Changes

“Hey, Riley! What’s up?”

Riley was the bride of this weekend’s wedding—and one of the members of my core friend group back home. We met during the early months of sixth grade and immediately became close, bonding over our love for N*Sync and hatred for drama. Throughout middle school and high school, we became even closer and continued to stick by each other’s sides. Being best friends with Patrick, I constantly found myself surrounded by disgusting teenage boys and Riley provided some form of relief from that. After graduation, we chose different paths for our futures, but ultimately maintained a strong relationship through text messages, phone calls, Skype, and weekend visits. She was definitely my closest friend—besides Patrick, of course.

“Just wanted to make sure your trip is going all right,” she answered.

“Everything’s good. We’re about to board our flight, so we should be in Buffalo in like two hours,” I replied, standing up from my seat in the waiting area for our flight.

“Ah!” Riley squealed over the line, “I can’t wait to see you! And the hunk of meat that you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend!”

I rolled my eyes at my friend’s silliness, “Do I need to remind you why I’m making this trip to Buffalo?”

“Settle down, teapot,” she scolded me playfully, “I’m not married yet!”

I let out a small giggle, “Just don’t get yourself into too much trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? Never.”

Riley and I launched into a conversation with a myriad of topics—including my hunk of meat, her jitters for the upcoming days, hometown gossip, and, of course, her approaching wedding.

“Do you know if Pat is going to be there?” I asked quickly before she could ramble onto a different topic.

“I have no idea,” she answered, “I figured you would be the one to know that answer.”

“No,” a disappointed sigh escaped my lips, “We’re not really on good terms at the moment.”

She let out a sigh of her own, “Whatever he did, Al, just forgive him for it. You know that boy would never mean to hurt you; he’s just difficult.”

I pushed a hand through my hair and looked back at Grant, who was busying himself with some childish game on his phone, “I know. But you know how I like being stubborn.”

I could practically see her eye-roll, “You’re both such difficult people! I never understood how you could be friends and practically never fight. It’s impossible!”

“Yeah, I know,” I mumbled as I tried to think back to some of the fights Pat and I had had.

“Anyway,” Riley quipped from the other side of the line, “I haven’t really heard much about Pat this week. I know he had some of the boys over the other night, but I don’t think he’s been doing much, kind of laying low.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Listen, Riley, I’ll call you when we land. Our flight’s boarding in a few, bye!” I clicked off the line and quickly stuffed my phone into the back pocket of my shorts as I made my way back to Grant. When I approached our pair of seats, Grant peered up from his copy of some golfing novel and sent me a small smile, causing an eruption of butterflies in my stomach and a pink tint in my cheeks. He smile grew wider as he shoved his book to the side and grasped my hips in his hands, pulling me down into his lap.

“Is someone blushing?” he teased, making me cast my eyes down from his as the shade of my cheeks darkened again.

“Stop it,” I pushed him playfully and attempted to slide into my own seat, only causing his grip on my waist to tighten slightly.

He grinned at me cheekily and leaned down to my ear, “Do I make you blush?” He placed a slow kiss to the sensitive spot below ear. His soft lips brushed softly against my skin and I felt his hot breath against my cheek, triggering a series of goose bumps and shivers to course throughout my body.

“Grantttt,” I whined after regaining my composure, “People are starting to look.”

Instead of answering me, he pressed the cushiony lips to the corner of my jaw again, his smirk evident against my skin. “I want them to,” he replied easily, “So that they can see just how unbelievably beautiful my girlfriend is.”

And once again, I felt a small blush creep up the back of my neck and cheeks. I pushed my face into the crook of his neck, “Stop making me blush. You’re making me feel like I’m in high school again.” His shoulders shook slightly as he let out a deep chuckle and I could feel his firm muscles ripple underneath my lips, which I had placed against the skin of his shoulder for a quick kiss.

“But you’re cute when you blush,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my ear. I doled out a playful punch to his shoulder and wiggled until I was sitting in the seat next to him.

“You just like messing with me,” I pouted jokingly.

He let out another harmonic laugh, “Yeah, that might be it.”

“Hey!” Another harmless punch to his arm.

“Are those supposed to hurt or something?”

I crossed my arms over the chest and pouted childishly, “Poohead.”

He smirked and wrapped an arm tightly around my shoulders, pulling me back into his hard chest, “Aww! Is someone upset?” He stuck out his bottom lip and continued to talk to me in some sort of a childlike tone. “Do you miss your mommy? Do you want your blankey? What about a glass of warm milk, would that make you happy? Turn that frown upside—”

“Granttttt,” I whined jokingly, “Stop being so immature!”

I pressed my palm flat against his chest and pushed myself away softly. Without so much as another word, I stood up from my seat and started making my way over to the boarding tunnel, at the order of the man’s voice that boomed across the seating area. Halfway to my destination, I felt the familiar feel of Grant’s fingers intertwining with mine. The tough, worn skin of his fingers brushed against the smooth skin of the back of my hand. His large paw engulfed my small one.

