Senior Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

The Weekend After?

Pete knew Patrick hated him. There were no if ands or buts about the situation. Shit, if he were Patrick, he'd hate himself too. He didn't know what the hell got into him Friday night. Or why the hell he'd let himself get into Patrick.

He was just stressed out because of the whole thing with telling Meagan he was gay to get out of fucking her in the car. He could tell from the look on her face that she was pissed. And if her looks weren't enough to go by, the slap a few seconds later sure did confirm it. He knew she was going to go into the party and tell all the guys and all the other cheerleaders that he was gay. And then he was going to lose all his friends and popularity. He'd been the guy he'd always wanted to be. And he'd fucked it up in a week. Classic!

He knew come Monday the whole school would know about his homosexual preferences. That party was most likely going to be the last one he was invited to. So he'd planned on getting super drunk and partying like it was his last day to live. Because it kind of was.

But then he saw Patrick. The guy he'd been thinking about since his first day of school. The only person who'd genuinely sparked his interest. The dude whose pen he still used. The one who he watched his friends beat up almost everyday.

Pete knew he couldn't really hang out with his normal crowd tonight. So he'd latched onto Patrick. Almost out of desperation. And he ended up having the best night of his life. And no, not just because he had earth shattering sex. But because even when he was drunk, Patrick intrigued the hell out of him.

But he'd fucked all of that up by sleeping with him. He knew it when he woke up to an empty bed on Saturday morning. He also knew that he had no way to contact Patrick. Which meant the boy had time to let his hate sink in for two whole days.

Now Pete was standing at his locker waiting for him. He'd gotten to school extra early because he wasn't sure what time Patrick would come in. And he didn't want to miss him.

He didn't have to wait long. After about ten minutes of him standing there, Patrick walked in. But he wasn't alone. He was with the red head kid who'd stopped him from getting beat up Friday. Pete stood up straighter. His fist balling at his sides as a slight anger sparked in his chest. Jealously? Well he had no right to be.

Fuck that! He had every right to be jealous. He liked Patrick. He liked him a lot. Before this red head kid liked him. They'd just slept together for Pete's sake. He was allowed to be a little territorial. He's been trying to talk to this kid all weekend. Stressing himself the fuck out. And here he goes, walking in with the red head. Laughing and joking without a care in the world.

"Hey, Patrick." He called out when they were just a few feet away.

Patrick flinched at the greeting. His baby blues connected with Pete's hard gaze for only a second before his eyes were back on his little friend.

"Hey, Pete." But he still wasn't looking at him. Was it that hard to freaking look at somebody?

"I-I'm going to give you two a minute to ," the red head trailed off. Trying to think of how to phrase it. He smirked when it came to him. "A minute to catch up."

"Andy, no-" Patrick tried to stop him. But it was too late. He winked and rushed down the hall. "Asshole." Was muttered quietly but Pete ignored it.

"How have you been?" Pete asked, glancing around to make sure no was was close enough to hear their conversation.

Patrick noticed. "Making sure your football friends don't see you talking to me?"

"Trust me, they're not my friends anymore."

"Oh." He reached towards his locker and Pete stepped out the way.

"Look, I've been trying to get in contact with you all weekend."

"Must not have tried very hard."

"I checked Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Even fucking MySpace. And you never gave me your number." he was rambling. He was nervous.

"I don't use social media."

"But you have a phone."

"Yeah."

"Can I have your number?"

"Why?"

"So that next time I have a way of getting in contact with you."

"Next time?" Patrick slammed the locker shut. And finally, he held his gaze. "Next time what?"

"I-I um. Next time I, eh-"

"That's what I thought." He tightened his hold on his book and brushed past him.