I drove home and noticed My gas was low, so I stopped my car by a nearby hotel and was going to crash there, I was walking to my room when suddenly I heard laughing in the janitors closet. I cracked open the door out of curiosity and saw two of my coworkers. Timothy and.. Patrick?!
They were talking about some dumb shit, and they were clearly snorting coke. I opened the door completely. "What the hell are you guys doing here?!" I said in a whisper yell. Timothy threw me a judging look, probably because I ratted out his drug source. But he's lucky I didn't rat HIM out. Patrick wiped his nose. "Well, y/n. I don't really think that's any of your business." He said smirking. I rolled my eyes. "Patrick, can you do me a favor?" I said. He looked at me, confused. "Shut the hell up" I said, clearly annoyed. "Lets be honest here, I'm clearly using Paul. And I'm not afraid to talk a little shit about one of you and get you fired. So get your grown asses up and go home." I said pinching the bridge of my nose. Patrick looked angry, but impressed at the same time. I doubt women normally talk to him like that. Timothy looked scared, and got up quickly, wiping the coke off his nose and hands. He ran by me and left. Patrick sighed, not getting up. I sat down next to him. "Did you hear me? Or are you homeless?" I said smiling. He looked at me with an evil smirk. "Well, you scared my ride off. So miss Y/N, could you drive me home?" He said in a sinister voice. I sighed, but agreed.
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We got into my car, Patrick stared looking at my cds. He grabbed my favorite, hip to be square. "You like Huey Lewis and The News?" I said looking up at him. Patrick seemed so bland. It's surprising he enjoyed such comical music. Though it was considered 'dark humor', so I guess it fits. He slipped it into my CD player, and looked up at me. "In 87, Huey released this. An accomplished album. With a tune so catchy most people don't listen to the lyrics." He said grinning. "But they should, because it's not just-" I cut him off. "About the actions of conformity, and the importance of trends. It's also a personal statement about the band itself." I said, finishing his sentence. He looked very surprised about my knowledge of the band, and for once I think he genuinely smiled. "Ooo~ is THE Mr. Bateman smiling? At ME?" I said grinning. He quickly changed his expression. "Nope. I would never." He said, clearly embarrassed.
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(Patrick's pov)
"God damn it what is this woman doing to me.." I mumbled to myself quietly looking down with my hand over my red cheeks. She's so... perfect. She's like me but less sinister. She makes me want to take her out and treat her nice, like I do with most women. But, when I imagine killing her, I just.. can't. Jean is too kind, and my so called 'fiancé' is too brutal. She's a perfect mix. "Okay Bateman. What is your address?" She said putting her hands on the steering wheel. I sat up to intimate her, but it didn't seem to work. "My address is 55 west 81st street, Upper west side." I said. "Oh! I used to live in those apartments!" She said smiling. "Perfect.." I whispered. She seemed to notice but didn't say anything and started driving.
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(Y/N's pov)
"Perfect" Patrick whispered. It was kinda odd, but I ignored it. Damn he was so hot. His defined jawline, gorgeous slicked back hair, charming personality, clean look, And his fashionable suit that is matched with a Rolex watch. "God, what is this guy doing to me" I thought to myself, turning away. "Its rude to stare, Y/N." He said smirking. I rolled my eyes, "the only thing I was staring at is the coke on your suit." I said blankly. He quickly grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to get it off, but he failed. I could tell he was mad, but he didn't really DO anything, like normal. He would usually start cussing out whatever is making him mad. But he seemed.. calm?
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We got to his apartment when suddenly my car ran out of gas. "Great. Is there another hotel nearby?" I said pinching the bridge of my nose. "No, but there is a handsome gentleman's apartment nearby." He said looking at me. I sighed. "I guess I have to other choice." I said, honestly wanting to see what his apartment looked like. We walked in and I was amazed. The apartment was white and clean, with hints of black and red. The thing that stuck out to me were the paintings of woman in black and white with bright red lips, my aunt had the same ones that she gave to me before she died. I walked over to his music and looked through the cds. His music taste was awesome! Patrick sat on the couch as I gasped. "What is it?" He said. "The look of love! My parents used to dance to that song when I was young." (Ik the song was made in the 1980's but ignore it) I said, fascinated. Patrick smiled, got up, and put the song in the CD player. He held out his hand. "Care to dance?" He said with his signature smirk. I smiled and playfully rolled my eyes, taking his hand. We danced, staring into each others eyes. God were his eyes beautiful. They were a dark brown, they looked full of emotion, but also empty. He was gently grazing his hands on my hips and I was putting my hands on his shoulders. He grinned at me and winked but i just rolled my eyes and smiled back. He twirled me and smirked. "Who knew you would be so good at dancing, Y/n." He said. "Not to bad yourself Patrick." I winked.
Suddenly the song ended and he dipped me, getting very close to my face. We both sat there for a moment before getting up. We both nervously smiled and blushed. "Uhm.. I think I should get to bed now." He said. "Uh yeah.. where do I sleep?" I asked. He smiled. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." He said fiddling with his hands. "Don't tell me THE Patrick Bateman is getting all soft on a woman now!" I said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and went to his bathroom to shower. I went to his spare bathroom, and showered. But stupidly didn't bring any clothes. My other clothes were wet sense I had left them on the floor, so I had to walk up to Patrick and ask for spare clothes. IN A TOWEL. I embarrassingly walked into his bathroom, to see him doing his skincare routine. "Uhm.. hey Bateman..?" I said peeking out of the corner. "Yes, y/n?" He said looking back at me from the mirror. I stepped out from the corner, only wrapped in a towel. "What do I wear??" I asked. He looked at me in shock. "Holly shit y/n."
