Changes

I was awoken by the harsh sound of my iPhone vibrating on the coffee table in front of the couch. I quickly reached over and lifted it from the wooden surface, tapping on the “ignore” button and throwing it onto the other section of the couch.

Pat and I still laid in our original positions—with our legs tangled together and my upper-half sprawled across his sturdy chest. His large arms encircled my waist and small snores sounded from between his parted lips.

I took this time to really look at him for the first time in months. He looked extremely exhausted—which was expected as he went straight from playing in the Stanley Cup Finals in Boston to partying in one of Chicago’s clubs until the early hours of the morning. Large bags had formed under his eyes, which drooped slightly, and his hair laid in a disheveled pile on top of his head. A few new scars had developed around his plump lips—evidence of the dangerous sport he played constantly.

His shallow breaths indicated that my phone had not stirred him from his deep sleep, so I carefully untangled my body parts from his and pulled a small blanket on top of him. I snatched my phone up from the cushion and checked my texts.

Elina Casell (4:56 PM): Make sure you and patty-cakes are ready to party tonight. Rockit @ 9:00.

I snorted at Elina’s nickname for Pat and quickly typed out my response.

Count us in. See you there.

I threw on a pair of converse, piled my hair in a sloppy bun on top of my head, and scribbled out a small note for Pat before shuffling out of my apartment. I made my way onto the bustling streets of the city and started towards a small coffee shop that Pat had recommended to me the day before.

I took in the city around me. Although it was 5:00 on a Tuesday and many people still remained in their offices, the sidewalk was crowded with many people. Large, glass skyscrapers towered over the narrow streets and bright yellow taxis roared by on the pavement. Chicago was similar to Boston in many ways, but the city still had an overwhelming unfamiliar feel to it—something that I knew would only subside with time.

I pushed open to the door to the small coffee shop that was perched on a small street corner. It was pretty much empty except for a few sole customers—a teenage couple resided in the back corner of the shop, blatantly ignoring the almost-full coffees on the table and whispering small comments to one another; a businesswoman typed away feverishly at her laptop; and a tall man stared aimlessly out to the busy streets.

I walked up to the counter and gave my order to the petite barista, whose name tag read ‘Livvy.’ Since there was no one else to place any orders, Livvy quickly completed the drinks and set them in a cardboard holder.

“Thanks, Livvy,” I smiled at her before dropping a small tip in the jar and heading towards the door. As I reached for the shiny metal handle to pull it open, it suddenly flew towards me and hit the flimsy tray in my hand. A tall figure burst through the now open door and quickly strode up to the counter without sending as much as a glance my way.

“Shit,” I cursed as I fumbled with the coffees, trying to wipe the hot liquid off of my wrist.

“You okay, Allie?” Livvy spoke up from behind the counter, grabbing a handful of napkins from the dispenser and offering them to me in an outstretched hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” I offered Livvy a friendly smile.

Suddenly, the man who had barged into the store spun around to look at me, realization flashing across his face. “I’m so sorry. Did I do that?” he pointed to the coffee running down the sides of the cups. I looked up from my hands, gave him a small nod, and continued to clean up whatever liquid had been splattered across the tray.

“Oh. Well-uh, I’m really sorry. My boss was being a bitch about needing her 5:00 coffee on time and I was up really late last night working. Well, actually, I was more or less watching the Blackhawks game, but anyway, I was up really late. And I’m sorry.” He let out a deep breath and chuckled, running a large hand through his hair, “I don’t know why I just said that but, here, let me get you a new coffee.”

I shook my head quickly and gave him a small smile, “It’s fine. Only a little bit spilt out. Thanks anyway, though.”

With a tiny wave, I turned around on my heels, pushed open the door to the small shop, and started to trek my way back to the apartment. The coffees—slightly less heavy than they were a mere few minutes ago—bounced slightly in the cardboard tray as I walked on the concrete. As I waited at the crosswalk for the walking man to appear on the light, I suddenly heard loud footsteps approaching me from behind.

My thoughts raced around at a million miles an hour and the foreignness of the city became eerily evident. I didn’t know anyone in the city besides Pat, who was currently passed out on my couch. Who was approaching me? Why were they approaching me? What did they want?

Immediately, my mind raced towards the worst-case scenario and I hurriedly scanned the vicinity for an escape root. As I took a step off the sidewalk, my arm was suddenly grasped by a much larger hand and I was forced to retreat back up to my original perch on the side of the curb. A large food truck flew by, just inches from the curb, and honked its horn loudly.

“You might want to be more careful next time,” a deep voice sounded from behind me. My eyes snapped to the large hand that enveloped my wrist and traveled up its extended arm before I finally met a pair of light-blue eyes.

