patrick hockstetter driving you to school — gf edition
• he doesn’t ask if you want a ride. he just shows up, engine rumbling outside your house like a warning
• you’ll hear the horn once. not twice. move fast or he’s driving off (he won’t, but he wants you to think he will)
• when you finally come out, he’s leaning against the driver’s side door, sunglasses on, smoke curling from his lips, checking you out shamelessly
• “took you long enough,” he mutters, but his smirk says he likes the view
• you reach for the car door, and he slaps your hand away, opens it himself, like, “what—you forget you got a man for that?”
• the passenger seat is a disaster: school supplies, food wrappers, old shoes, a lighter, cassette tapes he made himself, maybe even a switchblade
• you sit down and his hand is already sliding onto your thigh
• he always drives too fast, brakes late on purpose just to hear you gasp and clutch the door
• he laughs when you do, “what, you don’t trust me?”
• never uses turn signals. takes corners like he’s in a getaway chase
• his music is loud as hell, mostly The Cure, Bauhaus, maybe some early NIN or random stuff he won’t explain
• he never turns it down when you talk. if you want him to hear you, you have to lean in real close
• when you do, he glances at you sideways with that stupid grin and mutters, “careful, baby, keep leaning in like that and i’m gonna pull over.”
• half the time you’re talking, he’s not even listening. he’s staring at your lips, your legs, the way your skirt’s riding up
• “you wearing that all day?” he asks, eyes sharp. “you tryna piss me off?”
• jealous. but in that low-simmer way. he’ll let you wear what you want, but you better be loyal while you do
• glares at dudes in other cars who look at you
• sometimes he drives with just his knee so he can keep both hands on you
• if you’re fighting? he still shows up. honks like nothing happened. you get in, he lights a cigarette, drives in silence, hand still on your thigh like always
• pulls into the school lot like a menace, music blaring, windows down, parks crooked just to be a dick
• doesn’t care who sees. in fact, likes when people look. likes it even more when they look at you
• before you can open the door, he grabs your wrist: “wait.”
• pulls you in for a kiss, hard, messy, hand gripping your jaw
• bites your bottom lip, pulls back just a little, says, “now you can go.”
• sometimes slips your gum out of your mouth and pops it into his own
• fixes your lipstick with his thumb. “you look good, babe.”
• lets you go with one last grab of your ass or a whispered, “see ya at lunch” before you step out
patrick hockstetter driving you to school — neighbor edition (not dating)
• it starts because your parents ask him to—“patrick, would you mind giving her a ride? you know she goes to your school.”
• he says “yeah, sure” in front of them, but looks at you like don’t get comfortable, princess.
• first time he picks you up, he doesn’t even say hi. just unlocks the passenger door, already smoking, music blaring
• you slide in quiet, and he doesn’t look at you, just mutters “don’t slam my door.”
• his car smells like cigarettes, old cologne, and something sharp you can’t name
• there’s a knife in the cup holder. a lighter and cigarette butts in the ashtray.
• he drives fast. never speaks except to say, “you always take this long to get ready?”
• sometimes catches you looking at him and smirks like he knows you’re curious
• wears rings. wears apathy like a second skin
• doesn’t offer to carry your books, but you swear his eyes drop to your skirt when you climb in
• rests his hand on the gearshift near your thigh. lets it stay there. doesn’t say anything about it
• one morning he leans in close just to reach the radio, and his voice is in your ear:“your hair smells good.”
• plays music too loud. doesn’t turn it down when you talk. if you want him to hear, you have to raise your voice
• you notice he always checks your legs when you get in, even if he pretends not to
• says weird, offhand things that stick with you all day. like: “you got a boyfriend?”
• you don’t know what to say, so you don’t, but you think about it. you think about him
• you tell yourself you’re not into him, but you still peek out the window when you hear his engine in the mornings
• when other girls flirt with him at school, he barely looks at them, but sometimes he looks at you
• one day he says, real casual, “i could pick you up after school too, y’know. if you ask nice.”
• you ask. and that’s when the game really starts
patrick hockstetter driving you to school — younger sister edition
• complains every single morning about having to drive you. “get in. hurry up. you make me late, i’m leaving you behind.”
• but never actually leaves without you. your parents would flip out.
• you hop in with your backpack half-zipped and a toaster waffle in your mouth
• “you look like shit,” he mutters
• “so do you,” you shoot back, not even blinking
• you have a silent agreement to not talk to each other before 8am unless it’s to insult one another
• you always try to change the radio to something like Madonna or Cyndi Lauper—he smacks your hand away and turns it back to his creepy goth shit
• you says the band he likes sounds like “vampire vomit”
• he threatens to leave you on the side of the road
• has, on multiple occasions, swerved a little just to make you scream and spill your drink
• if anyone else picks on you at school though? he’s throwing punches. no hesitation
• once someone called you a bitch in gym class and Patrick showed up at their locker that afternoon like, “you like your teeth? then don’t say her name again.”
• you’ll fight like cats and dogs in the car, but if you’re crying or upset, he’ll get quiet
• pulls over. lights a cigarette. flicks his eyes over to you and says, “who was it?”
• you won’t say. he already finds out
• he’s the only one allowed to ruin your day. everyone else can go to hell
• on days when you actually look cute—hair curled, nice outfit on—he glares and says,“change your clothes. you’re in junior high, not a porno.”
• once you had a nosebleed in the car and used his band tee in the backseat to wipe it. he still hasn’t forgiven you
• one time, he let you paint his nails black while you were stuck in traffic.
• drops you off at school and says, “if anyone gives you shit, tell them your brother’s crazy. they’ll believe it.”
• and they do.