Fast (The Fast Series)

by Ringbloom, Ryan

  Finally Patrick relents and a little smile crosses his lips. Probably matching the one I feel on my own lips. I take one of his rough fingers into my hand and paint the first nail a bright hot pink. Being this close to him feels better than it should. When I finish painting the nails on the first hand he drops it to his side and it brushes against my thigh. Our eyes meet as a little gasp escapes me and I see him bite down on the tip of his tongue. Very. Hot.

  Uh-oh, I’m enjoying this. For a second I think he might be too. I look down at the front of his jeans to see if there’s any proof of enjoyment. I don’t see anything and we’re supposed to hate each other, so, I guess maybe “enjoying” is the wrong word. Funny. That’s all this is. It’s just funny.

  Robin moves off of the couch and goes across the room to sit next to Kent. I feel bad. She likes this guy and look what I’m doing. “Robin, I’m sorry. Is it weird I’m painting Patrick’s nails? ‘Cause you know?” I try to be subtle about Robin’s crush.

  Patrick and Kent crease their faces in confusion. They both turn and look at Robin who slumps down on the couch and closes her eyes. She shakes her head back and forth as she mumbles what sounds like, “I don’t have the energy for this.”

  My guess is she doesn’t like Patrick.

  I finish up his other hand and blow gently across his wet nails. The action causes him to shift and me to squirm. My squirm lets me know this manicure is over. I let go of his hand and jump up from the couch.

  “Told you I was gonna make you pretty,” I tease. My voice sounds funny. But who cares, Patrick has pink nails. It’s a small victory. I prance back over to Kent and sit down pushing Robin over.

  “Where are you going? Take this off.” Patrick holds up two pink clawed hands in the air.

  “Sorry. Can’t. I don’t have polish remover.” I widen my eyes taunting him. This is fun.

  “Take this off!” Patrick bellows.

  “Wish I could.” I. Am. Love-ing. This.

  Robin stands up ready to leave. “Patrick, you can come to my house. I have some. I’ll help you take it off.” Her voice is so flat and mopey. She’s about to have Patrick all to herself alone in her house. Why is she is so miserable?

  Patrick gives me one last look as he exits the room behind Robin. You can officially tell there is nothing romantic between them. Good. Wait. Too bad.

  I redirect my attention back to the boy I might like. “Kent, we should go somewhere Friday night.” How come he never wears cologne? I lean in and sniff, he smells like, sniff…nothing. My chin dips down discreetly and I breathe in the scent of Patrick still lingering on my shirt.

  “I can’t.” Kent slides down so there is more space between us on the couch. “It’s my parent’s anniversary, they’re going away. We have to watch Matthew.”

  “That’s even better. I’ll come over. I can help you watch Matthew.”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  Perfect. It will be the ideal night to surprise Kent. Everything is working out perfectly. I slip my fingers down the front of my shirt and tug it up to my nose for another sniff of my almost boyfriend’s brother.

  Robin

  Hot pink nails. I’m scrubbing a wet cotton ball over Patrick’s ridiculous, idiotic, hot pink nails. This stupid pink polish is stuck in his cuticles and I’m having a tough time getting all this crap off. Moron.

  “Not one of your brightest ideas to have Ashley paint your nails.” I’m angry and I’m not holding back. I’m done holding back from now on I’m going to start speaking my mind.

  Patrick looks down at his nails and smiles. “No, I admit, it wasn’t.”

  “What happened, Patrick? Ashley wiggled her little butt next to you and you just couldn’t say no. What is it about that girl? Every guy just does whatever she wants.” I take out a nail file and roughly scrape away the remaining traces of polish. For a girl who’s ready to relinquish her slutty superpowers on Kent she sure was hanging all over Patrick.

  “Ouch.” Patrick pulls his hand away from my abuse. “What’s gotten into you?”

  I fling the file onto the table and cradle my head in my hands. “I’m just done. I give up. I’m sick of being miserable.”

