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Patrick: Hey stranger. I miss you.
Tears blurred my sight as my heart ached for him. I loved him so fucking much.
Me: Hey you. I miss you, too.
Patrick: I wasn’t sure you’d text me back. But you didn’t say we couldn’t talk. So I took a chance.
Me: I’m glad you did.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the next set of dots to appear. A few minutes went by, and I was afraid that was it. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him.
Me: Patrick?
Patrick: I’m here, babe. Just don’t know what to say.
My eyes filled with more tears. I could see his handsome face in my mind.
Me: You can say anything to me.
Patrick: Okay.
I waited again for him to respond as the dots rolled, then stopped, only to start again.
Patrick: Good concert tonight.
My eyes narrowed, then widened at the message. How would he know?
Me: What do you mean? Are you asking me, or telling me?
Patrick: I’m telling you.
I jumped up from the bed.
Me: Are you here in Phoenix?
Patrick: Maybe. Would you be mad if I said yes?
My eyes filled again, and I wanted to see him.
Me: No. Why would I be mad?
Patrick: Because you’re already mad at me. And I’m really sorry.
Me: Where are you?
Patrick: In my room. Michael emailed me the itinerary before the Bowl.
Me: What number?
Patrick: 1524
Patrick: You want to come over? We could talk.
Did I want to see him? Of fucking course. I’d missed him. But it would hurt like hell to leave him again.
Me: Yeah, I do.
Patrick: Thank fuck. I’m waiting for you.
