Leave it in the Past

I woke up the next morning with a pounding head. I slowly opened my eyes, and I saw that I wasn’t in my bed. I stiffened and my eyes shot open, only to faintly recognize Patrick’s bedroom. It took my brain a few moments to process that I was in his bed. With him. I lifted the covers to see what I was wearing. I still had my bra and underwear on, and I saw my light pink dress strewn on the floor a few feet away. I looked over at Patrick and could barely make out the outline of his boxers in the pitch black. I sighed, relieved that we didn’t do anything serious while I was drunk out of my mind. I tried to remember the night before, because I didn’t drink that much when Patrick and I were out. We must have played some drinking game when we got home. I tried to close my eyes and fall back asleep, but my head hurt too much and my stomach was churning all the spirits I had consumed only a few hours earlier. I started to climb out of bed to get some aspirin, but the minute I stood up a wave of nausea overcame me. I stumbled my hungover ass into Patrick’s bathroom, kicking his bed in the process, and made it to the toilet just in time to lose my dinner. As I was getting sick, I felt a pair of hands holding my hair. When I finished, I saw Patrick behind me, a look of concern covering his face.

“Peyt, are you okay?” He asked. I nodded and wiped my mouth with a tissue. He helped me up and started guiding me back to his bed. I pulled my hand out of his grip and grabbed his bottle of minty mouthwash. I waterfalled some of it into my mouth and swished for what felt like a minute, before spitting it out in his sink. I then guided him back to his bed. I slipped under the covers and scooted close to him.

“Patrick?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“What did we do when we got home last night?” I asked, still searching my brain for any memory of us after the bar.

“Well, uh…” he stammered, “we played that drinking game that we used to in high school.”

“Already knew that.” He said, motioning his head towards my shot glass. I downed the shot before realizing there was no way that was true.

“How?” I asked, staring him straight in the eye. He made brief eye contact before quickly looking away.

“That’s not important, now it’s my turn. I have never-”

“Patrick. How do you know that?” I questioned.

“I think you told me last time we drank together. Now for my-”

“Patrick, I know that I’ve never told you that.” I said nervously, and I looked up at him to see the color leaving his face.

“I… I…”

“Yes?”

“Ireadyourjournal.”

“YOU WHAT?!? Patrick that’s really personal! How’d you even find it?”

“Well, first of all, hiding it under your mattress is kinda cliché,” he defended, “but I had to know how far you’d gone with Kyle.”

“You didn’t have to know anything.” I growled. “That was private information. Besides, why do you care and how far in did you get?”

“I- I- I was just curious. I only read that part. I wanted to make sure that you weren’t doing anything too serious.” He stuttered.

“Why? You’re not my babysitter. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and no, you don’t have any say in them. I trusted you, what the hell were you thinking?” I hissed, and I got up from the floor and stormed out of his house and to my car.

I studied Patrick’s face as I told the story. He was in deep concentration, he held onto every word. I remember it so well because that was our first big fight. We didn’t talk for two weeks after that and we hardly ever played that drinking game again.

“I’m still sorry about that Peyt.” He said, his eyes focus intensely on my face. “Do you wanna know why I really read your journal?” He asked. I nodded. “I wanted to see if you had written anything about that time I kissed you. Or if you had written anything about me. I wanted to see if you felt even remotely close to what I felt.” He confessed. I looked at him blankly, but I could feel myself starting to smile.

“That’s so sweet. I wish I would have known that earlier.” I said with a giggle. I kissed his cheek and shoved him playfully. “But if you do that again, I’m going to have to kill you.” I teased, and I scooted closer to him and put my hand on his leg.

“What, death by hotness? I mean my god Peyt.” He said, moving my hand off of his leg.
“Wait, do you actual still keep a journal?” He asked, surprised. I nodded and shoved my head into his bare chest. I thought it was kind of embarrassing to still have one. “What does it say in it? I bet its like: Oh em gee Patrick Kane is the hottest man alive and I would do anything to marry him and have his babies.” Patrick snickered, mimicking a high-pitched girl’s voice. I rolled my eyes and smacked him with a pillow.

“No. It’s more like I’m really glad Patrick is my boyfriend after all this time and I love him so much. I’m glad I can sleep in his arms and I can kiss him whenever I want. I’m glad he’s always here for me, and I’m really glad that he’s my best friend.” I said, looking into his brilliant blue eyes.

“You have no idea how long I have hoped to hear those words. I love you too Peyt.” He said, and kissed my head.

Notes

Hey sorry it's been so long I've had some things come up! I will try to write more often. Thank you for reading! <3