The sitter

He looked for a few things. The first thing was a ring, or lack of. If Jon would have got a girl pregnant, he would at least have the decency to marry her. And Jon wouldn't really mind marrying her. She looked nice, tired, but nice. She looked like a Jon girl, not a Patrick girl.

The second thing was if it looked like she just had a baby. It wasn't to be mean, but she was holding a baby carrier, so Jon had to assume the worst. Although, the baby didn't really look like her, or Patrick. The kid, a boy, assuming by the way he was dressed, had brown eyes and darker brown hair. She looked well. In fact, she looked like she did yoga 3 times a week. Maybe she did running, too. She looked like the type to buy organic food and drink tea.

The third was if she was real. Like real lips and real boobs. Her lips were nice, and so were her boobs. Maybe a little bit on the big side, but the girls that usually got fake tits went bigger than hers. They also went to show off more, and she was conserved. Not like a nun or whatever religion believed in ankle-length denim skirts, but she was wearing those running pants that all girls wore (but she had the ass to pull them off), and a hoodie. She also wasn't wearing any makeup. This was weird to Jon. The girls that Patrick was usually with wore enough makeup to make clowns jealous.

Jon did this is about 10 seconds. After 11, she finally said something.

"Is Patrick almost out?"

"Yeah, he was just getting out of the shower when I left, so maybe two or three minutes?" Jon replied. It was followed with a moment of silence. In this moment, Jon decided to mess with her, to see how she would react. Not because he didn't like her, but because he had to watch out for Patrick. Patrick didn't usually make wise decisions, and girls were definitely in his worst. "You must be Brooke. Patrick talks about you all the time. Especially with the baby." Jon asked, holding back his smile.

Melanie thought that Jon was bull-shitting, but she couldn't call him out, because Jon had the upper hand. Mel had to decide how to answer. Take his bait, or play along. She decided on the latter. "I hope they are all good things!" She faked a laugh. "Do you want to hold him?" She asked, taking Jaxon out of his carrier and handing him off to Jon. If he wanted to put Melanie in an awkward situation, she would put him in one. Melanie laughed to herself when Patrick walked up behind Jon, giving Melanie a look that asked, "What is Jon doing here?" His face changed from fun to fear when Jon asked, "How come I never met Brooke before now?"

1st person, Melanie

Whoever this Brooke chick is, obviously her and Patrick had a past, and a bad one at that. And maybe Jon was serious, and this Brook girl did have Patrick's baby. Whoever she was, I know I hated her. And in this moment, I hated Patrick. I know that you don't usually tell people your whole life story the first time you meet, but having a child is something you might hint at. Also, if Patrick
was a father, he should know how to hold a baby.

I watched Patrick give Jon a look that was positively deadly, and Jon handed him the baby with a hard look on his face. Obviously, they have had a lot of talks about Brooke a lot. Jon leaned in to Patrick and said, "Come over tonight." It was not a question, more of a demand. Patrick said nothing, but I had no doubt in my mind that he would do it. Bro's before ho's, right?

Patrick handed Jaxon off to me, and I fastened him in his car seat silently, and walked around to shotgun side. As soon as she was strapped in, Patrick sped out of the parking lot. He was pissed.

Jonathan bringing up Brooke clearly upset him, judging by the way his jaw was clenching and un-clenching. On the fourth red light we hit, Patrick swore under his breath, and I decided that it would be a good time to talk. Actually, I knew that it would never be a good time to talk about Brooke, or anything in this moment, but I wanted him to be in a good mood.

"You won the shootout." I said quietly. Patrick replied with a "Mhm." and I decided to stop. Clearly, he was not putting into the conversation.

I almost forgot that Patrick said he would take me food and diaper shopping until we stopped in a parking lot of a Target. "This good?" he asked, his voice hard.

"Yeah, it's good." I answered honestly. "You can go, i'll just catch a cab or something."

"I'm not going to leave you alone in a Target alone, with a baby, to catch a cab." Patrick snapped in the same tone of voice.

"Patrick-" I began, but he got out of the car, leaving me to do the same. He waited for me to get Jaxon out of his car seat, but his arms were folded and his eyes were dark, so I decided to say nothing. Once we got inside the actual store, Patrick grabbed one of the carts with the cars in the front, made for kids that were two and above. I laughed, but Patrick just gave me a blank look.

