A Kind of Contradiction

“You seem distracted.”

I glanced over at Patrick, brows wound up high on my forehead. We’d been sitting in the park almost all afternoon, some homemade sandwiches and lemonade between us. Patrick put a respectable distance between us, and didn’t seem all that keen on sitting closer.

He was right, though. I was distracted.

All I could think about was Nash and his stupid morals. He’d held my hand and put his arm around me without any hesitation, but when it came to what I really wanted, he couldn’t do it. All my frustration towards Patrick had shifted onto Nash, and I was contemplating breaking off whatever it was between me and the man sitting in front of me just because I wanted Nash so damn much.

It was very frustrating.

“Hypothetically,” I began, and Patrick sat straighter. I was momentarily distracted by the dark curl that fell into his eyes, but he reached up and pushed his hair back from his face. “Okay, so, I was going to say something else just now, but I really need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Is there a reason you keep two feet of space between us all the time?”

Patrick seemed caught off guard. He raked his fingers through his hair again, then glanced at me through his lashes. “I just thought you’d want to take it slow.”

“Slow is for losers. I wanna make out.”

He chuckled. “I guess I should have known that with you.”

“Well? Are we gonna make out now?”

Grinning, Patrick shifted onto his knees and leaned toward me. He cupped one hand against my cheek, his eyes scanning my face for any sign that I didn’t want this to happen. But I did, because maybe it would help me forget about Nash.

Patrick’s lips tasted of lemonade, and his hair was just as soft as I’d imagined. His other hand came to rest against my hip, but he made no other move. I grabbed his collar, pulling him down with me, and laughed when he made a surprised noise and broke our kiss. Leaning over me, Patrick’s dark hair tickled my forehead. “We’re in public,” he said.

“So? People make out in public all the time,” I said, tilting my head to capture his lips again. I needed to be distracted. Nash’s stupid smile was still on the forefront of my mind, reminding me of what I wanted and couldn’t have.

“Somebody might recognize us.”

“Are you seriously worried about that?” I sighed, pushing his chest so that I could sit up. I ran my fingers through my hair, getting them caught in the tangles I hadn’t bothered to brush out when I woke up this morning. The lilac was fading to white, I noticed with dismay. I’d have to re-dye it soon. Patrick was frowning at me, conflicted. “I don’t care. If I haven’t made it clear already, I just want to kiss you.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. He held out a hand to pull me up, but his fingers detangled from mine as soon as I was on my feet. Once we’d gathered up everything, Patrick and I headed for his Prius.

“Where are we going?” I asked, kicking my feet up onto the dashboard. I noticed Patrick’s eyes skate along my bare legs before returning to the road.

“My apartment?” he suggested.

I grinned.

When you see where somebody lives for the first time, after forming an idea of who they are, it’s a lot to take in. Especially when that person’s apartment is tidy in a scary way and the books on the shelves are arranged alphabetically. I used to be precise like this, mostly because my mother is, and now all it does is make me shiver with memories of the girl I used to be.

“Cosima?” Patrick called out from somewhere further inside. Apartments in Brighton aren’t really apartments in the traditional sense, but houses with multiple units.

Taking a deep breath, I kicked off my shoes and left my purse at the door, then went in search of Patrick. I found him in the kitchen, putting what was left of our lunch into the fridge. Knowing he wouldn’t be the one to initiate contact, I snaked my arms around his waist and pressed a kiss below his ear. Patrick’s stomach tensed beneath my hands for just a moment, then he spun around and I saw the smile on his face.

“You really aren’t shy, are you?”

“Why should I be? You aren’t the oldest guy I’ve made out with, y’know,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Patrick frowned. “How old?”

“Twenty-six,” I said. “It was at a party. I was drunk, and my friend dared me to go up to him, so I did. He was a creep, though, I got out of there pretty fast. You’re much better.”

His hands rested against my hips, thumbs brushing against the strip of bared skin above the waistband of my shorts. “You went pretty crazy in San Francisco, huh?”

I shrugged. “I stopped worrying about what other people think.”

“Unfortunately,” Patrick sighed, eyes cast downward. “I still worry.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

I could hear my phone ringing and guessed it was probably Mom, which meant I had to answer. I detangled myself from Patrick, throwing a grin over my shoulder, and rushed to catch the call before it went to voicemail. It was Danny.

