Twenty-One and Invincible

I wasn’t about to deny the fact that Patrick had been on my mind a lot over the next few days. It was hard not to think about; a hockey superstar living across the street from me, flirting with me (a lot) and visiting me at work every so often. He’d gotten a hold of my cell phone number from Grandma, too. If I wasn’t so sure that Patrick wasn’t some creepy stalker, I’d have been worried.

I was at work, spinning around in my chair as Gabie leaned against the counter. She hadn’t been in the office in a couple of days because she needed to go on assignment for a story in a neighbouring city. “So, how was dinner with Patrick and the folks?”

I sighed loudly. “Oh, Lord, where to start?” I mused, thinking back to that night. I told Gabie everything that everyone said, how awkward I felt, how Patrick asked me out to dinner when Grandma forced me to walk him home.

“That’s so adorable!” Gabie cooed once I’d finished my story. “Carm, you’ve gotta do it.”

“What?” I sputtered. “Gabs, I don’t even know if I like him in that way.”

“How could you not like him?” Gabie nearly demanded. “He’s cute, he’s rich, he’s got a smokin’ body from being a professional hockey player--”

“It takes more than money and good looks for me to like someone, Gabie,” I reminded her. “I’m not going to date him if I don’t have feelings for him.”

Gabie tapped her finger against her chin and stared at me curiously for a few seconds. Then she asked, “When you’re around him, do you get worried that you’re not sure what to say, then when you say it, you overanalyze in your head whether or not it was the right thing to say?”

I blinked a few times. “Uh. I guess.”

“Not ‘you guess’. Yes or no.”

“Fine. Yes.”

“Do your palms get sweaty when you’re around him?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“Okay, okay. Yes. Grammar Nazi.”

“I’m a writer, it’s what I do. Okay, and do you ever catch yourself staring at him when he isn’t looking, and then when he does make eye contact with you, do you look away really fast and then feel super awkward immediately after?”

“...Yes.”

“It’s settled then,” Gabie smirked. “You like him. Now, date.”

“Gabie!” I whined. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” she questioned. “I mean, come on, Carm. You’re gorgeous. You work hard. You take care of your grandparents. You deserve someone who’s going to make you happy. And why not Patrick Kane? He’s better than the last guy you dated anyway.”

“In Darren’s defense, I had told him that we were taking a break when he went out with that other girl,” I reminded her. “So technically that’s no harm no foul.”

“It’s not going to kill you to go out to dinner with him once,” Gabie continued, ignoring my statement. “You need to get out more is all I’m saying. And Kane looks like he’d be up for a good time.”

I was about to protest when I heard the front doors open and I peered over her shoulder at who it was. By the look on my face, Gabie knew immediately who had arrived.

“I’ll just talk to you later,” she winked. The she added in a hushed whisper, “Get ‘im, girl!” And she was off.

“Hey,” I said to Patrick as he approached my desk. “Don’t you have either a practice or a game to go to today?”

“I’ve got a game tonight at seven,” he shrugged. “But I figured I’d grab a bite to eat before my pre-game nap. It’s only twelve-thirty, want to come join me for lunch?”

I glanced off in the direction Gabie had gone. Usually I’d eat lunch with her, but since she had so shamelessly abandoned me, and I was getting hungry, I said, “Okay.”

Patrick grinned. “Awesome. Grab your jacket and let’s head out.”

I followed Patrick out into the cooling October air. The air was starting to get nippy and so I pulled up the collar of my coat to cover my exposed neck. Patrick glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t you find a warmer coat?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” I asked, tugging the fabric closer to my body. “It’s warm enough.”

“You’re still shivering,” he stated. “So obviously not.”

“Sorry if I’m not conditioned to the cold,” I muttered. “I don’t spend ninety-nine percent of my time on a sheet of ice shooting a puck around at a net.”

“No, you answer phones and get dolled up and talk about clothes all day,” he shrugged. “I get it.”

I groaned inwardly a little bit. We were both being snippy and childish, and for no reason. There was something about Patrick that both irritated and intrigued me--maybe it was his devil-may-care swagger or the way he just looked he didn’t care about anything anyone thought of him. Maybe I was jealous of that because of all the pressure my job had to look good all the time. I wasn’t sure. Either way, no matter how many little jabs I directed towards him, he seemed unaffected.

I followed him into the small lunch diner where he was greeted by the people behind the counter.

“I come here a lot,” he said. “They treat me normally. I like it.”

“That’s nice,” I commented, actually meaning it. “Must be hard sometimes, being in the spotlight constantly.”

“It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be sometimes,” he agreed. “But you know, it comes with the job. Do you want to sit here?” He pointed at a table towards the middle of the restaurant. I nodded and went to sit down. Patrick swatted my hand away and pulled out my chair for me. I sat down, eyeing him cautiously.

“What’s your game, Kane?” I questioned suspiciously.

He stared at me, long and hard, for what seemed like forever. “My game?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know, being all...chivalrous and stuff. It’s weird. What are you up to?”

Patrick smiled and sighed, shaking his head. “Let me explain something to you, Carmen. And I need you to listen to me, because I think that not only will it clear up a lot of stuff for you about who I am, but maybe you’ll get it and stop trying to make fun of me. Okay?”

I blinked a few times. “Uh. Okay.”

“I, Patrick Timothy Kane Jr, am not like how they portray me in the media. Yeah, sure, I’ve gotten into brushes with the law. Yes, I drink, yes, I like to go out with my friends. I enjoy the night life. But so does every other twenty-one year old. Hell, kids who can just barely call themselves teenagers probably drink more than I do. The only reason I get called out for it is because I have a certain status. You with me so far?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve made mistakes. I’ve learned from those mistakes and have sworn never to make them again. My parents raised me right. They taught me how to treat women, how to respect them, especially since I have three younger sisters. And they are my best friends. I’m not a bad person, I guess is the point I’m trying to get across. So, are you going to give us a chance to be friends, or are you going to keep trying to push me away because you think I’m the Pat Kane who beats up cab drivers and is constantly drunk on a daily basis?”

I was quiet. I was about to open my mouth to speak, but he added something else.

“You work at a publication, Carmen. Think about it. How things are written, how things are misconstrued. How things change as they’re passed on through word of mouth. Get a chance to know the real me, and then if you still don’t think I’m worth the time, then I won’t bother you anymore. I promise.”

After a few seconds, I finally found my voice. “Look...I’m sorry, Pat. You’re right, I have been judging you and relating you to the things I’ve read on the Internet. And that’s not being fair. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you so many times.” I held out my hand to him. “Truce?”

He grinned. “Friends?”

I laughed. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Awesome,” he smiled, taking my hand and shaking it. “Because otherwise, that would have made lunch super weird.”