In Love, Against All Odds

When a Field Trip Feels Like a Rom-Com

Can't Fight This Feeling – REO Speedwagon 💓
"I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I started fighting for"

—

The next morning, I woke up to golden sunlight filtering through the thin fabric of our tent, casting soft, shifting patterns on the ceiling. The world outside was already stirring—distant laughter, the clatter of pots, and the muffled sound of conversations blending with the crisp morning air.

Adri, on the other hand, was dead to the world. Her steady breathing and the occasional soft snore told me she wasn't waking up anytime soon. I smiled, shaking my head.

I turned onto my back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, letting reality settle in. Last night felt like a dream. The fireflies. The quiet, stolen moment. Patrick.

A warmth spread through my chest at the thought of him. Of his hand in mine. The way he had looked at me under the stars, like I was the only thing that mattered. And the kiss... God. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel it—soft, lingering, like something we weren't ready to let go of just yet.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair before quietly slipping out of my sleeping bag, careful not to wake Adri.

Stepping outside, the morning air hit me—a little too cool but fresh, carrying the scent of pine and the faint smokiness of last night's fire. 

The camp was already alive with movement. Some students were gathered around the fire, warming their hands and chatting. Others were busy packing up their tents.

And then, there he was.

Patrick stood by the fire, stirring the flames with a stick, his hair a little messier than usual, like he'd just rolled out of bed. He looked up as I approached, and the second our eyes met, a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

"Morning," he said, his voice still thick with sleep, but warm—so warm.

"Morning," I echoed, feeling my stomach do an annoying little flip.

"Sleep okay?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to play it cool. "Surprisingly well." Then, before I could stop myself, I added, "Thanks to you."

His grin widened slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I'll take credit for that."

I rolled my eyes but smiled.

"You ready for today?" he asked, tossing the stick into the fire and dusting off his hands.

"Absolutely. What's the plan?"

"We're heading to a textile factory," he said, his excitement clear. "Getting a firsthand look at the weaving process, dyeing techniques, all of it."

My eyes lit up. "No way! That's so cool."

"I knew you'd be into it," he said, nudging my shoulder.

Before I could say anything else, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Bradwin.

He stood a few feet away, watching us. Not saying anything. Just watching.

Patrick noticed too. His easygoing demeanor didn't change, but I could tell he was aware of the tension.

"Everything cool?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said, but there was an edge to his voice. "Just keeping an eye on the competition."

"Competition?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Bradwin," Patrick said, tilting his head slightly in his direction. "He doesn't like seeing us getting along."

I scoffed. "Let him be jealous," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not letting him mess up my day."

Patrick's smile softened at that. "I like that attitude."

----

The bus ride to the factory was buzzing with excitement. Everyone was hyped, but I barely noticed anything outside of the conversation between Patrick and me.

When we arrived, the place was alive—the rhythmic clatter of looms, the scent of fresh-dyed fabric, workers moving like clockwork as they transformed raw materials into something beautiful.

We were led through different sections, each step of the process coming to life in front of us. My fingers brushed against the fabrics hanging from the racks, feeling the textures, absorbing every detail.

"This is incredible," I murmured, unable to hide my awe.

"Yeah," Patrick agreed, standing close beside me. "Makes you appreciate everything that goes into what we wear, huh?"

I nodded, my mind already spinning with ideas for future projects.

The highlight of the tour? We got to try fabric dyeing ourselves. The moment they handed us gloves and let us mix colors, I knew this was going to be fun.

Patrick stood next to me, completely focused as he swirled dye into a deep navy shade. His brows furrowed in concentration, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Didn't take you for a perfectionist," I teased.

He shot me a look. "Hey, if I'm making something, I wanna do it right."

"Here, let me—" I reached for his container, but the second I did, he flicked a tiny splash of dye at me.

I gasped. "Patrick!"

His grin was way too smug. "Oops."

"You're so dead."

Before he could react, I flicked some back at him. And just like that, it turned into a full-on war. We were laughing, dodging, flinging little drops of dye while trying not to get caught by the supervisor.

By the end, we were covered.

"Okay, okay, truce," he said, holding up his hands in surrender, his apron stained with streaks of blue and green.

I narrowed my eyes. "Fine. But only because I won."

He chuckled. "If you say so."

----

The sun was setting as we made our way back to the bus, casting a golden hue over everything. I felt so content. The day had been better than I imagined, and Patrick was a huge part of that.

As we walked toward the bus, Bradwin appeared out of nowhere.

"So, how was your little adventure?" he asked, his tone laced with something sharp.

I refused to let him ruin my mood. "It was amazing. We learned so much."

"Yeah," Patrick added, his expression unreadable. "It was about learning and having fun, not competing."

Bradwin scoffed, clearly irritated. "Just remember—I'm the one running the fashion show next month."

I felt Patrick stiffen slightly beside me, but I placed a hand on his arm before he could say anything.

I smiled sweetly at Bradwin. "Good luck with that."

Then I turned and walked onto the bus with Patrick, leaving him standing there.

As we settled into our seats, Patrick let out a low chuckle. "You really don't care about him anymore, do you?"

I shook my head, leaning back in my seat. "Not even a little."

Patrick smiled at me, his eyes lingering on mine for a second longer than usual. "Good."

The bus rumbled to life, and as the stars started twinkling outside the window, I couldn't help but think—this was just the beginning.

---

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