Je t'aime, tu sais?

"Bergy, you know I don't speak French," Milan furrowed his brow, disappointed at the anti-climactic revealing of the text. He had never known his friend to be romantically involved, even throughout the three years they had spent together on the team. There were rumors, of course, and last year, when Segsy asked Andy if Bergy had a girlfriend Andy laughed and replied, "once, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away." He had mentioned having girlfriends when he was younger, but also admitted to not really knowing how to be a good boyfriend as a kid. Andy also divulged that he did have a causal relationship once, with a young intern news reporter his first year on the team. He also had divulged that it was extremely one sided, and Patrice had kind of just let things happen.
"It says Merry Christmas!" Patrice whispered urgently.
"Wait, seriously?"
Patrice read it to him in French. " "Joyeux Noel." What do I say back?"
"Seriously?!" Milan asked in disbelief.

Jamie was driving herself crazy at her desk. She looked outside her window and chewed on her pen cap as she watched the snow swirl.
Her green tea sat cooling in the floral mug her mother had sent her for the holidays, and although she knew she had decided she'd take a walk at midnight, she found herself tempted to walk the silent streets at the moment, even if if only to take her mind off of her stupid decision.
The phone vibrated behind her on her bed and she swore in French, her heart leaping up through her throat. She grabbed the thing and sighed when it displayed Emily's name.
"Anything yet?" Her sister had asked.
"Rien. I texted him three hours ago, too." She replied.
"Don't worry. He's celebrating with friends and family. We miss you! Finish your thesis soon! :)"
Jamie didn't feel like telling her sister that Patrice was spending the holidays alone, too, in case Emily's boldness rubbed off on her anymore.
She closed her phone and padded to the kitchen, deciding the best thing to do was re-warm her tea and nestle herself into the velvet of her beloved couch.

Although Patrice loved pie--and usually allowed himself a piece on holidays--he passed the plate around, only to receive a disapproving look from Mr. Lucic. Milan was prodded by his father, who whispered to him quietly in Serbian. Milan shook his head, understanding his father's native tongue but not being able to speak it and laughed, again encouraging his father to worry abou this own appetite. He looked to his friend and rolled his eyes. Patrice laughed.
He was still sweating, and still sitting with his hand over his phone in his pocket. Maybe calling her "mon ami" had been stupid.

Jamie awoke at 11:30 to the vague sound of buzzing coming from her room. She sprang off of the couch and rounded the corner to answer her phone with a breathless, "hello?"
"Jamie!" It was her parents.
They spoke for nearly an hour solely in French, in which her father praised her for her hard work, and her mother softly cooed at how proud she was of her. They pleaded with Jamie to go get herself a Christmas gift, they had left her a little spending money in her back account.
"Perhaps a new pair of boots," her mother suggested.
"Or a new cattle prod, to keep the men at bay!" Her father scoffed. She and her sister laughed, while her mother sighed at her husband.
"Maybe you should use to money to go some place nice for dinner, with a friend," she emphasized the word, hoping her daughter may have a special friend in mind.
"Guys," Jamie moaned. "Can I just work on my thesis in peace for the year? Please?" The family laughed, and the father thanked whoever invented the speaker phone so they could all be together for Christmas Eve.
Upon exchanging, "I love yous" and "Merry Christmases," Jamie found herself alone on her bed, thinking of Patrice and how she never should of texted him.
Because she had now convinced herself she was a fool, she opened her phone to check to see if the message had even properly sent, only to find she had one waiting for her; from him.

Patrice looped his scarf around his neck and kissed Brittany on the cheek again, gently brushed Valentina's little hair as she slept, and finally hugged his good friend. As his wife disappeared upstairs to put their baby to sleep, Milan nodded to Patrice's pocket.
"No, nothing yet," his friend answered.
"You think too much," Milan softly laughed.
"I know, and that's normally not the case with women in my life." Patrice admitted.
"She must be pretty neat."
"I think so," Patrice nodded. He looked at his blank phone and slipped it back into his pants pocket. "Your house is beautiful. Thanks for inviting me."
"Of course," Milan said. "Joyus Noel," he butchered in French, laughing as they shook hands. "Get some sleep."
The men nodded and Patrice turned to the door.
"Also, where was your checkered shirt? If I were a betting man, I would've laid money that you'd have worn it," Milan smiled.
Patrice laughed to himself as he made it down the Lucic's front yard and into their rock driveway. He kicked his shoes of snow and fell into the Audi. His phone vibrated.
"Would you like to take a walk with me downtown, to look at the Christmas lights?" She asked him. In French.