Penalty Shot

Another night, another party. Only tonight it was supposedly to welcome me to the Blackhawks family. To be honest, I knew it was just an excuse for Pat to throw a party. I stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what I was doing. Who was it I was trying to be? A few years ago, you wouldn't catch me dead in a short frilly black mini skirt that was so tight there was no way I could walk up stairs without ripping it, and an off-the-shoulder wrap-up black and white striped tank that I tucked into the skirt.

I heard the front door open from down the hall, and loud voices soon filled the apartment. Sighing, I turned on my heel and sat on the edge of my bed. One by one, I slipped on and tied up my peep-toe high heels before heading out to the main event. I made sure to close my bedroom door behind me -- the last thing I wanted was to come back and find random people going through my stuff, or worse, having sex on my bed.

"There she is!" I smiled warmly, accepting the pleasant greeting as I met Pat's teammate in the kitchen area, away from where the main crowd had settled in the living room.

"What's up, Sharpie?" I asked him, taking the can of beer he offered me. I decided the only way I was going to get through this whole night, was if my nerves were calm and collected -- and that meant I needed alcohol. Vodka would've been preferred, but I'd search for that stuff later.

"I think I should be asking you the same question." I looked at him confused. "What's up with you and Toe-es?"

"What are you talking about?" Please don't tell me everyone thought Jonathan and I had something going on now -- if that got to Pat, my God, he'd shit a brick. The kid had a stick up his ass whenever it came to the idea of his sisters or myself dating one of his teammates.

"So we're going to play it that way, eh?" He chuckled, obviously finding enough amusement for himself to keep this talk up.

"I have no idea what you're going on about," I shook my head, even rolling my eyes shortly after.

"Sureee, Montgomery. Whatever you say." He laughed again, and I opened up the can of beer in my hand. "But just so you know, if this is your attempt to make him notice you, it's certainly gonna work." He made a motion towards my outfit, and I cringed a little. Maybe it would have been better to have just kept on my pair of sweats and Pat's old Knights t-shirt I used as a pajama top.

"This wasn't - That's not -" I sighed, giving up on trying to convince him against it. "Whatever, Permanent Marker." I spat his way, trying to shut up his vocal enjoyment.

"Hey now!" He gasped, but still laughed along. Just as I gulped down another swig from the can, I felt something push me and I stumbled into someone.

"Ow, what the fuc-" Looking up I knew exactly who had shoved me, and I turned to shoot Patrick a glare.

"Started early, eh?" I heard the boy I had just fallen into laugh. Why was everyone laughing at me or about me today? I did manage to get a whiff of the pretty boy's cologne and felt my legs turn to jelly a little. The boy cleaned up nicely, that was for sure.

I quickly attempted to regain my own composure, standing up straight again and looking at him. Jonny and his great dark eyes. "No, your teammate's being a loser though." I raised my voice when I called Patrick a 'loser', making sure Pat heard it loud and clear over the noise coming from the other room.

Jon laughed, "He always is. It's best you learn early on." I smirked, happy to have him on my side. I watched his eyes move slightly, trying to hide the fact that he was, in fact, looking me over. This time though, I didn't get a weird tumbling feeling in the pit of my stomach like I usually seemed to when random guys would check me out. I had to move the can up to my lips to hide my appearing smile just as my eyes met his.

"Good game last night, by the way. I didn't get the chance to tell you that." I said, breaking the small stretch of silence between us.

He smiled appreciatively, "Thanks."

I was about to speak again before I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me away from him. "Seriously, what the hell is up with people pushing me around." I grumbled automatically as my body came to a full stop and was whipped around to find Pat standing in front of me. We were now out of the kitchen though, and I knew the look on my best friend's face. It was the main reason I hadn't allowed him to see my outfit before people got here.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Well, at least he jumped over the pleasantries.

"It's called a skirt, and a top. Or clothing, if you'd prefer." My smartass comments were the last thing that were needed.

"Well change. Now."

"Who are you, my mother?"

"No, if I were your mother you'd be grounded for three years and told to go to church. Actually, if I was your mother, I'd lock you in your room for years to come."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Aren't you supposed to be getting drunk right now?"

"Shut up, Payson. I am not going to let you parade around like a second-rate slut. You're better than that."

