Je t'aime, tu sais?

"Hey Ferry," Patrice called to his buddy, pulling himself up and out of his Audi and grabbing his gym bag from the passenger's seat. Andy fixed his tie and looked behind him to lock his Fisker Karma. It beeped in response.
The men stood and looked at the beautiful, environmentally friendly car.
"Dude," Patrice sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not even a car guy and I know that that is a gorgeous piece of machinery."
"Right?" Andy breathed, crossing his arms. They observed the car for a moment longer, and then Andy clapped him on the back. "What's happening, bud?"
The two turned to walk toward the TD Garden and Patrice began to feel glum again. "The tickets are yours, Jamie and her friend declined again," he sighed.
"Really?" Andy asked, surprised. "I mean, thanks for the tickets again man, but, damn." He held the heavy steel door open for Patrice who nodded a thanks and a confirmation. Andy, who was very involved with the Boston community would auction off the tickets on his twitter account moments before the game to a lucky pair of fans.
"I mean, do they know the tickets are just really awesome on-ice seats? Maybe they're worried about having to sit with all the wives and girlfriends or something... maybe Jamie sees moving into the box reserved for our guests as moving too fast or something," Andy suggested as the descended the stairs into the locker area.
"That's a good idea, I guess I never really told them where the seats were," Patrice thought aloud. As they entered the locker room Andy clapped him on the back again and headed to his stall. Patrice let his mind wonder as he put his bag down and took his own seat. He smiled and his stomach squirmed when he thought of the afternoon he spent "napping" with Jamie. He thought of her floral scent, her soft, kinky hair, her weight on his hips. But then the butterflies were shot in his stomach when he remembered talking about Rebecca. He shook his head, leaning forward and opening his gym bag, mad at his past with her, mad at letting her "welcome" him to Boston all those years ago.

Alex sat on Jamie's green velvet couch with big eyes and her hand around a glass full of red wine. Jamie sat on the floor, cross legged and nursing her own glass. The Bruins pre-game was on in the background, the volume low.
"I just, I didn't know what to say," Jamie sighed, massaging her temples with her free hand.
"That's... so... weird," was all Alex could manage for a while. "Like... he just let her use him?"
"I guess," Jamie said, a bit tensely. "And he admitted it to me, he let it happen, he didn't know how to... not let it happen... I just, I didn't know what to say,"
"Did you say anything?"
"Well he was upset! He clearly didn't think she was a good use of his time; he didn't like it," Jamie sighed again, taking a sip of wine. "I told him that's no way to be loved, and that he deserves better," she mumbled, propping her forehead up with the palm of her hand. "I just felt so terrible; we were just talking about our pasts and stuff," she said, dully.
"Did you give him better?" Alex asked, wiggling her eyebrows, attempting to pry a laugh out of her distressed friend.
Jamie gave her a chuckle but didn't lift her head from her hand. "I just feel like I upset him, making him think about it again, I mean, he never said he had had any kind of relationship since, so she must've really turned him off," Jamie decided, out loud.
"You could turn him on, again?" Alex tried, wiggling her eyebrows again, laughing at herself. Jamie gave her a look and laughed a bit, too. They sipped their wine but Jamie still felt nervous, upset at her for causing him some kind of upsettedness.
"Should I text him? I mean..."
"How did you leave hanging out? You're not like on bad terms, right?"
"No, no, of course not... I dunno how anyone could be on bad terms with Patrice," Jamie smiled, then sighed. "No, I told him he deserves better, and then he finally looked at me again and smiled a bit. He was all like 'yeah, it's no big deal,' trying to brush it all off, and then gave me this big smile and we kissed a bit again and he said he should get ready. I just gracefully took my leave; I dunno, and now Alex, he invited me to the game tonight--"
"--why won't you gooo?!" she interrupted.
"I dunno!" Jamie attempted to defend herself again to no avail. "I just don't want him to assume that I'll just drop everything and--"
"Oh James," Alex said, shaking her head. "You're crazy! How could you even picture a man like Patrice expecting you to 'drop everything'," Alex said, defending him. She gave her friend a stern look. "You're so closed off, Jamie. Emily would say the same thing, too. Let this boy treat you right, for chrissake, woman!" She laughed but was serious.
"No, but don't you see? I don't want people just assuming I'm some collectable," she tried to reason with Alex but couldn't find the right way to express herself.
"But I don't think Patrice would let that happen, honestly; do you?"
"No; I don't know," Jamie sighed. The two shared a few moments of silence, listening to the gently reporting NESN pregame show in the back.
"I don't think he would," Alex said confidently, slipping off the couch and sitting on the floor, her back against the velvety green and her legs stretched out in front of her. Jamie had a feeling she would be looking for Tyler on the screen.

