Changes

A look of recognition flashed across his feature and he allowed the back door the slam shut again, “Allie?”

Grant took a few steps back as his eyes flickered between us, “You two know each other?” We both ignored his question and continued to stare at each other. I was at a loss of words. There was so much to explain, but I just didn’t know how.

Eric was the first to break the silence. His familiar dark eyes landed on Grant and a pained expression took over his face before he turned to me, “Where have you been for the past month, Al?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “You can’t just—”

Suddenly, the door to the club creaked open and Pat spilled out, clutching a beer bottle in his hand. Grant immediately sent him a cold glare and tensed up as he neared us. “What’s going on out here?” he slurred, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Eric and I ignored the commotion for a second time and continued to hold each other’s gazes. Pat and Grant simply looked at us confused. When I finally found my voice, I took a step closer to him. “Eric…”

A sudden look of realization appeared on Pat’s face, “You’re Eric?” He threw his empty bottle into a corner of the alley and took a step closer to Eric.

Eric switched his gaze to Pat, “Yeah…”

Pat immediately stood up straighter, “I don’t know exactly what you did to her, but you’re an asshole.” He took a final step towards Eric, closed his hand into a fist, and swung at his cheek. At the moment of impact, a loud crunch of bone hitting bone rang throughout the dark alleyway.

After a moment of shock, I ran in between the two and placed a hand on each of their chests. Pat sported his signature satisfied smirk, too drunk to notice the pulsing pain in his hand. Eric held a hand to his face and used his thumb to wipe away the blood dripping from his lip. A few feet away, Grant was watching with an intense look of confusion on his face. His eyes flickered between the three of us as he tried to piece together the story.

“What the fuck was that for?” Eric’s voice boomed over my shoulder towards Pat. When he pulled away his hand, he revealed the beginnings of a nasty bruise on the lower part of his cheek.

Pat shrugged and took a few steps back, tripping over his legs sloppily and almost falling to the pavement. Grant stood behind him, steadying him with one of his large hands, and looked at me for an explanation.

I let out a defeated sigh and ran my hands through my hair. I looked towards Grant and Pat, “There’s a lot of things to explain, but I owe that to Eric first. You guys, head home. I’ll catch a cab.”

Grant opened his mouth to protest, but I quickly sent him a warning glare. “Alright,” he huffed, “See you at home.” He strode over to me and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek before returning to Pat and helping him inside.

I turned towards Eric, “I’m so sorry that he did that. There might’ve been a misunderstanding…” Eric didn’t answer and continued to rub his cheek. “Let’s get some ice for that and then maybe coffee?” He merely nodded and turned towards the club entrance, pulling open the door and stepping inside.

Fifteen minutes later, we were seated at a nearby café. Eric held a bag of ice to his cheek and two small coffees rested on the table. We sat in silence for a few minutes, so I used this time to examine him.

His darks curls had been somewhat cut down and now rested in a wavy pile on his forehead. His curls were my favorite thing about him and I had to resist the urge the run my fingers through them. My eyes shifted to his chin, which was partly covered by a large plastic bag of ice. On the other part, his current layer of scruff was in view and I could almost feel it tickling my face when he kissed me. His pouty lips were even plumper from Pat's punch and were split down the middle, but still looked utterly delicious. For a moment or two, I challenged my reasons for leaving Boston, but my eyes immediately drifted to his growing bruise and I was reminded of our current situation.

“I don't know where to start...” I mumbled lamely, taking a small sip from my coffee and hoping that it would help clear my thoughts.

“Somewhere would be good,” Eric mumbled gravely, lifting his dark eyes from the table to connect with mine for a few seconds before falling again.

I set down my cup and reached for his hand. Before he could tear it away, I laced my fingers through his. “I don't even have a clear explanation of everything, so I need you to help me.”

He nodded and gave my fingers a small squeeze, “Is the tall one your boyfriend?” A playful smile made its way onto his lips, but it was dropped almost immediately.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “But I think that's partly because he reminds me of you. He's really sweet and just really cares about what I have to say. You were the same way; you always listened.” He nodded understandingly, but stayed silent.

“I moved to Chicago. The Chicago Tribune was offering me a job and I'm starting it after the summer ends,” I explained.

“Did you tell anyone that you were leaving?” He questioned me after a moment.

I nodded slightly, “My work obviously; I quit. And Sarah, Jess, and Dana. I kept my bags at their place until I left.” He breathed in deeply, but didn't respond.

“I know you're wondering why I left...”

He nodded and closed his eyes briefly, anticipating my answer.

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “It took me a while to figure it out, but honestly, I was just scared. Life was moving way too fast for me and I felt like I was losing my grip on things.”

He sighed, setting down his ice bag and running his free hand through his hair, “And the baby?” His eyes glanced briefly down at my stomach, noting its flat appearance.

“I lost it,” I chewed on my lip, waiting for his response, “Before I left.”

“Is that why?”