"What?" He snapped.

"That's for toddlers. Jaxon is four months old." I replied. "Grab one with a seat. But wipe it down first. I don't want him catching anything."

Patrick did as I said, and we began walking through the store, me pushing the cart, and Patrick walking a few steps behind me, with his hands in his pockets, and hat that he pulled out of nowhere, hanging low over his eyes. After wandering around, we finally found the baby section. I began grabbing all the things I needed, such as formula and baby powder. All was going good, until diapers. They had to be on the top shelf. I mentally cursed my mother. She was only 5'6, having an inch on my 5'5. My dad and brother, on the other hand, were both above the 6 foot mark.

I tried to not show Patrick that I was struggling. He was looking at the floor, probably counting tiles, facing away from me. Even when I stepped on the bottom shelf and went on my tippy-toes, I still couldn't even touch the diapers. Huffing, I grabbed a sturdy looking box of formula, but after standing on it for a few seconds, it dented, so I put it back, behind all of the other boxes. Patrick still wasn't looking.

"You weren't on a cheer-squad for nothing!" I yelled to my self. I thought of the nike inspiration quotes page I followed, trying to think of a quote to match my predicament, but I couldn't think of one. The ex cheerleader/volleyball star/stubborn girl told me to jump, but the babysitter/college student/worker/responsible young adult told me to ask Patrick.

I backed up to get a running start. I'd have maybe two steps before I had to jump. I'd have to bat it right, which was toward Patrick, but away from Jaxon. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I crashed diapers on a child. I took my first step, then my second, and jumped.

I smiled. I still had it. I successfully knocked down two boxes of diapers without crushing a child or possibly injuring one of Chicago's best athletes. That being said, I scared the shit out of Patrick.

At first he looked pissed, and I got a little bit scared, but then he started laughing. He was trying to speak, but every time he looked at me, he laughed more.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms. Finally, he could pull himself together enough to answer my question.

"I was right here, you could have asked me for help!"

"I didn't need your help. I got them down!"

"Ok, Kobe." He replied, with a crooked grin.

"What does that mean?" I asked defensively.

"You have hops." He said, as if I should have suddenly became aware of his guy-speak. I must have looked lost, which I was, because he explained further. "Kobe, he plays basketball. He jumps high. Did you play ball in college or something?"

"No. I went to world juniors for cheer. I was a flyer." I replied. Now, he looked lost. "I get thrown around. I also did varsity volleyball."

He laughed, so I punched him in the arm. At first, he looked shocked, but he smiled, showing his dimples (And i just about died), but he grabbed me by my shoulders, pulling me into his muscular chest, and ruffled my hair. I countered with a few punches to the gut, and he just hugged me tighter. I had no complaints being held against him. I knew I had the upper hand because he couldn't hit me. Perks of being a girl. We were both actually enjoying ourselves, until we were interrupted by a pissed thug-looking guy.

"Hey, man, what the hell is wrong with you! You don't treat a lady like that, man! What is your problem? I'll take you right now, man."

Patrick looked at me, and we both started laughing. I decided it would be better for me to take this one, because if Patrick said anything, it would look like he was just making excuses.

"No no no, it's fine! It was just, well, rough housing, I guess. I'm really fine."

"Look, little lady, I don't want you makin' excuses because yo' baby daddy's over there beatin' you in Target!"

For some reason, the words, "Little lady" offended me.

"First off, he is not my baby daddy-"

"Oh, that makes this even better." The guy said.

"No, it's not even our baby." Patrick tried to explain.

"Now that's just fucked up. Imma turn on the news tonight, it's gunna be physco man beats his girl's ass in Target with stolen baby. And then Kenny, thats me, jumps in and saves the day."

"Look, Kenny, " I said, stepping closer. "You wouldn't want to get in trouble for giving to officers trouble, would you?" I asked, whispering the last part. One thing that I had learned from living in Chicago is that if you said you were a fed or cop, people would either walk away, or run away. He was the one to run. This made Patrick laugh so hard, that he had to hold on to the side of the cart.

After a minute or two, he managed to compose himself enough to finish our shopping spree. It was uneventful, compared to before, because all we had to do was buy supplies for sandwiches.

