Patrick and I were supposed to have a perfect night… just the two of us. A simple date at the movies, an evening where nothing else existed but him, me, popcorn, and two hours of uninterrupted bliss. But somehow, Kayla managed to wedge her way in. She had called him, out of nowhere, and I’d heard the whole conversation from across the room. Her voice grated on my nerves, sugary sweet, full of that helpless, pitiful charm she always seemed to wield so conveniently. Patrick, ever the nice guy, had invited her along, ruining everything.
"Why did you invite her?" I asked the moment he hung up, my voice tight.
"She's lonely, Autumn," he said, like that excused it. "She just wants to be around people she cares about. Family. She probably misses her dad like crazy."
I jutted my lip out, trying to play it light, hoping for one of his laughs to dispel the tension. "Well, I just wanted you all to myself," I teased. "Now I have to share you with her... ugh, yuck!"
But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. That quiet dismissal stung, and a flicker of unease sparked in my chest. Why wasn’t he laughing? Did he feel something for her? I shook the thought away, but it clung stubbornly, festering. There’s no way, I told myself. I mean, look at her. Then look at me.
At the theater, Kayla was already waiting, ticket in hand. She tagged along silently, hovering far too close to Patrick as we stood in line for drinks and popcorn. I hadn’t talked to her since Patrick and I got back together, and her presence now felt invasive, almost calculated. Did she think I owed her some kind of explanation? That I needed to justify why Patrick and I were back together? The thought was laughable. I didn’t owe her a fucking thing.
I kept my composure, trying to stay civil for Patrick’s sake, but my patience wore thin as the night dragged on. During the movie, Kayla leaned in, whispering something to Patrick. He nodded, and she sat back, smug and silent. My jaw clenched. I didn’t know what Patrick said to her, but I hoped it was something like "We’re together now, back off." She better have gotten the message. Still, she stayed far too close, practically glued to his side. Sitting right beside him when normal people would’ve left an empty seat between them. It was infuriating. I never focused on the movie, watching them the whole time. My blood boiling.
By the time the credits rolled, my pulse was raging. Every little thing about her grated on me… her voice, her proximity to Patrick, even the way she breathed. In the parking lot, I saw her watching me, an awkward, hesitant expression on her face. I stopped, arms crossed, daring her to speak.
“Autumn, can we talk for a second?” she asked meekly, her voice annoyingly small.
I glanced at Patrick through the car window. He was watching us, waiting. “Stay inside,” I said curtly, slamming the door shut before he could argue.
Kayla stood there like some wounded animal, her wide, watery eyes full of some misplaced sense of entitlement. She looked pathetic. Good.
“What?” I snapped, pacing towards her, my voice cold and sharp.
“I just…” she faltered, her hands wringing nervously. “What exactly is happening? I thought you were with…”
“Sam?” I cut her off, spitting the name like poison. “Well, you thought wrong. Patrick and I are back together, as we always should’ve been.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping, hardening. “Sam is gone. Dead. And even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t matter. He never did. Patrick is mine. That’s all you need to know.”
Kayla’s lips quivered, her eyes glistening as she tried to process my words. She looked like she might say something else, but I wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics.
“And you,” I continued, my tone like steel, “you need to back off. I don’t care what you’re going through. Your dad’s dead? Fine. Cry about it somewhere else. But if you think you can worm your way into Patrick’s life because you’re sad and lonely, you’re wrong. He’s not your shoulder to cry on. He’s not yours. He’s mine.” I was vicious, but I didn’t care. She needed to get the point… before she got hurt.
Her face crumpled, and she blinked back tears, her mouth opening and closing uselessly. Without another word, she turned and stumbled back to her car, fumbling to get in. I watched her drive away, satisfaction curling through me like smoke. Good riddance.
I exhaled slowly, smoothing my expression before climbing back into Patrick’s car. I smiled at him, genuine and bright. “Sorry about that,” I said sweetly. “You know Kayla… always chasing after you. She always has, since we were kids. But don’t worry. I let her know we’re together now. She won’t be bothering us again.”
