The World Will Never Look at You the Same Way

Patrick Woke up early the next day despite having been up late the night before. Pete, God love him, insisted that they watch a movie at his place until midnight even though they spent all day in the studio recording. Patrick knew what he was up to. Patrick walked into the studio with a big, stupid grin on his face. That was his mistake. Pete noticed. Of course he noticed. And Pete, being the curious type, just had to know what (or who) put the smile there. After all, he hadn't seen that smile in a few years. Not since the divorce. Patrick didn't tell him much. There really wasn't much to tell. He had a coffee date. It wasn't like he hadn't gone on dates since the break up. No big deal, right? But Pete knew better. He studied Patrick's face as he talked about Amy. There was something there, even if he didn't wan't to say it out loud. Patrick didn't walk in the door until 12:30. He was so tired, he didn't even bother to put on pajamas. He just stripped off his shirt and pants and collapsed on top of his blankets.

He woke up and glanced at the clock on his bed side table. The green numbers flashed 5:30 am. Two full hours before he intended to get up. Patrick tried to go back to sleep. He tried to wait for his alarm, but he couldn't take the anticipation any longer. He got up, rubbed his blurry eyes, and headed for the shower. He breathed in the hot steam and thought about his morning plans, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I hope she shows" he said to himself as he rinsed the soap off his body.

"Don't be so fucking paranoid! Why wouldn't she show?" A voice reached his ears from the other room.

Patrick let out a yelp, and after he managed to steady himself to keep from falling, he peaked from behind the curtain and yelled, "Hello? Who is that?"

Pete poked his head around the door to Patrick's bathroom with a grin on face.

"Jesus, I should have fucking known. What are you doing here?" Patrick asked as he reached for his towel.

"Rummaging through your closet, obviously," Pete stated as he held up a shirt that Patrick hadn't noticed he was clutching.

"Why?" Patrick asked as he stepped out of his shower, towel wrapped firmly around his waist.

"Thought I'd help. You need something that says 'I'm hot and I don't have to try hard but I'm also not a slob.' All your shit says is 'um, hi... I'm Patrick... let's be friends, kay?' It's like your putting yourself in the friend zone with your wardrobe." Pete said as he held up Patrick's favorite polo shirt to his chest and made a face.

"Maybe that's all I want to say right now,"Patrick said moodily, snatching the shirt from Pete and put it on. He shoved his way into his bedroom and continued to get dressed. He could hear Pete in the background saying things like "suit yourself" and "I was just trying to help." Frustration built in Patrick until he finally burst. "Look, I'm not looking for something serious. It's barely even a date. It's coffee. Maybe. That's even if she shows up. It's no big deal and I really wish you'd stop acting like this girl's the one. I don't believe in that shit anymore, ok? It's just coffee." His hand instinctively found his hair and ruffled it. A nervous habit. One that shows what he feels even when his face doesn't always. This time it showed guilt for yelling at his friend, and something else. Was that sadness? Regret?

Pete walked over to him slowly and pulled him into a hug. He doesn't have to say anything. When you've been friends for that long, words aren't always necessary. He pulled away and looked Patrick square in the eyes. "What happened isn't your fault. Go have a good morning. You deserve it."

Patrick couldn't help but smile a little. "Thanks man. I'll see you later. Lunch?"

"Only if you're paying," Pete winked.