Patrick was here again.

Six pack of beer and an outfit that had such an audible presence you had to wonder whether or not he lost some kind of bet.

Sunglasses pushed up into his hair, he puts the beer away and immediately goes to the pantry to rummage for snacks, mumbling something about how his phone 'mysteriously' died.

He can see your expression as he grabs a bag of chips, murmuring under his breath. "Stop acting like you don't love me. Just admit it."

Right now, it was pissing you off that you actually did. As he took stock of your cupboards like some scruffy raccoon.

You're not sure you ever met a man so incompetent, which is a hard bar to slide under. But Patrick makes it look like the simplest task in the world.

He crosses back over to the living room, flopping down on your couch and grabbing the remote. When was the last time he brushed his hair? Ate an actual vegetable? Were you turning into his mom? Felt like it. You and your manchild.

"Do you have ESPN? I thought you did last time I was over." Christ. He sure was hot, though.