Perfect Symmetry

When I walked back into my apartment that evening, Patrick was awake and watching Sports Center on the television.

“Oh you didn’t want to watch the rest of Pride and Prejudice?” I asked sweetly, giving him a knowing look.

He shrugged. “Where have you been?”

I evaded his gaze. “Dinner.”

“On your own? You should have woken me up,” Pat scrutinized my face closely.

I nodded nonchalantly. “Next time.”

He lifted something with two fingers. “The next time Paul Fletcher isn’t free?”

I realized that he was holding up Paul’s business card, with his number scribbled on the back. Did I really just leave it next to the phone? How careless of me…

I frowned. “He’s just a friend, Pat.”

“Then why didn’t you just say so when I asked?” he queried.

“He’s and old boyfriend, and I didn’t want you reading weird things and running off and telling Jon about it.” I gave him a pleading gaze.

Patrick looked troubled. “Jazz, he’s my best friend.”

“I’m your landlord,” I gave him a wicked grin. “And I didn’t want to have to play this card, but that’s how much this means to me.”

Pat seemed to mull it over and accept it, but he demanded to know what Paul wanted from me.

“He just wanted to catch up; it’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” I hedged, purposely being very vague. I really didn’t want to discuss this any further.

Patrick opened his mouth, presumably to ask another question, so I stood up quickly and announced that I was going to my room to get some work done. He shut his mouth but I could see that something wasn’t quite settling perfectly with him.
~

October was speeding by, and Pat wanted to throw a Halloween party at our apartment. I was immediately against it, since hosting parties meant cleaning up, organizing, and then cleaning again once everyone had left. It was a big hassle. He wheedled his way into holding a party at a warehouse downtown, and roped me in to organize half of it. Patrick wanted about 100 people to be on the list, but I managed to convince him to cut it down to forty. That sounded harsh, but this “warehouse” was not a huge, storage-like warehouse; it was more of a small gathering place, and there was no way in hell we were going to fit sixty people unless we recreated some of those dorm-style parties we both experienced in college.

He acquiesced, since he realized that I was the one really pulling the strings for this party and he needed me on his side. We found compromises: I agreed to let him invite some of the regular puck bunnies, but I insisted on stamping people and not allowing re-entry. He wanted Rihanna on the playlist, and I threw in some Mumford and Sons. Jonathan would laugh as the two of us sparred off, usually in the kitchen while I was holding a knife or a hot pan or many other lethal objects.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I growled at Jon, folding my arms across my chest. “Do you want a date for this thing or what?”

Jon smirked. “You know I do. And I have your costume all picked out and everything.”

“Dressing up as a stripper is not my idea of a costume,” I warned him, “plus, Pat’s puck bunnies will be plenty slutty for the rest of us.”

He laughed as Pat’s eyes widened and a stupid grin spread across his lips. I rolled my eyes.

“What is it with you athletes and busty, blonde, scantily clad women?” I sighed, shaking my head in mock disappointment.

“They’re every man’s weakness,” Patrick answered swiftly, his grin even more mischievous.

“Except for me,” Jon piped in just in time, shooting me a smile.

I patted his head teasingly. “Good boy.”

“Whipped,” Patrick coughed conspicuously.

“Homeless,” I coughed back, giving Pat a meaningful look.

He stuck his tongue out at me but ceased his remarks, choosing to attempt to waggle his eyebrows at Jon instead, thinking I wouldn’t notice.

“No really, I think we should go as Bonnie and Clyde,” Jonathan told me honestly, his brown eyes sincere.

I gasped. “Classy and historical? You are the perfect man. I’ll go as Clyde,” I declared.

Jonathan scoffed. “You would make an excellent Clyde, but I’m not sure my Bonnie could really hold up.”

“Fine, then I’ll go as Bonnie I guess,” I sighed in fake exasperation.

Patrick made retching noises behind us. “I think you should go as Grumpy and Jazz could go as Bashful.”