  “Then talk to Kent. Tell him how you feel. I’m positive that’s what he wants. I have a strong feeling this whole Ashley thing is just to make you jealous.”

  Is Patrick trying to convince me or himself? Why doesn’t he talk to his brother or tell Ashley how he feels about her? Why do I have to do it? I open my mouth ready to voice my opinions when my phone vibrates on the table and I open a text message from Ashley.

  Ashley: Kent’s parents going away on Friday. Plan Super-girl in effect!!!

  My heart sinks as I read Ashley’s words. “I’m not going to talk to him.”

  “Why?”

  I just shrug.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ashley

  Friday.

  I relax my arm on the cafeteria table, resting my chin on the back of my hand so I can get a good view. I’m staring at Kent, wishing something will change.

  A bunch of crumbs land on the front of his shirt. Gross.

  He flips the hair away from his face. Annoying.

  Alright, so he still isn’t cute. Maybe my nose curls up spontaneously when I picture myself kissing him. But I’m going over there tonight for my big plan. If I’m going to do this I really needed to psych myself into it.

  Kent picks up a handful of fries and dips them into the large glob of ketchup on his plate. He pauses before shoving them in his mouth. “What’s up? You look lost today.”

  “Just thinking.”

  “You look pretty, I like your hair like that,” Kent says to me, then shoves the wad of fries in his mouth.

  And just like that, Kent Daniels is cute. The plan is on.

  Robin

  Practice ends a few minutes early for me. I walk down the empty school hallway in a trance. It’s been an awful day knowing what the night will bring.

  The door to the auditorium is open and I can hear Kent finishing a piece on the piano. Hidden in the back where no one can see me I stand there and listen to him play. The piece he’s playing is one of my favorites. Beautiful, every keystroke perfect, I dab a finger at the corner of my eye.

  Hearing the guy you love play your favorite song while you’re sad because he’s about to have his brains bonked out by some other girl. It sucks.

  A few people clap when he’s done. I duck back in to the hallway to wait for him.

  “Hey Robin, glad it’s Friday or what?” Kent pushes his hair away and I’m lost in the gorgeous hazel eyes I can’t stop thinking about.

  No. I’m miserable it’s Friday. This is the worst Friday of my life.

  It’s a now or never moment if I’m going to say something. The words are on the tip of my tongue fighting to come out. I can feel them. Then I see Ashley’s car parked in front of the school.

  The door opens and she runs over to us grabbing Kent by the arm. “I’m picking you up. Are you surprised?”

  “I usually go home with Robin.” Kent adjusts the strap of his backpack. “So, yes I am surprised.”

  “Good, because I have a few more planned for tonight.” Ashley looks over at me and winks.

  I smile at her, or at least I think I do. But who the hell knows, I’m such a freaking mess.

  “I have my car here. Me and Robin will meet you back at the house.” Kent holds up the keys to his car.

  Ashley snatches the keys away from him and throws them to me. They hit me in the chest and drop to the floor. I didn’t even attempt to catch them.

  “Robin will drive the car home for you. Besides she’s busy today. She told me before.”

  Kent looks at me to see if it’s okay. I bend down to pick up the keys. “Yeah, I’ll drive your car and I’m super busy later.”

  I can’t take the way Kent’s looking at me, he knows something’s wrong. I haven’t had a real smile in two weeks. The person I’m in love with is about to run off and hav
e superhero sex and I feel like I’m never going to smile again.

  I turn before I can see them speed away. The radio blasts through the speakers on the way home. I’m doing everything I can to rid my mind of Kent, Ashley and that slutty costume. The more I think about it, the harder it is to breathe.

  Parking the car on the street, I don’t even look in the direction of Kent’s house. I can’t. I walk into my empty house grab an apple and a knife from the kitchen before heading into my family room.

  At this point I’m too numb to even cry. I immerse myself in mindless television. The knife slides carelessly from my grip and slices my finger. Shoving it quickly into my mouth I try to stop the bleeding. Not good. I take my finger out and examine it, nope, not good at all. I grab a tissue and apply pressure. Blood soaks through the tissue quickly and the next one too. I’m pretty sure I need stitches.

