Je t'aime, tu sais?

Emily can't say she had never sat in a roped off VIP lounge before, but, she couldn't say the ones she had been to were quite this nice.
Their group took up a corner of the upscale club where not much else but velvet ropes were needed to mark their section from the others that lined the walls of the massive, dark red room. The club was expensive, and she had the feeling they weren't the only high rollers here.
They had a big square to themselves and the couches were arranged such that they all faced the center of their area where small, circular tables were standing, covered with bowls of ice with champagne for the three girls and a bottle of whiskey for the taking was making the rounds for the boys.
The room was illuminated in dark red lights and the couches were a deep red velvet. The floor was a sparkly black granite and the music seemed to vibrate any hard surface. In the center of the club was a big, circular pillar made of black marble that shimmered in the red light and people danced around it to the beat. On the other side of the club was the bar.
They had been there merely fifteen minutes when Milan and Adam and returned, Milan announcing he'd take the first round as Adam began handing out fistfuls of shots.
"Just one each! Then we'll order the bottles!" Milan called, helping Adam distribute the clear, potent liquid.
"We have lifting tomorrow, you know," Emily heard Adam tell Dougie as Dougie nodded, disappointed.
"Aren't you too young anyway?" Emily asked the redhead, leaning towards him to speak into his ear.
"Why? How old are you?" Adam asked, halting delivering the shots, holding himself up with one hand on the table he was bent over in front of her.
"Me?"
"Yeah," he nodded. She noticed the light stubble of a beard that rimmed his chiseled chin and connect to the hair in front of his ears and around his muzzle. He didn't look sloppy but more like he had this air of nonchalance that she didn't understand because he was so shy. It was as if when he kept his mouth shut he looked like some sultry badass, but when he spoke or was spoken too you were met with a wall of wallflower-ness. Whenever he made eye contact it always felt serious and purposeful. Emily couldn't help but blush at how much of an interest he always seemed to give whomever he was speaking with.
"I'm just twenty two," she giggled.
"Oh," he said, satisfied with the answer and resuming his shot distribution.
"Wait, how old are you?" Emily asked after him in futile as he approached the other side of their section.
"He's twenty four. I'm just twenty," Dougie said, heaving a sigh and looking at the shot. "I'm not going to drink it though. Looch fought to get me in here so I'm not gonna get him in any trouble; this is his local watering hole. Plus I'm not too good with hard alcohol, I don't mind a beer or two though," he said, diplomatically. "Looch will have to double up on my behalf," he smiled, passing it to his other side as Milan took a seat.
"Aw fuck, I always forget you don't drink the heavy stuff," he cursed, taking the second shot in his hand. The hulking winger stood up in front of his table and motioned for the rest to follow. Emily looked across their enclosed space at Jamie and Patrice, and watched him take her hand as she giggled, standing too, readying herself to take the shot. Her older sister made eye contact with her and gave her a cautioning look.
"Not too much," she could hear her say. Emily smiled and lifted her glass in Jamie's direction, and on Milan's count, the sisters shared a smile and tossed the Patron toward the back of their throats, reserving to have some fun tonight.

It had been a long time since Gregory had looked at another woman. His eyes lingered on Emily as she sat between Dougie and Quaider. Dougie had her and Quaids in stitches, and every time he said something funny, she would look back over her shoulder at Adam to check if he was laughing too. The three were huddled close, Quaider almost touching Emily's back as they leaned in to listen to Dougie and watch his wild hand gestures. The kid was a ham.
Emily, though, was gorgeous. I mean, there's no denying it, he reasoned with himself. It's too early to be looking but, he was pretty sure everyone had. Even Milan, even though he was basically a stow away Louis Vutton for Brittany. She definitely wore the pants and he definitely made sure she was VERY preoccupied before he stole a look at the tiny dancer in a tiny black dress.
Gregory wasn't looking hard at Emily or anything, but, he was certainly... well, looking. She had lean legs.
He liked legs, he decided, shrugging.
He nursed his whiskey on the rocks, paying particular attention to his round finger tips and knuckles holding the cold glass. He was getting to skinny again, he decided.
Too skinny.
He'd have to start backing off of the treadmill, again. Marchy had one in his apartment and he had been notching five or so mile runs the entire week since he moved in Tuesday. It was only four days at around twenty plus miles but, combined with practices and games he couldn't keep up with the eating.
Plus he just felt like nothing really tasted good anymore. He and Marchy ate like shit anyway, even though they could both cook.
He felt kind of hollow.
Like a schmuck.
"Soupy!" Bergy boomed, clapping him on the back and falling onto the couch next to him. He was nursing his own whiskey on the rocks, a team favorite.
"Hey man," Greg said, forcing a smile and slapping hands with the fellow forward.
"Jamie's having a heart to heart with Marchy, so, figured I'd come bug you," his friend shrugged, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees, nursing his drink suspended between them.
"Yeah? They close?"
"Gettin' there. Plus, Marchy's drunk and in need of some affection. I talk to him, like I'm sure you do, but, it's nice to have a soft, comforting girl around, I think... I dunno," he said, shrugging and laughing a bit. He delicately raised the glass to his lips and took a sip of the honey brown liquid.
It was nice, Greg thought, remembering Brittany's hug back at the apartment. How warm and comfortable she had felt, how sweet she had smelt with all the different kinds of product in her hair and how she held him tight and rocked him back and forth a little... it was so different from the tough love the guys doled out, a brisk one armed hug without the rubbing of heads. Dudes were like cats: when they snuggle they like to rub their faces into things.
"Yeah... it's nice," he nodded, raising his own glass to his lips.
"How you holdin' up, bud?" Bergy asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, inquisitively.
"Oh, great," Soupy blushed, laughing at his own monotonous, totally unconvincing voice. Patrice pulled his glass away from his lips before he could drink any liquor to laugh too.
"How about really?" He asked, giving Soupy another look.
"Really?"
"Yeah." The beat to a Tiesto jam thumped for a while as the young center thought, running his tongue across his front teeth.
"Y'know..." he began, slowly nodding his head. "... I want to get really drunk and steal my dog."
"Yeah?" Bergy asked, smirking in excitement.
"Yeah," Greg nodded.
"Done," Bergy said, sticking his right hand out to shake on it and holding his glass out for Greg to solidify the promise with a cheers with his left.
They shook and downed the rest of their drinks.