I turned my head slowly and narrowed my eyes, suppressing the blush that would have only made me feel really silly.

“And you can go as Dopey!” I retorted sweetly.

Jonathan cackled. “Buuuurn!”

Patrick harrumphed. “I set that field goal up for you.”

I smiled. “And I aimed perfectly.”
~

I bought the costumes at a thrift shop with Jonathan, Hailey, and Brent in a small corner a few blocks from Hailey and Brent’s apartment. I loved the feel of the worn fabric, and was looking forward to wearing them (after I had washed them of course). I was wearing a tan sweater dress with a brown scarf and a beret, and Hailey found Jonathan an old dark four button suit and a fedora to match.

“Can we at least put some fake blood on our faces to make us a little spooky?” Jon asked as he placed the fedora on his head jauntily.

“If you like; but I’m not going to,” I teased, taking our costumes out of the bag and fingering the fabric fondly.

Brent laughed. “Hailey’s not letting me be too gory either.”

“Who are you going as?” Jonathan queried.

“Jack the Ripper,” he replied.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Well you’ve got a guaranteed amount of gore there, buddy.”

I stifled a laugh and Hailey pinched me. “I’m playing a 19th century prostitute.”

Jonathan choked on his spit and I giggled.

“Jack the Ripper exclusively killed prostitutes, Jon,” I explained, watching his face relax and then turn red in embarrassment.

“What, you don’t think I could pull off being a prostitute? I’m only a couple months pregnant; you can’t even tell,” Hailey snapped, touching her stomach worriedly.

Jonathan gave her an apologetic smile. “Of course you can pull it off, Hailey. You’re gorgeous, and you know it.”

Hailey beamed and Brent punched his teammate in mock jealousy.

“Cool it, Tazer,” he narrowed his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and wrapped his arm around his fiancee’s waist firmly.

I smiled at the two of them and felt Jonathan take my hand gently, pulling me into his side. I felt his lips graze my ear.

“Please can you put on some fake blood,” he whispered huskily.

I bit back a laugh and stroked his chest soothingly. I kissed his cheek.

“No,” I murmured back with a grin. “But nice try, hot shot.”
~

On Halloween morning Pat and I were both up early, even though it was a Saturday and both of us cherished our sleep. We were at the warehouse by ten, and were shopping for two hours before that. The place was coming together, with balloons and streamers and a large disco ball in the middle of the room.

“Tablecloths!” I groaned, looking at the tables where the drinks and snacks were to be consumed.

“What?” Pat asked from the other side of the room.

“We forgot tablecloths!” I shouted. “I’ll run out and grab some. Black is good, right?”

“Yes! he replied. “But not plastic; get an actual cloth, something silky.” He saw my face and added quickly, “but it doesn’t actually have to be silk.”

I nodded. “Polyester it is. Back in fifteen minutes; get the spiderweb up while I’m gone.”

The car was a haven from the chaos. The place was crawling with hired help: waiters, bartenders, security guards...all of them for one party. I didn’t even like these types of parties; Patrick knew that, and yet he still dragged me into it. The last bash he had thrown had been for New Years, and I was dreadfully pleased to avoid it, thanks to Viktor.

I thought about that New Years with a small smile as I stood in the sixth aisle at a party supply store.

“Do tablecloths really amuse you that much?” a cheerful voice asked from my left.

I whipped my head around and was less surprised than I ought to have been to see who was standing there.”

“Hello Paul,” I breathed an exasperated breath. “What are you doing here, following me?”

“Nope,” he held up his basket. “Flowers and balloons for a birthday party tonight.”

“Someone’s having a birthday party on Halloween?” I asked stupidly.

Paul laughed. “Well one can’t control when one is born. What about you, are you in need of some polyester tablecloths?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. One of the boys is throwing a Halloween party tonight and I’m helping him out,” I replied defensively.

“Ooh, a Halloween party. It’s been ages since I’ve been to a proper one,” he remarked.