  My mind is racing. I still have Kent’s keys so I can drive myself. The cut is pretty bad. Maybe I should ask Patrick to take me. Decision time. I pick up my phone and send a text.

  Robin: Had a little accident. I need you.

  The response is quick.

  Kent: On my way.

  A minute later Kent’s at my house. After wrapping my hand in a dish towel he announces, “Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital. Give me my keys.”

  Kent sends a text and closes his phone.

  “Who were you texting?” I ask as we drive off.

  “Patrick. I told him to go and entertain Ashley.”

  I look away trying to hide the fact that even though my finger is throbbing, I’m smiling. I say a quick prayer thanking God for the gushing wound wrapped up in my lap.

  Ashley

  Normally the running off bothers me, but this time it works out. It gives me more time to get ready.

  I slip my jeans off, unbutton my blouse, but leave it on, and slip on the fake glasses. In the mirror I check my appearance. The cleavage from the corset is perfect. My hair pulled back in a ponytail is a nice touch. Make-up is flawless.

  Only one thing is wrong, the sad frown staring back at me. I force a smile on to my lips and have to look away from the mirror. I can’t even look at myself.

  I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I need to get it together fast. This is it. I stand up tall, bend one knee and relax the shirt over my shoulders. As soon as the door opens I drop the shirt to my feet and strike a pose.

  “Oh my God!” Patrick shouts.

  “Oh my God!” I scream.

  “Oh my God!” Patrick shouts again.

  “What are you doing? Get out!” I drop down to the floor and pick up my shirt. This isn’t happening. My hands are fumbling and I give up trying to put it back on.

  “Um,” Patrick doesn’t move. He just stares at me, mouth wide open. “Um, um, um,”

  “Get out!” I demand grabbing one of Kent’s sweatshirts lying on his arm chair and hold it up to cover myself.

  “I’m, I’m sorry,” Patrick stumbles. “Kent had to do and … he asked me and … I’m sorry.” He backs out of the room and shuts the door.

  I run over and lock the door. Patrick just saw me half naked… Patrick.

  What was I thinking? Oh God, what is Patrick thinking? He’s downstairs waiting for me and I can only imagine what he’s going to say to me when I go down there. This can’t be happening.

  My hands tremble as I put my clothes back on. I shove the stupid ass glasses into my purse, mortified. If I’m going to face Patrick I need a few minutes to collect myself and some extra layers. This is bad. I take Kent’s sweatshirt and pull it over my clothes. It doesn’t feel like enough. I grab a bulkier sweatshirt from a drawer and add it to my layers of clothes. Looking about twenty pounds heavier I take a deep breath, open the door, and start walking. This gives a whole new meaning to the walk of shame. Out of anyone in the entire world, why him, why Patrick? Maybe I won’t have to see him. Maybe he’ll be in the back and I can sneak out without seeing him.

  Nope.

  There he is waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase with a big grin plastered across his face. I walk by him with my hand up. “Don’t say anything.”

  Patrick’s eyes twinkle. “That was lovely.”

  “Pervert.” I feel my skin flush.

  “Me? I’m the pervert?” he laughs. “I’m not the one up in my brother’s bedroom in my underwear.”

  “What, you don’t even knock or ya know…knock?” It’s all I can think of so I say it twice.

  “You should just be thankful it was me who came in and not Matthew. You would have scarred the kid for life. I would have loved to hear him explaining that one to my parents.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “I am so embarrassed.”

  “You should be.” He’s still laughing at me and I want to crawl into a hole and die.

  “Patriiiiiick, why are you making this worse?”

  “Alright, I’ll stop,” he promises.

  “Thank you.”

  Okay we got it over with. Yes, I’m embarrassed. But it could have been worse. I guess he isn’t as bad as I thought. There is something about Patrick, even at his worst…or my worst, deep down, he is kind of…charming?

