Derrick
"What's your name?" I asked after he'd already gone through five refills.
"Isn't it rude to ask someone's name without introducing yourself first?" he replied, peeking through the rim of his cup before taking another sip.
"Is it? Okay then—I'm Derrick Arman Douglas." I extended my hand for a handshake.
"Patrick," he said, reaching for a quick shake before pulling back immediately.
"That's it? Just Patrick?" I teased. He didn't reply, but at least he'd given me his name. I could always ask for his full name later at school. "Alright then, Patrick… you can call me DAD."
He choked on his drink.
"What—cough cough—what the fuck?" His face flushed bright red, struggling for air as he sputtered.
"D.A.D. Derrick Arman Douglas… DAD… HAHAHAHA!" I burst out laughing, completely losing it at my own joke.
Patrick sputtered, clutching his cup like it might save him. "Shut—cough cough—up! That's—cough—so dumb!" His face burned red, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching, trying to hide a laugh.
I leaned back, smirking, letting him stew for a moment. "Come on, admit it—you kinda like it."
"I do not!" he shot back, though the slight shake of his shoulders betrayed him.
I raised an eyebrow. "Sure, Patrick. Totally serious."
"More like… Dickhead," he muttered, taking a deep breath to calm his coughing fit.
"You wanna see it?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face, though my tone carried all the seriousness I could muster.
"See what?" His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me, clearly suspicious.
"My… Dickhead." I smirked at him before bursting into laughter.
"Fucking moron," he snapped, standing up as if to storm off.
I grabbed his hand before he could leave, holding on just enough to stop him.
He froze, yanking his hand lightly, but I held on. "Let go!" he grumbled, eyes darting around like he didn't know whether to be angry or embarrassed.
"Not a chance," I said, smirking. "You're not escaping that easily."
He huffed glaring at me, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth—he was trying not to laugh. "You're insane," he muttered.
"Maybe," I admitted with a shrug. "But you've got to admit… it's kind of funny."
He rolled his eyes but didn't pull away. "Yeah… yeah, it's stupidly funny," he conceded, shaking his head.
I finally let go, watching as he settled back into the chair beside me, still frowning but no longer trying to hide the reluctant smile creeping across his face. The music from inside the house thumped faintly, but out here, it felt quieter—almost private, like our little bubble by the pool.
I leaned back again, raising my cup. "See? Not so bad out here. You survived my terrible jokes."
He snorted softly. "Barely," he said, and for a second, his guard dropped just enough that I could see he was actually enjoying himself.
"If you ever change your mind, just tell me… I'll stop. I promise I'll stop." I raised both hands in surrender, because he was glaring at me, his hand clenched into a fist. "Just tell me this—why were you disturbing Dawn earlier?"