“You should go to the game,” Patrick said before Spencer could speak up, a trace of ice in his voice.
“You sure?” Spencer croaked out, heart in his throat.
“Yeah. It’s just a fall festival. And like Ryan said, it’s going to be warm anyway. The game should be fun.”
“It should be a good game. They’re playing Ohio State,” Ryan said. “The last time Northwestern beat Ohio State, the stadium got so hyped a kid had a heart attack!”
“Nobody’s died of a heart attack at PumpkinFest,” Patrick said with a tight smile. He took another sip of his beer and clapped Spencer on the shoulder in the most dudebro, friends-only fashion of all time that knocked the wind out of him. “I have to finish up this report for work. Congratulations on getting the cast off, Spencer. I’m glad you can return to your old life.”
Patrick waved goodbye to the guys. He squeezed out of the kitchen and, to Spencer, out of his life.
8
Patrick
Patrick’s report for work consisted of sitting on his couch and watchingThe Sixth Sense, an ideal movie to bridge the October gap between fall and Halloween. A little bit of scares, a little bit of autumnal ambience. But sorry Haley Joel Osment, he just couldn’t get into the film.
He kept staring at his front door and the dull hum of Spencer’s party on the other side. He’d spent all day debating whether or not to show up. The party was not only a celebration of Spencer getting his cast off, but a return to his old life, one that didn’t include Patrick. He had his big group of friends, his sports leagues, and random hookups with guys he met at bars and online. He had taken a break from that because of his fall, but it wasn’t permanent.
Of course Spencer the volleyball bro didn’t want to attend PumpkinFest. His excitement about the event wasn’t real: it was him being nice to the guy helping him get on the train and get off in bed.
So what if Patrick liked him? He was a fun distraction to Spencer, and he couldn’t risk putting himself out there only to have his heart broken again. He had beenin itwith GFA, gave himself completely, only to have the rug pulled out from under him. And even though he’d known Spencer for a fraction of the time he knew GFA, his feelings felt stronger.
Eventually, the party noises got quieter until there was silence, like a candle burning to its ends. Patrick went to bed. Not to sleep. He stared at his ceiling for fifty-six minutes - he kept looking over at his clock to check.
He needed fresh air, something to clear his mind of Spencer. Patrick crept past Spencer’s door to the ladder for roof access. True to Ryan’s word, it was a balmy night. Somewhere in the sixties. A cool breeze that smelled like remnants of summer slipped through his hair. Sure, it was nice being able to stand up here not freezing his ass off, he admitted to himself. Patrick looked left to the skyscrapers of the Loop glowing in the distance, and the dark expanse of the Lake in front of him. Even though the weather wasn’t quite what he wanted, he was still glad to be here, grateful to have escaped from Los Angeles and the bad memories it held.
“Hey.”
Patrick turned around. Spencer stood in silhouette against the yellow glow of the city, his tall, muscular frame making Patrick’s head all fuzzy.
“I forgot you know about the roof access.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell our neighbors downstairs.”
God, he looked good. Stubble the perfect length. Still in his clothes from the party, a button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves and khaki shorts, like he just stepped off a yacht.
“It’s a beautiful city,” Spencer said, looking toward the Loop. “All because a cow knocked over a lamp.”
Patrick had heard the tale of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, who kicked over a lamp in the late 1800s and inadvertently burned Chicago to the ground. In its wake, architects from all the world flocked to the city to rebuild it into an architectural marvel. Patrick had moved to Chicago for the same reason - to burn down the memories of the past and rebuild himself new. But he felt like he was making the same mistakes all over again.
Spencer came closer. Patrick could feel a wall between them, yet the moment also vibrated with intimacy at the same time. His head was a jumble of clashing feelings.
“Congrats on getting the cast off,” he said.
“Thanks.” He looked down at his foot and wiggled it around for show. When he glanced back up at Patrick, he was completely serious. “I have a question. Did I do something?”
Patrick’s throat turned to sandpaper. “What do you mean?”
“I feel like things have...ever since I got my cast off, I feel like you’ve been acting kind of weird.”
“Aren’t I weird? That’s what you and Ryan said right on this roof a few months ago.”
“A different kind. I thought you were going to be at the party.”
“I told you. I had that thing for work.” A bolt of guilt struck Patrick. He hated lying, and he hated bad lies even more. What did it matter anyway? When he got to the party, Spencer paid him little attention.
“I’ll totally go to PumpkinFest with you. I still want to go...” His clipped tone said otherwise.
