Changes

After parking the car in the back lot, the three of us made our way into the restaurant—Oliver’s. The place had come to mean a lot to Pat and I, but we didn’t like to visit it too much, scared of ruining its sacredness. It was the place that we went for all of our special occasions—and apparently, meeting the boyfriend made the cut. We had shared many special moments in the restaurant, including our first date together during our junior year of high school.

It was only a few weeks after the kissing incident in my room and Pat and I had been keeping our distance. It wasn’t like the kiss meant anything, but it was just weird. Really weird. I couldn’t be around him without thinking about and therefore, found myself making awkward excuses to shorten our daily hangouts.

I was home alone and sprawled across my bed, holding my phone up to my ear.

“Fine, Riley!” I groaned into the receiver, “I’ll talk to Jacob for you! Stop whining!”

Though I couldn’t see her, I could picture her signature pout making its way onto her lips, “You don’t have to be so mean…”

“Stop being sad, Riles. I just said that I’ll talk to him for you,” I explained simply.

And she was back to her cheery self, “I know! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

“I know. I know,” I rolled my eyes at her insanity.

“Now, let’s talk about getting you a date to the homecoming,” she changed the subject quickly, “Oooh! What about Matt?”

I thought back to my date with Matt a few weeks ago. We had gotten dinner at a small diner in the center of town and gone to see some absurd scary movie—his pick. It was nice to be hanging out with another guy, but Matt just didn’t necessarily peek my interest.

I hummed slightly, unsure of how to answer, “I don’t know…”

Apparently, she took that as interest in the boy. “I’ll talk to him for you,” she giggled excitedly, “We have Calculus together and he sits next to me. I’ll pass him a note and it’ll be just like eighth grade all over again!”

Before I could stop Riley’s mission, my doorbell sounded suddenly. “Sorry, Riles. Someone’s at the door. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Tootles!”

I sprung up from my position on my bed and skipped down the stairs quickly, sliding across the hardwood floors in my socks and skidding to a stop in front of our large door. I flung it open, prepared to tell whoever it was that either a) I wasn’t buying whatever they were selling or b) that whoever they were looking for wasn’t home.

However, I came face-to-face with Pat.

His blond curls had been cut down greatly, sporting the buzz cut look that I adored the most. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of a pair of dark jeans and a simple quarter-zip sweater was pulled tightly across his chest.

“Hey Al,” he grinned timidly at me, showcasing his perfectly straight teeth that I had missed so much over the past few weeks.

“Hey,” I offered him a large smile, “What’s up?”

His smile faltered slightly and his gaze was fastened to his shoes, which he kicked at the stairs aimlessly, “Uh. I was—um—wondering if you would like to go out with me tonight. I mean, I know it’s a Friday night and all, so you probably have something else to do. But we haven’t really hung out in a few weeks and if it’s about the kiss, I know that was really stupid of me to do. But—um—I miss you, Al.” He looked up at me shyly, a small blush painted across his pale cheeks.

I didn’t answer immediately, which caused him to panic slightly and shift his gaze back to his feet. “It doesn’t have to be a date or anything like that,” he clarified, before adding quickly, “I mean, unless you want it to be.”

“Sure, Pat.”

His eyebrows were somewhat furrowed together, “Sure what?”

“I’ve just got to get ready and then we’ll go,” I turned back inside and shouted over my shoulder, “It’s a date.”

He blushed slightly as a grin completely overtook his features, making his blue eyes brighter than ever, “Good.”

A hostess approached us, after eyeing up Pat, and led us to a table in the back of the restaurant. Pat slid into a chair on one side while Grant followed me to the other, pulling out my chair and scooting it in for me. As I adjusted my napkin in my lap, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pat roll his eyes slightly.

“So Pat,” Grant started, “Allie tells me that your cup day is coming up soon?”

He nodded, “In a couple of days actually. I'm trying to get her to stay for it, but you know how stubborn she is.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, “We'll talk about that later, Patty.” He returned my action and picked up his menu, scanning over it—even though I knew he already knew his order. We ordered the same dishes every time.

Grant ignored our exchange and continued to converse with Pat, “Do most guys just take the Cup to clubs and parties?”

Pat shook his head immediately, “Most guys usually take it to their favorite charities and then parade it around their hometowns. At night, we can pretty much do whatever we want, but guys rarely bring it out into the public then.”

Grant looked slightly taken aback at Pat's explanation of a typical Cup day. I resisted the urge to sigh. He probably thought that all hockey players were party animals, always looking for the next party to crash and chick to bang. I absolutely hated the stereotypes pinned against the players; they were completely misleading. Sure, the boys liked to party and take home a few puck bunnies, but there was so much more to them than that.

“Sounds fun,” he tried his best to sound sincere.

Pat nodded, barely paying attention to Grant's answer and switching his gaze to me. His blue eyes peeked out from above the large menu that he clutched in his large paws. Though I couldn't see the bottom half of his face, I could tell that he was smirking at his next statement. “You and Allie should definitely stay for my Cup Day. It's really a good time.”