Patrick’s brow scrunched like he was confused. I loved it when he made that face. His eyes flickered with something between uncertainty and concern. “What did you say to her?”
“Does it matter?” I snapped, my smile fading. “We’re together. She needed to hear it. Do you want her texting you all the time, clinging to you like she always does?”
His silence was answer enough. He turned forward, started the car, and drove.
Kayla. She thought she could step between us, but I wouldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever. I’d be watching her every move.
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One frigid night, Patrick and I wove through the bustling streets of downtown St. Louis, hopping from one dimly lit bar to another, soaking in the pulse of the city. The Landing was alive, a strip of vibrant bars and crowded restaurants, each radiating with neon lights and the hum of conversation. Music thumped through the cold air, spilling out onto the streets where clusters of people huddled together, their breath visible in the chill. The scent of fried food mingled with the sharp tang of alcohol and cigarette smoke, a sensory cocktail that clung to the night. I loved it.
I stayed close to Patrick, clutching his arm as if someone might tear him away at any moment. He felt warm under his thick jacket, his laugh mingling with the city's lively chaos. But then, as we passed a group of rowdy patrons, I caught a flash of movement in the crowd. My steps faltered, and I tugged Patrick to a stop.
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A cascade of blood-red hair trailed behind a figure weaving through the crowd, just out of reach. The winter wind lifted it, a vivid, unmistakable curtain against the dark sea of bundled-up humans. I squinted, my pulse quickening. It couldn’t be, could it? But the longer I watched, the more certain I became.
It was Alex. That vampire skank from Martin’s bar. The one who always appeared as a demonic seductress, her beauty sharp and unnerving. She’d helped us on a few hunts, sure, but I never trusted her. I never would. Now, here she was, strutting down the street as if it was the height of summer. Her outfit was outrageous: an indecently low-cut tank top with straps so thin they seemed ready to snap, and denim cutoffs that barely qualified as shorts. Her alabaster skin, smooth and unnaturally flawless, was on full display, drawing the eye like a beacon in the winter gloom. Her muscular legs and massive tits were exactly what this drunk crowd of boys wanted. I glanced around at the civilians… they disgusted me as they ogled her. I glanced at Patrick, begging him to look so I could teach him manners… and never disrespect me. Lucky for him… he hadn’t seen her yet.
I gritted my teeth, my gaze darting around. Everyone else was bundled up in coats and scarves, their faces red from the biting cold. Alex, in contrast, might as well have stepped out of a nightclub in July. She didn’t just stick out… she stood apart, a walking spectacle. Her arrogance infuriated me.
“Did you see her?” I whispered, more to myself than Patrick, who was busy fiddling with his phone. My eyes stayed locked on Alex’s form as she slipped further down the street, disappearing into the crowd. I tightened my grip on Patrick’s arm, my mind racing. What was she doing here? And why now? Maybe something was going down in this part of the city. Should I take Patrick somewhere safe?
I shook my head, trying to dismiss her as an irrelevant annoyance. I continued with Patrick, keeping my eyes on high alert. Not five minutes later, as we passed a two-story restaurant, I caught sight of her again. This time, she was perched on a balcony above us, leaning casually against the railing. Her piercing gaze locked onto us… onto me. Her expression was cold, almost clinical as if she were dissecting every move I made. My stomach twisted. Her boobs almost spilled out of her ridiculous low-cut shirt as she leaned over the railing, looking down at me with a wry smile. I stared daggers at her… frustrated that she was watching me… us! Did she want Patrick… she couldn’t have him… I’d kill her first!
“Patrick, look,” I nudged him, my voice urgent as I gestured upward. But the moment he glanced in the direction I was pointing, she was gone. The balcony was empty, the shadows undisturbed. I stared up at the spot where she’d been, my heart pounding. Had I imagined it? No. I knew what I saw.
Patrick frowned, his face blank as he glanced at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, my lips pressing into a thin line. But it wasn’t nothing. Alex was here, and she was watching us. Watching Patrick. I felt the paranoia creep in, coiling tight around my chest.
