Je t'aime, tu sais?

The door shut with a thud as Patrice heard his brother exclaim a warm greeting, and the two met in a familiar embrace. They exchanged kind words in French, hugged hard with both arms, and then Patrice stepped to Guillaume's left, embracing Gretta, his girlfriend, and christening her cheek with a kiss.
"Welcome to Boston, eh?" Patrice said, lifting his hands. He grabbed Gretta's bag and loaded it in the truck and opening the back door for her to sit inside.
"How was the flight?" He asked them, pulling out of the terminal.
"Bumpy!" Guill said, shaking his head. "I hate to ride when it is so bumpy."
"Oui, it was not a nice ride at all." Gretta confirmed.
"It's just been snowing here like crazy," Patrice contributed, looking both ways before pulling across the bridge and exiting off the highway. "I've kind of liked the muted city, to be honest."
"We have about double in Quebec, it must be about 14 centimeters high on the banks of the road."
The Audi cruised into its underground parking garage and the threesome headed upstairs into Patrice's condo. Although he was excited to see his brother and his brother's girlfriend, Patrice continued to smile about his night with Jamie, spent just two nights ago. They hadn't spoken since, but he could hardly wait for an occasion upon which they might be able to.
He showed Guill and Gretta their room--the only other bedroom in the condo, unpainted with a modest Queen sized bed and a dresser.
"Oh, Patrice, what the interior decorator you have become!" Gretta joked, flashing him a smile.
"Hey, I never sleep in here," he defended himself, laughing as well.
"You should give us the grand tour," Guill asked.
Patrice led them around his modestly sized condo. There was a full kitchen which led out to a patio overlooking Boston harbor with a great sliding glass door. Patrice was happy when he discovered that the condo he liked was conveniently placed above his favorite steak house in Boston, Abe and Louie's. The kitchen had a bar that overlooked the living room, where a panoramic window overlooked the skyline. The living room was plain with a white couch, a white rug to mask some of the dark hardwood flooring, and topped off with a TV set. On the left side of the condo was a bathroom, and on one side was the guest room, the other side the master bedroom.
He kept his room clean, but mostly because he had very few possessions. Most of what he owned had a place in the kitchen; he had various steak knives, blenders, pots, pans and a packed refrigerator. His room had a King sized bed with navy bedding, his framed Junior's jersey, and various other hockey memorabilia scattered about and pushed into the upper shelves of his closet. On his dresser were folded work out clothes, fresh from the wash, and next to it was a water cooler.
"It's lovely, Patrice," Gretta complimented.
"And the location!" Guill nodded. "Mom and Dad will want to see it."
"It's certainly an upgrade from my first apartment," he laughed.
"I think I will shower," Guill announced. "Then can we grab a bite to eat?"
"Yeah, that sounds great," Patrice nodded, heading back to the kitchen.
"I think I will nap for a minute or two," Gretta announced, and the two retreated to their bedroom.
Patrice lifted a leg and reclined on the white couch. He flipped the news on and scrolled through his phone, reading the last exchange between he and Jamie from yesterday.
"Thanks for keeping me company on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas." She had typed.
"I enjoyed our night together, and apologize again for not being able to drive home." He had responded.
"It's no trouble. I hope to see you again sometime soon, Patrice."
"You as well, mon ami."
His phone buzzed to life, announcing a text message from "Looch."
"How's your noel angel?" Milan asked. Patrice chuckled, and responded: "Amazing. And your puking kid?"

Milan waited outside a pub downtown called the First Amendement, thinking of his teammate's actions within the past few weeks. Bergy had seemed a bit out of touch, but then again, he seemed that way on Christmas Eve two nights ago. He had never known his friend to act in such a way, and thought long and hard if perhaps he had really found a girl that derail him.
"Milan," Patrice called to him, moving a hand around his friend's back and wishing him a Merry Christmas. "My brother, Guilluame, and his girlfriend, Gretta. Here from Quebec!" The three shook hands. "See, I told you someone loves me!" He joked.
Inside the First Amendement, the four talked jovially about the holidays. Milan spoke frequently of Valentina. Patrice noticed the biggest smile he had ever seen on his friend in the entirety of their friendship when he did. Gretta cooed and asked to see a picture of the baby girl. Milan sighed and Patrice laughed, while Gretta and Guill looked perplexed.
"She's just..." Milan flipped through his phone. "She won't keep anything down. She's either asleep of has spit up on her," he laughed, showing the two pictures of his baby.
Patrice chuckled, too, and caught himself thinking of Jamie again. He may have picked the pub because she mentioned it being one of her favorites in town. His goal was to accidentally bump into her again to show Looch and his brother a glimpse of the girl who was driving his insides mad. He knew at first Guill wouldn't believe him; Patrice had never been one to talk of women, even during their shared age of adolescence when Guill did want to discuss girls.

