Perfect Symmetry

“Hey Jazz, it’s me. I’m sorry for not calling sooner, I was just getting angry about nothing. I should have called as soon as I got to my parents’ place. Anyway, this is the number you can reach me at. I’ve been such an idiot. Call me back whenever; I’ll be up late.”

I listened to that voicemail for the fifth time that evening and I bit my nails anxiously. I knew that if I called him back I would have to tell him about Patrick moving in and I was just not ready for the storm that would blow in once I told him that. Now it was nine in the evening and I was trying to decide what to do.

My conscience won and I dialed the number he had called me with and prepared for the worst. I felt my heart racing with each ring and like a coward, I began praying he wouldn’t pick up. My prayers were miraculously answered. After five rings, the answering machine picked up.

“Jonathan, it’s just me. I’m glad you got there okay and everything. Umm I’m planning on turning in early tonight so I thought I would try and reach you. Anyway call me when you get a chance.” I was too chicken to tell him on the phone like this.

I was nervous, and hung up the phone before heading to bed and tossing and turning for hours, tensing up in preparation for a phone call that never came.
~

Jonathan was arriving back in Chicago this weekend, and I was getting very nervous about his reaction to my new roommate. Pat had officially moved in; his huge king sized bed that took up almost the entire width of his room was set up, his clothes were littered all over the house, and his toothbrush was lined up next to mine in the bathroom.

“Listen, Jazz. Why don’t I go pick him up from the airport tomorrow?” Patrick offered on Friday as we settled down to eat the spaghetti bolognese I had made earlier.

“Oh it’s okay. I told him I would be there,” I averted his eyes and twirled my spaghetti onto my fork quickly.

Pat gave me a knowing look. “I know you’re worried about his reaction. Trust me I’m just as worked up as you are. However, since this was entirely my idea, he should hear it from me.”

“It’s not like I was very hesitant about it,” I reminded him.

“Still. We’ve been friends for years now. Let me tell him,” he insisted.

I managed a grin. “Playing the “I’ve known him longer” card? Hey, it works for me,” I relented.
~
third person

Patrick stood nervously in the arrivals lobby at Chicago O’Hare. He was wearing a baseball cap as a precaution but normally people in the arrivals section of the airport were too busy looking for their loved ones to bother looking for famous athletes.

His palms were damp with sweat and he wiped them hurriedly on his jeans. He couldn’t remember being this nervous, except when he played his first shift in the NHL, and that was years ago.

The monitors to his left indicated that Jonathan’s flight had landed twenty minutes ago from Winnipeg. He could hear a few French-speaking people emerging from the concourse, and there were no flights from France coming in. There was a whole crowd of people who seemed to ooze “French-Canadian.”

In fact, Patrick got so caught up in looking at the passengers and trying to guess which flight they had just arrived on that he failed to notice Jonathan striding out of the double doors, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

“Kaner!” Jon called out, dropping his duffel bag on the floor and giving his friend a confused look.

Patrick snapped out of it and managed to plaster a smile onto his face.

“Hey Jonny!” he replied enthusiastically. “Was the flight okay?”

Jon smirked. “First class is better than okay, Pat. I slept for most of it, but the food was decent enough.”

“And your family’s all right?” Kaner continued.

Jon picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Yup. Hey, where’s Jazz? No offense but I was looking forward to seeing her.”

Patrick had trouble swallowing. “She umm, got tied up with some stuff. She’s at home. We can go there first if you like.”

Jonathan shrugged. “It’s fine; I don’t want to make you drop me off at her place and then drive all the way back to your place.”

Pat winced. This was his opening and he had to take it.

“Actually I have a bit of news on that front. My landlord kicked me out,” Pat announced.

Jonathan looked shocked. “Old Mr. Erling? But he loved you! Huge hawks fan if I remember.”

“Oh he was. But he passed away a few weeks back and his asshole son took over. He’s probably a fan of baseball or something,” Pat explained bitterly.

Jon laughed. “Probably. Hey listen man, do you need a place to stay? You know I have that couch if you want it.”

Pat cleared his throat. “That’s the second part of my news. I just moved into my new temporary place.”

Jonathan frowned. “Is it a real dive? Seriously Kaner you can crash at my place it’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s just...oh fuck it. I moved in with Jazz. Temporarily.”

Patrick watched as Jonathan’s expression morphed from one of concern to confusion and then indignation.

“I was totally strapped for a place to stay, Jon. And I knew that Hailey had just moved out and she had a spare room and she was very nice about it. And did I mention that this is temporary? Because this is so temporary that in three years, you’ll forget it ever happened at all,” Pat rambled nervously.

