He smiles at me softly, and my nerves start to melt away. “Yeah, please sit. We can go somewhere else to talk if you want? I didn’t know if you would want to spend more time here than you have to.”
“No, here is good.” There is no way my nerves can handle any more waiting, so I sit down in front of him and set my own drink on the table.
“Thanks. I don’t really know how to start this, so I guess I’ll just do it.” His mouth turns into a straight line like he doesn’t know how to quite find the words, but after a moment, he speaks, “So, do you remember that guy from yesterday? Greg?”
My eyes get wide, and I’ve never felt more startled in my life.
Why is he asking about Greg? Did he wait for him outside of The Brew yesterday? Did he confront Patrick? Is he really that crazy? Oh, god, I need to stop. If I keep thinking, my imagination is going to create scenarios that are probably way worse than whatever is happening, so I ask the question I don’t want the answer to. “Yeah…what about Greg?”
He sighs before he starts talking, which doesn’t help my internal freak out in the slightest. “This is going to sound so ridiculous, but I want you to know that everything I’m saying is the truth. Okay?”
“Okay.” While it sounds fairly suspicious, I feel like I can trust Patrick. Even though I don’t reallyknow him, he has been one of my regulars since I can remember, so if there was something off about him, I would probably know by now.
“Greg is my new boss.”
“No.” It comes out as a gasp.
With a shake of his head, he replies, “Yeah, I told you it was ridiculous.”
“How can that jerkface be anyone’s boss?” I cover my mouth quickly realizing that I just insulted his boss. “Oh, no. I just called your boss a jerkface. I’m so sorry. I’m sure he’s not an actual jerkface?”
He gives a low chuckle, and it manages to calm my nerves.
How does he keep doing that?
“It’s okay. Anyone who treats you like that deserves to be called a jerkface even if they are my boss.”
My attempt at feeling relieved fails since I still don’t know where this is going. Waiting patiently for him to continue, I lean back in my chair, peeling the skin around my thumbs.
“So, anyway. Let me get to the actual point.” Patrick takes a sip of the drink that I brought him and goes back to what he was saying. “Greg is apparently very into creating a community within our office, and he has these big plans to hold some social events in order to get to know everyone and their loved ones.”
“Oh, well that seems kinda nice?” It doesn’t make sense for Patrick to paint him as a good guy and a jerkface in the same conversation, so I’m still confused about what this has to do with me.
“I was hoping that he wouldn’t recognize me from yesterday morning, but he very clearly remembered me.”
What would it matter that he remembered—
“He thinks you and I are dating!” I yell out slightly louder than I mean to. Attempting to become invisible doesn’t work even as I slide deeper into my chair, and it definitely doesn’t stop a few people in line from looking over at us. Thankfully, they go back to staring at their phones before I have a chance to embarrass myself again.
Patrick’s expression doesn’t change, but there is something different about his eyes. “That wasn’t even the worst part. I was going to correct him, but then I realized that it would put me in an awkward situation, and you in a potentially worse one. I didn’t know what you already had told him, so I just let him talk. But then, he told me I should bring you to the next social event, and before I could think, I just said I would ask.” He puts his face in his hands and mumbles through them. “I’m sorry. I should have corrected him, but I don’t know what I was thinking.”
My chest aches at the regret he must be feeling, and in a wave of realization, it dawns on me that this is all my fault. “Oh my god, Patrick. I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to mess up your life by lying! I am so stupid for bringing you into this, and it is all 100% my own fault. God, I’m such an idiot. Please, how can I fix this?”
During my apologetic tangent, he reaches out to touch my hand. His action is unexpected, but it is kind. His genuine reaction to me frantically apologizing is trying to comfortme. I don’t know why, but it’s exactly what I needed to stop my head from spinning.
“Please don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not, and have never been, stupid, especially for doing whatever necessary to get a man to stop harassing you at work. You were just trying to keep yourself safe; there’s no need to apologize for that.” He rubs his thumb against the top of my hand, and it stuns me, sending a spark up my arm. His fingertips are calloused, but the rest of his hand is soft. But when I think too hard, my hand flinches.
As if he didn’t even realize what he was doing, he pulls away, and an emptiness fills where his hand was. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like when people say mean things about themselves, especially when they’re not true. I’ve been thinking about how to fix this mess, and I have an idea.”
I pull my hands back to the safety of my lap since his touch is notably missing. When our eyes meet again, his are hopeful, like his idea can repair the chaos I’ve created. “Well, I really want to help since I got us into this. What are you thinking? What can I do?”
He rubs the back of his neck and lowers his eyes to the table. “It is a little far-fetched, so I don’t know.”
“Well, the worst I can say is no, so you might as well say it.” He strikes me with an instant look of relief, like what I just said took a weight off of his shoulders, but I don’t question it. Anyways, what’s the worst he can say? It’s not like I wasn’t the one who set all of this into motion...
“Oh god, this sounds so ridiculous, but bear with me.” He appears to be fighting a battle in his own head when he finally looks me in the eyes and blurts it out. “What if we fake dated?”
Out of all of the things I was expecting him to say, that was not one of them. Stuck between wanting to laugh in his face and running away, I sit quietly, staring at him, not even aware that my mouth fell open in shock.
