What Twisted Webs We Weave

To The Bar

(Patrick's POV)

Do you want to know something funny about being accused of your ex fiancee's death and being incarcerated for said death then having to spend thousands of dollars on attorneys to get you pulled from the penitentiary just to be thrown in a shrink's office multiple times a week and finally finding out that your ex fiancé was never dead in the first place? Realizing that you spent months of your life torturing yourself physically, mentally and emotionally for nothing. Do you really want to know what's funny about all of that?

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

What the hell could possibly be funny about something like that, you sick fuck?

Though there was obviously nothing humorous about my current situation, there was a lot of hopefulness in it. Now that Pete was back I had a chance to start over. We weren't just given one or two chances to make things work between us. We were given three. That had to mean something. It had to be fate. Pete and I were meant to be and that's why the universe was going to keep throwing us together until we finally realized it.

Instead of continuing to mope around, waiting for Pete to come and find me. I was going to go out and find him.

Of course I had to make myself more presentable first. The last time he saw me I looked wrecked. Because I was. My hair and clothes were a mess. I hadn't had a proper night's rest in weeks. And I was on trial for his death for christ's sake. That's not what someone would envision when finally seeing their ex again.

Since I looked so terrible before. I was going to make sure I looked perfect the next time. As perfect as Pete did in that courtroom. I started with a haircut. I hadn't washed, let alone cut my hair in forever. I went to the salon I'd usually frequent with Elisa. My usual hair dresser wasn't in so I tried someone and something new. It was shorter than I was used to. My hair was tilted upward more instead of hiding bits of my forehead. I got a facial (for the dark circles under my eyes and stress acne. There is nothing wrong with a man getting a facial!). And I bought an entirely new wardrobe. A new Pete meant a new me. A new us.

After I was finally presentable, I decided to fix the house up the same way. Well, not me exactly. The life style I was used to didn't include repainting walls or sweeping floors. It included paying people to do it for me. So I borrowed the cleaners from the house I used to share with Elisa to fix up the place. When Pete decided to come back home, I didn't want him to know what a slob I'd been for the past months.

And while I hated every minute I spent with my court appointed therapist, he was right about one thing. I needed to get out more. But I wasn't planning on going to some club and meeting new people. Why would I do that when I had a set of perfectly acceptable people to call friends?

When I spoke to Brendon last week he told me that he and the guys were getting together for a night out this weekend. I assumed he meant Friday because Brendon liked to wake up with hangovers and Saturdays. And I assumed they were going to go to Brendon's favorite bar because he'd made the plans. All this assuming could have been a big mistake. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I'd just walk into the bar and look around. If they were there, then I would join them for a few drinks to catch up. If they weren't then I'd just have a beer by myself and leave.

It would have been easier to just tell Brendon that I was finally ready to go out again. To ask him where to meet them and what time. But what would be the fun in that? Showing up unannounced would be more entertaining for me. I was also secretly worried that maybe the guys didn't want to hang out with me. I'd been such a negative person these last few months. It scared me to think that they'd all flake if they knew I was coming.