She had a feeling he might be there and made an attempt to incept the idea in another one of her friend's minds so she didn't feel like she was stalking him or something.
"What's that pub we like, Alex, that one with the waffle fries?"
"The First Amendement, yes!" Alexandria cried, shaking her gloved fists in excitement. "Perfect, Jamie!" Alex was a beautiful Mediterranean looking graduate student, obsessed with American history and politics. The two had become friends given the severity of which they both attacked their studies. Alex was the wild child to Jamie's shy demeanor, and apart from her sister, Emily, Jamie usually kept things to herself.
The goal was for Alex to get a look at Patrice so that Jamie could ask her her thoughts. If he was at the First Amendment tonight with his brother, it may just work.
The two stomped through the snow in downtown Boston, chatting about the holidays.
"I didn't do anything!" Jamie promised.
"Nothing? James, that's so boring and sad. Why didn't you come home with me?"
"I had to work on my thesis," Jamie tried to explain; she also tried to mask the thought that she also had to lay in bed all day and dream about the man who almost ran her over with his car...
"I just can't believe you just laid on the couch all night; you make me want to cry," Alex laughed, making her way to hold the door open for Jamie.

That's her, he thought. She's here.
"Yeah? Patrice?"
She pulled her hat off but there was no mistaking the peacoat and scarf. She flashed him a look and bit her lips, smiling. It looked like she couldn't help but smile, which made the cold pit in his stomach rise through his throat, but he promised to not think so highly of the situation.
"Patrice," Guill said in French. "The waitress," he gestured to the woman taking the order.
"Oh, uhm... I'll have a turkey burger. No sauce, please."
"There he is, no fun Patrice!" Guill joked. "Its the holiday's man, get a REAL man's burger," his brother urged, laughing.
"Nah, I think he is the strictest on the team with his diet," Milan stated. "I can't even remember the last time you had a beer with us after a game."
And he was gone again; his hand was on his phone, in case she texted him, and he was glancing in her direction every couple of seconds. She and her friend sat at the bar, pulling their coats off and staking them on the stool next to them. He watched Jaime pull her hair out of a bun and shake it out, lifting volume into her gentle, brown curls. He imagined the smell of her purple pillows, and--
"Patrice! Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Milan asked, gesturing to the table with a shit eating grin on his face.
"Excuse me," he said in French, getting up. He could hear his friend's sigh: "I hate it when he tells me things in French! I'm from Vancouver!"

"We didn't do anything we just ended up sleeping in my bed--he didn't even get IN the bed! Alex, be quiet!" Jamie hissed at her friend. She had her mouth open in awe and Jamie forced her to spin toward the bar so Patrice and his friends couldn't see her gawking. "Can't you just act normal?!" Jamie whispered to her, mortified and severely blushing.
"Jamie!"
"Alex!" Jamie pleaded, laughing.
"We need two large glasses of white wine!" Alex announced to the bar tender. "Harvard student discount!"
Jamie felt a gentle touch on her lower back and warmth and cold sped through her entire body and her head grew light.
"I'd like to get those; but I don't think I'd qualify for the Harvard student discount..." he said, handing the bartender his card.
"Hello," Jamie said softly, sure she was blushing but also amazed at how calm her voice was. Alex's eyes were big as she sized up the man in front of her. He said thanks when handed back his card, and as he replaced it in his wallet; she shot Jamie a glace that said "Oh. My. God."
"I'm sorry. My name is Patrice," he said, extending a hand to Jamie's friend. "I'm a recent friend of Jamie's. I didn't expect to see her here tonight." He flashed her a shy smile.
"Alex," was all she could respond with.
"My brother and his girlfriend are in town. We are out with a good friend. Would you care to join us?"
"Oh, Patrice, we couldn't. You should spend time with your family," Jamie quickly responded. Alex nodded vigorously, clearly still unable to put words together. Jamie had never had a romantic interest, and now THIS man?
"Well, maybe we will join you for drinks after dinner?"
"That would be lovely!" Alex finally barked, grabbing her wine by the shaft and tossing a sip back. The three exchanged smiles and Patrice nodded. "I look forward to it," he smiled, and the women's eyes followed him as he found his way back to his table. One man was clearly his brother, the other didn't look familiar, though, to Jamie or to Alex. They were all dressed impecably for a casual bar though. Dark washed jeans, sweaters, blazers, tight fitting shirts and expensive jackets draped across the backs of their chairs. She had yet to tell her friend that Patrice was a professional athlete.
The two friends made eye contact. "That ASS," she hissed.
"Oh my god, no." Jamie laughed, pushing her friend gently and sipping her wine. "Don't even start with me, Alex."