UNDER CONSTRUCTION

“ i can imagine. ” really, though, marley couldn’t. her trysts with love were never substantial, never anything real. except for once maybe last year, but she couldn’t quite put the words to say how that made her feel. sometimes she wondered if was really even real. time muted the hurt in her heart but it still lingered and stung at the oddest of times. “ rosie – ” marley spoke aloud as she thought “ – she’s the red-headed vixen, right ? if she’s who i’m thinking of, i agree. she’s beautiful. ” 

she hadn’t been expecting patch to answer so quickly but when she does she can only nod her head. “ then know that you made your choice with certainty and that it counts for something. it doesn’t erase the hurt that rosie’s feeling, but it saves all three of you from the wishy-washy poking pain of indecision. ” her words hang in the air. “ i don’t think you can erase the hurt you’ve caused, but maybe you can numb the pain a little. maybe try and talk to rosie. if she doesn’t want to now, okay, you should respect that. but time heals sometimes. wait a bit. try again. that’s what i’d do. ”

“ i thought i was in love once, ” she said, exhaling deeply. “ but only once. and really i was in love with the idea of something i’d never have. anyways, to answer your question, though, i’ve never loved more than one person at a time. the idea of loving one person at all seems foreign to me actually. ”

“ i think you know that you’ve made the right choice for you. it might hurt, sure, but sometimes the right things do. not all choices are painless, as easy as that would be. ” a sardonic smile pulled at her lips. “ i hate that you had to make a choice at all, knowing that it’d hurt you in the end. ”

Patch's lips quirked up in a soft wistful smile as Marley agreed about Rosie, before she looked away as Marley continued to speak. Her words were soft, but they cut her to the core. She was right of course; there wasn't anything she could do to erase what she had done, but she could always ask for her forgiveness later.

Patch found her eyes suddenly growing misty at Marley's empathy, the way she accepted Patch and what she had down with barely a blink. She didn't placate her, but she wasn't cruel either. Patch found herself pausing to grip Marley's unpainted hand.

“ i’m glad you approve, ” laughed marley. she let patch take her hand and she relaxed her fingers. there was something soothing about this. it reminded her of soft moments with her sister, moments tucked away in the room they shared. there were nights they’d paint their nails ( pink, always pink, emma would insist ) and nights where marley would read from whatever book she had on her nightstand, doing all of the voices and all the effects. she had never expected it to happen, but patch filled up a hole in her heart she was never expecting anyone to. the pair of them hadn’t been friends for long, but it felt like longer than it had actually been and she was ever so thankful for that.

she listened carefully, hmm-ing and mmm-ing in all the right places. she was genuinely curious as to what patch had been through and all she was feeling. “ that sounds dreamy, ” marley sighed, hearing about patch and the girl and their spring break. her eyes were wide, her expression saddening as she went on. 

“ don’t be sorry. ” marley drew her hand back, blowing gently on the wet polish before extending back out to patch. she took a breath, exhaling loudly as she nodded. “ that definitely is a messy situation. ” she reached her other hand out, putting it on top of patch’s. “ i don’t think you’re crazy at all. lovesick, maybe, and a little sad. but those are all okay things to be. ”

“ now, mind you, i did say i know nothing about love – ” she’d been married, yes, but there had never been love. there had been fear and fists and certainly nothing good. “ – but i feel like you’re in a tough situation. obviously. you know that. sorry for stating the obvious. but how do you feel ? do you feel like you did the right thing ? that you … chose the right person ? ” her brows drew together, her expression serious. “ i can’t tell you what’s right and what’s wrong, but if you had to do it again, would you make the same choice ? ”

Patch couldn’t help but grin a little bit when Marley sighed softly, and she glanced up at her. “Oh. It really was. I’d never done anything like that before. It was… surreal,” she said softly, before she smirk. “And have you seen Rosie? She’s gorgeous too. Gorgeous, and with a heart too big for her,” she said, turning her eyes back down to Marley’s fingers as she moved to the next one.

