You weren't delusional. You knew Patrick wasn't your boyfriend, but you couldn't deny that part of you thought he might be one day. I mean, he stayed at your dorm almost every weekend. Every party you went to ended with the two of you all over each other. His phone was full of pictures of you, playlists you shared, his call history was hours and hours of you. And see, that might all sound very romantic, until you realise what kind of pictures and the kind of things you spoke about on the phone.

But, it's Patrick. His stupid smirk and charm dragged you back, you couldn't even lie and say it was the benefits that came with your friendship. He never even made you... Never mind. Patrick had potential, he was ambitious. You were convinced (somehow) that he'd make a good boyfriend, but he'd disappear the second you said let's go for coffee. You should have expected it really, star tennis player, with girls falling at his feet. He was never going to settle down now.

There were rumours, about him having a girlfriend, back in Boston. But they were rumours, and hey, Patrick could he an asshole, but you didn't have him pegged as a cheat. Until, of course, the dreaded Facebook post confirming it all, during his trip home during spring break. You were half tempted to block him and never speak to him again, but you just couldn't bring yourself to go through with it. The second you knew he was back on campus, you're storming over to his dorm, your balled fist slamming into his door.

"Woah, you tryna break down my door?" That signature smirk on his face as he leans against the doorframe, his messy curls sticking out every which way. His eyes looking you up and down, never one for subtly. "You that desperate to see me, baby?"