“Good thing you’re going to one tonight,” I said gruffly.

His dark eyebrows raised. “So you’re inviting me, then?”

I spluttered. “No, I mean you said you were going to a party tonight, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but Helen’s birthday is on Halloween. She hates anything spooky-looking, and always picks a theme decidedly anti-Halloween. So I can come to your party for a while?” he smiled brightly.

“No,” I retorted shortly.

“So you’re un-inviting me? That’s a bit rude,” Paul tutted.

I shook my head. “Well you were never invited, so…”

“That’s not what I heard,” Paul shot back, still with that insufferable smile on his face. “Oh come on Jazz; I’ll only be there for a little while. I’ve got my party to go to anyway.”

I took a deep breath, calming myself. “Sure, Paul. Stop by. What do I care?”

I snatched up three tablecloths and stalked away from him, still fuming at his tactics. He always did have a way with words.
~

“Who are you supposed to be?” someone slurred at me for the thousandth time that night.

I wrinkled my nose to see one of Patrick’s girls wearing a corset and bunny ears giving me an appraisal and looking confused.

“I’m one half of Bonnie and Clyde,” I offered.

“Oh,” she squinted. “Who are they?”

I rolled my eyes and walked away. This would have been so much easier if Jonathan had been standing next to me, like he should have been. He had come back from practice this afternoon in a foul mood, refusing to even look at anyone properly. He was standing in the back with a few teammates, getting plastered.

I could see him ordering more and more scotch, and I stopped trying to get him to settle down after he told me to just leave him alone; who did I think I was, his mother? I was rather taken aback and had spent most of the night either with Hailey or eating pretzels miserably and staring disapprovingly at the DJ, who was now on an entire playlist dedicated to Katy Perry.

I spotted Paul come in, dressed smartly in a vintage looking tweed suit, but I avoided his gaze and pretended not to notice him as I sipped my virgin margarita.

“Well if it isn’t Bonnie Parker,” he greeted with a smile, giving me a shy wave.

I nodded. “You’re one of the few who even knew I was in costume. Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“I told you, I’m going to a birthday party later; it’s 1930’s themed,” he replied, fixing his bowtie.

“Will you be eating scraps and rations like they did during the Great Depression?” I asked acidly.

Paul’s blue eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, Jazz? And where’s your Clyde?”

I shrugged. “I hate these drunk parties. And Jonathan’s...not in a great mood. He’s drinking with his buddies over there.”

Paul’s gaze drifted to Jonathan, who was not laughing uproariously and staring at the blonde waitress appreciatively.

“Why don’t you just leave? You can come with me to my party instead. It’s going to be fun; good food, swing dancing...your type of scene,” he offered kindly.

I smiled. “That sounds nice, but I really shouldn’t.”

“You’re already dressed for it too. Come on Jazz, I don’t like seeing you miserable,” Paul begged, holding out his hand for me to take.

I bit my lip thoughtfully. I took a glance around the room and saw the biggest crowd dancing under the disco ball. I saw Kaner grind up next to a girl dressed as a cat, and then I saw Jonathan take another s
hot and let a girl dressed as catwoman sit on his lap. Hailey and Brent were staring at each other adoringly in the corner and the music was loud and thumping in my ears.

I reached out and took his hand willingly.

“Let’s go,” I stated firmly, standing up and letting him lead me out of the party.
~

Helen was the birthday girl, and she was having the party at her expansive loft. The place was decorated in vintage lace and swing and jazz music was pouring out of her speakers, setting a happy ambiance.

“I love your outfit; was it a vintage designer?” she gushed at my sweater.

“Nope, just vintage,” I replied with a smile.

Her enthusiasm did not diminish the entire night; she inquired after Paul’s wife but was more than welcoming to me; and she loved my jokes, even when most of them were horrendous.