At her question, Patch’s eyes flew to hers and her response was immediate: “Yes.” Of course she would pick Caleb every time. It was hardly a question. Rosie… she had people. A family. She would be okay. But Caleb? There was something there that Patch recognized and understood. And yet, there he was, constantly doing something other than waste his life away on the streets like Patch had done for so long. Caleb was messy, but so was Patch, and he deserved to be loved. “I wouldn’t choose differently. But maybe I would’ve handled everything in a different way,” she said softly.

         McKenna wanted to remain neutral in any fight between any Vixen because she didn’t think she could pick sides. She was trying to stay out of fights in general because she didn’t want to get roped into playing the mediator. It was exhausting work and not something McKenna was that great at. She had nothing against Patch, McKenna just couldn’t keep the look on Rosie’s face out of her mind when she saw Patch. She was hoping that she could keep her own emotions off her face as she talked to her, but that would be determined to play it cool—not that she’d ever been cool in her entire life. Whatever was going on between Rosie and Patch would be something that they could dish out without McKenna picking sides. At least… that was her plan.

         Clearly, McKenna was just going to make more of a mess in the kitchen if she tried to make more cookies. She was dejected at the thought of yet another failed attempt at baking. “My grandmother always did say I was useless in the kitchen.” She laughed at herself. “I feel like I could burn water.” Even if it was impossible, sometimes the blonde felt like it was. Someone was going to have to help her one of these days. At least teach her the basics or find a way to get her to cook—like getting her an instant pot. That way all she had to do was dump the ingredients into a pot and press a button. “You can help clean, but you shouldn’t feel obligated to. I mean this is my mess. I can go change and help.” McKenna smiled softly at her. She pushed the piece of hair that was in her face out of the way and looked around the kitchen.

         “I can’t believe I made all of this mess just trying to make cookies. It looks like the Tasmanian Devil ran through here.” McKenna had worn an apron, but it really hadn’t helped with the mess since her clothing underneath was probably still covered in flour. “How do you know how to cook?” she asked.  

Patch let out a laugh, cocking her head to the side. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere,” he said teasingly. “You just have to start maybe with something that doesn’t have anything to do with heat.” She accompanied the remark with a wink that hopefully took the sting out of her playful words to indicate she was just yanking her chain.

Patch shrugged. “Nah, I don’t mind at all. But if you’d rather I scram, I can do that too. But I mean, while I’m here, I’d rather not just watch you do it. I’d feel kind of douche-y,” she said, casually as she hopped off the counter and brushed off some of the flour that had clung to her ass. 

“But cooking is always messy. I try to clean as I go, but sometimes I get too wrapped up in it and end up with a mess as I put shit in the oven,” she lamented as she plucked a dish towel out of the drawer by the sink and wet it to clean up the flour on the counter.

She paused at the question, thinking of Tye, who was such a picky eater, but never turned her nose up no matter how much he didn’t like what she had made. It made her get creative, using what Tye did like to make new stuff. Better stuff. And then at the homeless shelter, she liked to spoil everyone during holidays. Create big feasts that tasted so good and made everyone so full. Food was so important to her, when she didn’t have it consistently. She still ate like every meal was going to be her last. 

“It would,” Sterling agreed when Patch readily acknowledged it would be criminal to injure his face - and, far more importantly, that he was pretty. ‘Pretty’ was still a little double-sided for him; it would have been unacceptable in high school, would have been a mockery instead of a compliment, but coming from Patch it didn’t feel bad, just… different. Being a ‘pretty boy’ would have been intolerable once; hearing it as he squared up across from Patch for a fight, clearly a compliment, helped keep the more delicate parts of his masculinity intact. 

Both brows raised just barely an increment at Patch’s reassurance that Sterling wouldn’t be any different from his previous experiences. For as much as he should have been honing in, shifting his focus from Patch’s mouth to his feet, his stance, his hands, the insinuation behind his words snared his attention like a barb, refusing to let it go. His mind veered to images that had nothing to do with sparring, and he couldn’t let an opportunity pass him by. 

“Because you’ve never had anything like what I’ll give you,” he promised as he started to move, slow steps, making sure not to cross his feet over each other and leave himself vulnerable to tripping up. A few seconds, and he made his first move, a basic feint high and low hook, followed quickly by a rushed advance, trying to push further and further into Patch’s space to try to force a fumble, a mistake, an opening.