We marched into the tunnel, along with the other passengers, and quickly found our seats in first class. Though I had protested for hours upon hours, Grant had neither allowed me to buy my own plane ticket nor buy us anything below the best—which lead us to occupying a row of seats in the curtained-off section at the bow of the plane.

“You really didn’t need to buy us these tickets, Grant,” I stated, falling back into the soft leather seat.

He groaned slightly, “Don’t start that with me, Al. You know I wanted to.”

“I know, I know!” I threw my hands up in defense as I began to dig through my large purse for my iPhone, “I’m just saying that you went above and beyond anything you needed to do, and that I really really appreciate it.”

He gave me cheeky smile after stuffing his carry-on into the overhead storage area, “Anything for you, Al.”

♢♢♢♢

“Oh! Hey, sweetie!” my mother’s voice rang over my cell phone, “I was just calling to check in.”

“Everything’s good here, mom,” I sighed, plopping down on the expanse of my large couch and flipping on the television.

“Great!” she exclaimed over-excitedly. “Did you know that Allie’s coming into town for a few days? That’ll be fantastic for you two; it’s practically the first summer you’ve spent away from each other! I can’t begin to imagine how you guys are managing it!”

I paused and muted the repeat of an old Friends’ episode, “Uh, yeah. You’ve talked to Mrs. Barnes recently?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered, “I saw her the other day in downtown. She said that Allie’s been non-stop complaining about spending the summer in Chicago. Oh! And apparently, she’s also bringing home her new beau for the weekend!”

Shit. Allie’s bringing home Grant, which means he’s going to be attending Riley’s wedding with her. Allie definitely informed him about our spat and about all the horrible things that came spewing out of my mouth during that regretted trip to Allie’s apartment. Grant most likely has a target pinned on my back at the moment—and if he doesn’t, he is definitely going to do everything in order to keep me away from his girlfriend.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

All my plans for winning Allie’s friendship were quickly spiraling down the drain. How was I supposed to make her forgive me if I couldn’t even get near her? How was I supposed to convince her to accept my apology if Grant was fuming with me? How was I supposed to—?

“Pat?” my mother’s voice rang throughout the earpiece, “You still there?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, mom. I was watching TV,” I explained quickly.

She sighed disapprovingly, “Can’t you just have a nice conversation with your mother, Pat?”

“Sorry, mom,” I answered mechanically. “What were you saying?”

For the next hour, my mother talked about practically anything that crossed her mind. I made sure to slip in a few sentences to satisfy her, though I tuned her voice out for most of the conversation. Suddenly, a loud knocking came from behind my front door and provided me with the perfect escape.

“Hey, mom,” I interrupted her current story about one of my father’s failed attempts at fixing something around the house, “Someone’s here, so I’m going to have to call you back later, alright? Love ya.”

I only half-listened to my mother’s farewell as I moved towards my front door. Once the line was dead, I stuffed my phone into the bottom of my jeans pocket and reached out to pull open the door. However, before my hand could fully grasp the glass knob, the large door flew open and exposed my visitor—my sister, Erica.

“Why’d it take you so damn long to get the door?” she pestered as she walked into my house.

“How’d you unlock my door?” I countered, shutting the door behind her.

She held up a shiny silver key in her hand and extended it towards me, “You really shouldn’t hide your spare key under the doormat.”

“Hey!” I snatched the key out of her hand and tossed it into the small key-bowl that I kept in the front hallway, shaking my head, “You need to learn people skills.”

She rolled her eyes, “We’re family, Pat. It doesn’t really matter what I do around you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off as I made my way back into my kitchen and browsed my refrigerator, “Why are you here anyways?”

She plopped down into one of the stools at the kitchen counter and pulled out her phone, “Well, Allie is coming home this weekend for Riley’s wedding—as you know—but I’ve also heard that she’s bringing along her new boyfriend…” I rolled my eyes. Of course, Erica and my mom would both know this. News traveled incredibly fast throughout our town and people were always involved in each other’s business. I would bet a million bucks that neither my mom nor my sister had heard this information from someone with any ties to the Barnes’. My mother probably was told by one of our nosy neighbors and my sister was probably told by her gossip-obsessed girlfriends.

“Yeah, I know. Mom just told me,” I stated, grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“Well, anyways, I just wanted to see if you’ve got anything planned for this weekend,” she explained before a sly smirk overtook her features, “Y’know, so that you can profess your love to your best friend?”

I groaned loudly, “Erica, I swear I will kick you out of my house.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “If you kicked me out, then you would have absolutely no clue on how to handle this situation with Allie.”

I let out another aggravated groan and pushed myself onto the countertop, “I hate it when you’re right.”

A large smile broke out across her face and she shook slightly in her seat in triumph, “And I love it when you say that.”

I rubbed a large hand down my face and took another large gulp of my beer, “Alright, what ideas do you have?”