Sugarcane and Easy Mornings (Lynn Gunn/Alexa San Roman)

03. patrick

***A/N:  I feel like this chapter needs more Patrick oops but c'est la vie

Let's pretend that Patrick's hair in this photo is blue because it's blue in this fic (and Pete has the cherry blossom hair because the cherry blossom hair was underrated but he doesn't show up until later oops)

Also the lack of good PVRIS fic on the Internet is killing me like where is my LiveJournal-quality angst we need to fix this

(And yes:  the cafe's sign is painted in the design of the Pretty. Odd. cover.)***

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so Lynn doesn't actually have a job--not yet, at least.

What she does have is an interview at 8:00 Sunday morning with the manager, and so far all she knows about the manager is that his name is Patrick and he seems like a pretty nice guy.  (Alex, of course, won't hear it, going on a semi-inebriated rant about how for all she knows, this Patrick guy could be a total fucking creep, but considering Alex's boss has a reputation for selling weed to teenagers, Lynn's not sure Alex should be in any position to talk.)

Despite being the one who suggested they go out, Lynn barely drinks much at all, Alex downing most of the beer himself.  She gives up trying to have a civil conversation with him about three-quarters of the way through and instead watches, bemusedly, as Alex wolf-whistles and cat-calls at the bartenders, with mixed results--Brian just ignores him, as Brian does; Gaskarth and Barakat flip him off; Kellin just kind of stares at him, confused, and Vic blows him a kiss and shouts, "Love you too, honey," much to Kellin and Lynn's combined mortification.

"Boys," she mutters to herself in the car later, with a roll of her eyes, as Alex giggles drunkenly from the passenger seat, head pressed against the window.

"I'm gonna be soooo hungover in the morning," he says, words slurred, fingers gesturing vaguely in Lynn's direction.  "This was a great idea, Lyn-sey.  Better than your coffee job idea or whatever."

"Go home, Alex, you're drunk," she replies once they've parked, opening the door and letting him stumble out of the car.

"You're drunk," Alex shouts way too loudly, and she lets out an exasperated sigh before dragging him up the stairs and leading him to the bathroom to puke out what's left of his dinner.

By the time she gets him settled, it's midnight, and she's really starting to question her judgement on the whole "let's go out and get a beer thing" when she has an interview in eight hours, but she pushes the thought aside.  Alex is snoring on the couch, wrapped in a blanket her mom knit for Christmas three years ago, and she's lying on the bed, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling.  She knows she's supposed to be asleep, but the anticipation fluttering in her chest has her wide awake.

Just think--in eight hours, Lynn Gunn could have a job, with new people and new friends.  Or in eight hours, she could make a terrible mistake and have it all blow up in her face.

She blinks and suddenly it's morning--she must have dozed off sometime during the night--and it takes her a moment to realize that it's 6:30 and she has places she needs to be.  Alex is still snoring when she rushes out of the apartment, boots untied, hair thrown in a hasty bun and buried under a black beanie.

It's every bit as cold and gray as yesterday, but if Lynn squints she can see the sun peeking out.  She's not sure if that's supposed to mean something, but she takes it as a good sign--a sign that the universe has faith in her, that she's making the right choice, that she can do this.  The thought puts a spring in her step and she almost bounces as she walks, feet hitting the pavement with all the confidence of a world-famous rockstar.