Sterling was a delight. Handsome, but with a delicate, pretty mouth. Strong, but predictable. Especially because of the tension that had nothing to do with a fight. He teased and he taunted, asking Sterling to prove him wrong without saying so, coaxing for a burst of wild energy. It was thrilling to see, enticing in a way that made something dark in his stomach unfurl. After being so sweet with Rosie and having a rather pliant Caleb, he was excited to see this push back. The challenge fueled by a half-assed pissing contest but made sharper by the lust he could feel radiating from them both. 

He didn’t want to say it was easy to dodge Sterling, but it was hardly difficult. He took the bait, as Patch knew he would, but he still had that bite of intelligence. He went for a swing first, but one that was an attempt to catch him off guard. Unfortunately for Sterling, he had been brawling in the streets since he was fourteen. Sterling was good, but gave away his move too early. It was simple to dodge, and the rush was easy to work with. 

Many fighters loved to get close, but then didn’t know what to do with it, especially if they were expecting their opponent to back up. But Patch was used to the attempt to back up him into a corner, so he simply let Sterling get close, and use it to neatly slide around him in one smooth move, tapping the back of his neck with his knuckles teasingly as he glided away from him and towards the other end of the mat. 

Alanna was used to this role: she was the youngest child—the only child for so long—the apple of her mother’s eye. They’d lost so much when they ran, but her mother had always made up for that by doting, plain and simple. It was still familiar, even here in Palmetto. Alanna knew Cade went out of his way to look out for her, and she couldn’t bring herself to be upset by that. Part of her wanted to be an adult now, to grow into her nineteen years without feeling so childish and lost. The other part of her was happy to stay the same, even if it meant someone else would always take the lead. 

Because it was nice to feel taken care of, wasn’t it? It was safe. There was a reason she’d come here, to Palmetto, rather than anywhere else. Following Cade’s footsteps had felt so much easier than forging her own path, and in the end, Alanna didn’t regret it. 

It was sweet that Patch wanted to fix her ponytail, sweet that he’d even thought of it, and Alanna stood still while he fussed over her. “Oh—was it—did it get messed up? Thank you,” Alanna said, flashing Patch a smile. “All the running around for Valentine’s Day,” she added, a useless explanation for whatever stray hairs he must’ve seen. She brightened even more at his suggestion though, and Alanna immediately discounted the dozens of half-completed candygrams waiting in her dorm. They had a few more days yet before she’d need to deliver them. “But ignore that, I’m totally free! You’re going to the animal shelter? Are you gonna get a new pet? I might sneeze a little if there’s a cat around here, but I promise it’s not that bad, and it’ll be totally worth it if I can pet them.”

To be fair, Alanna’s hair wasn’t that messed up. If at all. But she had put up with his fussing without questioning it, and it made his heart melt a little bit at it. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but let me tell you; you are a saint for taking on the challenge. You are helping soooo many people get hella lucky,” he said with a grin, before he laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Hell yeah! Take a break! Should probably bring some tissues though, because we are totally going to go see some cats,” he said, opening the bag to show her how much fucking cat food he had. “This can’t go to waste. It would be totally shitty. Plus, I’m sure there are plenty of mama cats who need wet food to stay nice and plump,” he said, feeling a little childish in his excitement to go see these cats. He needed something simple though, and this was definitely it. 

“ it sounds like it’s going to be a good evening already. i’ll be right back. ” marley left the room for no more than two minutes. in that time, she heated up the milk in the microwave and poured in the hot cocoa mix. she went back into her room with two mugs, one blue and one yellow. she held the yellow one out to patch. “ but what’s this about your life being a rom com ? tell me all the sordid details. ”

she hummed a sound of acknowledgement, her hands wrapped around the warm mug. “ then i’d say something. better than bursting with the words kept inside your heart. ” she offered a sympathetic smile. “ but really, who am i to be giving advice ? love has never been my forte. ” she wrinkled her nose up before letting out a small laugh, one given at her own expense. “ all my knowledge on romance comes from rom coms and romance novels. are those the best guides ? probably not. ”

she put her mug down on the side table before reaching for bin of nail polish. “ i’m thinking – ” her hand hovered over the bin before she reached down and pulled out a light purple “ – that this is the color. ”

Patch’s eyes lit up as cocoa was deposited into her hands and she immediately cradled it in her hands and held it to her face, smiling. She took a sip and groaned obscenely into the cup. “This is great. Really hits the spot. You’re the best,” she sighed happily, before she set the mug to the side and nodded her head at the color Marley picked out. 

