This isn't the first time Patrick has laid eyes on the blonde woman. Her large brown eyes that she had passed down to her musical daughter always made Patrick feel some sort of way.

"I hadn't been on a date in quite a while," Rose, Daisy's mother, says as she enters Patrick's car. He gives the woman a slight chuckle.

"Same here," he says. "You look great, by the way."
"Thank you," Rose smiles. "So do you."
"Thanks."

Patrick hurries to the driver's side of his car after closing Rose's door. He grips onto the steering wheel, his nerves seeping into his stomach like teeth. Saying he was nervous would be a slight understatement. Patrick feels rather guilty for today's events. He didn't really feel any connection with Rose. This was all a spur of the moment, a lie— something he dove into to spite Nia, almost.

He propelled the car towards the destination, Patrick remembering the location Nia had stated via text message. The two used to get muffins from the very restaurant when they were in high school. The memory alone tugs at Patrick's heart, but he swallows his pain and smiles at Rose.

"Your daughter has a ton of potential," Patrick states. "More than I've ever seen in my career."
"Thank you," Rose smiles warmly. "Do you think she has enough to go solo?"
"W-Well, only if she wants to," the man chokes. "She's great with her band mates too. Daisy is great kid. You raised her well."
"She's a easy, simple gal," the mother says. Rose studies Patrick for a moment before taking her turn to ask him a question.

"Do you have any kids of your own?" Rose asks.
"No," Patrick chuckles sheepishly. "I just haven't found the right person, I guess, y'know?"
"Understandable."

The rest of the drive was filled with small talk. Patrick was never used to small talk. He had always found himself in an in-depth conversation about music, movies, or TV shows that had gained popular buzz. He avoided talking about space— or science, for that matter— because it always reminded him of the star girl who faded too soon. The slight mention of the moon's status would make his shoulders recoil with obvious discomfort.

Patrick blows a subtle sigh of relief when he parks by the restaurant, but never forgets his manners despite how much he didn't really enjoy Rose's company. He opens the doors for the woman, escorting her into the building. As they enter, he catches a glimpse of the small family that belongs to Nia. She flashes a large smile at Patrick, earning a small one from him in return.

He and Rose join the three, sitting across from them and claiming their awaiting menus.

"Hey, I'm Nia," the violet-eyed woman beams as she sticks her hand out to Rose. Patrick is forced to watch the flashback in his mind, an image of the two when they were seven and had first met. He buries his head in the menu, searching through the neglected options to escape his own mind.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Rose," Patrick's date introduces as they shake hands. The two sit down, already erupting into a conversation about Rose's blouse and what stores they visited where they've seen similar ones like it.

Patrick finally lets regret crash over him, but it's too late to really do anything about it. He glances at the two women, watching them talk about all sorts of things. He studies the way Nia's face lights up with every word, her features animated with life and excitement. He can almost see the nebulas in her eyes burst and create more galaxies. In both the best and the worst way possible, he feels eighteen again. He still sees her in the light he had always known. She was still this beautiful creature from another planet. She still made his heart ache. Her alone always made his chest stir— made his head blur.

"Isn't that right, Buster?" Nia smiles, drawing Patrick out of his mind. He hadn't heard any other words prior to the semi-rhetoric question. Patrick manages to smile and nod. He trusted her with anything and everything. Whatever she was saying was certainly true. Nia could claim that Patrick had a sixth toe on each foot and he would agree.

"Is Buster your real name?" Rose asks. Nia and Ricky snicker at the comment.
"It's a nickname," Ricky explains. "Believe me, it's a lot easier for the both of us."
"Yeah," Patrick finally says, forcing a chuckle. The trio still finds confusion masking Rose's features. Nia's smile weakens a little as she notices that Patrick's date is clueless.

"You never told her?" Nia asks the blonde man. To that, Patrick doesn't respond. Nia knows his answer.

"When Patrick and I were kids, I used to call him Buster because he likes The Ghostbusters. It's just a nickname that kind of stuck," Nia explains to the woman.
"Oh," is all Rose can muster to say. Nia glances over at Patrick, a certain glint in her eyes that only he can read. It makes his stiffen.

"Hey, Buster, mind if we talk for a bit?"

Patrick nods and stand with Nia, following her to the patio tables. She turns to him, smirking incredulously.

"What?" Patrick asks rather dumbly.
"She doesn't know a damn thing about you," she states. Patrick stays silent, allowing Nia to lecture him. A part of him knows he deserves it.

"Does she even know the significance of this place? What it means to me and you?"

Patrick shakes his head.

"You two are strangers, aren't you?" the violet-eyed woman quizzes. Color rises to Patrick's cheeks, selling him out.
"I-It's hard to get back in there, okay?" he stammers. Nia chuckles as she glances over his shoulder.

"Looks like she's leaving, anyway," Nia informs the blonde man. Patrick deflates a little, half of it dedicated to releasing a breath of relief— another half dedicated to slight dejection. Nia places a hand on Patrick's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"She wasn't the one for you, anyway," Nia states.
"How would you know?" Patrick scoffs. The woman smiles at him, making his heart flutter. She shrugs simply with a strange, knowing smile.

"I just do," she says before walking back to the table. Patrick stands in the patio for a few seconds, watching Nia return to her seat as his mind swims in a flood of new thoughts. A majority of those thoughts are about her.

He follows suit and reclaims his seat. Ricky studies him with an apologetic gaze. Patrick feels a chill run down his spine, hating the sympathy he didn't want nor need.

"Hey, man," Ricky finally begins, his voice a gentle sigh that is drenched in the undesired emotion Patrick want not even a second of. Patrick pushes through his discomfort and looks up at Nia's husband. His heart aches a little, wishing he could be in his position.

"Why don't you go home?" Ricky suggests. "The lady you were with walked out. Must be tough, I bet."
"Uh, yeah," Patrick stammers, giving a shrug. He wasn't hurt about Rose leaving. They had no spark, no chemistry. Besides, nothing would hurt more than eight years ago when Nia boarded a plane headed West.

Patrick wants every fiber of his being to hate Ricky, but he can't. Ricky is a great guy. Nia deserves nothing but the best-- even if the best wasn't Patrick, himself.

"Thanks for inviting me," Patrick mumbles as he stands from his seat.
"Got any other plans, Buster?" Nia asks. Concern fills her features, part of her mind preoccupied with the well-being of her son, Costello. "We usually take Stell to the park after brunch. You can join us, if you want."
"No thanks," Patrick smiles weakly, quickly finding something else to distract himself from his mind for a while longer. "I'll just head over to the studio or go home and work on some projects."
"You sure?" Ricky asks. "We don't mind it, at all."
"I'm sure," the blonde says with a nod. "Thank you for the offer."
"If you need anything, you can call me," Nia reminds him.

Patrick only nods with his diluted smile and waves goodbye to the family before walking away. As he exits the restaurant, Patrick looks around the place, finding no trace of Rose. He assumes she must have taken a cab home. Patrick takes his phone out and sees a text message from the vanishing woman.

You seem like a great guy, Patrick :) But I don't think we would work out. It seems like you and your friend have some unfinished business (mainly on your end). No hard feelings at all. Maybe we can be friends.

The blonde heaves a sigh, his free hand pushing fingers through his hair. He locks the device and returns it to his pocket.

Rose was not wrong.

A/N:
Sorry I haven't updated sooner. Surprisingly during spring break, I was in a bit of a drought with creativity. It's almost as if my classes actually help me imagine more haha!

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