Under You

Chapter 8. Patrick

I arrived at Heather's house at 3 pm. We hung out in the living room most of the day. We talked about my band and how I started it, how I was in a bit of a depression when my first band broke up. Once I came to America, I had to get a job to support myself so I didn't end up living on the streets. The first few years were pretty tough, but thankfully I got through it. Meeting Jackson and Darren helped out a lot too. They were struggling just as much as I was and we were there to help each other out. In a way, they're like brothers to me. I wouldn't change that for anything.

They've been there for me and I've been there for them. When I was going through a breakup of mine, they helped me get my mind off of her. She was okay, but then I realized she was mad and would call me all hours of the night and she would get into my apartment when I wasn't home. That woman scared the shit out of me. I fell for her and she was obsessed with me. Even now, I'm afraid that she's still around stalking me like a crazy person. I don't say any of this to Heather though; she doesn't need to know anything about that. It's not that I don't trust her. I know she would want me to be safe, but I know that she would get jealous. I don't need her to be jealous of any other woman, especially one that means nothing to me. And the last thing I need is for her to feel scared that she could get stalked by this woman. I'll tell her anything else, but not about my ex.

"I love your accent." Heather laid her head on my shoulder. We were watching one of her shows on tv. I tried not to think any dirty thoughts of her since I've been here, but she's been talking so sweetly and I love how her body rubs up against mine. The minute I stepped into this apartment, I couldn't help myself but admire her beauty. She really was something, and I can't keep my hands off for much longer. I'll fucking explode.

"You're the one with the accent, love." I laugh, kissing her on the head.

"How about now? I've got an accent now." She was trying to talk in an English accent. It was adorable but it wasn't the greatest.

"It's weird." I laugh again. She wrinkled her nose at me. "You're weird." She hit me with a pillow from the couch.

"How do I sound now?" I ask in an American accent. I've been teaching myself how to speak like an American, which isn't the easiest, but I've been watching a lot of American Television since I moved here.

"Now that's weird." She laughed. I love her laugh. It was one of my favorite sounds. Another favorite sound of mine would be hearing her scream my name.

In a way, I don't think she quite understands what she does to me, how she makes me feel. I can tell her all I want, but words can't describe it. The only way to let her know is by having her in my arms, by having her scream my name. It's all her. She makes me feel so fucking good, better than I've ever felt in a long time. When I was younger, things weren't all that easy. I explained to Heather that my parents divorced when I was only eleven and I had to go back and forth between parents. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I decided to stay with my dad, but he would be out all night at the pub and probably fucking all these women. I would be home by myself sometimes. That's when I started getting into music to help me through everything. Music helped me out with so much over the last few years. My old band was helping a lot, too. Then it was just me again, and so I decided enough was enough, no more feeling bad for myself. My life would remain miserable if I didn't change my mindset.

Meeting Heather has helped out so much too. She makes me want to be a better man. If this is what falling in love feels like, I want it to feel like this all the time. I look at Heather. She turns and looks me in the eye.

"Everything okay?" Concern etched into that gorgeous face of hers.

"Yes, love." I smile at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She does make me happy.