“You really are a girl after my own heart, huh? This is going to look great on you, darling. Excellent choice,” she said as she lightly shook the glass bottle to mix the paint up, before taking one of Marley’s hands into her own. She immediately set out to work, but not before she looked up and assessed Marley’s face in a quick once over. 

What had happened with Rosie and Caleb had been chewing away at her heart since it had happened, and if Patch was being honest, she really needed to get it off of her chest with someone who wouldn’t hate her for it. She knew where Mars stood, and it wasn’t like she could confide in Caleb. He didn’t even know what was really going on.

But Marley was sweet, and even if she didn’t like Caleb, she doubted she would do or say something horrible, like what Rosie and Mars had said to her about him. She knew it was because they cared, or some sort of version of it in Mars’ case, but it still hit her somewhere soft. They didn’t support this about her, and it stung. 

So that was why she turned away from Marley’s face after a breath of hesitation and opened her mouth to speak. “Well…. It’s kind of complicated,” she began as she lifted Marley’s pinkie to paint it. “First, there’s this guy. He’s been one of my best friends since I transferred here. I mean like, a mad close homie. You know? And, well, we had a bit of a falling out and I realized that I… well… I really really liked him in a less than friendly way,” she said. “But, he doesn’t like me like that. I mean, like, there is just no way in hell,” she said, aiming for aloof, but falling a little short. She pushed by it anyways.

“But, at the same time, I hit it off with this girl. And she really took care of me after that guy messed me up. Like, she took me home and I met her family and spent the break with her in this beautiful place by the beach and everything. Super romantic. She was amazing. Perfect. Loving and everything,” Patch said a little wistfully.

“But… there came a point where I totally slept with this guy. But, just to sleep with him, y’know? Like… I did it because he’s super hot, but also because I care about him. And…” she paused, embarrassed, before continuing, “and I wanted to be with him in some way. Pathetic, huh?” she asked lamely, shaking her head. 

“And this girl and I… well, we weren’t exclusive, but when I told her what had happened… well, it was clear she wanted me to pick. Not to mention she hates this guys guts. And…. god, Marley. She had given me so much, and with this guy I would probably just be begging for scraps, but I still chose him. And now she hates me, along with most of her friends probably, and this guy will literally never see me the same way, but I’m hung up all over him anyways,” she finished in a rush, not realizing her hands were shaking until she accidentally painted some of Marley’s ring finger.

When: February 15th, at the beginning of The Party

Who: @calebfournierx

Patch was still catching his breath as he reached down to fumble for a cigarette in his side table, making a soft triumphant noise as he was able to pull one out and light it up. He took a long slow drag, shutting his eyes and savoring the action and taste as he let the smoke seep out through his lips slowly. He turned to his right and handed it to Caleb with a small smirk on his face, amused by the other’s mused hair and the lipstick prints on his jaw, neck, and shoulders.

“I have to say, this is much more fun than a party,” he purred out, still watching the side of Caleb’s face as he enjoyed the rest of the high that came with touching Caleb. Soon it would be replaced by a rush of guilt and sadness, but for the moment, he felt content. 

Patch currently had one of his ankles hooked over one of Caleb’s calves, but that was the only part of them that was still touching after everything. But being with Caleb wasn’t about affection, despite what Patch wanted deep down. It was about getting off, messing around, being a distraction for everything else. Even though all Patch wanted to do was thread his fingers through Caleb’s hair and rub the back of his neck, he kept his hands firmly laced behind his head. Hell, they usually avoiding kissing, mostly because Patch felt like it was just a touch too emotional for him to do that. 

But despite the very clear difference in interest between the two of them, Patch wouldn’t change anything for it. He liked hearing Caleb weak for him, liked bringing him higher and higher, and making sure when he fell back down he landed gently. It was at the cost of Rosie and in another way, part of himself, but it was worth it. So very worth it.