It was the man from the coffee shop.

Although I didn’t get a good look at him before, I recognized the large frame that had come barging through the door and almost knocking me over. Who could forget that? But now, I was able to evaluate the rest of him—and needless to say, it was a pleasant sight.

Above his blue eyes, his light brown hair was somewhat longer than a buzz-cut, swept across the top of his forehead. His chin was covered in a thin layer of scruff that had probably developed throughout the course of the day. His full lips were parted slightly, the corners turned up into a small smile.

I snapped out of my lingering gaze and shifted my eyes to the concrete sidewalk beneath us. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“I’m Grant and I wanted to make that up to you,” he waved his hand around in the general direction of the coffee shop.

“You just saved me from getting mauled by that bus, so I think it’s okay to say we’re even,” I shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to save you though, so it doesn’t count,” he retorted, freeing my arm from his grasp.

“Oh,” I chuckled at him, “So you wanted me to get hit by that bus?” I gestured over my shoulder at the busy street.

“No! I-uh, um…” he stuttered before taking a deep breath and chuckling at himself quietly, “I wanted to ask you for your number.”

I gave him an answer by simply nodding my head and taking a small sip from my coffee. He reached into the pocket of his dress pants and retrieved his iPhone. “Here.”

As I punched my number into the newly made contact, I saw him lean towards me slightly and look at the screen curiously, “So… Allie, I have a follow-up question, too.”

“And what would that be?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Would you go out to dinner with me?” he asked.

“Sure,” I merely nodded and turned to see that the walking man had finally appeared across the street.

“I’ll call you,” he promised as I made my way to the other side of the street, throwing a thumbs-up over my shoulder as a response.

After a short walk, I finally found my way back to my apartment. I quietly opened the door in case Pat was still passed out on the couch, but as my sectional came into view, I discovered that his large body was no longer occupying it.

“Pat?” I called, throwing my converse into the corner and making my way further into the apartment. I heard a low mumble from the kitchen.

I peeked into the room, finding him sitting on top of my kitchen counter with a large sandwich gripped between his large hands. “Hey,” he mumbled through a full mouth, jumping off of the counter and snatching a coffee from out of the cardboard container.

He swallowed his large chunk of food, “I was wondering where you went.”

“I left a note on the refrigerator, which I’m sure you saw,” I gestured towards his sandwich and pulled out a chair from my kitchen table.

“Too tired to read,” he took another large bite of his sandwich, “Wanna tell me what it said?”

I rolled my eyes at his boyish behavior, “Elina texted me to make sure that you and I were going to Rockit tonight with everyone.”

Pat’s eyes widened a bit at the mention of partying and he nodded his head excitedly. “You’re so predictable,” I took a sip of my coffee, “I already told her we’d be there.”

He flashed me a large smile, popping the last bite of his sandwich into his open mouth, “Thanks, Al.” He swallowed loudly before continuing, “So you wanna get dinner before we meet up with everyone else?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe you can show me another part of Chicago besides its flimsy clubs,” I answered.

“Hey! Don’t act like you didn’t have fun last night,” he threw his hands up in defense, “You’re as much of a party girl as I am.”

“You’re right, Pat! We’re both party girls,” I flashed him a wicked smirk.

He glared at me, “You know what I meant, Al.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Patty,” I laughed, throwing a wink in his direction. I pushed my chair away from the table and dumped my half-full coffee into the garbage can before walking back towards my bedroom.

♢♢♢♢

Allie snickered at her own joke as she made her way out of the kitchen. Her bare feet padded down the hallway on her hardwood floors before her bedroom door was flung open with a loud creak.

If I was a “party girl”—which, according to Allie, I was—then I was definitely going to get white girl wasted tonight.

I clapped my hands together in excitement, reaching into the pocket of my shorts and retrieving my iPhone. I punched in the number of my other best friend.

“What do you want now, Kaner?” Jon answered.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Cap’n Serious,” I retorted quickly.

He groaned, “Fine. What’s up?”

“Whatcha doing tonight?” I asked.

“Meeting everyone at Rockit at 9, I think,” he answered simply as I heard him shift against the surface of his couch, probably watching the highlights of our last game on ESPN.

I threw my hands up in frustration even though he couldn’t see me, “Why does everyone know about those plans but me? I had to find out from Allie.”

“Because we like her better than you,” he joked, chuckling quietly over the line.

“You just think she’s hot, man,” I said.

“Because she is hot,” he stated quickly, without missing a beat.

I groaned, “Don’t even think about it, Tazer.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Tazer,” I warned again.

He laughed loudly, “I’m just messing with you. I won’t steal your girl.” I was about to protest his statement before he cut me off and continued, “Well, I’ll see you and the hottie tonight, bro.”

