I chuckled nervously, "H-Hey, Pete."
"You know each other?" Joe inquired, looking down at him and then up at me.
"Yeah!" Pete exclaimed, "He goes to-"
"The same grocery store as he does," I interrupted him suddenly, meeting everyone's gazes nervously as Joe's house started to heat up. Pete raised his eyebrow. "Yeah, I...I go to the same grocery store as he does."
"Oh...cool, I guess?" Joe smiled, "See, Patrick? You had nothing to worry about! You already know them!"
"I don't know who they are," I muttered, pointing to the guys standing in between Joe and Pete on the stairs.
"Oh, them? That's John and that's Ben," He explained. The two of them grinned and waved to me. I waved back. "John plays guitar and Ben plays the drums."
"You play drums too, right?" Ben asked me, leaning against the wall and slipping his hands into his pants pockets.
"Yeah, but he's a better singer," Joe answered for me, managing to somehow insult me while at the same time complimenting me.
I heaved a sigh and looked back over my shoulder at the front door down the hallway, wanting nothing more than to leave. It was so close yet so far away, but I knew if I tried to leave, Joe would just bring me back another time. I might as well get it over with now, as opposed to later.
Joe wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close to his side, pinching my cheek and adding, "But he's a little shy and doesn't want to sing for you guys. So don't pressure him about it." I glared at him.
"It's cool, man," John assured me, giving a slight nod of his head.
"Yeah, you don't have to sing for us if you don't want to," Ben agreed.
"Nah, I want to hear him sing," Pete objected, pushing his way up the stairs so that he was eye level with me. A sly grin crawled onto his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Come on, Patrick. Sing for us."
I stared at him blankly, multiple emotions building up inside of me. Anger, nervousness, embarrassment. I found myself forgetting to breathe, holding my breath as sweat started to bead on my forehead and soak my hands that were clenched into fists by my sides.
"What's the matter?" He taunted, stepping up out of the basement and bumping into me, "Cat got your tongue?"
"Dude, lay off of him," Joe muttered, sticking his arm in between us, "If he doesn't want to sing, he doesn't have to sing. He'll sing for us when he's ready."
"Yeah!" I exclaimed, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat as my cheeks grew red in embarrassment, "Yeah..."
*****
Joe brought me back home later that day, and I would say I thanked him for having me over, but if I did, I'd be lying to you. He pulled his dad's car into my driveway and I swore I'd never gotten out of a car faster in my entire life.
"Patrick, wait!"
I rolled my eyes and froze on the steps leading up to the front door. Again, so close yet so far away.
He got out and closed the driver's side door behind him, walking around the car and jogging up to me, "Hey, I'm sorry I dragged you to my house today. I know you hated it. I just...I really want to do this band thing and I really want you to be a part of it. But if you don't want to be a part of it, you don't have to be." A disappointed expression crossed his face as he tilted his head down and rubbed the back of his neck, "I just thought it could be something cool that we could do together, you know? We never seem to do anything together anymore..."
I knew what he was doing. He'd been doing it since we became friends in elementary school. It was his favorite thing to do, playing the guilt card. And the worst part of it all was that he knew he was playing it. And he knew it worked. Especially with me.
I heaved a sigh and turned to face him, "I'll think about it, okay?" He glanced up at me, a glint of hope in his eyes. "I just...I've got of a lot shit to deal with right now. So ask me again later, Joe, alright?"
"Okay," A smile crept onto his face.
I shook my head, "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Joe smiled even wider before spinning around and retreating to his dad's car and slipping inside. He started it up and backed out of the driveway, knocking over our trash can my mom had put out by the curb for the garbagemen to come and get the next morning.
I chuckled a little bit and went inside, immediately being bombarded with questions from my mom.
"What did you do?"
"Did you have fun?"
"When's the next time you guys are going to hang out?"
"Why don't you hang out with Joe more often? He's such a nice kid and I think he brings out the best in you."
"Is that why you've been so depressed and suicidal lately? Because you've been locking yourself in your bedroom, keeping to yourself, rather than hanging out with your friend?"
"Oh my god, Mom!" I snapped at her, pounding my fist down on the dinner table and shaking the plates and cups we had in front of us, "Cool it with the questions, would you?"
"I'm just trying to talk to you..." She mumbled, twirling her fork around in her spaghetti and frowning.
"Well could you try and talk to me about stuff I actually want to talk about?" I asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.
"Like what?" She questioned, throwing her fork down and crossing her arms over her chest, "What is something you want to talk about? Tell me!"
"I-I don't know, just...something else. Please." A blush crept up into my cheeks and I averted my gaze down to my plate, mirroring her actions. Silence blanketed over the two of us.
She heaved a sigh and stood up, taking her plate with her. "Just remember to put your dishes in the sink when you're done," She muttered as she left the room, leaving me all alone. I shook my head and shoved my plate of food away from me.