"Let's criss-cross, eh?" Patrice called to Marchy from the blue line. Marchy nodded in agreement and the two kicked off a warm-up run, criss crossing and Patrice assisting his liney with a shot on net. They looped around the back and then separated again into opposite corners.
After a few more drills, Patrice made his way to the neutral zone to stretch again. He dropped to his knees and spreading them, pulled himself forward on his hands. He felt his body strain and stretch, thinking of how a mere few hours earlier, Jamie had sat on his hips, happy as could be and smiling. He smiled to himself and looked over his shoulder, at the two seats he had been buying for two month's worth of home games, just in case she had wanted to attend. They were right on the ice, a few seats left of their own bench. A father and his young daughter happily sat there, pointing and waving at Andrew Ference, who they had won the tickets off of online.
Patrice was happy to contribute to Ferry's auction and had even refused Andy's offer to pay him for the tickets every time Patrice handed them over, but he couldn't help the weird feeling he got when he thought of why Jamie never seemed to want to come watch him play.
A puck gently slid into his shin guard and he heard "Look alive, Bergy!" only to look up and meet the eyes of his other liney, a very excited Tyler Seguin, coming to join him for a stretch.

"There he is," Alex groaned as the NESN camera crew zoomed in on Patrice and Tyler stretching and laughing with one another.
"He doesn't look upset," Jamie noticed, aloud.
"God, why is he so sexy," Alex whined.
"Do you think they get to use their phones between warm-ups and the anthem?"
"Jamie! I'm swooning here! Try me again in five minutes!" Alex joked, putting her hand up to silence her friend. The camera changed views and she sighed, frustratedly. "I know he's at Harvard parties; I heard a bunch of girls clucking about him at the gym on Providence Street," she said. Jamie laughed but inside sighed. The few times Patrice had spoken of Tyler off-ice had not been promising to Alex's affection. According to Patrice, Tyler spent many nights out and about, doing things Patrice himself couldn't fathom. He had also said Marchy acted all weird before he invited him out to lunch, knowing Patrice was meeting up with her and Alex, which further confirmed Jamie's suspicions about Alex having a secret admirer.
"Just text him; it'll make you feel better, right?" Alex asked, leaning for the bottle of wine between them. She refilled Jamie's glass and then her own.
Jamie's stomach fluttered and she found herself already clutching the mobile device. "But... what do I say? Do you think I've already thrown his game off? Oh my god, do I even have that kind of potential?!" Jamie asked, coming to a horrible realization. If Patrice is as into her as he makes himself out to be, does she have the power to affect his play? "I mean, like, he's a professional, right? Like, I have to separate how I feel when I teach, yeah?"
"Totally, don't freak out about that stuff; the Bruins are NOT your responsibility," Alex said, putting a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "If it makes you feel better to text him, go for it. He doesn't have to read it if he doesn't want to."

Patrice's heart thumped as he stared wide eyed at his phone, alight underneath the black surface of his gym bag. Everyone who texted him was here, in the locker room, listening to Coach, or back home in Quebec, gathered around a TV, aware of how he was busy.
It must be Jamie.
"You know?" Coach asked, making Patrice shake his head out of his trance and blindly nod at whatever Claude was saying.
Patrice had approximately ten seconds to choose whether or not he was going to drop his gloves and root through his gym bag to read the text message, or to ignore it and try to put at bay his curiosity all game.
"Let's get 'em, boys!" Coach said, clapping his hands. The men cheered and whooped, rising to the occasion and beginning to make their way out of the locker room. Patrice shook his gloves and unzipped his bag faster than he could register, breathlessly clutching his phone and reading before anyone could notice.
"I'm sorry if my questions went too far earlier; I'm really excited that I get to know you better each and every day, and I hope I didn't offend you with my curiosity. Good luck tonight, mon ami :)"
He felt extreme relief. Ever since she had bashfully left his apartment he hadn't know what to think or feel. She didn't want to come to his game, and he had unveiled to her a really dark secret from his past. What did she think of him? Did she think he was some goof that got pushed around? Was he pathetic? He didn't know, but what he did know was that she was ultimately enjoying his company.
"I'd love to see you after the game if you're still up. My turn to ask the questions ;)" He hit send and quickly made his way to the front of the tunnel, where the guys stood waiting to hit the ice. He punched each gently on their shoulder pad, telling each and every member of the team that they couldn't do it without them tonight.