I tried numerous times to tell everybody at the party that Paul and I were not an item, but as the night went on, the group got more and more drunk and I stopped trying to correct them and just went with it. Paul took advantage of my lack of resistance and found ways to touch me throughout the night: a brush on my arm, a squeeze of my waist, or his foot on my shin.

I kept shooting him daggers every time, but my mind often wandered to Jonathan. I waited for a phone call all night, but there were calls from him or anybody. I began to feel a little neglected, which was stupid because I realized that I was a grown woman and didn’t need to be checked on my by friends. My ego was still bruised, however.

When the music was turned up and we all danced to slow songs and made up steps to the swing songs, I did so with only half of my heart. I just couldn’t seem to muster up any of the enthusiasm I usually would, especially knowing that Jonathan wasn’t here. I didn’t think anyone could really tell how I was feeling, but at the end of the night as Paul got into the car to drive me home, he put his hand over mine and gave me one of those concerned looks that pulled some familiar heartstrings.

“You didn’t enjoy the party,” he declared sadly.

I widened my eyes. “Yes I did!”

“Don’t lie to me, Jazz. You were always a horrid liar. What’s wrong, hmm? Is it that boyfriend of yours?” his eyes were soft and I had to look away.

“I...couldn’t enjoy tonight properly; not after I just left him like that. I feel terrible,” I whispered.

Paul scoffed. “Jazz, I saw him with his buddies, throwing down drinks. I don’t know why you feel bad; he seems like a jackass.”

I shook my head violently. “No no he’s not like that. Something happened today and he hasn’t told me yet. He’s not a jackass; you don’t even know him, Paul.”

“I know you, though,” he murmured. “Have I apologized for how things ended between the two of us all of those years ago?”

“I can’t remember,” I sulked, not really wanting to get into this now.

“You’re even more beautiful now than you were in New York,” he breathed.

"That's a shitty apology," I replied snarkily.

Paul laughed before leaning over the gear shift and pulling my face towards his. I gasped as our lips touched, and immediately tried to angle my body away from his, but he was positioned in such a way that I was sort of pinned to the seat. I pushed his jaw away from mine and shoved his torso off of mine.

“You’re married, Paul. And I’m taken,” I spat, folding my arms across my chest and refusing to look at him.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about us at all since we ran into each other at the flower market,” Paul laughed hollowly.

“Of course I’ve thought about you; but never “us” together, you idiot. You’re married!” I shouted angrily.

Paul looked taken aback and he settled in his seat and closed his eyes meditatively.

“Well all I’ve done is think about you,” he replied gruffly. “God, you always look amazing. I've missed you.”

“HA!” I guffawed. “It's been four years Paul; you’re such a dick. I loved you years ago, but that season is gone. I am frankly disgusted that you would even think about cheating! You’re a professor at an esteemed university, and I’m a professional too. Just because I went to this stupid party with you does not make this a date,” I rambled before opening the door to the car and stepping outside into the cold.

“Jazz, I’m sorry; don’t be an idiot, get in the car love, I’ll just drive you home,” Paul called out in an apologetic tone.

“My feminist beliefs and frankly my own pride tell me there’s no way in hell I’m getting in that car, Paul. I’ll have someone pick me up; get out of here,” I told him coldly.

To his credit, he stuck around for a few more minutes trying to convince me to let him drive me and kept saying that I would freeze in this cold, but I waved him off and crossed the street so that he couldn’t follow me by the curb anymore. Once he drove off, I pulled out my cell phone and tried to think of someone who hadn’t been drinking at the party.

Dead. My phone was dead. Now I was a little worried. How the hell did people communicate before the invention of cell phones, damn it? I looked in vain for a payphone before walking into a Walgreens on a street corner.

The nice cashier was kind enough to call me a cab; I guess she didn’t trust me with her phone to call one of my friends. The cab pulled up and I set off, feeling very grateful that I had had the forethought to slip a couple twenties into my bra before leaving my apartment.

When I pulled up at my place I rolled my eyes at the cars that lined the street. People were always using this particular street as their personal parking lot, since it was close to the mall two blocks over.