"Wow ..." I looked at him, trying to figure out if he had actually said that to me. "Need I remind you that the last girl you took home wasn't even wearing underwear. Oh, but wait, I forgot, I'm only allowed to be a prude who stays at home and waits for her best friend to call so she'll come and pick him up."

"Payson, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"You know what, forget it." I finished off the rest of the bottle of beer in my hand and handed it off to Pat. "You're not going to ruin my night, so how about this: You go find whatever first rate slut you can find, and I'll go do my own thing. Don't worry about me, a second rate slut has a less success rate than a more classy one. And F-Y-I, you don't know shit about who I'm better than."

Turning on my heel, I walked back into the kitchen more aggravated than I had when Pat had pulled me out of it. I snaked my hand around Jon's bottle and downed it, handing it back to him only to receive a dumbfounded look staring back at me. "What? I was thirsty." I shrugged, retrieving a laugh in return from him.

"You look really great, by the way." I overheard him say, and felt myself blush a little.

Secretly hoping you couldn't tell due to the dimmed lighting throughout the apartment, I looked back at him with a grateful smile. "Why thank you." I added a little curtsy, suddenly feeling a lot less tightly wounded as I usually was in crowded spaces. It was most likely the effects of alcohol, but tonight, I was quite glad for it. I wanted to piss off Pat, and I knew exactly which buttons to press to do so. "You don't look so bad yourself."

He chuckled, "Well, thanks, but you look better."

I laughed along, "Well, I'm not gonna argue with that."

"Since I drank the rest of yours, I'll go grab us another drink."

It was just half an hour later, but I had already drank six bottles of beer, and was working on my second thing of vodka. To say I wasn't in the right state of mind to be in a room full of people ... well, that would be an understatement. I was never too great with being poised and sophisticated when I drank too much. I usually just made a fool of myself.

"No!" I exclaimed, shouting over the music as I tried to maintain a conversation with Abby, Patrick Sharp's girlfriend. She was a tiny little blonde, but was proving to have the voice of someone triple the size of her.

"Oh, come on! You're not actually trying to tell me you don't find him the least bit attractive." Once again I was arguing my way out of the subject that I had a thing for Jon. I was really starting to think around here it was a crime not to want to do bad, bad things with the captain of the Blackhawks.

"I'm not saying he's not attractive!" I shouted, just a little too loud as Sharp decided to make an appearance and jump right on in.

"Who's not attractive?" He smirked, obviously already knowing who we were speaking of.

"Jonny. I just suggested they'd make a cute couple." Abby caught him up as she made room for her fiance on the couch, and he slipped into the end seat. "I mean, I think she's the only one who's ever gotten him to dance."

Pat chuckled, "Yeah, and on behalf of everyone else in the future, please don't ever make him do that again. That's not dancing."

"Whatever," I laughed, shaking my head. "Your logic is severely damaged, and I cannot speak to either of you." I waved them off only to hear laughter behind me while I stumbled my way through the crowded room. I was on a quest. A mission, if you will.

I had to find Jonathan Toews.

"Captain Serious!" I found myself yelling at the top of my lungs, jumping onto his back as he spoke to one of his teammates (I think). I believe it was Brent, as he excused himself and Jon called him Seabs as they said their 'see you laters.'

"You smell like a liquor store," he chuckled, and I jumped back down to the ground whilst he spun around to look at me.

"A high class liquor store?" I quirked an eyebrow and he spun a little in front of me. I stopped making facial expressions to keep him steady, and as one person. The world certainly didn't need two Jonathan Toews'.

Laughing, he nodded, "Yes, a high class one." I smiled proudly, leaning back against the counter in the kitchen - trying to steady my body (and the world surrounding me). "What have you been up to? I mean, other than robbing everyone of our drinks."

"I was talking to Sharpie and Abby, and they were making fun of your dance moves." I rolled an eye, then cursed myself for doing so as my world spun once more. Note to self: Don't make swift movements when drunk.

"Oh, they were, were they?" I nodded. "Well we'll make them pay for that later."

"Sounds like a plan."