Grant looked towards me for an answer and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off immediately. “Oh, come on, Pat,” I sent him a warning glare, “I said later.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright!”

For the rest of dinner, we talked about numerous topics, typically straying away from the topic of hockey and staying in Buffalo. The waitress flirted shamelessly with Pat every time she came “to check on us,” but surprisingly, Pat didn't flinch. He kept his eyes above the neck, even though she had undone the top two buttons of her blouse and leaned over purposefully. When our check came, Pat was the first to snatch it up, slipping his card into the black book and easily flagging down the hovering waitress. She made sure to graze her hand against his and let a sultry smirk slip onto her lips before returning with his receipt and—of course—her phone number. I gave her props for the little hearts and winky faces scribbled around the seven digits. Pat simply just laughed and left the crumpled piece of paper on the table.

As we waited outside for Grant to get the car, I turned to him.

“Are you okay?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, “What?”

“Are you sick?”

He shook his head, “What are you talking about, Allie?”

I jabbed my thumb towards the restaurant, “That waitress was all over you and you didn't even give her a second glance. She was your type, too! Blonde hair, nice rack, ass, and that little sultry smirk.”

He laughed lightly, “Do you want to take her home, Al?”

“Shut up,” I shoved his shoulder, “You know what I mean—she was desperate and you weren't biting.”

He let out one of his signature giggles, “Yeah, she really was trying hard, wasn't she?”

“I thought she was going to follow us out here, maybe hop in the car with us,” I chuckled lightly.

He nodded, but didn't respond right away, giving me time to cut in. “So why not?”

He gave me a lame shrug, barely lifting up his left shoulder, “Don't know. Just wasn't interested, that's all.”

I eyed him warily. It wasn't like Pat to turn down a puck bunny, but after our conversation the other night, I couldn't be too surprised. Pat had talked about having some issues in his life recently, so that was probably impacting his bunny appetite.

Whatever it was, the issue was pushed aside as Grant pulled the car in front of us and motioned for us to get in. Pat jumped in excitedly and grinned at me cheekily as I climbed in.

“Little bit excited, Pat?” I teased.

“Don’t burst my bubble, Al,” he waved off my teasing, “I haven’t been clubbing in a while.”

I nodded and turned around in my seat, placing my hand on top of Grant’s. We drove to Lux in comfortable silence, with some top hits radio playing low in the background. When we finally arrived at the club, a crowd of people was lined up along the sidewalk, waiting to get inside. Grant tossed the keys to the valet parking and we climbed out onto the sidewalk. I slipped out of my cardigan and threw it into the car, exposing my clubbing outfit. I immediately felt a pair of eyes boring into me. My head snapped up and my eyes locked on Pat’s, which were quickly giving me a one-over. Once his blue eyes met mine, he sent me a suggestive smirk and a wink.

“Lookin’ good, Al.”

I could feel Grant tense up behind me. “Thanks, Patty,” I giggled casually, pushing past them to the front of the line, where a hefty bouncer was blocking the entrance of the club.

The boys followed me, causing a few people in line to complain and Grant to grab my arm, “Let’s just wait in line, Allie.” I waved off his suggestion and continued approaching the bouncer.

“Timmy!” I called excitedly as we got closer to the front.

The bouncer’s head snapped towards my voice and when his eyes landed on me, recognition flashed across his face. “Allie!” his voice boomed across the line of people between us and his eyes flickered to Pat beside me, “Pat!”

Tim was one of our high school friends. He played hockey with Pat and along the way, became friends with me. That was how many of my friendships started with boys in high school. They all met me through Pat, who would drag me to all of his games and practices. My extensive knowledge of hockey and quirky attitude immediately won over most of his teammates and Pat often found himself fielding questions about me in the locker room.

I skipped up to him excitedly and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. Pat walked up behind me and gave Tim a clap on shoulder, “You’re coming for my Cup Day, right?”

Tim sent him one of his signature large grins, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Pat nodded gratefully, sending me a quick side-glance, and then turned towards Grant, placing a hand on his shoulder and bringing him closer to us, “Tim. This is Grant—Allie’s boyfriend.”

Tim flashed Grant a smile and stuck out his hand, “Lucky man.”

Grant laughed, shaking his hand quickly, and then flinging an arm around my shoulders, “I know.”

I pressed a small kiss to his cheek—which earned an eye roll from Pat—and turned towards Tim, “So. Are you gonna let us in or what?”

He rolled his eyes playfully and gave me a light shove, before stepping back from the entrance and waving us in. “Don’t get too plastered, guys!” he called after us.

Pat and I immediately made our way to the bar, with Grant trailing a few steps behind. The glass-topped bar was crowded with a throng of buzzing people, shouting out orders to the busy bartenders and leaning back to survey those on the dancer floor. We pushed through the crowd until a single barstool was open. I hopped onto the seat and the boys took their places on either side of me. After finally getting the attention of the bartender, Pat ordered four rounds of our usual shots and three sets were slid out in front of us.