“I get it...it’s just, why didn’t she tell me?” Jonathan looked rather disappointed.

“She said she tried, but the two of you had been playing phone tag for the last week or so and she didn’t want to just tell you in a voicemail. It’s not her fault,” Patrick took off the baseball cap and ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

“Oh my GOD it’s Patrick Kane!” a very distressed female voice echoed through the entire airport lobby.

“Shi,t we have to make like the wind here,” Jonathan swore angrily.

“Think you can manage a run with that bag?” Pat teased.

Jonathan shot him a look. “It may be off season but I can still outrun you, even with twenty extra pounds on my back.”

Patrick seized the opportunity. “Twenty bucks says you’re wrong. Race you to the car, slow poke.”
Pat took off, leaving Jonathan and a growing crowd of curious Chicagoans in the lobby.

“Pat you cheater, how the hell am I supposed to know where you parked?” Jon’s irate voice reached Patrick, who chuckled.

It seemed like despite the new living arrangements, the quality of their friendship would not suffer.
~
Jazz

I paced my apartment, glancing at the clock every few seconds anxiously. They would be home soon, and Jonathan would be clued in on my new roommate. The suspense was killing me. How was he going to react?

When I heard voices outside my door, my heart began to race and my entire body tensed. To my annoyance and relief, it was just my neighbors and my heart rate slowed once again. I was left with just my fists clenched onto my phone. I was hoping someone would text me that they were on their way, but there was nothing. Typical. Both of them hated using their phones for anything except dumb apps.

The sound of a key in the lock hit me like that giant boulder in the first Indiana Jones movie. My fight or flight instinct kicked in and I sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door. I took deep breaths and wondered if this was what having a panic attack feels like.

I heard the two of them come in. They were chatting. That was a good sign; at least they were on speaking terms. I was wondering how long I could stay in here without them noticing when I heard the oven timer go off and I swore under my breath. I was making samosas and they needed to be taken out immediately. And I knew that neither Pat nor Jon would know what to do with an oven timer.

“Jazz! The timer’s gone off,” Kaner called out redundantly.

I rolled my eyes, composed myself, and walked out of the bathroom and into my kitchen.

“Wow, thanks Pat. Did it ever occur to you to take the food out?” I remarked sarcastically.

Once in the kitchen, my eyes met Jonathan’s immediately. There was no anger in them. He gave me a smile and reached for my waist.

“Jonathan, I missed you but you must know that in the order of importance today, the samosas come first,” I teased him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and slipping out of his embrace.

“Oh damn,” Pat crowed at my sassy response.

I donned my oven mitt and opened the oven to pull out the batch of frozen samosas that I had cooked to perfection.

“Oh damn,” Pat drawled at the sight of the brown, plump samosas. “I’m hungry mom.”

I gave him a dirty look. “Just because of that remark, we’re leaving.”

I took Jonathan’s hand and led him out of the apartment.

“I don’t know why you think this is punishment, Jazz. The samosas are in here!” I heard Pat call out before the door closed behind me.

I turned to look at Jonathan properly. He looked even taller now, and his fingers felt pleasantly cool in the heat of the Chicago summer day.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

I poked his solid chest with one finger. “So you’re back. In the flesh.”

Jon smiled. “Yup. Can you believe when I left we were in the middle of a bickering match?”

“What was that about again?” I frowned, trying to remember what trivial thing we had fought about.

“You didn’t want to meet my family,” Jonathan whispered, brushing his lips against my cheek.

I laughed. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Pat moving in. I wanted to tell you in person and all I was getting was your voicemail and that just seemed chicken-like, you know?”

Jon watched me explain, looking rather amused at how flustered I was getting.

“I know. He explained it all to me. It’s all just temporary, right?” he murmured.

I was having trouble paying attention to what he was saying. I was getting very preoccupied by his hands on my waist, sliding slowly down to my hips.

“Of course,” I mumbled, moving my hands to his sides and rubbing his t-shirt gently. “How were your parents?”

“Good. They want to meet you next time,” he remarked with a smirk.

I blushed. “Well I’m flattered. Was it a nice holiday then?”

“It was okay. But I think I’m happy to be home,” Jonathan answered diplomatically.

I smiled. “And why is that?”

Jonathan gave me an incredulous look. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Even though you already know.”

I batted my eyelashes innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I missed you, you dork,” he admitted, exhaling irately.

I grinned and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. He relaxed immediately and tightened his grip on my lower body.

“I missed you too, you doofus,” I replied before pressing my lips onto his gently.