I noted a figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was watching us, and after focusing on him for long enough I realized who it was. Pat. Probably making sure Jon didn't take 'advantage' of me or something. I had noticed him keeping a close eye on me for most of the night, and it just drove me to want to drink even more. It pissed me off that he was acting as though he couldn't trust me. Even if it was a good idea to have someone watching me at this point, it still ticked me off. And I certainly wouldn't make him think that he was doing the right thing.

"Wanna go somewhere quieter? My head's kind of about to explode." I said, turning back to Jon who obliged to my request. I grabbed his hand, to spite Pat, and pulled him down the short hallway towards my bedroom. When we passed my new roommate, I felt Jon's hand slip from my own and I knew he was trying to keep things civil. The last thing I wanted to do was create a rift between Pat and Jon, who seemed to have some epic bromance thing going on between them, but that wasn't exactly crossing my mind right now. All I wanted to do was piss off Pat, and Jon seemed to be the easiest way of going about doing just that.

Stumbling into my room, I sat down on the edge of my bed and watched Jon stand in the room awkwardly. "... You can sit down, y'know." I laughed.

I watched him intently; he looked around the room, no doubt eyeing the lack of any sign of my history in the room. Most of my trophies and medals were stuffed in a box in the corner of the room, or left behind back at the Kane home in Buffalo. I hadn't bothered hanging them up, despite Mrs. Kane's feverous insistence to show them off and be proud of my accomplishments. Really, that's the only reason I had agreed to bring them with me -- just so she'd leave the subject alone. I'd hang them up when she came to visit, then they'd go straight back to where they belonged: in a box, and in the past.

"This is you and Pat?" He turned and held up a framed picture of from when we were around six. I was dressed in a floral dress, that clearly I didn't enjoy wearing as my face was less than unimpressed. Pat was dressed to the nines too, in his small little suit and bow tie. It must have been at my mom's second wedding from hell, I would have to check the back of the picture to be sure. I always wrote the date and event my pictures were taken at.

"We're six there." I told him with a smile on my face.

"So you guys really have been friends forever, eh?"

"I forced him into a treaty. He's stuck with me -- until death do us part!" I threw my hands in the air with a giggle. "I love that kid."

"You do, do ya?"

I nodded, "When he's not a complete jackass, I mean."

"Oh, come on, when is he a complete jackass?" I heard him chuckling lightly to himself, but I pushed it aside. I felt like there was some sort of inside joke going on that I missed out on.

"Tonight. Yesterday ... Every single day, lately." I groaned, throwing my body backwards onto my bed dramatically.

"And why's that?" My eyes fixated on the rocky ceiling above me, and I tried to count all the bumps.

"He's a party-pooper who puts me on a pedestal like I'm some kind of god damn perfect little angel," I pulled myself up and looked at Jon, who was now sitting at my desk (which still had yet to be filled with the essentials; all that was sitting on top of it was my Macbook Pro) looking at me. "I'm not as perfect as he thinks I am, y'know. I'm not a stuck-up little prude, I know how to have fun."

Jon just nodded along, and I couldn't tell if he truly was agreeing with me or just didn't want to get involved. It was probably better this way, anyway. "I'm allowed to have fun!" I exclaimed, my voice raising above the music tumbling out from the other rooms in the apartment and into my own.

He laughed then, shaking his head but I persisted. I wanted him to show that he was on my side. "I am. I'm allowed to have fun. I am fun. I mean, you're having fun, right?"

"Yeah, totally. In fact, you're so fun that I think it's time you grab some shut eye before you wear yourself out."

I scoffed, "Impossible!" Leaning over, I pulled a bag underneath my bed out between my legs and unzipped it. "Look what I have!" Taking out a bottle of tequila, I showed it to Jon proudly and then patted the spot beside me on my bed. "I won't share unless you sit over here!"

"Are you sure you haven't had enough already?"

"Don't make me start calling you Patrick Kane!" My voice slurred just as my hands stumbled with the cap of the bottle. A few seconds later I managed to get the cap off, and took a swig. "Come onn, Mr. Serious. I'll teach you how to have some fun!"

Jon eventually obliged, and I smiled brightly once he sat next to me and I handed him the bottle. "I'm not only fun; I can share the fun!" He just laughed at me again, taking the bottle; however he didn't drink from it.

