I Think You're My Best Friend | Patrick Stump

♫♪♫ Chapter Four ♫♪♫

"Patrick?" I question.

He looks up after turning the corner, almost bumping into me. "Oh, Haley!" He says with a smile.

I stare in disbelief, obviously unable to stop myself from smiling back, as the cappuccino overflows in the cup, burning my hand. "Fuck!" I wince and drop the cup, the liquid splashing onto my shoes. "Dammit!" I whisper and I quickly walk right past Patrick. 

I head towards the bathroom, hoping that for whatever reason he doesn't just leave. I shove the women's bathroom door open and run my hand under cold water, taking a deep breath.

I'm sorry, what the actual fuck is happening? I meet the band, Pete offers my best friend and I meet and greet tickets, Pete smiles at me during "Saturday," Patrick stares at me when doing his damn hip swivel and throws me one of his picks, and now I'm fucking running into him again in a gas station at 1:30 in the morning?

I shake my head, gently patting my burnt hand dry, then wipe the white part of my Converse off. I know that coffee stain is an art form, but I'd rather it not be on my shoes. 

I walk back out after a minute or two in the bathroom to see Patrick at the counter, buying a bunch of snacks. I let out a little laugh and walk back to the cappuccino machines. I quickly wipe the floor off and throw the cup I dropped into the trash. I go to grab another cup, but I see Patrick run over to me, and he hands me one. "Here, one large cappuccino."

I grab it and look down, smiling like an idiot, "You didn't have to buy me another one."

"I insist," He says, "the guys and I needed a little pick-me-up, as well," I see him hold up the bag of chips and sweets.

I lift my head to look at him, and my heart melts when my eyes meet his.

"Thank you so much, Patrick. It's so nice running into you again," I give him another small smile before I head over to the counter. "Can I get thirty on pump two, please?"

I sit my cup down on the counter and dig into my purse to grab my wallet, but to my surprise, Patrick slides a card into the card reader before I could protest.

"What- Patrick, what are you doing?" I ask, looking over to him.

He just smiles and shakes his head, "You told me earlier you paid a pretty big chunk of money for meet and greet and front row seat tickets. Let me help you out. I'll get you a refund for Sam's ticket, as well." I just stare at him, mouth agape. As he pulls the card out of the card reader, he gives me a smile, "What's wrong?"

I put my head in my hands, trying to contain my tears. "I don't know, I don't know what's happening. This is crazy..."

"Here, let's go outside and we can talk for a minute," He puts his arm around me as he guides me out of the gas station after I grab my cappuccino.

Oh, my god. What the fuck?

As soon as we're out the door, I continue to walk to my car, and I notice him enter the tour bus.

I begin to fill my car, and about halfway through, I see him run back over to me. "What's up?" He asks.

"'What's up?'" I repeat his question, stifling a laugh. "I feel like I'm in a fucking dream. I have never had so many incredible things happen to me in one day before. I feel like this isn't real."

"It's real," He chuckles as he looks down at my burned hand, "Are you okay?"

I nod, "Yeah, I just...this is so weird, you have no idea how crazy this is."

He gives me a weird look, "What, you mean us running into each other again?"

"I mean, not only that. Meeting the band because I have a meet and greet ticket, fine, but then Pete saying he'll get us meet and greet tickets for Chicago, you kissing my cheek for a picture, you throwing your pick at me at the end of the show after looking at me during 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down,' then running into you hours later and you paying for my things? This is crazy."