I merely nodded, “I lost the baby and I was an absolute wreck. When I came home, I tore apart the nursery. And at some point, I found the engagement ring you had been hiding. And—well—I flipped out. We had only been dating for like 10 months and I'd thought you'd hate me for losing the baby. I didn't want to face you. You wouldn't want to marry me.”

“It wasn't your fault,” he rubbed my knuckles soothingly, “A lot of people miscarry within the first few weeks.”

A single tear rolled down my cheek, “You're just saying that.”

“I would never have hated you,” he ignored my comment and wiped at my tear with his thumb, “And I would've asked you to marry me anyway.”

My lip quivered at his words and I had to bite it to stop, “I'm so sorry...”

He quickly shushed me and scooted his chair closer, bringing me into his chest, “There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to take a break from everything and that's just exactly what you did.”

“I should've explained sooner,” I gripped his t-shirt and allowed more tears to spill out. We were silent for a few more minutes. Eric rocked me back and forth, running his thick fingers through my hair soothingly and rubbing my back. We earned quite a few stares from fellow customers, but our table in the back corner gave us some privacy. It was too late for people to be getting into other's business. Once my tears stopped, I looked up at Eric. The bruise on his cheek was a combination of different blues and greens, taking up a large portion of the side of his face. A few of his own tears had stained his cheeks and his eyelashes were clumped together slightly.

“Let's go for a walk,” he suggested quietly, offering me a weak smile and his hand. I nodded lightly, grabbing his hand and standing up. We made our way out onto the streets of Buffalo and started walking in no particular direction.

“Why are you in Buffalo?” I questioned after a moment.

He shrugged, “Just last week, I got offered a job here. And—I'm not going to lie—I was hoping to run into you.”

I let out a small giggle, “I'm just here for the weekend, so you got lucky.”

He sent me one of his signature grins, the one that took up his whole face and made his eyes appear lighter, “I was always lucky when it came to you.”

I wrapped my arm around his middle and squeezed tightly, “I really did love you, Eric. Never doubt that.”

His smile dropped slightly at my words, “Did, huh?”

I nodded, “It can never be the same, Eric.”

“You don't know until you try,” he smiled at me again and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “Please tell me you'll try.”

I shook my head sadly, “I go back to Chicago tomorrow.”

“You can stay.”

I sighed, “I don't know if I can.”

He stopped walking and turned me to face him, but I immediately dropped my gaze to my heels. “And why not?”

“I have to go back…with my boyfriend,” I cringed inwardly.

“You mean the guy who had you pushed up against the wall of a club, yelling at you? You're going to stay with him?” he raised his eyebrows up at me, a look of shock plastered across his face.

I shrugged and ignored his look, “You don't know him.”

Eric dropped his hands from my shoulders, causing me to look up at him. “You're right, I don't know him. But I do know that I would never talk to you the way he did. And I do know that the Allie I know wouldn't take crap from anyone like that.”

I sighed and my gaze fell again.

Eric quickly placed two fingers underneath my chin and lifted it up. “I'm going to drive you home now, but just consider what I said. Consider staying in Buffalo.” I nodded and quietly followed him to his car, jumping the passenger seat and immediately adjusting my position to stare out the window.

For the entirety of the twenty-minute drive, Eric and I stayed silent. The only noise was the soft voices of the radio and Eric's occasional quiet humming. He pulled in front of my house and came around to open my door. I jumped out of the car and landed softly in his arms, hugging him tightly.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, “I'm glad I found you, Al. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” I breathed in his scent—a mixture of some European cologne and mocha--and offered him my strongest smile. He unwrapped his arms from around my tiny frame and gave me a small push towards my front door, reminding me that I still had some business to take care of.

Reluctantly, I turned and walked to my front door, pushing it open slowly. The house was dim and silent. I ventured into the living room—where I knew he'd be waiting—and sure enough, Grant was sprawled out across the couch.

I walked into the room further and sat down next to him on the edge of the couch. I ran my fingers through his short hair, causing his eyes to flutter open. He offered me a sleepy smile before closing his eyes again.

“We're going to talk in the morning, okay?” I promised, standing up from the couch and making my way upstairs. I pushed open the door to my bedroom and flopped onto my bed lazily, groaning into my pillow.

The weekend had not turned out the way I had hoped. Something weird had happened between Pat and I, but I wasn't really sure what it was. It could've been a fragment of my imagination, driven by the recovery of the memory of our kiss. It was constantly on my mind and I was afraid that it was disturb our newly mended friendship.

As for Grant and me, I really had no idea what happened. Our relationship had been solid for the past few weeks and we hadn't had any major fights. He had told me that he loved me and I had repeated the words back. But as soon as Pat was thrown into the mix, Grant was becoming increasingly jealous and angry at the situation. Over the past twenty-four hours, he had shown a side of him that was pretty unpleasant. Though nothing had really happened in the alley, my mind raced to think about what would’ve happened if Eric hadn’t stepped out.

There were obviously a lot of things for me to sort out, but it wouldn’t be done tonight. As soon as my head hit the pillow, fatigue took over and I passed out in my outfit from the club.