There Can Only Be One || Patrick Hockstetter

29.

*Patrick's POV*

       

      I didn't understand the point of parties. There was usually never any intimacy but 6 party, in particular, everyone knew what everyone was doing. Mostly because every single person here was too afraid to walk around the entire house alone. Even in a small group of three or four people, they were still afraid. You'd think Gretta, looking like a big ass linebacker, would walk around this house without fear. But, no. She popped a squat in the back wall because she was too afraid to go to the bathroom like a normal person. She even used her underwear to clean herself after. Or at least that's what Henry said. Even if the restroom was nasty and didn't flush, show some class, you fucking cow.

I grimaced at the sight of Gretta and her minions. Looking at them reminded me of the time they tried picking on Nicole. Emphasis on tried. Tried and failed. Just like her relationship with Henry and everyone else she had ever dated. The entire group here has passed each other around. It was no wonder their relationships never thrived. My relationship was great. Maybe not perfect considering my girlfriend was a pain in the ass and sassy sometimes but at least we loved each other.

And I fucking love Nicole.

I grinned at the thought of her coming all over my mouth and then sharing a joint with Henry. He was none the wiser but it was still funny and I had to share it with her. I pushed myself off the wall and went to Gretta, who was now making out with one of her friends. I didn't know Gretta rolled that way and I would've found it entertaining had I not had more pressing matters. Like telling Nicole that Henry now had vagina breath.

Where the fuck is she?

"Gretta." I yanked her away from her friend. She glared and then stopped once she realized it was me.

"Oh." She gulped. "What's up, Patrick?"

"Where's Nicole?" She had been with her the last time I saw her.

She shrugged and then went back to sticking her dirty ass tongue down her friend's throat. Gretta was a sad individual. She did all sorts of things to get attention. Like, making out with a girl in front of guys. It was pitiful. She probably got zero to no attention at home so she had to go all out at school and parties. Otherwise, everyone would forget she existed. I always did. Even when she tried to suck my dick three years ago. She got sloppy drunk at a party one time and started unzipping my pants in front of everyone. It was gross. I pushed her back on her ass and she didn't stop crying the entire night.

I sighed and decided Nicole was probably puking her guts out at that dirty ass restroom. She could've at least told me she felt sick. I would've gone with her. I knew that she was creeped out by this house and with everything that we've been through and all of her worries, I didn't want her going anywhere alone. Especially with that fucking clown out there. I still needed to figure it out. We've both wondered what it was, how it knew about our fears, how it used it against us, who else saw it, and most importantly, where it was. It hadn't made an appearance to either one of us since that day we buried that man in the woods.

I made my way to the broken restroom. Empty. Where is she? The worst went through my head. What if she got so drunk that she left with some other guy? She wanted to fuck and I didn't do it because she was drunk and I didn't want to take advantage of that. Or maybe she walked home. Maybe she got over the party and didn't want to hang out anymore so she left. Alone. But she wouldn't do that. We agreed not to go anywhere without the other.

Where the fuck is she?

Panic started to rise in my chest. My heart felt like it had jumped up into my throat as I ran back into the room full of drunk people. I pushed them apart if they were making out, and I glared down at them until they told me if they had or hadn't seen Nicole. No one had. When I got to every person there I ran towards the front door and yanked it open, hoping Nicole would be sitting on the porch steps. But she wasn't.