“I’m a man of my word,” Sterling promises him, perfectly aware of the weight of Patch’s stare, perfectly satisfied with it - he works hard for exy first and foremost, for his future, but he also works hard to look good, for the attention that looking good gets him. The confidence it lends, the power he feels when he walks into a room and knows people go out of their way to look at him. Most people don’t know what’s on the inside, but they seem to like the packaging. 

“You’re not gonna be pinning me anywhere,” he warns to the back of Patch’s head as he follows him to the mats, the weights on his bar abandoned in the wake of Patch’s smirk, the breadth of his shoulders, the slight curl of his damp hair. He takes off his shoes and socks and straightens up to take off his shirt, another remark about how he hopes Patch likes the view from the floor ready and rearing to go, but Patch is already in front of him, bare chested and offering to tape his hands. The comment dies on his tongue. He doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth and not say something about the sharply cut lines angling down from Patch’s hips. 

Sterling crosses his arms across his front and peels his shirt over his head, and if he brushes against Patch as he does it, it certainly looks like an accident, if Patch wants to see it that way. 

Shirt on the mat next to his shoes, he holds his hands out, fingers spread and palms down. Watching Patch’s fingers deftly weaving the tape over and around his own isn’t helping his distraction. “Stay away from the moneymaker, alright?” he asks, starting to set their limits. “Three to tap out, by the way. In case you can’t handle it.” He smirks the same way Patch did.

Patch’s grin was sharp when Sterling followed his lead and ditched his shirt as well, and he clucked his tongue softly as he took his hands to wrap his bandages. “We’ll see about that, now won’t we?” he asked as he bit the tape off with his teeth without moving his gaze from Sterling's face, before wrapping his own knuckles. It was kind of pointless, because Patch knew he wasn’t going to strike Sterling, but better to keep up appearances to throw him off than give away the whole thing.

Stepping onto the mat was rejuvenating. It was relaxing to know that this fight wasn’t going to be life or death, but instead fun, flirty. Getting his hands on Sterling in any capacity was bound to be a delight, but getting him riled up first was going to be a real treat. 

“Now why would I mess up such a pretty face? It would be a crime,” he said with a smile, before laughed aloud, his eyes twinkling. “And I’ll have you know I’ve taken everything given to me like a champ. I don’t see why you would be any different,” he said as he fell into a relaxed position opposite of Sterling.

He kept his footing strong, but allowed himself to show weakness there too. Gaps in his posture, something he was sure Sterling would pick up on and zero in on. If Patch was going to fight him like Sterling was expecting, Patch was sure the fight would be tough. But Patch hardly played fair, and he did say he wanted to see Sterling riled up, didn’t he?

         Of all the people to enter the kitchen, McKenna is not entirely happy that it’s Patch. Normally she doesn’t have anything against her fellow Vixen. In fact, she enjoys Patch’s company. But she knew about the tension between Patch and Rosie; she wasn’t planning on taking sides between them because that’s not really who she was, except she was going to be wary around Patch until she could get her side of the story. McKenna won’t let it show on her face how annoyed she is that it’s Patch coming to her rescue. She knows better than to let those sorts of emotions, especially when she has one side of the story—she wants to be friends with both of them, but she also doesn’t want to lose friends over their fight.

         Cooking was never something that she claimed to be good at. It was one of the reasons that she was going to struggle when she graduated from Palmetto and ended up on her own. The blonde was going to have to find a roommate that was a decent cook, otherwise she was going to be spending so much money on junk food. One of these days someone was going to have to at least show her the basics. McKenna tried using her grandmother’s recipe for the cookies, yet somehow they hadn’t turned out. Why could her grandmother make decent cookies, but she struggled to follow simple directions.

         The blonde Vixen smiled lightly at Patch, sighing. She wished she could be handing her a cookie rather than complaining about how terrible of a cook she was. “I doubt you can salvage anything.” McKenna looked at the mess again, trying to decide where she was going to start cleaning up. “I think I might call it quits. Just give up trying to bake anything. I should have asked for Alanna’s help.” At least Alanna could make sweets. “Chocolate chips are not easier. I once burnt the bottoms of them because I added too many chocolate chips,” McKenna responded with a laugh. “It’s okay. I can just go buy some from the store. No one will ever know the difference, except you.”

