to visit me but Pete did?

Pete wouldn't leave even when I offered to pay him. To stay he convinced the doctor's I was his wife and I just didn't remember. (which resulted in them holding me an extra three days for cat scans)

I stood outside the hospital with Pete, he said Patrick was coming to get us.

"So Pete why didn't Patrick come visit me?" I asked.

Pete's eyes saddened as he looked at me, "He feels guilty because he thinks he should've been there."

"Well that's ridiculous, I'm alive, even if Pat was there, I still would've been hit."

"But that's not what he thinks."

Patrick pulled up then, helping me in to the back of his black Escalade. He blushed when our eyes met. Pete had told him about my whole 'out of body' experience, and he hasn't been the same since. Pete on the other hand thought it was the coolest thing on the earth. He wanted to know what it was like and all these other weird questions.

"Patty we should stop somewhere to get food, how 'bout Booger King?"

I giggled as Pete called 'Burger King' Booger king. Patrick looked deep in thought, contemplating his decision.

"I'm starving, all I've had to eat is icky hospital food, we can go threw the drive threw."

I suggested from the back seat. I saw Patrick nod and make a turn for an exit.

We ate in the car as we drove. "So where we going?" I asked in between bites of a whopper.

"Oh well since your hotel is no longer your home, Pete has offered up his spare room." Patrick said 'Pete' with such detest it took me back.

"OK then." I whispered.

We got back to Pete's home and Pete showed me to my room. My suitcase and laptop were on the bed. The room was simple, with white walls, a full bed and white bedspread. There was a dresser against the wall.

I walked in and went to the bed sitting down. Patrick walked out and slammed the door to Pete's apartment.

"Well he's touchy today." I said sighing.

Pete sat next to me. "He's just jealous that he didn't get to see you in the hospital."

"That's his own damn fault."

"I know, I'm sorry, here, this was shipped to my house."

I looked down at the letter from Alternative Press. I ripped it open and read it. I let the letter drop to the ground. I had been fired.

"What is it?"

"They fired me."

"What?! Why?"

"Read it."

Pete picked up the letter as I started to pace the room. I had no job, no money, I left college to work.

"This is bullshit! They can't fire you because you missed an interview for being in the hospital."

"I'm a rookie, I didn't call, I left Gabe Saporta sitting in a Starbucks for three hour to be mauled by fans"

"Well you can still stay here."

"I can't I need to find a job, fly home-"

"You can get a job out here, stay here."

Pete looked at me with pleading eyes. He was being so nice, when I had be so mean.

"Thank you."