Both of us lie awake in the bed, on our backs staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the room. We're naked, tangled in the sheets from last night's --and also this morning's-- antics. The second we came back from seeing the town things just kind of... happened. It was a bit of a surprise that I was the one who initiated it, to both of us. And once it started, neither of us wanted to stop.

The ceiling is smooth and painted a boring white like the rest of the room, and the longer I stare at it the more I think about everything going on between this stranger and I. This man I met at a bar because I felt shitty about my life and needed a few drinks to forget about it all. I questioned everything even more after meeting him, I wanted to ditch my current life and start a whole new one.

Start a new life with a man I hardly know.

And even with that thought in mind I still wanted to go for it. Although I would have to tell my fiancée that I never loved her and break her heart, have both of our families hate me, but I'm sure it'd all be worth it. Anything is better than pretending to be someone I'm not, putting on a show just so my parents will accept me. So if I want to get to know the man I am currently lying next to, I better start right now.

"Hey," Is all I say, and because of the way I'm facing I could've been mistaken for talking to the ceiling.

"Um, hi?" He says back, I can already tell without looking that he's smiling.

"I never got your name." I turn my head to look at him directly, only seeing the profile of his face.

"Oh, right. We weren't even properly introduced." He starts readjusting himself, causing the bed to creak a little bit as he turns on his side, holding out his hand, smiling slightly. "I'm Patrick."

I smile back at him, glancing between his eyes and his outstretched hand. I lift my own to grasp his, shaking his hand. "Pete."

"Nice to meet you, Pete." His smile widens.

"You too, Patrick." I laugh in a way that could only be identified as a giggle, which is something I never did until now. It was weird, a good kind of weird. But now I knew that I had to come clean about who I really am, a liar and a cheat. An undeniable asshole.

Our hands disconnect and I let mine drop back onto the mattress as he uses his to comb his fingers through his mussed hair. I watch as his hair becomes even more of a mess as he runs his hand through it. God, he's so beautiful. I had to get this confession out before I got too distracted and ended up pouncing on him. Again.

"Hey, uh, I have to... I have to tell you something." I spoke, sitting up entirely. The sheets pool in my lap as I cross my legs, sighing and rubbing a hand down my face. I wonder how he'll react.

"What's up?" He sits up beside me. He's looking at me directly but I simply stare at the rumpled sheets surrounding us. I'm afraid to tell him, but he shouldn't care right? I mean, all of this was just... just a casual thing, this shouldn't bother him. In fact, he'll probably just brush it off and tell me 'this was fun' and then I'll have to go back to living a lie. But I don't want any of that to happen.

I let out a sigh and finally face him. His expression is curious and questioning and maybe a little... concerned? It's probably my imagination though. But then he places his hand on my bare shoulder, soft and warm, and I could practically feel the literal worry. He was legitimately concerned that something was wrong. Fuck, that makes this so much harder. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I, um... I haven't been entirely honest with you." Oh well what a great start Pete, now you sound like a bad movie. "I-I'm," Spit it out already! "Engaged." Congradu-fucking-lations! Well done, gold star for you. Next step: tell him how much you think about his mouth, you pervert.

My conscious is an asshole.

"Oh." Patrick says, his hand almost instantly disappearing from my shoulder. I already missed the heat from it. And now for the cherry to top it all off.

"To a woman." I groan, covering my face with my hands in an attempt to be invisible and just vanish from the shimmering eyes that I know are on me. Patrick must hate me and wants to kick my ass by now, and I wouldn't blame him for it. Hell, I'd probably just let him.

There's this heavy feeling in my gut that goes along with the shame and guilt that already resides there. I just want the floor to open up and eat me alive, this is so-

"Pete." I feel hands take hold of mine and gently pull them away from my face. I refuse to lock eyes with Patrick, gazing back down at the sheets like I have been previously. "Pete, look at me. Please?"

Funny, he didn't sound upset. His voice was light and kind like he was talking to a small child, I almost preferred he yell at me. I finally flick my eyes up, noticing he was now sitting directly in front of me. I was so drowned in my thoughts that I didn't even notice him move from my side. His expression matched his voice.

"Talk to me. Tell me about your situation."

I almost hated how understanding he was being. I didn't deserve his kindness, but I spoke anyway. I told him all about my family and why I was marrying Meagan in the first place, how homophobic my parents are and how afraid I was of being disowned and embarrassing them. He listened to every word, his face solid and hard to read, like he was thinking at the same time I was talking. When I finished explaining, he had a comforting smile on his lips, silently telling me that he understood.

"The way I see it," Patrick says. "they only care about themselves. It's their self image and reputation they're worried about, and if you being gay somehow 'ruins' that for them then they don't deserve you as a son." He shrugs casually, like this was something he talked about every day. "My parents are the same way."

"They're homophobic assholes, too?" I asked. Patrick nods.

"Yup. But I left them behind years ago. No one deserves to be hated for being who they are."

And just like that I'm one hundred percent sure I want to keep this man forever.

"Although, about that fiancée of yours..." Fuck. "You're going to have to tell her what's going on."

"I know, I know. I just- how am I going to tell her? The wedding's tomorrow and I-"

"Hey, listen to me." He places his hand back on my shoulder, his bright eyes staring directly into mine. "Everything's gonna work out, okay? Go to the wedding and tell her there."

"Patrick, I don't think-"

"Everything, is going to be fine. Okay, just trust me on this."

I eye him unsurely, but automatically nod my head when he says to trust him. Is it weird that I trust a man I've only known for a weekend?

Patrick smiles at me and I find myself returning it without even thinking about it. The hand on my shoulder slides to the back of my neck, pulling me toward him until our lips make contact. It's soft and reassuring, a silent promise that everything really was going to be okay. Then I suddenly remembered...

Patrick's leaving for New York tomorrow.

Goddammit.