Jamie slung her skinny little arm around Brad's neck, roughly pulling him into her side and rubbing her face in his hair. She was a little drunk, but couldn't stop feeling elated.
Her and Brad were talking about Katrina and what he should do about her not returning his calls, and when he sighed defeatedly, she couldn't help but coddle him.
The two sat in a corner of the couches structured in a square, facing one another sitting snuggly in where the two couches met. Jamie faced Brad, one knee pulled up and resting on the couch, pressed up against the side of his leg. They were bent forward, their faces close so that they could hear one another.
Brad cracked a smile as Jamie cuddled him, the two feeling closer in friendship than ever before.
"She'll answer soon Brad, I promise," Jamie said into his hair, giving him a pep-talk shake with her little arm around his thick neck.
He laughed holding onto her arm with his hands and secretly enjoying the comfort more than the drink. He cozied his face into the crook of her arm and heaved a sigh.
Then, Calvin Harris came on (1).
"I feel so close to you right now it's a forcefield..." his smooth voice sang, the beat clapping slowly in the background.
Jamie heard her before she saw her. From the other side of their section, Emily stood, screaming her name, an alarmed Dougie and Adam on either side of her.
"JAMES!" She shrieked.
"OUR SONG!" Jamie squealed, hitting Brad's knees until he lifted them out of her way as she stumbled between him and the table to meet her baby sister. The two hugged in the middle of the section as the men sitting around them looked bewildered.
The music sped up and the song increased in intensity, the lights darting all around them. The girls began to bounce on their knees.
"Let's go!"
"Let's go dance!" The girls giggled, grabbing one another's hands and skipping out of the section and onto the dance floor.
"Uh...?" Dougie asked as the men all exchanged eye contact, utterly perplexed.
A beat later, Patrice had jumped to his feet and made his way out of their roped off section and onto the dance floor, looking hungrily for Jamie.
Within milliseconds after him, the sound of scrapping tables and couches on marble filled the section as every single guy found their feet and followed in search of Emily.

Patrice watched her as if she were in slow motion as he moved through the crowd toward Jamie and her dancing sister. He was so entranced with her moving body that he was completely oblivious to the people bumping into him and shoving him out of the way. He would mutter an apology but he couldn't even tell if it came out in French or English and wave a hand but take no recognition for what he had done. He couldn't comprehend anything other than Jamie, beaming and dancing in front of him. The most carefree and loving being in the world in this moment.
She and Emily had their arms raised above their head as the lights blinked a deep, blood red. Their eyes were closed and their mouths smiling as they jumped and swayed to the man's smooth voice.
It was the bridge, the part when everything slowed and he sang "and there's no stopping us right now..." over and over and over and over as the song got quiet.
Patrice excused himself from behind another gentleman and reached for Jamie, just in time to grab her arm and wake her from her dancing daze for the beat to drop again.
Her eyes were opened as wide as her smile as she jumped over toward him, her hands hanging on the collar of his shirt. He could tell she was laughing as if intoxicated by the music but he couldn't hear her. She held onto a handful of his white button down and leaned back, singing the lyrics, letting her head fall back and exposing her neck.
"I feel so close to you right now," she whispered in his ear as she pulled herself up and him forward, forcing him to bend down to her ear. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and immediately he adopted the beat to which she was moving.

