What's for Breakfast?

Twenty-Four: All To Myself

I drink three bottles of beer and devour a pack of potato chips while watching Friends, hoping it will calm my nerves. But it's no good. It's that bad. Friends is my last resort. 

Why did I have to see him tonight? Why did he have to be in this same condominium? Damn it, Patrick. This is all your fault!

I feel a little woozy by season 5 episode 3. Ten episodes in. Great. At least I'll fall asleep right away.

Around midnight, I clean up, shower, and walk straight to my room. I'm transported to dreamland as soon as I bury myself beneath layers of blankets.

The sleep I've wanted to last for a long time ends because of my alarm clock, and I curse myself for forgetting to turn it off last night. I dwell on the bed for fifteen more minutes, struggling to return to sleep. But I fail, so with a grunt, I pull myself up. Then something else registers.

Shit. We're supposed to check in at the hotel today since tomorrow is the wedding.

I glimpse at myself in the mirror, and I freak out at the dark circles under my eyes. I'm so out of it.

I step out, massaging my temples, still light-headed. Patrick is there in the living room, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

"Hey, sis. You're a little late," he mutters, squinting at me. "And why do you look so tired?" 

"What are you doing here?" I go straight to the fridge to relieve my parched throat.

"I just want to make sure we're not gonna lose a bridesmaid." 

"You're not. Thank me later," I hiss, then I drink a full glass of water, refreshing me a little. I march to the living room. 

"You can leave now," I said, gesturing to the door.

He grimaces. "I want to talk, Sam. Are you okay?"  

"Yes. My brother and his best friend stabbed me in the back. Why wouldn't I be?" 

He shifts in his seat. "Let me explain to you, alright?"

I arch my eyebrows as I sit beside him, crossing my legs. Patrick draws in a long breath. "I know Derek hasn't confessed anything to you, and I shouldn't be butting in. But Sam... You guys are going in circles. You have feelings for each other. It's so frustrating you're acting like this."

I click my tongue. "He doesn't feel that way, Patrick. And I have the right to be mad."

"Yes, you do. I'm not taking that away from you. But Derek does like you, Sam. He does," he insists.

I scoff, "No, Patrick. All he's been doing is sending me mixed signals. Then when we feel like something is bound to make us... Connect, he withdraws. He's leading me on," I snap. "And now I learn he drove away all the guys I used to like? And you enabled him. I'm mad at you too. You knew how much I cried over Kurt!"

Patrick swallows hard, his expression filled with remorse. "I know... I'm so sorry, Sam. But you have to trust me on this. He likes you. He always has."

"What are you saying? You knew? Since when? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"It wasn't my secret to tell, Sam," Patrick says apologetically. 

My brows furrow. "Aren't you feeling weird talking to me about this?"

A chuckle escapes his lips. "I should be, shouldn't  I?"

"Derek always provoked me, Pat. He teased me all the time, and he flaunted all his girlfriends. You were there! You can't expect me to believe that."

His smile falters. "Derek didn't know what to do so you'd notice him."