I put the key into my door and almost had a heart attack when I saw all of the people in my apartment. Pat was there, naturally, but Jonathan, Hailey, Seabrook, Patrick and Abby Sharp, even Viktor and Duncan Keith were there, all looking very concerned.

“Is this some sort of after party?” I asked dryly as I dumped my stuff on the couch and took off my coat.

There was a collective sigh of relief and a few swear words as I entered the room.

“Where the fuck have you been Jazz?” Jonathan yelled, crossing the room in four large strides and gripping my shoulders firmly.

“Are you all here because you were worried about me?” I asked, tears forming in my eyes.

“Well yeah!” Pat shouted. “No one’s seen you since about seven thirty and it’s two in the morning now!”

I opened my mouth to say something but Jonathan cut me off.

“It’s fucking two in the morning, Jazz. I was worried as hell, so I called everybody hoping they would know where you were, but nobody seemed to know. I felt like shit! Where were you?” he demanded hysterically.

“I… was at a party with a friend,” I admitted. “I should have texted one of you but you were all having a good time and you know how I hate those types of parties. So I just left. And I only realized an hour ago that my phone was dead,” I explained.

“Who were you with?” Hailey queried, still looking unsatisfied.

“Paul and his wife,” I lied. “They had a friend throwing a 1930’s party and since I was already dressed for the part...look, I’m sorry everyone. Go home, get some sleep. I love you all so much.”

Everyone filed out and I gave everyone a hug and a kiss, giving Viktor’s hand an extra squeeze. Jonathan remained, however.

“You’re coming back to my place,” he growled.

My eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to argue with you with Kaner listening in,” he grit his teeth. “Grab some clothes and let’s go, Jazz.”

I grabbed some pajamas and a toothbrush wordlessly before waving to Pat and following Jonathan into his car. The drive was a silent one. I could see how white his knuckles were as he gripped the steering wheel with some serious force. When we pulled up, he opened the door for me and slammed it shut loudly. I winced and followed him, preparing for the worst. He could yell but I was going to yell right back.

The front door closed behind us and I threw my stuff onto his couch and folded my arms across my chest defensively.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I decided to speak up. “I just...I saw you getting drunk and hanging out with those girls and I didn’t want to deal with anything.”

Jonathan breathed loudly. “I wasn’t drinking that much. I was ordering rum and cokes, but I always asked for three quarters coke and one quarter rum.”

“Well it looked like you were upset, at least. I wasn’t having a good time,” I explained.

“You were with Paul,” Jon seethed.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“And Paul’s wife,” he continued.

I closed my eyes. “No. Just Paul and his friends.”

Jonathan balled his fists. “Okay. Well now I’m angry again.”

“Don’t worry, I had a horrible time at the stupid party. I kept thinking about you, and Paul was being idiotic. I won’t be spending any more time with him, I’ll tell you that much,” I said truthfully.

“Good,” Jonathan breathed. “But please don’t ever do that again, I was having a heart attack.”

“Why were you upset earlier? I know you were upset,” I asked calmly.

Jonathan looked down at his toes. “We were all upset. Burish is being traded. To Dallas. And Steeger’s headed down to Florida.”

I gasped, and closed the gap between us and pulled him into an embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jon. I know it’s hard to lose a teammate,” I whispered.

“It’s almost as bad as thinking your girlfriend's gone missing,” he murmured back, kissing my neck.

“Sorry,” I repeated weakly. “Never again.”

Jonathan lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his torso and kissed him gently. He carried me to his bedroom and we both flopped onto the bed, kissing every part of each other we could reach.

“We would have made a great Bonnie and Clyde,” I muttered. “We’ve got the passion for it.”

“Let’s go kill some people then,” Jon teased as he pulled off my sweater and struggled with my bra fastener.

My thoughts flashed to Paul for a dark moment. “Maybe another day, my dear.”