"This is just great," Adam laughed, nudging Soupy and nodding toward the dancing pairs. Brittany was backed up into Milan, Dougie and Emily were dancing quite innocently as he would twirl her around, holding her hand up high, and Bergy and Jamie danced face to face, without much space in between.
"Although I've seen Milan dance quite a few times, I can't ever speak for the other two," Soupy laughed, leaning on his elbows on the bar, waiting to be served.
Adam smirked, nodding to the bar tender as he slid him his beer bottle.
"Ah, yeah," he heard Soupy say in his high voice. He pulled out his wallet. "I'll have uh, let's do a double jack and coke," he said, handing the bartender his credit card.
"Going hard or going home?" The quiet defenseman asked the quiet centerman.
"Hopefully both, although--well..."
"Yeah, sorry man," Adam said, making an uncomfortable face. How could he have been so stupid as to forget Soupy was definitely couch surfing at Marchy's this week.
"Thanks, man," Soupy said, pulling those stupid tiny black straws they put in drinks out and quickly lifting the tall glass to his lips. He sucked down half the liquid.
"You doin' alright?" Adam asked, cautiously.
"Oh, yeah," Soupy nodded, smiling. "I haven't been dancing in a while... I like dancing," he shrugged, finishing the other half of his drink and clinking the glass down on the bar. "I think I'll go dance," he decided, giving Adam a firm nod.
"Yeah?" The defenseman smiled.
"Yeah. I like this song." And with that, Soupy popped Adam's navy blue baseball hat off of his head, capped it on the back of his own and made his way to the dance floor, the brim sticking up high.
He watched Soupy make his way through the crowd of people toward the group, impressed with his dancing, quite honestly. The team always knew he could dance, he always had that edgy style about him in the music he listened to and the way he dressed.
Emily would probably like it.
Soupy made his way into the group, dancing beautifully to some song Adam had never heard of but one he figured Soups probably knew all the words too. Was there actual singing in this song, even?
Adam couldn't tell.
He saw the group react to his team mate's presence and smiled as they all gathered around him, their hands in the air and their knees dipping their bodies to the beat. Adam had never been one outgoing enough to dance. He had never gone to one for school and loved his parents for never forcing him. Hell, he didn't even really want to come out tonight but figured it'd be easier to slip away from a crowd of a hundred or so people than it would be to fight Looch about wanting to stay in.
Emily and Soupy were dancing now. Nothing raunchy. He hadn't known her that long but she seemed like a real respectable girl.
She definitely had the moves, too.
"Quaider! Come join us, man!" Bergy boomed, clapping him on the shoulder from behind as he struggled out of the crowd, his other heavy hand meeting the hard granite of the bar top. Adam forced him a smile with his lips and shook his head in decline.
"Not my thing, man," he laughed.
"Aw come on, you think I have rhythm?" Bergy laughed, leaning on his elbows on the bar and motioning for a water from the waiter. Sweat was rimming his forehead but Adam couldn't think of another time in which he had seen his team mate so happy.
"Whatever rhythm you have, I promise I have less," Adam said, nodding his head in confirmation and sharing a smirk with the Alternate Captain.
"Fair enough," Bergy shrugged, signing a bill for some red drink in a rocks glass he had ordered. "Don't judge me," he laughed, picking up the drink and swirling it around. "It's a vodka cranberry for Jamie," he said, taking a sip. His lips puckered and he shook his head disgustingly. "So sweet! Tell me that's not all sugar, man," he said, offering Adam a sip.
Adam raised the glass to his lips, taking the tiniest of tastes. His jaw seized with the sweetness and he puckered just like his friend had. "That's nasty; they call that cranberry juice?" He laughed.
"Apparently," Bergy shrugged, running the back of his hand across his forehead and taking a deep breath, looking out over the club and absolutely beaming.
Adam took a swig of his Budwieser, cramming his fingers into his pants pocket and spotting Emily.
He raised his hand to wipe his own brow, feeling his body temperature rise and wished he had stayed at home.

She heard him before she saw him.
"OOOWWWW!" Jamie heard Patrice yell, just in time to whirl around from the dancing group and see him approach her with both hands in the air, each holding a drink.
"This is MY song, mon amour!" He yelled over the music as the chorus hit and the group cheered (2).
"I wanna be free!" He yelled, drinks held high in the air. Gregory, who had known every song so far cupped his hands around his mouth as he sang in response "I wanna just live!"
"Inside my Cadillac!"
"That is my shit!"
"And I throw it up!" Patrice sang, throwing his hands up higher in the air.
"And I throw it up!"
"That's what it is!"
"That's what it is!"
"In my C-A-D-I-L-L-A-C SH!" The pair sang, Milan making it into the center of the circle for the spelling. The song was a remix so it was directly followed by the crash of a chorus in which the three men began dipping to the beat, Gregory really the only convincing dancer.
Patrice bounced up and down slowly with the beat, chanting the lyrics, his eyes closed in musical euphoric and slightly drunken bliss, his hair beginning to clump with sweat as he made his way toward Jamie. His shirt hung loosely around his neck, another button becoming undone sometime when they were dancing before he went to get drinks. She could see his hard, glistening chest a bit and loved watching his move to the music and nod his head.
He attached himself behind her and handed her her bright red drink, using his now empty hand to hold her waist tight to his hips, moving her to the music. He kept his hand holding the water raised as they dipped and moved together to White Walls to mark one of her most unforgettable nights in Boston to date.