Grant picked up the small shot glass and eyed the suspicious colored drink. I shook my head and offered him a reassuring smile, “Just trust me. It’s what we always drink.” He raised a single eyebrow at me; but after eyeing the glass for a few more seconds, he tossed it back.

The four rounds were quickly thrown back by Pat, Grant, and I—even though Grant looked a little skeptical and eyed each glass before he drank it. I felt the burning liquid settling in the pit of my stomach and I knew that it wouldn’t be long until the shots took affect. The three of us remained in our positions at the bar for a few minutes, opting to wait for the affect of the alcohol until venturing further into the club.

After about fifteen minutes, I was dancing slightly on my stool and talking to the boys about my fascination with sloths.

The alcohol had kicked in.

“I mean, they just move so slow!” my eyes widened and my jaw dropped slightly, “It really is an unbelievable talent!”

The boys both shook their heads at me and tried to change the subject. However, I was suddenly distracted by the instrumental of my favorite song thumping throughout the venue. I immediately wrapped one of my small hands around Grant’s wrist and tugged him out onto the dance floor.

“Let’s dance!” I yelled excitedly, trying not to trip in my heels. Grant merely nodded in agreement and allowed me to pull him into the crowd of grinding bodies. His hands gripped my waist as we pushed past countless couples and made our way to the center. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his body flush against mine, feeling his lean muscles against my stomach and underneath my fingertips. My hips swayed to the song automatically and the faint lyrics tumbled out of my mouth sloppily.

During the middle of the song, Grant brought his head down to my ear and pushed back my hair. He pressed his lips right below my earlobe and whispered against my skin, “I love you.” He pressed another kiss to my jawline and pulled my hips against his.

I retreated my hands from behind his neck and placed them on his cheeks, pulling his face away from my neck and kissing him sweetly on the lips. “I love you, too.”

A large grin broke out on his face and he kissed me again. As he moved in for another one, his phone blared from the pocket of his shorts. He pulled it out and glanced at the illuminated screen, “It’s work.” Motioning to me that he would return shortly, he pushed through the throng of drunk and sweaty people, out of my sight.

After standing around for a few moments and swaying to the music by myself, I turned towards the bar. But before I could make it off the dance floor, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around my waist and spun me around.

Pat was standing before me with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips and two shots clutched in his hand. He extended one towards me and threw back his own. After I slipped the burning liquid down my throat, he passed the glasses off to a bystander and pushed me further into the crowd again.

He brought his lips to my ear, causing a shiver to run down my back, “Dance with me.”

I nodded simply in response, as I felt his chest press flush against my back. His hands were hot on my hips, pulling me close and guiding my hips to the music. My ass swooshed across his crotch with each sway, the bulge in his pants becoming harder with each touch. The memory of our kiss played over and over again in my head as I felt the touch of his hands and his body against mine. I spun around in his grip and he pushed apart my legs with one of his large thighs.

He brought his lips down to my ear and whispered slightly—barely heard over the volume of the current techno song, “I wish you remembered.”

I stopped swaying my hips and placed my hands on his, causing his bright eyes to flicker to mine, “I do.”

A look of shock crossed his face and his eyes widened slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I felt a looming presence over my shoulder. Grant wrapped his arms around my waist, pushing Pat’s off in the process, and rested his head on my shoulder.

“Mind if I steal her for a second?”

Pat simply nodded, as if it was the only thing he could do. Grant guided me through the throng of bodies and led me to the back entrance of the club. We stepped out into the dark alley way and I leaned against one of the brick walls. The music from inside the club could be heard easily, but was muffled slightly by the walls.

I gave Grant a questioning look, “Is everything okay?”

He shot me a cold glare, “What do you mean ‘is everything okay’? I just saw you grinding on your “best friend.””

I rolled my eyes. Grant and I had had an argument about Pat this morning, but I thought that we were moving past it. And I had definitely thought we had moved past it after our dancing moment.

“Oh, come on, Grant,” I sighed, “Not this again. We just had a discussion about this earlier!”

“You were grinding on him, Allie,” he stated coldly.

I sighed, “He’s my best friend, nothing more.”

“Is that the way “best friends” act?” he took a step closer to me, his light eyes becoming dark with anger.

I threw my hands up and tried to push him back a couple of steps, “It’s just the way we are! There’s no other explanation!”

He rolled his eyes, “Bullshit.” He took a step closer again and placed his hands forcefully on my hips, pushing them back towards the wall.

I cowered underneath his hard glare, “I’m sorry…”

He scoffed, “No, you’re not! We went over this last night, Allie! You’re not sorry!”

When I didn’t respond, Grant pushed my hips further back, hitting them hard against the wall. “You love him more than me!” his voiced boomed in front of my face.

Suddenly, I heard the door besides us open. I heard the faint sound of footsteps come to a stop. “Are you okay?” I could hear his voice directed at me.

“We’re fine,” Grant replied calmly, loosening his grip on my hips, “Just a discussion.”

Before the man could retreat inside, I looked towards him. My eyes widened and my jaw slacked. I saw the face of the man I had left behind in Boston.

“Eric?”