I closed my mouth and let out a small sigh, “Alright, Tazer. See ya.”

I quickly hit the ‘end’ button and stuffed my phone back in my pocket, pushing myself away from the kitchen table and dumping the contents of my coffee down the sink. In the distance, I could hear Allie banging around in her room, probably searching through her closet for something to wear to the club.

Allie loved going to clubs. It was one of the reasons we were still so close. She shared the same love for partying as me, which led us to countless reckless summer nights and wild memories. Unlike most of the girls that I encountered in clubs—puckbunnies, for the most part—Allie didn’t go to clubs to find someone to take home; she went for the pure enjoyment of being surrounded by friends and throwing back a couple of rounds. This part of her was also the reason why she got along so great with my teammates. Needless to say, us Blackhawks enjoyed partying quite a bit and we were always looking for new people to hit up clubs with.

A large grin found its way onto my face as I thought about some of the memories Allie and I had made partying together—even though most consisted of blurry faces and slurred words. I turned down the hallway and padded towards her open door, peeking my face into the doorframe.

“Need any help?” I questioned, eyeing the large pile of clothes strewn around her room.

She scoffed loudly as she plucked a black dress from the heap. “If you help me, I’ll end up dressed like a stripper.”

I made my way into her room and plopped down on her bed, “Hey! I’m sure that’s what any hormonal guy would do!” I threw my hands up in defense before lying back on her fluffy comforter.

She gathered up a pair of nude heels from the ground and walked into her large closet. As I stared intently at her ceiling, I heard the faint sound of a zipper and the click of heels emerging from the closet. I sat up from my position and my eyes immediately scanned the outfit she had thrown on.

I heard my jaw hit the floor.

She looked absolutely stunning.

She was clad in a small black dress with a large scoop back. The dress hugged her tiny waist perfectly, making it practically impossible to tear my eyes away from her seemingly flawless body. My eyes continued on their path down the rest of her body—her legs appearing especially long due to her tall, nude-colored heels.

A strange groan sounded from the back of my throat, prompting me to close my agape mouth hurriedly. “You’re not wearing that out,” I spoke when I finally regained my composure.

She raised a single eyebrow at me. “Why not? Do you not like it?” she teased as she turned to the side and threw back her hips, shaking her butt from side to side slightly.

“Stop it!” I covered my eyes as a small blush crept up the back of my neck, “That’s not appropriate!”

A loud giggled slipped past her lips as she straightened up and turned towards her en-suite bathroom.

“No man is worthy of seeing you in that,” I called from my position of the bed, watching her as she bent towards the mirror and applied a small coat of massacre.

“Oh, but you are?” she laughed.

“I’m Patrick Kane,” I answered jokingly, “I’m the only exception to all rules.”

She turned towards me with her hands on her hips, “Patrick Kane the Hockey Player is so cocky.”

I groaned playfully, “Yeah, I know. Don’t you just hate him?”

She nodded, “Sucha man-whore.” She let out a loud laugh before turning back towards the mirror.

“Hey! You actually meant that!” I whined, throwing a scowl in her direction. She merely chuckled and shrugged a single shoulder, walking back into her bedroom.

“You wearing that to the club?” she motioned to my attire.

I stood up from my seat on her bed and brushed off the front of my clothes, inspecting them. “Well, I was thinking about throwing on a plaid shirt but—”

“What is with you Blackhawks and plaid?!” she waved her hands around in confusion as she pushed open the door of her closet.

“It’s a good look,” I stated simply, eyeing the bundle of fabric that occupied her hands as she made her way towards me. She unfolded the fabric and shook it out, revealing its actual shape.

It was one of my favorite plaid shirts—which, of course, had been missing from my closet for a while. After searching through my stacks of laundry for a few weeks and coming up empty-handed, I had ultimately landed on the conclusion that a creepy puckbunny had taken it from my closet as a keepsake.

I snatched the shirt from between her delicate hands, “I’ve been looking for this!”

She offered me an apologetic smile, “I think I might’ve taken it from you over Christmas break before the lockout ended.”

I pushed my arms into the shirt and left it hanging open, exposing my simple white t-shirt. “It’s cool, Al. Just tell me next time you want to steal my stuff.”

She sent me an evil grin before sauntering out of the room—and making my eyes fall on her perfectly plump ass. “But that would make it less fun,” she called over her shoulder.

I followed her to her front door, where I threw on my Vans and stuffed my wallet and keys into my pocket.

“Let’s hit the road, Jack,” she flung the door open and guided me out of it.

As she locked the door behind us, her phone erupted in a series of rings from her clutch, which she hastily tore open.

“Hello?” she answered, swiping her thumb across the screen.