Spies in Skates [Book Three]

*BONUS Patrick POV

Hola, everyone. So I've been super busy this fall and...actually that's only semi-true because while I've been busy, I've also been ignoring school so I totally had time to write but per usual I've been lazy. I'm trying to start this new book idea that I've had for like 2 years but I've been struggling. So last night I needed to get back in the groove of writing, and tbh I still love my SiS characters so I decided to write a little blurb from Patrick's POV.

To refresh your memories, just in case, Patrick is a CIA agent who's worked with Nat and Zach in the last 2 books. He's around 25 in the books and he's pretty cool. This one-shot takes place three years before SiS when Zach's dad first was killed in that whole fiasco and the CIA took Zach in. So Zach's 14 and Patrick's around 22, not as experienced an agent. This is when Jer is finally like I have no idea what to do with this kid and he's driving me insane, you're young, maybe you can help him out. And Patrick lets Zach come stay at his place for a while. You know, when he first starting showing him Disney movies and all that. So this one-shot is the first night Zach goes to stay with Patrick. Keep in mind he's a traumatized kid right now, not the hot and flirty and independent Zach we all know and love. No Nat yet :(

Ummm yeah I guess that's about all you need to know. Hope you enjoy this! It probably sounds pretty stale cuz I haven't written in so long, but shoot me a comment, let me know what ya think. Love you all! Gracias <3vb123321

Patrick's POV:

The kid was staring at me again. I could just feel his huge green eyes fixed on my back as I threw my bag on the couch – oops, forgot my laptop was in there – and headed for the kitchen.

"I'm starving, you want anything to eat?"

No answer. Well, there's a shocker.

Sighing, I yanked open the fridge and scanned my dismally empty shelves. Thinking about it, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been grocery shopping. Jer was crazy if he thought I could take care of a kid; I couldn't even take care of myself.

"Leftover spaghetti sauce it is," I muttered to myself, pulling the Tupperware container my mom had given me out of the freezer and sticking it in the microwave. As I fished around in the cabinet for a box of spaghetti noodles, I tried to ignore the way the kid's stare made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up.

Pasta took eight minutes to boil. How the heck was I gonna survive the awkward silence that long?

"You play video games?" I asked him as I walked back into the front room. He still hadn't moved from his perch at the very edge of the armchair. "I can fire up the Play Station. Or you can see what's on TV, I don't care."

I tossed him a remote, and his hand shot out and caught it though his eyes didn't move away from my face. It was probably the first evidence of his training that I'd seen since it'd taken us five hours to find him hiding in a closet on the third floor of the agency.

"Nice catch. You should go out for football."

These one-sided conversations were about to get real tiring real fast.

After a moment, the kid looked down at the remote and hesitantly clicked on the TV, surfing through the channels. I checked to make sure the show wasn't something that might send him off the deep end – CSI, maybe? – before heading back to the kitchen to grab our food.

"Here." I handed him a plate of spaghetti a few minutes later. "Don't worry, I didn't make the sauce. It's my mom's recipe – best sauce around."

The kid eyed the food like I might have pumped it full of sodium amytal, which was mildly irritating, but I let it slide as I began eating my own spaghetti. A few seconds later, he seemed to decide it was all right – or maybe he was just too hungry to care – and started twisting noodles around his fork.