The Wife Draft (Peterick)

Orleans Knew: The Truth

To be completely honest, I loved the way the gloss made Patrick's lips feel. I loved the way the dresses cinched his pretty little waist. I loved the way he carried himself, confident in the lie he was portraying. I loved the way his high pitched voice gasped before he pulled me into a store with something attractive in the display window.

To everyone, he was just a pretty dame that they passed on the street. To me, he was the perfect boyfr-girlfriend. It was funny to refer of Patrick as my girlfriend. It was a challenge to remember to switch pronouns when I spoke of him to certain people because Patrick was still Patrick. He was my boyfriend, and I didn't think of him otherwise, even though I wanted to.

I became accustomed to calling him princess in public to avoid slipping out his real name, but the pet name began to seep into our home life, as well. But he didn't seem to mind when I said it last night while he was whimpering. In fact, it seemed to turn him on more.

I woke up at a decent hour this morning to see Patrick laying next to me, staring up at the white ceiling with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"Morning, princess," I whispered, yawning into my wrist.

He blushed and muttered, "Mornin' Prince Annoyin'."

He was mean, but I loved him. I loved him so much that, while he was napping in the middle of the afternoon, exhausted from the night before, I snuck out and bought him something. I knew he would complain over the price, even though it truly didn't matter. I only wanted to see his white smile and sparkling blue eyes. I knew that he wasn't in it for the money. If he was, he wouldn't have been so adamant about keeping his job.

Patrick was still sleeping when I returned. I decided just to let him rest. He looked so gorgeous with a blanket up to his chin and makeup stained to the pillowcase beneath his cheek. That, and I knew what he was wearing underneath. His lips were slightly curled, chapstick layering them. Remembering that I was going to have him every morning only made me smile wider. Patrick was a gorgeous girl, but he was a more beautiful boy.

While I was out, I stopped at the payphone to give Ashlee a ring. I confessed everything to her, and it took her a moment to regain her composure after expressing her excitement. Even though Ashlee was my ex, she was my friend. And she was a master at creating fake documents.

I was beyond lucky to be in the payphone at the moment I was. I spotted Jon Walker the moment he turned onto the avenue with his uptight photographer, Ryan Ross (who refused to go by his first name because it was "too common").

Jon Walker and Ryan Ross. The New Orleans Herald. They were the South's Peter Wentz and Brendon Urie. Only far less famous. Brendon always added less attractive, but I rolled my eyes every time he said so. He was jealous of Ryan's camera, and Ryan was jealous of Brendon's status. There was nothing but animosity between the two.

The phone hid my face, and they walked by me without a second glance. I knew I would run into the media sooner or later, but I didn't want them to know I was in town before Patrick was ready.

I wasn't planning to tell Patrick who Ashlee was, but I knew that he would become angry if he found out that I was conversing with my ex. I didn't want him to tell me off before he knew what I was doing.

I finally caved and gently rubbed Patrick's arm. "Pattycakes, you gotta wake up this time."

"Why?" he mumbled, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself.

I smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. Patrick cracked an eye open, only to immediately squeeze it shut again.

"I have to ask you something."