"I'm just going to take this and put it somewhere safe, okay? We'll save it for another time." He was being too reasonable. Too uptight. Can you say buzz kill?

"You're cute," I giggled, reaching out and curling a strand of his dark colored hair around my finger. In the meantime, I tried to sneak my hand over the bottle to get it back.

"And you're drunk." He didn't seem to fall for it though, as he just moved it out of my reach and made me almost fall right into his lap.

"Correction: I'm adorable." I tapped the tip of his nose with a finger, and a laugh. "It's public knowledge in Buffalo, y'know. They call me a marshmallow."

"Oh, do they now?"

"Mmhmm." I nodded incessantly, and Jon stood up from my bed. Without a second thought, I reached out and grabbed his hand. "Don't go! Stayy with me!" I pulled him back down next to me quickly.

"Payson -" It was only when he spoke up and turned away that I realized exactly what I was doing. I was becoming everything that disgusted me about teenage girls who got drunk and made idiots out of themselves.

"So -" I was about to apologize when my sudden up-chuck reflex came into play and I had to run into my bathroom. Why did I always seem to throw up around Jon? This so wasn't a great impression.

Have you ever felt as though there was a colony full of rabid monkeys banging around in your head? Well, neither had I. Until this morning. After throwing up several times throughout the night, making a fool of myself in front of Jon and quite possibly everyone present at that party, I spent the rest of the night trying to get rid of said monkeys plaguing my mind space. I knew it was a bad idea to drink as much as I had, and it was just as bad of an idea to piss Pat off intentionally. This must have been my punishment. Groaning, I rolled onto my side and stared at the blank wall space that seemed to be spinning around in circles before me. Before I knew it, there was a drop in the middle of my bed. I wasn't sure whether it was my hangover playing tricks on me, or if there was actually something heavy enough to make a weight shift on my mattress, but those questions were soon answered with a boy's voice.

"Hey, I've got aspirin." The only good thing about that sentence was that it wasn't about to start an epic world war.

"You're, like, my God right now." I sighed, sitting up and taking the aspirin pills from him and the glass of water.

He chuckled, "Figured you could use 'em." I downed the aspirin with a sip of water, before staring at the glass in my hands.

We shared a few moments of silence before I heard him clear his throat awkwardly. "So, look, I ... uh ... last night ..."

"Don't worry about it. We both were being stupid and stubborn," I sighed.

"No, seriously, just let me apologize." He breathed out heavily, "I'm sorry about what I said last night. I was out of line, and I just ... You're like my sister, y'know, and I just ... I hate the idea of something happening to you. So, if I get a little overprotective from time to time -"

"Time to time?" Pat was like my own personal prison warden sometimes.

"Okay, fine. All the time -- but it's just because you're my best friend. It's my job to protect you." I smiled hearing him say that. There weren't many people in my life that would do as much as Pat did to protect me. There weren't many people that cared enough to even try to protect me. It's not until you don't have anyone around that you realize how important it is to have someone like that. To make you feel worthy of being cared enough about.

I pulled Pat in for a tight hug, not letting go even when he made a loud choking noise to tell me I was hugging him too tightly. This was how our friendship worked. Our stubborn personalities caused us to fight like crazy until one of us (usually Pat since I usually hated crawling back and apologizing -- call it a flaw) came back to apologize and make it all better. I usually just showed up at Pat's next hockey game and all was forgiven (back when he was still around Buffalo, that is).

"Payse ... Payson! Can't breathe, here." I laughed, letting Pat go finally. "So Monty, you wanna talk about what happened last night?"

I shook my head. "That would involve remembering last night's events ..." It was in snippets - last night - and those snippets I did remember, I certainly didn't want to tell Pat about it. Not after we were back on good terms again.

"Well I can tell you that you certainly made an impression." He laughed at me, and I wondered if he knew I had tried to put my tongue down his teammate's throat or not. He couldn't, could he?

"Oh dear God," I groaned, pushing my worry out of my mind for now. "I'm blaming this on you, by the way." Pat just chuckled, shaking his head and standing up to get ready to leave my bedroom.

"Hey, it's not my fault you can't hold your liquor."

"Oh, whatever!" I shouted at him, tossing the skirt laying on the floor beside my bed towards his retreating body.