21 February 2020

Score - Call Me Maybe - Carly Mae Jepsen

Lydia

My brain is short-circuiting. There is absolutely no way this is happening right now.

I am feeling all sorts of things, but I can't make out a single emotion. It's all amalgamated and fused altogether, and I can't really tell where euphoria ends, and confusion starts, or how exactly fear is fitting into the mix.

All I know is Patrick's kissing me right now, and his hands are cupping my face, holding me still.

I can practically hear, loud and clear, Gloria's victorious shrieks in my headspace. I told you so! I fucking told you so!

Patrick fancies me. Well, he hasn't said that yet, but his actions are speaking louder than words at the moment.

When the excitement from this realization gradually dissipates, another wave crashes over me.

Yesterday, I hadn't been kissed before, and now, I'm kissing a second guy in less than twelve hours.

Way to go, Lydia!

I can't help the flashback of Mark's kiss from last night, flicking quickly in my mind, while I'm kissing Patrick. Before I realize what I'm doing, I begin to compare them in my mind.

Patrick's kiss is a little cautious as if he wasn't really sure whether to take the leap, but now that he has and I haven't slapped him, he wants to make full use of it. It's sweet and a little desperate, while Mark's kiss was more confident, more claiming.

But all I know is, I can't get enough. If Patrick kisses the life out of me, I wouldn't mind at all.

Patrick finally breaks our kiss, his hands still cupping my face. He opens his eyes and finds mine, caution and an unspoken question pouring out of his eyes and onto my face.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, before I finally let out a small laugh.

"Wow," is all I can say. My face is hot and I'm sure I'm matching Patrick's complexion right now.

"I should be the one, saying that," he chuckles in response.

"I agree with whatever it is you wanted to talk about there," I laugh. Patrick's entire being sighs with relief and he leans in to kiss me again. More assertive this time.

When we break apart again, he starts speaking, way too quickly.

"I really like you, Lydia. Like, very much. I've liked you since the first day we met in school. I am sorry it took me so long to man up and tell you, but I'd really like to take you out on a date when we go back home. If that's OK with you, of course."

He's so sweet! He's flushed, and nervous, and it is obvious he's still scared I might push him away, despite not smacking him, when he kissed me. His eyes are gleaming with excitement, his cheeks are red like apples and heat is practically radiating off his body.

A grin, which threatens to split my face in half, twists my lips.

"I'd love that."

And then, before I can stop myself,

"Gloria will be ecstatic!"

My hand shoots up to cover my mouth, but it's already late. The words are out. I'm nervous and flustered, and I can't keep my fucking mouth shut!

Patrick's brows pull in, confusion spreading across his beautiful face.

"Gloria?"

"She's been telling me that you fancy me since you joined our school, basically," I shrug my shoulders.

Thankfully, Patrick grins mischievously.

"Has she, now? She has a very good eye."

"And a lot of free time, which she likes to spend gossiping and scheming," I say. I contemplate telling Patrick that my kiss with Mark last night was a set-up to make Patrick jealous, but I decide against it. We haven't even officially started dating yet.

Right when Patrick's leaning in for another kiss, Gloria and Alex burst through the door. Patrick and I simultaneously turn our heads in their direction, bumping our heads against each other slightly, both annoyed and amused.

The girls stop in their tracks when they see us. They shoot each other a sideways glance, and their lips turn up into just hints of grins.

I am absolutely positive they're trying very hard not to burst out cheering and laughing, but my eyes are telling one thing: Behave. Please.

Even though asking this from Gloria, when something juicy is clearly going on is like negotiating with terrorists, they actually spare me and Patrick any comments.

"We're just packing," Alex says, pulling Gloria by the sleeve towards the bedroom.

"Wait up, I need to do that, too," I say, turning around quickly and giving Patrick a quick peck on the cheek.

Then, I slide sideways, out of his arms, and scurry with my friends towards our bedroom.

We walk into the bedroom, and I kick the door, which closes behind me with a soft click.

The moment the door closes, Alex and Gloria are rushing toward me, giggling and babbling, and I am sure that Patrick can hear everything outside.

I motion them to move further into the room and away from the door, and Gloria reaches out with her hand, dragging me along until the three of us collapse on one of the beds, laughing.