She had no right to be here, no right to even look at him. I slipped my hand into Patrick’s, lacing my fingers through his possessively. He was mine. Whatever game Alex thought she was playing, she’d better think twice. If she was here to meddle, I’d make sure she regretted it. She was on my list now… joining Kayla.
The city’s noise faded into the background as my mind fixated on her. Alex wasn’t just some random encounter; she was a threat. And I wasn’t going to let her take anything from me.
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Patrick and I had been together for a few weeks now, and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for more. He was sweet, and attentive, and always made me feel like I was the center of his world. Sure, there were hurdles… questions from friends, family, and even Patrick himself. He’d asked about Sam, about whether I still harbored feelings for him. I’d reassured him over and over that those feelings were long gone, buried in the past where they belonged. He was my everything now.
My parents, on the other hand, were relentless. Their constant questions: Are you sure this is what you want? Is this just a rebound? What about Sam?
Mother fucker! That was all anyone seemed to talk about. Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam! It tested my patience. Every single one of my whiney… intrusive family members. I knew they meant well, but their concern infuriated me. I’d told them, probably a bit too forcefully, that I was happy. Happier than I’d been in a long time. Patrick was who I wanted, and that was that. Sam could go die in a ditch somewhere. He was nothing to me!
One afternoon, we were at my parents' house, slipping into the sanctuary of my childhood bedroom. Patrick carried his overnight bag slung over one shoulder, but the moment we walked in, his entire demeanor shifted. He froze in the middle of the room, his eyes darting around like he’d lost something vital. Then, without a word, he yanked the bag off his shoulder and started rifling through it.
“Patrick?” I asked, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer right away, his movements becoming more frantic. His hands tore through the bag’s contents, tossing clothes, chargers, and a toiletry kit onto my bed. His breathing quickened as he muttered to himself.
“It’s not here,” he finally said, his voice tight with panic. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” I asked, my heart picking up speed. His worry was infectious, and I could feel my chest tightening. “Patrick, what are you talking about?”
He dumped the rest of the bag onto the bed, his eyes scanning every item like he might have overlooked it. “The brush. It’s not here,” he repeated, shaking his head as though that would somehow fix the problem. “It’s gone, Autumn.”
I blinked at him. “The brush?” I tilted my head, trying to make sense of his sudden distress. “Patrick, it’s just a brush. I have plenty.”
“No, you don’t get it.” He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “It’s the one I brought from your dorm. I grabbed it for you, and now I’ve lost it.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t mean to lose it.”
For a moment, I stared at him, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. Then, a laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. “Patrick, it’s a hairbrush. You don’t have to freak out over that.”
He paused, looking at me with a mix of guilt and frustration. “But it was yours,” he said softly, almost like he was confessing a sin. “I wanted to make sure I… kept it safe… just in case…” he struggled to find his words. It was cute. He cared this much about me. “I thought it would make things easier for you.”
I couldn’t help but smile, my heart swelling at his earnestness. I slid my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” I murmured, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath my cheek. “You care so much, and it’s one of the things I love about you.”
Patrick sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly, though I could tell he still felt awful. “I just want to do everything right for you… after everything I’ve done.”
“You already do,” I assured him, pulling back to look into his eyes. “A missing hairbrush isn’t the end of the world. I promise. You’ve done nothing wrong,” I assured him. I was confused about where all this was coming from… and over a hairbrush of all things.
He gave a small, sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He tried to push past the moment. “I guess I overreacted, huh?”
“Just a little,” I teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But it’s sweet. And it shows how much you care about the little things.”
Patrick nodded, his hands finally steady as he began to repack his bag. Even though the panic had passed, I could see the lingering worry in his eyes, like he was still beating himself up over something so small. A swirling storm of regret was spinning in his mind…I could tell, but I didn’t know why. I just had to be here for him. I leaned in, resting my forehead against his.
“You’re the best, you know that?” I whispered. “I don’t need anything else… just you.” I felt Patrick's breath hitch at my words, getting emotional. It was weird… but I wouldn’t make it worse. Maybe this was about his dad. He was getting more sensitive lately, seeming distracted and apologetic about things suddenly. I had to make it better.