Patch wasn’t sure what exactly she could’ve done, but she had a suspicion that maybe McKenna wasn’t all too happy to see her at the moment. Maybe it was in the way that she cooled a little bit in her excitement when she realized who exactly came in offering help, but Patch couldn’t really think of anything that could’ve caused it off the top of her head. Maybe she was seeing things, but that was to be determined. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle anyways, inclining her head with a nod. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. A good double chocolate chip cookie might give you some trouble,” she said with mirth, before she shrugged at McKenna’s soft rejection at help. Patch hummed. “Okay. At least let me help you clean up. I feel like if you tried to do anything with your clothes like that, you might just make the mess worse,” she said with a smirk that wasn’t unkind, but teasing in a way. 

Everything hurt, her head from crying, her heart from realization, her body from practice…she wanted to just up and disappear. She felt light headed and almost like she didn’t have a hold on anything, hands in fists as she dug her manicured nails into her palms to get some grip on reality. Rosie never needed anyone, and maybe that’s why she craved to be close to everyone she met, because she wanted that closeness that she never had. And she had found it in Patch, only for it to be ripped from her fingertips by Caleb, and it hurt. Rosie tried so hard to have Patch, she fought for him, defended him, took care of him and ultimately, here she was was. She felt stupid.

His hand moved and she let out a shaky breath at the sound of her name in his mouth, eyes glittering with tears before she blinked them back and pushed them off her now flushed cheeks. Rosie didn’t even know what to say, or if she could even make sense of the thoughts in her head right now, so she opted to just be quiet for a moment and count to ten in her head to calm down. A simple technique that her therapist taught her, as well as her mother, and she glanced back up at him as she pursed her lips together. 

This was hard, it was like breaking up without ever being official, a bittersweet feeling to know that she had probably lost him. She didn’t trust Caleb, he wasn’t good, he wasn’t good for Patch. Rosie knew that, but she had already said her peace. Looking over his face, she nodded before taking a hesitant step forward as she pushed herself up on her toes, pressing a feather soft kiss to his lips before sniffling as she settled back onto her feet, “Take all the time you need, but I can’t just be a back up plan. If you really wanted me, Patch, you would’ve thought that through before falling back into him. I’m done being something to just consider. I want to be wanted.” She whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear, shoving her hands into her pockets and savoring that last press of her lips to his because it might just be the last time. 

Rosie was devastated. It couldn’t be more obvious, and that in and of itself was devastating to him. But he couldn’t make this better without hurting himself and Caleb, and after everything- being friends, hiding out, fighting, making up and out, - he just couldn’t give that up. He wouldn’t. And in a way, just being so determined, to a point where he was driving to tears told him everything he needed to know, but didn’t really want to acknowledge.

Rosie was so full of life and love and a desire, but he had a sinking suspicion that maybe that wasn’t for him. Because the feeling of Caleb’s lips trembling under his as he scraped the palms of his hand against the hard cement of the roof was more comforting than any dim-lit room warmed by a fireplace. That said something about who Patch was, and that wasn’t someone fit for the soft heat that was Rosie. If they really fell into each other, Patch knew one day he would crush her under the weight of what he carried, even if she protested that fact.

He shut his eyes as she kissed him sweetly, and he let of a soft sign as she pulled back, unwilling to open his eyes as he savored the feeling before he let them slide open to look at her. He smiled sadly. This certainly how he expected that this was how their walk would end, but perhaps deep down he had a feeling that this couldn’t last long. 

Where: On Campus Cafe

The chill wasn’t too bad, but it still reminded Patch of cold floors and not enough blankets to pass around, and perhaps that was why he ducked into the Campus coffee shop to warm up despite kind of wanting to get home and lay in bed to think about Caleb and Rosie again. It was taking more out of him than he wanted to admit. It was embarrassing, to get caught up in something so mundane, when he usually had more important things to worry about. It made him feel guilty almost, to have the luxury to worry about that. 