"I fucking knew it!" Gloria whispers loud enough for the dead to hear. "Tell me everything!"

"Yeah, yeah, you were right, as always, and shit, but let's pack now, and I'll talk to you two on the plane, OK? I have the feeling we really need to be in a hurry right now."

They both nod and we start rushing around the room, gathering our belongings and throwing them haphazardly in our suitcases and bags. In record time, all three of us are done, and Gloria yanks the door open.

Patrick's waiting for us in the hallway, packed and ready, looking at his phone. When he sees us, he stalks towards us, grabs the handle of my suitcase, and takes my backpack off my shoulder, swinging it over his.

Now, that's really sweet.

I see Gloria nudging Alex with her elbow with the corner of my eye.

He then reaches for my hand. It is a really simple gesture, but it makes me feel that he is taking our conversation from earlier very seriously. I smile and place my small hand in his.

We walk out of the room, hand in hand. We enter the lifts like this, we exit the lifts on the Reception floor like this, and we walk towards our party, just like this, with our fingers tangled together.

We stop in front of our parents, who are talking excitedly, without paying us much attention, and I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. Are they going to say anything? Are they going to make any awkward comments or jokes? Are they going to give us any attention, whatsoever, given the circumstances?

I'm not sure why, but I really want them to.

I look up at Patrick, and he looks back at me, beaming with pride. Like, he can't wait for everyone to know that we are a thing now. Well, maybe, not really a thing yet, but getting there.

The Reception area is even more packed than it was before, even though people are now leaving in shuttle busses every fifteen minutes. People are rushing around us, yelling in a dozen different languages.

I notice that the two men that the Casterlys' arrived with, the rather large and intimidating ones, are now back and that one of them is looking at us. His eyes move to our interlocked fingers and I swear I can see a hint of a smile on his lips. I smile back at him and turn my attention back to our parents.

"OK, we're good to go," Patrick's dad says, giving his men a brief nod. "We have seats secured on a flight to London in four hours. We need to get moving, now."

Wow, that was fast! I guess it pays out to be related to the Royal Family.

I look around, counting heads, as our party makes a beeline toward the front doors. I can see a van parked there, clearly waiting for us.

And then, I notice that someone's missing.

"Wait!" I yell, waving my free hand at Aunty Kate and Peter, Mark's parents. "Mark's not here!"

I feel Patrick's grip on my hand tighten a little. Or maybe I am just imagining it.

"He left, early this morning," a voice says next to me.

It takes me a moment to realize it is Patrick, who said that. I practically feel my jaw hit the ground, when I turn to face him.

"What?"

"He got an email from one of the universities he applied to in America," Aunty Kate jumps in. "They asked him to provide urgently some documents for his application because it seems there was something wrong with the ones he already submitted. So, he jumped on the first plane to London."

I pull my eyebrows in.

"But I..."

"He saw that email when you girls went to the bar last night," Patrick clarifies. "He couldn't calm down after that. He asked Reception for a transfer to the airport and left at three a.m."

"And he didn't tell us? What a prick," Gloria shoves her head between Patrick's and mine.

I frown. It isn't like Mark to just leave and not tell anybody. It's even less like Mark to just leave and tell only Patrick about it.

There's something wrong. A pang of guilt stabs at my chest when I realize I haven't thought about Mark at all, since Patrick kissed me. Our kiss from last night seems all but a distant dream, and my dream from last night is making me feel embarrassed and maybe even a little guilty.

It was all just a game. A dare. He did it. We both did it. That's it. Move on.

And, it seems I am moving on, in the direction I thought I would be taking in the first place.

I slide my phone out of my back pocket and shoot Mark an "U OK?" message, before sliding it back into my pocket. I turn to face Patrick, who is looking at me intently.

"Are you ready to leave now?" He asks.

I nod.

I suddenly remember something, at Patrick mentioning Alex, Gloria and me going to the bar last night.

"Hey, Patrick?"

"Yes, babe?"

Babe. (Insert a melting emoji).

"Who won last night? You know, in your game of poker?"

A shadow falls over Patrick's forehead, but it passes so quickly, I'm questioning whether it was there at all.

Maybe, he's just worried. We all are, after all.

"I did, babe," Patrick says, without looking into my eyes. "I won."