Where Is Your Boy? A Patrick Stump Fanfiction

This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race

Chapter 8:

This Ain't A Scene, It's an Arms Race

*Patrick's P.O.V.*

Shortly before I'd got Willow home, we'd swapped numbers. As soon as I remember this, I get my phone out of my pocket, and type her number into my phone. I wasn't going to call her yet, but I'd text her. I save her as a contact on my phone, and get texting.

Me: Hey!

Willow: Hey.

Me: You good?

Willow: Yeah, thanks. You?

Me: Good thanks.

So here I was, starting a conversation with her. I pause before writing again to her. I'd wanted to ask her this. Some of the guys were going, so it wouldn't be just me and her, but I'd still get to know her.

Me: Hey, I just wanted to know if you wanted to come down with me to Fawn Park with me and some of the guys. They're having a carnival down there, and the guys are bringing lady friends, so...

Willow: ...You know, you can call me your girlfriend you know. We may not have known each other for long, but we're certainly not acquaintances! Yes, I'll go with you, Trick. I'm not going to say no.

I smile at my phone screen stupidly.

Me: Awesome. See you at 7 then?

Willow: Sure. I have to go. See you then xx

Me: Okay then. Bye xx

I throw my phone onto the counter. I'd asked her on a date.

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*Willow's P.O.V.*

I fiddle with my hair and think. Had I done the right thing here? I probably didn't know hardly anyone there, and it was a carnival. Good mix?

I grab my favourite black jeans and the grey sweater I always wore on New Year's Eve. It was a tradition, but it certainly wasn't warm outside at night at this point in the year. I spent a few hours obsessing over my hair and make-up until I ended up with my usual winged eyeliner, and deep red lip-stain I always wore. My fedora was firmly on my head, as usual. When I was finally finished getting ready, Mom called me downstairs.

"It's a shame you're going out, Willow. I need some one to look after the boys whilst I go down to the department store."

I frown at her. Was she trying to make me feel bad? This is the first time I'd ever really been to a social event. She should be happy!

"Mom, take Brandon and Evan with you! I have to leave in..." I look up at the kitchen clock. "...10 minutes! Patrick'll be here soon."

She sighs, and walks into the living room. I hear the boys wail, signalling that they weren't too happy to be dragged down to the department store. I understood. I used to hate shopping trips as much as they did. I peek my head around the lounge door, and peck my mom on the cheek, before making my way out of the door. I'd rather wait for Patrick outside than inside. My mom was cool when it came to boys, but I wasn't prepared to sit around today. I pace across the front yard a few times, and play around with my freshly painted nails I had only done about an hour ago. Was I nervous? Why? I suppose I had every right to be, I'd always been socially awkward, and I wasn't sure how many people were going to be there. I look up to see Patrick making his way down the street, and all the worry just disappears. I run up to him and kiss his cheek.

"Hi!" I say with a little too much enthusiasm. I silently curse at myself, and pray I wouldn't be like this for the rest of the night. He gives me a beaming smile, which makes my heart melt.

"Hi." He returns my kiss, and we walk up the cobbled part of my street.

My eyes were glued to him. He looked amazing. He wore his signature style, except a flannel shirt in replacement to his casual buttoned ones he usually wore.

"I don't usually do this sort of thing, Imogen and the guys invited me and I thought I'd bring you."

I frown. "Imogen invited you, but not me? Hey, I thought we were friends!" I shrug.

"She was probably going to ask you before I did. Don't worry."

I suddenly reach for his hand and interlace our fingers together. He squeezes my hand in acceptance, and swings our hands up in the air, just like parents do with little kids.

"Have you ever been to this carnival then?" I ask.

"Once. As a kid. It's been going on for years, you know." I didn't know. And it just shows how unpopular I am.

**********************************************************

*Patrick's P.O.V.*

When we finally got to the carnival, I stop to look at Willow. She looked pale, slightly eerie but still managed to look beautiful.

"You okay there? You look a little pale." I ask.

"Yeah... I'm not one for big groups. I haven't done something like this for years, Patrick." She sighs and looks up at the swiftly darkening sky.

"Just keep hold onto my hand. As long as you've got hold of me, you'll be okay."

She lays her head on my shoulder, and I kiss her forehead slightly. Before she could reply, we see Imogen walk from out of nowhere almost.

"Patrick! Nice to see you could make it!" She greets me with a beaming smile, which fades only slightly when she sees Willow.

"Oh, Willow? You too." She turns briskly in her heels and leads us to the carnival grounds.

She taps on a muscular guy's shoulder, who was talking to some other guys, and a few girls. He turns around to look at us.

"Jamie, this is Patrick. Patrick Stumph. He's from our school, he just doesn't show his face a lot." Imogen introduces me a little too enthusiastically. The guy nods at me and stares long and hard at Willow. She looks up at me, her hands slightly shaking. I squeeze her hand for comfort.

"So, who's this then?" His voice sounded deep and harsh. Willow looks behind her in panic that she'd have to speak to this guy. She walks over to a stall far away, and I go to follow her, but Imogen pulls me back.

"Her name is Willow. She doesn't speak much. Bit emo, if you ask me."

I tug my arm away from her, and run over to Willow. Shame Imogen was a girl... I would of knocked her out there and then.