Not To Give Away The Ending, But It's Gonna Be Okay.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
The door in the garage led into the kitchen where Jen's mom stood, hovering over a pan of noodles. She had dirty blonde hair that was streaked with gray.
"I'm making spaghetti," she said over her shoulder.
"Mom, Y/N's here." Jen replied. Her mom whipped around.
"Oh! Nice to meet you! I'd shake your hand, but..." She held up her right hand. It was dripping with water. Then she laughed.
"When will dinner be ready?" Jen asked, anger still in her voice.
"About forty minutes."
"Let's go back to my room." Jen mumbled to me. She grabbed my wrist again and began pulling me down the hall.
"Nice to meet you!" I managed to call before Jen pulled me into her room.
"What's up with you?" I asked her as I sat down on her bed.
"What do you mean?" She sat down in her desk chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You and Patrick. What was-"
"There's just been a lot of stress between us."
"Like...why?" I asked, kicking my shoes off and settling myself into the bed.
Jen didn't reply, she just spun around in the chair to face her desk. I watched as she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a notebook. She found an empty page and started writing in it. Rather angrily, I might add.
"We just," she started, but paused, I guess finishing whatever she was doing. Then she turned back around to me. "I've been dealing with my life, he's been dealing with his."
Okay, so she obviously didn't want to tell me. Maybe I shouldn't have pressed her. But I wanted to know!
"Jen, what is it?"
She shut her eyes, then spoke.
"Because we think I'm depressed."
"Oh." I whispered. "Jen, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do..."
"I don't want anyone worrying for me! This is why I don't want to tell anyone. I'm fine. Patrick doesn't think so. He wants to get me to a shrink. I don't want to go."
She looked out the window, tears in her eyes.
"Jen, he just loves you. He wants you to get better."
Jen sighed.
"I know. I guess I'm just really selfish, and now any little thing between us is huge."
After a moment of silence, I said, "I think you should go. My therapist really helps me. I've been depressed for years, and I'm only now getting help. If you get help now, before it gets bad..."
Jen glared at me.
Before the tension could get too thick, there was a knock on her door.
"Yeah," Jen said. Her mom opened the door and stuck her head in.
"Jen, can you set the table? And I need some help with the salad."
Jen stood up and went into the hall. I followed her out into the kitchen.
"Is there anything I can do?" I asked her mom.
"Um...no...I just need Jen to do something. But thanks!"
"Might take a minute," Jen added, setting the forks out.
"Okay," I said. I walked to the kitchen door leading to the garage.
Patrick was sitting on the floor on a rug, writing in a notebook. His guitar lay beside him. He was humming to himself as he wrote. He picked up his guitar and played a few into chords, then started singing.
Okay, so he was cute, he could play guitar, and he was my friend's sister. That was enough already. But his voice, his voice...he had one of the best voices I've ever heard. It was seriously amazing. It was smooth, and...a little bit soul.
I didn't want to make myself known, but he was too good for me to stay shut up.
"That sounds really good." I said, walking further into the garage. Patrick turned around as soon as I spoke.
"Oh, thanks." He turned back to his notebook, picked it up, and stood up.
"I didn't know you sing, too."
"Yep," he said.
"You're good." I said.
"Thank you." He didn't smile, but I could tell he wanted to. "Do you play or sing?"
"Uh, kind of. A little. I've never played an electric before."
He held out the guitar.
"Want to?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"'Cause I suck," I said, taking the guitar.
"I'll be the judge of that."
So I played one of the only songs I knew, and luckily it had a riff and sounded pretty good on electric. I sang as best I could but the amp was turned up loud, which I was kind of grateful for. People say I have a good voice, but I was still insecure.
Nonetheless, when I looked at Patrick, he said, "Whoa. You're good."
"You really think so?" I asked, taking off the guitar and handing it back to him.
"Uh, yeah."
"Thanks," was all I said, but inside I was buzzing. He thought I was good!
"I do have one suggestion for when you do the riff."
"Okay..."
Patrick handed me the guitar and I put it back on. He stepped behind me and put his arms around me, putting his hands on the guitar. He suggested doing something, but I couldn't focus on what he said, just how his lips were next to my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck.
"Try playing it like that. Okay?" He was standing in the same place, holding the guitar from behind, smiling.
"Okay-"
I was cut off by the kitchen door opening. I heard Jen say, "What is this?"
Patrick sidestepped, and I turned around, barely missing hitting him with the neck of the guitar.
"He was just giving me some tips on playing something." I said, trying to sound calm. It was the truth! We weren't...doing anything. He was just helping!
Jen nodded.
"Right. Okay. Well, dinner's almost ready." She went back inside, slamming the door behind her. I looked over at Patrick and we stared at each other for a second before I said, "I should probably..."
"Yeah, yeah. I can go with you..."
I nodded, taking the guitar off and handing it back to him. He walked to an empty wall mount and put the guitar in its place.
I walked inside, back to Jen's room. Her door was shut so I knocked softy.
"What." I heard from inside.
"Jen..." I opened the door slowly and stepped in. I saw Patrick standing right outside the door, and I held up a hand to tell him to hold on. I left the door cracked open so he could hear as I walked in.
"Jen, really. He was just giving me tips on how to do a riff." I walked next to her desk chair where she was sitting.
"That's not what it looked like." She said quietly.
"I promise. That's all that was going on."
"Really?" She stared up at me.
I nodded.
"Let's go eat dinner." I said as she stood up. She smiled half-heartedly and gave me a friendly hug. I hugged her back, glad that she-maybe-trusted me.