“Uh, hey?”

“Did you tell Mom you were hanging out with me today?”

“Maybeee,” I said slowly, tugging on a strand of lilac hair.

“You should’ve told me, Cos,” he said. “Nash and I just got back to the house and she’s here, and she asked why you weren’t with us.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. Nash told her you were buying pencils from the art store, so you’d better come back with some.”

“Nash lied for me?” I asked, surprised.

“Before I could even open my mouth. It’s a better excuse than I could’ve come up with, anyway.”

“Tell him thanks.”

“Tell him yourself.”

After hanging up, I returned to the kitchen with an apologetic expression. Patrick cupped my face in his hands and pressed a light kiss to my lips, leaving me underwhelmed and wanting more. But I had to get home.

“I’ll call you later,” I said, quickly pulling on my shoes before heading out the door.

I wasn’t in need of pencils, but showing up without any after Nash told Mom that I was buying some would be suspicious. I picked up a set, using up the last of the cash in my possession (asking Mom for more would definitely be a fun conversation) from the art store on my way home.

When I arrived at home, I went upstairs and changed into a pair of jeans. Once the tattoos on my legs were covered, I headed for Mom’s office. I had the pencils tucked under one arm, my purse still dangling over my shoulder to give off the appearance that I’d just arrived. “Did you want to see me?” I asked, feeling like I was approaching some business executive instead of my own mother.

“Where were you today?”

“With Danny and Nash,” I answered, keeping my gaze level with hers. Mom could be very intimidating sitting behind her desk, hands clasped over the polished wood.

“And you didn’t come back with them because?”

“Had to pick up some pencils,” I said, waving the package at her.

Mom nodded, not looking particularly impressed. “For your drawing hobby.”

“I don’t intend for it to be a hobby forever,” I reminded her.

“Right. Thank you, Cosima.”

Taking that as a cue to leave, I tried a half-smile (that wasn’t returned) and ducked out of the office. Danny and Nash were crashed on the couch watching baseball, the former being the more interested of the two. I dropped my purse and pencils on the coffee table, sitting down between them and pretzeling my legs.

“Thanks,” I said to Nash, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “How’d you know that buying pencils would be a legit excuse?”

“I saw your sketchbook on your desk,” Nash said quietly, his eyes on the screen.

“When were you in my sister’s room, dude?” Danny asked, looking around me to blink at his best friend.

Nash rubbed the back of his neck nervously. The last time he’d been in my room was when I asked him to stay. I knew that he was thinking about that night too, because he kept on swallowing and his chest had started to rise and fall more rapidly. “Uh, I was walking past and the door was open. Saw the stuff on her desk.”

Danny chuckled. “You look pretty freaked out, man. What did you think — that I was gonna ask if you’re hooking up with my sister behind my back?”

“Uh—“

“Because that would be really fucking stupid,” Danny continued, now turned back towards the TV. I was still watching Nash, curious to see how he would react to what Danny was saying. “I’d kick your ass.”

“Good thing I have a boyfriend!” I exclaimed, placing a hand on either of their shoulders and shaking. “You don’t have to worry about me and Nash, darling brother, it’s never going to happen!”

“What?” Danny and Nash asked simultaneously.

Then Danny narrowed his eyes, looking at Nash again. “Wait, why did you say ‘what?’”

“Is it the same guy as before?” Nash asked me, ignoring Danny completely.

“Before? Cos, is there some dude walking around out there thinking he can date you without getting my permission first?”

“We don’t need your permission, Danny,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And yes, it’s the same guy.”

“What changed?” Nash asked. “I thought you weren’t into him.”

“Hang on a second, were you getting relationship advice from Nash? He’s like, the worst advice giver ever. Especially when it comes to girls.”

“Hey—“

“We figured out what was wrong and fixed it,” I said, purposely vague. “Who I hook up with doesn’t concern either of you anyway, so let’s just leave it at that, yeah?”

Danny let it go, but Nash had gone from mild confusion to full-on concern. He’d stopped paying attention to the baseball game completely, and was staring at me unabashedly. Almost as if he expected to find the answers to his unsaid questions hidden somewhere in my expression.