Secretly
Four
“Hey there, I’m Patrick Kane,” Patrick said with a sheepish smile, emphasis on his last name. “I live across the hall. This is my friend Jon.” If the girl was impressed with Kane, then she didn’t show it.
Instead, she looked as annoyed as Jon felt, holding two stupid plates of cookies.
She was smiling, but it was forced as she studied the plates critically. Jon had two in his hands, while Patrick had another two.
They’d slaved over them. Who knew baking cookies from scratch was so hard. But Patrick had wanted to impress the girl, and Betty Crocker didn’t quite say, “Hey! I want you!” like Patrick intended.
He’d wanted to make peanut butter cookies, but Jon saw these little chocolate chips at the store and wanted to try baking with them. He’d always loved chocolate chip cookies.
So they’d spent a good hour attempting to bake, and managed to burn everything. Jon had succeeded in salvaging a couple of cookies, but the rest looked passably edible.
“It’s fine,” Patrick had insisted, putting the cookies onto plates. “It’s the thought that counts.”
Jon didn’t care. He was content playing Diablo 3. But Patrick had a different idea.
“I’m not going, Kaner,” he’d said. “This is a suicide mission.”
“Fine,” Patrick said. “Then you can count me out for practice tomorrow.”
“You’re shitting me,” Jon said, exasperated. Patrick could be so childish sometimes.
“I can if I’m sick,” Patrick whined. “Love sick.”
In the end, it was easier to go just along with Patrick.
But now, standing in front of this gorgeous girl with two plates of burnt cookies, he was stating to regret coming along.
This was probably the stupidest thing Kaner had ever made him do.
“Julie Hadlington,” she responded, “Come on in.” She stood back and let them in even though it seemed like the last thing she wanted.
If Jon could disappear right now, he would. But instead, he followed Patrick into the apartment. It was meticulously decorated in white and black, with the only other colors coming from the potted plants scattered throughout the apartment.
“Woah,” Patrick noted, looking around. “This place looks exactly like the Perkins did when they lived here. The Perkins were here before you moved in. Frank was a nice guy, but that Jan was a mean old fart.” He laughed at his own joke, taking a seat on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
Julie, who’d gone to the fridge and was on her way back with a beer in each hand, froze as her smile disappeared.
“This apartment looks like the Perkins did because it’s still all their stuff,” Julie snapped.
Oh shit, Jon thought. Patrick had picked up a peanut butter cookie and was attempting to chew it but was having difficulty.
“And that mean old fart,” Julie continued, loudly placing the beers on the island. “Is my grandmother.”
Instead, she looked as annoyed as Jon felt, holding two stupid plates of cookies.
She was smiling, but it was forced as she studied the plates critically. Jon had two in his hands, while Patrick had another two.
They’d slaved over them. Who knew baking cookies from scratch was so hard. But Patrick had wanted to impress the girl, and Betty Crocker didn’t quite say, “Hey! I want you!” like Patrick intended.
He’d wanted to make peanut butter cookies, but Jon saw these little chocolate chips at the store and wanted to try baking with them. He’d always loved chocolate chip cookies.
So they’d spent a good hour attempting to bake, and managed to burn everything. Jon had succeeded in salvaging a couple of cookies, but the rest looked passably edible.
“It’s fine,” Patrick had insisted, putting the cookies onto plates. “It’s the thought that counts.”
Jon didn’t care. He was content playing Diablo 3. But Patrick had a different idea.
“I’m not going, Kaner,” he’d said. “This is a suicide mission.”
“Fine,” Patrick said. “Then you can count me out for practice tomorrow.”
“You’re shitting me,” Jon said, exasperated. Patrick could be so childish sometimes.
“I can if I’m sick,” Patrick whined. “Love sick.”
In the end, it was easier to go just along with Patrick.
But now, standing in front of this gorgeous girl with two plates of burnt cookies, he was stating to regret coming along.
This was probably the stupidest thing Kaner had ever made him do.
“Julie Hadlington,” she responded, “Come on in.” She stood back and let them in even though it seemed like the last thing she wanted.
If Jon could disappear right now, he would. But instead, he followed Patrick into the apartment. It was meticulously decorated in white and black, with the only other colors coming from the potted plants scattered throughout the apartment.
“Woah,” Patrick noted, looking around. “This place looks exactly like the Perkins did when they lived here. The Perkins were here before you moved in. Frank was a nice guy, but that Jan was a mean old fart.” He laughed at his own joke, taking a seat on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
Julie, who’d gone to the fridge and was on her way back with a beer in each hand, froze as her smile disappeared.
“This apartment looks like the Perkins did because it’s still all their stuff,” Julie snapped.
Oh shit, Jon thought. Patrick had picked up a peanut butter cookie and was attempting to chew it but was having difficulty.
“And that mean old fart,” Julie continued, loudly placing the beers on the island. “Is my grandmother.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Let me know what you think! :)