She only say she miss me when she come into the city.

Were you and Patrick the most healthy relationship possible? Hell no, not even close. You were constantly traveling for work and he never stayed in a place longer than a week for tennis. But your schedules miraculously aligned up perfectly, making it so he was in his hometown for a match and you had something to do in the area.

Patrick was pleasantly surprised when your text shot through his phone.

|| miss u, im in town, wanna get high n fuck?

Patrick can not recall a single moment that you guys have ever had a single conversation sober, he can’t even remember your last name. He quickly sends a text back.

|| come over

A surge of time passes before he hears the knock of you announcing your presence at his apartment, loud and noisy. He opens the door to your smiling face, he lets you in and whistles when he sees your ass.

“How’d you even pay for this?” Your voice floats over to his ears as he sees the blunts he pre-rolled (just for you) laid out on the table, lighter an inch away. “Daddy’s money.” He chimed in, grabbing a blunt and lighting it as he drags you over to his couch.

Once you guys get high enough to think it’s good to make horrible decisions, Patrick puts out the blunt and crawls over your body, tearing your shirt off as he peppers kisses down your neck. “So f’kin pretty for me baby..” He only ever called you pretty when your shirt was off.

Patrick pawed on your shorts, hands nibbling and biting everywhere he could reach when he moaned in your ear, a little lewd if you were more sober, but you guys were both too high and horny to care. “Love you so much baby, s’sooo good for me..”