I wanted to avoid the awkward paying situation, so when we were being checked out, I asked Patrick to run and grab strawberry jelly, which I hated, and when he got back, I was waiting behind the isle with all the bags in the cart. He looked mad, but he had been driving me around all day, and whenever he was with Jaxon, Jaxon slept like the dead. He also payed for the jelly, even though I was more of a grape girl.

When we finally got to the car. We sat, without speaking or starting the car.

"You really should have let me pay." Patrick began.

"It's not even my card, it the Williams. They're loaded." I replied.

"But I could have done it!" Patrick whined.

"Patrick, I'm a college student with literally a life time of loans to pay off. You shouldn't be throwing your money around." I said.

Patrick huffed and started the car. After a mile, he started fiddling with the radio buttons. The whole awkward, "what type of music do you like" moment. He stopped on a pop station, but Blurred Lines was playing, and we both groaned, so he changed it. He must have not been paying attention, because I'm very sure he didn't mean to stop on 117.5, which was Chicago's spanish pop station.

"You know spanish?" I asked, even though I knew he didn't. He was a white hockey player from Buffalo. He'd know all the lyrics to High School Musical before he could roll his r's.

"Yeah, well I got up to Spanish 4. I could teach you, maybe-"

"¿Es difícil para usted a creer que yo realmente sé algo?" I snapped, turning up the radio.

"You were in Spanish 5 then?" Patrick asked. "What did you even say?"

I ignored his question, and instead, decided to give him a bit about my personal life, because then maybe he would do the same.

"My mom lives in SoCal. They speak more spanish than english." I replied. I missed my Mom's place. She had a huge house in LA, and she lived alone. It was farther away than Grand Forks, and extremely different. When my parents split, my mom wanted to get away from him as much as possible. She also wanted to be nothing like him, which is why she got hearing implants. Both of my parents were deaf, but now, it's just my dad that's deaf.

"I thought you lived in North Dakota?" Patrick asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"My dad does." I answered, looking at him. In the light of day, I could see some stubble growing in, and a shadow of a bruise that he must of got from a game a while back.

"Oh, so your parents-"

"Yeah." I said, cutting him off. It's not that I didn't like talking about it, it's that I didn't want people thinking that I was severely impacted by it. You hear about how somehow a guy became a serial killer because his parents split when he was three. Even though you can't even, like, remember back then.

"So," Patrick said, eyes drifting over to me. "Is this a good song?"

I laughed, and told him to keep his eyes on the road. I quietly sang along to the song. Occasionally, Patrick would blurt something like, "Hey, they said hola! That's hello!" or "Como means what, right?"

I never wanted to leave the car. It was comfortably warm, and Patrick smelled good and manly, like cologne and something woodsy. He had the hat he wore in the store on backwards, his blond curls poking out of the back and for some reason I thought, "When we make out, I want to grab them." I mentally yelled at my self, "Shut up, you dope! Patrick has all of the girls creaming their panties for him! Don't be one of his sluts!" But the Pro-Patrick side that had developed in me answered with, "Being a slut is OK! Everybody loves sex, and you know Patrick is a sex god!"

I decided that having a mental breakdown on Patrick's bed skills wouldn't be good for me, so I looked out my window instead.

We were in the nice part of town. Reflective office buildings hid the sun, causing it to look darker than it was.

"How did you even meet the Williams, anyway? How did they even meet each other? Isn't Ali only, like 27, and Ross is like 40? I've never seen anybody go in their house. Or leave. I literally never see them. They're just loaded." Patrick said, making conversation.

"I work with Ross. And Anna, too I guess. Ross owns the company, and Anna is a secretary, I think. They got caught screwing, and there's a company policy that you can't fraternize, so they got married so they can go at it whenever they want. I don't even think they like each other. And she's 30, and he just turned 50, so it's really weird."

"That's so fucking weird. He was 20 when she was born." Patrick fake gagged. "And the house? Is it haunted?'

"No, but it's so inhumane!" I said, getting excited. For some reason, I loved telling people about Ross's house. "There was like, dust everywhere the first time I walked in. It was like nobody lived there. There wasn't even food in the fridge. It's so creepy."

"Are you ok, staying there alone?" Patrick asked nervously.

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Patrick was so comfortable at first, and now he's tapping away on the steering wheel.

"Like, if the place freaks you out, you could stay with me. Or I could stay with you, or something." Patrick trailed off.

Notes

tbh if Patrick Kane asked me to move in with him and I was not sitting down my legs would break.
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