.perfect all american bitch. .Patrick Verona.

Gut feeling.

(Jo's POV)

SOMETHING INSIDE OF me was screaming desperately to not believing a word he was saying. Part of my conscience wanted me to read his body language, understand his tells and force him to cough up the truth.

Yet I did not. Why spoil my perfect night over speculation of dishonesty?

I had rocked it. Kat had rocked it. On top of all those key things, Pat was finally showing true emotions around me.

The car ride back to the Stratford's house was filled with thrilling conversations about Pat and I's experiences of the night. Our conversation flowed no differently from the others, however, the continual doubt in my head crept in.

But Verona had promised.

"I loved watching you tonight." Pat pulls his car over as we reach Kat's house.

Our eyes lock. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.

"You," His eyes drift down my body, scanning my sliver dress, "look so beautiful."

He takes a sharp inhale, making my heart rate quicken.

A rush of adrenaline mixed with tipsiness takes over me, my lips meeting his once again.

Pat's lips work with mine, pulling and pushing together.

A sudden touch grazes my thigh causing a sudden wave of hunger to surge through me. My hands reach his neck and chest as the kissing continues.

Pat moves away from the kiss, stopping us.

"Go to the prom with me." His brown eyes watch mine, our faces remaining only inches apart.

The feeling returns. Why?

My eyes flick between his, looking for any trace of doubt or humour. Yet I see nothing. I can't read his emotions- but do I want to?

"Pranked?" My voice rises as I attempt to joke about our old selves. However, I move back to the car seat when he hesitates to reply. His hands fall away from me and rest in his lap.

I watch intently as he shakes his head.

"Why?" It blurts out faster than I had wanted it to.

Pat's eyes narrow, "Come on," He pleads, "Go with me."

"I-" Many questions and doubts enter my head as my eyes fall to look at anything but his gaze.

"Why not?"

My eyes snap to his face.

"Because I don't want to," I state firmly.

He leans forward slightly, "People won't expect you to go."

My eyes narrow. "Why are you pushing this?"

Pat's mouth drops slightly, looking for a response. His body shifts uncomfortably, moving to each side as his hands nervously fidget around.

"What are you doing? What's in it for you?"

Verona breathes out. "O-Oh! So, now I need a motif to want to be with you?"

"Excuse me?" I raise an eyebrow at his words.

You can tell by his expression he knew he had made a mistake.

He worsens it by continuing, "You need therapy. You know that?"

The sting of his words runs through me. It cuts down into my hard shell. Tears form- not for self-pity, not for knowing he was right. Tears formed because I was mad. Mad that I could have thought that he wanted my company.