Americana Exotica

“Americana exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby? Yeah!” I smiled and let my teeth snag against my bottom lip. Patrick was running the new songs across me. He had slipped the secret to me, and made me pinky promise I wouldn’t tell anyone; Fall Out Boy was back.

“Stop, I can’t handle this.” Pat’s smile dropped as he stopping singing and playing the guitar. “No, no, no, ‘Rick. I love it! It’s just, you’re cute and it’s killing me.” Patrick let out a sigh of relief and smiled at me. He scratched his head with his black pick and adjusted his hat.

“So, you liked it?” I nodded quickly. “Good. That one’s called Young Volcanoes.”

“What's with the short names?” I joked lightly. I was so proud of Patrick.

In recent years he’d let go of what I’d fallen so in love with. He had lost his giddy aura, as the press criticized him and ‘fans’ put him down. They ruined his self-esteem. It’s great that he lost the weight that made him unhappy, and got healthy, but they reason behind his initial choice was one I couldn’t support. He didn’t want to be the fat one anymore, and that broke my heart.

I didn’t understand why he couldn’t see what I saw. He was so perfect to me. Patrick has always been the standard I’ve set people too. In all areas: kindness, empathy, understanding, humor, even musical talent. His smile was so bright, and his eyes lit up whenever he spoke. He was young through and through, the rough world hadn’t gotten to him. But then it did.

Fall Out Boy stopped and I was afraid that would end the world for Patrick, but it didn’t. He rose above, and that was what made me so proud.

“Quit your staring, freak” I smiled and looked away from him. “I’m hungry, we should make some food.” I groaned and fell over. I had been sitting criss-cross-applesauce on his bed, as he sat on a swivel chair in front of me. “You are so dramatic, Bernadette!” He exclaimed and pulled me up. I laughed and found my footing on the wood floor.

“I say we go indulge in some of that beautiful fruit basket my mother set us.” Patrick laughed and shook his head ‘no.’ I groaned and crossed my arms. “Why not?”

“Your mother probably poisoned it to make me look bad” That definitely sounded like my mom.

“Probably.”

“How about we get some chinese and watch a couple movies, hmm?” Patrick suggested, running the back of his hand down my jaw. I couldn’t not smile as he pecked my cheek. “Come on,” he grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs. Patrick arranged our hands to fit together the waffle way as we headed to his kitchen.

“You’re house is rad as hell, man.” I mumbled walking along. Patrick laughed pulled my to him. “I know I’ve been here like everyday since you bought it but shit man.”

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” Patrick mumbled, kissing my forehead. “I’m ordering our usual, and can make us those cool fruit drinks!”

“I worked at a bar in college, I’m not your personal bar tender” I mouthed off as I headed to his small bar in the kitchen. Patrick jokingly slapped my butt as he grabbed his phone from the console, where it was charging, on the counter.

As he ordered our meals I made the fruity drinks he was referring to. I made my way to the living and set it up as I waited for him. His couch pulled out, so I made a small bed on it; in case we fell asleep watching the movie.

“I say, Pretty in Pink.”

“Christ, Pete’s rubbed on you.” I muttered jokingly. “You two and your Molly Ringwaald obsessions.”

“Hey, I could have said Sixteen Candles or The Nightmare Before Christmas!” Patrick argued, jumping onto the bed I’d made. “My martini, barkeep.”

“I’m going to choke you in your sleep.” ‘Rick winked and took the drink from me. I put the movie in and grabbed the remote

“I like it kinky.”

I groaned and sat down next to him. “You’re terrible.” I climbed under the blankets and motioned for him to join me. He did so, right after throwing his hat off. “I feel like the Ducky in this friendship.” I said absent-mindedly.

“No, you’re not Ducky. We’re both Ducky,” I looked over at him. “We both want to kiss each other, and be something but we both won’t do it.” I nodded slowly and looked back to the movie.

He was right. I wanted to be with Patrick minutes after I met him. The second he started talking about music I knew I was going to fall in love with him. And I did.

We had both confessed our love to each other, but never did anything about it. We both wanted to, I could tell. We just never did.

We ended up falling asleep after we ate. The last thing I remembered happened in the movie was Ducky attacking the beefy, blonde asshole.

I woke up with my back tight against Patrick’s chest, and his arm holding me there. I could feel his hair touching my ear, and his lips just brushed against the top hem of my shirt. “Patrick,” I whispered, and slowly turned in his grip.

“Hmm?” He hummed, opening one eye. “Goodmorning beautiful.” A lazy smile graced his soft face as he closed his eyes again.

“Time to get up.” Patrick groaned in protest. “How would you like me to wake you up, sweetheart?” He puckered his lips, trying his best not to smile. “If I have to,”

“Don’t sound so troubled.” I laughed and maneuvered my arms around his neck.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never not been sure about you, Bernie. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” I took a deep breathe and nodded.

“I’m scared.” Patrick frowned, still not opening his eyes. “But I love you too.” My voice was shaky as I spoke.

I cocked my head just slightly, and moved in. My nose just barely brushed against his cheek, and I could feel his hot breath against my face. “Fuck it.” He muttered and broke the distance. His soft lips collided with mine. Though both of our tongues probably tasted like old chinese, we didn’t care. The space between us was lessening every second our lips danced against each other. Patrick broke away and began to place small kisses down my jaw and then my neck.

His hands found their way to my skin, pushing up my shirt slightly. “I’ve been waiting for this since like 2005, holy smokes.”