Je t'aime, tu sais?

Alex put her head down on her hands and groaned. "This is the worst." Her ponytail flopped to the side of her head and Jamie leaned forward and twirled her friend's silky hair with her finger.
"You can do it," she told her, encouragingly. The two were working on their thesis together, late at night in the tea shop across the street from the Coop. Alex had had a moment of weakness and confessed to being worried her work wasn't moving fast enough. Jamie had listened intently, only allowing her mind to wonder every so often about Patrice. He had had a game tonight and although she felt bad for not being able to attend or even watch, she had promised herself that her work must always come first, even now that they had moved to talking on a daily basis. In fact, she caught herself expecting a text from him in the near future.
It neared eleven, when the shop was getting ready to close for the night, and the two were dreading their walk home in the snow.
"I'm from Georgia, can this, like, stop? Now?" Alex turned her head and laid it on her hands sideways to look out the snow falling outside the window. Jamie laughed, gently raising her mug of tea to her lips.
"I miss Quebec," she said, longingly.
"Yeah, with their a million feet of snow per week. You're nuts," her friend teased. "Do you get to go home soon? Maybe over spring break?" she asked, rising and beginning to collect her belongings on table top. Jamie pulled their computer cords from the outlets on the wall and began to wind them up for proper storage.
"Just because I won't have classes to teach doesn't mean I won't have work to do, unfortunately." She sighed heavily. She new her thesis needed about another four or five months worth or work; she didn't know how long it would take her in reality, though.
"James, you really should try to at least take a long weekend; is it expensive to fly?"
"Yeah, between two big international airports..." She stuffed her computer cord into her tote bag and handed Alex hers. She began to shut her journals and collect her books.
"Maybe Prince Charming can fly you up there on his private jet! Isn't he also from Quebec?" Alex said, referring to Patrice in his newly and unknowingly acquired nickname, bestowed upon him by Jamie's best friend.
"Alex; he doesn't have such a thing!" Jamie scolded, laughing a bit. They shouldered their bags and tightened their scarves, heading out into the winter weather as Alex heaved a sigh.
"I bet he could; I bet the team does!" She justified.
"Quebec doesn't have a team for the Bruins to play, though," Jamie combatted. "You're crazy."
"You're crazy!" Alex said, mock offended. "In love," she added, playfully, batting her snow covered eye lashes at her friend.
The two shared a laugh and traipsed through the snow and to Jamie's apartment complex, quiet and struggling to keep warm. Both had had long, arduous days in Academia; Jamie's hours going by tantalizing slow, as she long awaited the time of night when Patrice would be available to talk again.

Patrice dropped his phone back into his gym bag and pressed his fingers into his eyes, yawning. The team was showering and wrapping up after their loss against the Red Wings. Next to him, Ference attacked another carton of Vita Coco and ripped into a banana.
"I'm cramping up like shit," he breathed before biting into the yellow fruit again.
"Still?"
"Yeah man; feels terrible."
"Go see Derrick," Patrice suggested, referring to the team's massage therapist.
"Stella's sick; I need to get home to help out," his friend said, pushing his shaving kit into his gym bag and grimacing as he stood up.
"Hey, feel better bud," Patrice said, giving him a pat on his hip as Ferry nodded and waved to the remaining team, grabbing another coconut water and making his exit.
Patrice reached into his bag and checked his phone again; no response from Jamie yet. He sighed and leaned back in his stall, letting the phone rest on the material of his pants held taught between his separated knees.
"Waiting on your woman?" Tyler asked from across the dressing room. He was bent forward tying up his shoes with a smirk on his face.
"My woman," Patrice repeated, laughing.
"Yeah, are you guys steady now?" Soupy asked from a few stalls down, adjusting his curved brimmed baseball hat. "She's pretty cute; and I saw you too macking on New Years."
"Macking?" Patrice asked again, incredulous. "Soupy, what does that even mean?"
"Y'know," he said.
"Like, enjoying each other's faces," Tyler said, wiggling his eyebrows and tilting his head back to receive a big mouth full of gatorade.
"Oh brother," Patrice sighed, checking his phone again. He leaned back in his stall and flipped the phone over so as not to be tempted to check it yet again. "And what's this "steady"? Like, what, do we see each other all of the time?"
"Yeah,"
"Yeah, we see each other a lot; we at least talk every day," Patrice shrugged, but inside he beamed. "I mean, I dunno!" He said, getting up and bending over to zip his gym bag. "I dunno, why are you guys so curious?" He shouldered his bag and stood in front of his team mates: Segsy, Soupy, and Marchy. He looked at them all, smiling their big stupid smiles and he could feel himself reddening.
"What?!" He asked them all, laughing bashfully.
"Aw come on, Bergy! Calm down," Marchy laughed playfully. "We're just talking."
"I dunno, I dunno what all this stuff means, going steady and stuff, like I dunno if we're dating," he said helplessly, sitting back down in his stall with his gym bag strewn across his lap. He rubbed his eyes again and sighed. "It's stressful," he confided. " I never know what she's thinking or how she feels."
"Women; they're all like that." Tyler said, crossing the room and clapping his friend on the back. Patrice's phone vibrated in his pocket and he scrambled to read the text.
"I'd love to see you too. Tea at my place?" Jamie's voice spoke softly in his head in French and he caught himself smiling.
"What'd it say?" Marchy asked, nodding to his phone.
"She invited me over," Patrice said, lightly, still smiling. "I was worried she wouldn't respond," he confessed, flashing the phone's screen to his friends.
"Not respond to you? Patrice Bergeron? Ludicrous." Tyler said, patting him on the back again. "You're fine, man. Go get her," he winked and wiggled his eye brows again. Patrice shook his head and laughed.
"Y'know, it feels weird giving you the pep talk," Tyler laughed, sitting back down in his stall next to Marchy and sharing a chuckle.
"I guess we finally found something Perfect Patrice isn't good at, eh?" Soupy asked, smirking.
"What? What am I not good at? Text messaging?" Patrice asked playfully, spinning around after he had stepped into his boots.
"Women." The three men responded, laughing.