I heard him sigh in relief as he kissed me back with more fervor than I expected. My back hit the wall behind me and still his lips remained on mine. I was pressed up tightly to his torso and could feel every curve and valley of his abdominal muscles.

“I can promise you I missed you more,” he pulled away to whisper.

I found this so incredibly attractive that I had nothing to say but to pull his head back towards me and kiss him furiously. A few minutes later, his hands were officially under my shirt, and I had already unbuttoned the first few buttons on his collared shirt. We were both breathing heavily when I pulled away slowly.

“This isn’t the right time,” I explained sheepishly. “We’re in my hallway for God’s sake...and Kaner’s inside.”

Jon’s eyes darkened. “Maybe I don’t care.”

I laughed softly. “You care. Just like I care. You don’t want to be that couple that’s practically having sex in a public place.”

“Well right now I do,” he retorted cheekily.
I gave him a look of disbelief and he reluctantly let go of me, pulling my shirt back into position. I then reached up and re-buttoned his shirt and smoothed down his hair. He gave me an appreciative smile and an innocent kiss on the mouth.

“Now would you like to go on a walk? Or shall we go inside and face Patrick?” I asked teasingly, knowing what the answer is.

“I’d rather melt in the heat than face Kaner right now. Let’s go,” he took my hand and we walked out of the building, both of us smiling broadly.
~
The season was approaching quickly; before I realized it, September came around and training camp started in preparation for pre-season. Pat had settled into my apartment nicely; his stuff couldn’t physically all fit in my place so he took out a rental on a storage facility to store the furniture that he owned and some of his other things like extra duvet covers, his refrigerator, and a large espresso machine that I refused to keep in my kitchen. I was sort of a coffee purist and was very attached to the coffee machine that I already had.

He had been very good about not bringing girls to my place either, and in return, I tended to keep things PG with Jonathan. We were still in the early stages of our relationship anyway, and were not sleeping together. It had been a couple months since our first date now, and I was wondering if I was doing something wrong. I ended up spending a lot more time at his flashy apartment, which suited us just fine.

My work was still busy, but I had found a rare balance in my personal and my professional life; which doesn’t happen often, so I was enjoying it. Since there were no games during the week for Jonathan yet, our relationship felt pretty stable. I was seeing him at least a few times a week, and the bickering was down to a minimum.

I was happy, really I was, but I just wanted to experience every aspect of my relationship with Jon: and for me, that included the sexual aspect too

third person

“What do you mean you’re not having sex?” Brent Seabrook gaped at his captain in disbelief. It was obvious that Jonathan had game; he had been with a large numbers of girls; a number that could probably only be rivaled by Patrick Kane. The idea that he had been with the same girl for two months and hadn’t bedded her yet was surprising news.

Jonathan ran his fingers along his hairline nervously. His eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape. He began to regret initiating this talk with his teammate. The foursome was at Brent’s place for dinner. Jazz and Hailey were taking turns checking on the lamb on the barbeque, and the boys were sitting on the sofa having a man-to-man chat. So much for gender roles.

“We just...haven’t,” Jon shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Brent’s gaze slid over to where the girls were laughing on the patio and then back onto Jonathan’s face.

“Are you dying?” Brent blurted out.

Jonathan frowned. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Well what the hell am I supposed to ask when you tell me that you’ve been with the same girl for two months and you haven’t slept with her yet?” Brent whisper-yelled passionately.

Jonathan groaned. “Why is that such a crazy thought? Some people don’t sleep together until they’re married, you know.”

Brent’s eyebrows lifted. “You want to marry her?”

Jon’s eyes filled with panic. “No! That’s not what I’m saying--”

“So you don’t want to marry her?” Brent broke in with a cheeky smile.

Jon winced. “No! Well, I don’t know...maybe in the fu--no. Look, that’s not even what I’m talking about here. Stop trying to trick me into saying something I don’t mean.”

“All I’m trying to say is that usually it takes you about two hours to get a girl into bed and this one is taking you two months,” Brent replied seriously.

“Well Jazz isn’t some girl I’ve picked up at the club--”

“Actually didn’t you meet her at a club?” Brent interjected cheerfully.

Jon shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah but we didn’t hook up that night like I usually do with girls I meet at clubs. As I was saying, she’s different. I don’t mind waiting because our relationship isn’t just physical.”

Brent laughed. “Dude don’t lie to me. You are dying on the inside.”

Jon closed his eyes and breathed deeply before opening his eyes and responding to his friend.

“Shut up Brent. Go get me a beer; I definitely need a drink.”