Spin For You [Peterick]

-2-

Dear Patrick,

I can't believe I'm actually writing one of these again. But the thing is, it's been five months now, and my crush is still going strong. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with me. You're just a kid, with your stupid over-sized sweaters and your weird taste in hats. I shouldn't have got attached to you at all.

A few months ago, I didn't even know you existed. You were just some-guy-Joe-met-at-the-record store-who-might-have-a-shot-at-being-in-our-crappy-band. I remember being so mad at Joe when I found out that you just wanted to write songs and play drums.

"But we need a goddamned singer!" I'd said, and Joe had sighed and nodded.

"But I said we'd give him a chance." He admitted, shrugging.

To be honest, I'd basically ruled you out before we'd even arrived at your house that morning. We knocked reluctantly, wishing the meeting time hadn't been so early. I'd had a rough night, as always, and really wasn't in the mood to meet anyone, and Joe could tell that just by looking at me. He kept his distance. But then you opened the door, and I almost laughed. There you were, in those stupid socks with those ridiculous sideburns, grinning at us from ear to ear. You were even shorter than I was, and your chubby features made you look like a dressed-up marshmallow. I snapped out of my stroppy stupor, and shook your hand as you beckoned us inside.

Your bedroom was stuffed full of records. Even Joe was impressed. He looked at me with this small little smirk, as if he knew that this kid was going to change everything.

"So..sh-shall I play you some of my stuff?" You said cautiously, as if me and Joe were snipers trained on you. We nodded, and watched you as you scurried around the place, looking for guitars and picks. You made me smile even back then.

Then you started to play. I don't even remember what the song sounded like, I just remember what you looked like whilst playing it. You watched the guitar carefully, as if every note was an ingredient that had to be measured precisely. Then your eyes darted around the room, and you started to sing. And I swear to God I nearly keeled over.

I'm no expert on voices. When I said we needed a singer for the band, all I wanted was anyone who could hit a note. But when you started to sing, it was like, (watch out I'm about to get real mushy here), but it was like listening to honey being poured out of a jar, or trees blossoming in spring, or clouds moving across the sky. I smiled wider than I had done in a long time.

When you'd finished, you looked down at the floor for a moment, as if you didn't want to see our reactions. Joe turned to me and grinned proudly, as if to say look what I found.

"Well that was pretty fantastic." Joe said, and you looked up in disbelief. I almost laughed again at how stupidly adorable you were. "How would you like to sing in the band?"

"Sing? No, no, I only want to write stuff, I'm not a singer." You said, looking at the floor again. I scoffed loudly.

"Listen, Patrick is it? You can sing, like, super well, you have to be our singer. Please?" I said, trying to look as encouraging as possible. And super well, that didn't even cover it. Fuck, come to think of it, maybe I did fall for you at pretty much first sight. I was so happy when you said yes. Joe was too, but I think he was more happy from the band's point of view. My happiness was almost entirely based around the fact that this meant I'd get to see you again.

Wow, that was longer than I thought it'd be. I actually expressed some feelings! Already this letter writing thing has been more successful than the therapists.

From Pete