  Patrick’s smile fades. “So, I guess you really do have feelings for him.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I mean you must because…” He stops.

  “Because why?” I look over at him.

  “Because if he had been the one to walk in the room and not me it’s kind of obvious what you wanted to happen.”

  My eyes dart to the floor away from the look he’s giving me. “I don’t know what I wanted to happen. I’m not even sure if I like him. I just want him to like me.”

  “You were going to do… whatever, not knowing if you even liked him? Why would you do that?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I want him to like me.”

  “Ashley, do you hear yourself? You don’t have to do stuff like that to get a guy to like you. Not if it’s the right guy.”

  “Patrick, you don’t know. You don’t get it.”

  “What don’t I get? You deserve better than that Ashley.”

  “Stop,” I warn him. This conversation is getting too real and real is a place I won’t let myself go. I can’t. If I start admitting what’s real in my life, I’ll have nothing.

  “I just think…”

  “Patrick, please. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Patrick rests his hands on his hips. He bites down on his lip and looks away. “Okay,” he takes a breath.

  “So Kent’s not coming back for a while?” I ask.

  “No, he said it might be a few hours.”

  It’s time to go home, but I don’t move. I can hear the television coming from the back room where I guess Matthew’s been all this time. Instead of leaving I look around the hallway, stalling, waiting for something. What am I waiting for?

  “You want to stay and watch a movie with us?” Patrick offers, kicking the bottom stair absently.

  I look up at him, my mouth goes dry, and I realize, this is exactly what I was waiting for.

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  Our eyes connect. I smile. He smiles. My smile grows bigger.

  Patrick looks me up and down as we start walking down the hallway. “You look chilly, want a jacket or something?”

  Laughing, I smooth my hands over the bulky layers.

  “If you did that because you’re worried I know what’s underneath, it’s okay. Already forgotten. I will never think about it again.” Patrick gives me a smirk.

  I nudge him in the shoulder as we’re about to walk into the back room. “Yeah, right. Forget Matthew, I think I scarred you for life.”

  Patrick stops short and places his hand over his heart. “Ashley, I’m dead serious. I think you might have.”

  Giving him a playful push I wonder how I can be this comfortable around someone I just humiliated myself in front of. Didn’t we just hate each othe
r? Maybe hate is a strong word. He isn’t that bad. Actually he isn’t bad at all.

  Matthew squeals when he sees me. “You’re gonna hang out with us? Yay!”

  Patrick holds up a paper menu. “We were just about to order a pizza. What kind do you like?”

  “Plain,” I smile. I’m happy. Strangely, the night is turning out so much better than I’d planned.

  Pizza, a movie, a few rounds of virtual tennis -that went much better this time- and now another movie. Matthew dozes off on the couch and Patrick carries him off to bed. What teenage guy is this good with his little brother? It makes him even more attractive, as if that were even possible.

  When he returns, something’s still weighing on my mind from before.

  “Patrick, when you see Kent later…”

  “I’m not going to tell him.”

  “Thank you,” I exhale relieved. “’Cause I’m still not sure what’s going to happen with this whole Kent thing. I don’t know if we’ll be together or not.”

  Patrick purses his lips and doesn’t say anything. He stares back over at the movie.

  We’re sitting close, too close. Patrick’s warm scent makes it hard to sit still and focus on the movie. I scoot to the end of the couch and rest my head on one of throw pillows. The pillow smells like Patrick. It’s his house. He probably uses it all the time to rest his…big block head. Stop it Ashley and pay attention to this dumb movie.

  I must have dozed off. When I open my eyes the room is dark, except the flickering light coming from the television. Someone has placed a blanket on me. Someone, like it’s a real mystery who that someone is.

  Patrick is spread out on the other couch, his hands folded in a makeshift pillow behind his head. I tiptoe over to check if he’s sleeping. His eyes are shut and his chest lifts with small, even breaths. I take the blanket he had put on me and place it gently over him, admiring the perfect features of his face while he sleeps.