And maybe that was why he felt almost relieved when he saw a familiar face. Because maybe right now he shouldn’t be alone. And from what he remembered based on the way Carter had looked at him, he would probably be interested in spending a little time with him, intimately or not. Patch would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a little needy at the moment, and Carter was the only person he could think of that could lay it on as thick as he could.

Where: The Den

So. Cade had busted him about feeding the cats outside of the Den, and while Patch was fine with how it turned out, he still had tons of cat food that he needed to donate. Which was why he was currently toting a backpack full of canned cat food and a determination to get to the nearest no kill shelter to donate… and maybe play with some kittens. 

He was ready to take the trip all by himself, when Alanna came prancing down the stairs, and Patch found himself grinning on instinct. She never failed to make him grin in a way that was a little softer, less sharp, and after struggling so much with the fallout with Rosie, he felt like spending some time with someone as sweet and kind as Alanna was just what the doctor ordered. 

“Hey Alanna! Come here, let me fix your hair,” he said, beckoning her over to smooth out the bumps in hair in a mother hen way that he found he needed. He wasn’t used to being taken care of like Rosie had. It made him feel unbalanced and unsure, so fixing Alanna’s ponytail and bow was already soothing something aching and restless beneath his skin.

Patch huffed out a breath mopping his brow with his shirt as he pushed the gym’s doors open. He hadn’t jogged like that in a while, and it felt good to get his blood pumping. He had been so caught up in thinking about Rosie and Caleb that he hadn’t been keeping up his routine. Letting himself slack off with it had made him feel worse than he thought it would. 

He was feeling refreshed and energized, and perhaps that was why when he spotted Sterling in the gym looking like he was blowing off some steam, he felt his lips curling into a smile. Sterling was never someone who turned down a little friendly competition. And if he got to watch him sweat while doing so, well, Patch wouldn’t make it too obvious. 

In theory, Alanna loved Valentines Day. She’d pushed for the candygrams after all, even though she’d realized only a few days in how much more organization was required than she’d expected. Alanna had spent much of today frantically putting the finishing touches on everything she’d neglected over the week, and she could only hope they didn’t look too sloppy. Packing the candygrams and connecting them to notes wasn’t hard, especially not with help, but it took time. 

That was a  blessing in disguise though, because she hadn’t had any free time to think about Valentines Day itself—the fact that she’d be spending it alone, the fact that she always had.

Alanna knew she should be a romantic, but when she looked around, that word could hardly describe her. Cade was the one who loved romantic movies and mix tapes, the one who’d believed John and Alanna’s mother were meant to be before Alanna ever acknowledged she even liked them together. Alanna loved John now, but even still. When her mother first spoke of John, Alanna remembered her gut reaction as fear. She’d selfishly felt it was a kind of betrayal, even, because her mom wanted to open up their world to a stranger and his son without warning. Worst of all though, Alanna had assumed that it would just fall apart in the end, and that she and her mother would have to start from scratch all over again. 

Alanna was glad to be so wrong about all of that, more than glad that John was so amazing. It didn’t change her gut reaction at the time though, and it didn’t change her gut reaction now when she thought about relationships too deeply. Love seemed wonderful, when it worked out, but that wasn’t a promise. Love seemed wonderful, and Alanna wanted to find it—in theory. 

And Valentines Day was the same. For all the potential there, it could be a lonely day too, a day with too much pressure, and maybe it was alright that Alanna didn’t have anyone. It was far more fun to deliver the candygrams anyway, and see how other people felt about one another when they could be anonymous. 

She entered the student union, a bag of candygrams in hand, and scanned for anyone on her list. It was impossible to miss Patch in the process, the sign advertising free kisses around her neck. Alanna waved back automatically, and then walked over. “Sorry, I won’t get in the way for long,” she promised, well aware that her presence would likely keep anyone else from approaching Patch. “Just wanted to say Happy Valentines Day, and I like your dress.”

Patch couldn’t help the way her smile slid away from seductive and more towards genuine as Alanna approached. She looked a touch frazzled, but Patch could also tell that in a way she was enjoying it. The candygram idea was something Patch personally loved, even if there was a bittersweet taste in her mouth from the one she sent to Rosie. It seemed as though there wasn’t another way to talk to her; but that was just because Patch was a coward.