Changes

My phone blared from beside me, indicating that it was time for my daily morning run. But this morning, I was not asleep in my own bed; I was sprawled out on the floor of my living room, as were several of my friends.

Surprised by the sudden sound, I frantically felt around the floor for its source and quickly slid my thumb across the screen to quiet it.

“Shit,” I groaned, sitting up from my position on the floor and taking in my surroundings.

My living room was scattered with several lifeless bodies and countless empty bottles of alcohol. The room reeked of beer and body odor, causing my nose to scrunch up and my stomach to churn. Through the large sliding door and expanse of glass windows, I could see out onto my back porch—where piles of red Solo cups surrounded the ping-pong table that Mike was passed out on top of.

I pushed myself up from the ground and made my way to my bedroom, only having the energy to fling my body into the pile of sheets. Once I settled, I pulled my phone out from the pocket of my shorts and adjusted my head so that I could view the screen, which I illuminated with a touch of my thumb.

Momma Kane (6:23PM): Are you going to be around for dinner?
Erica Kane (11:34PM): Missed Call
Erica Kane (11:35PM): Call me when you’re over your hangover ;)
Mike Raut (1:09AM): I’m lockd outsde
Mike Raut (1:11AM): WAKE uP ASSHOLe!!!1
Allie Barnes (2:57AM): Missed Call

♢♢♢♢

“Fuck this,” I groaned quietly as I tried to find a comfortable sleeping position for what seemed like the millionth time that night. I flopped lazily onto my stomach and pushed my face into the plush pillow before me. Grant stirred slightly beside me from my sudden movement, but his eyes remained firmly squeezed shut.

It was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning and I still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. My thoughts and racing mind refused to rest. Pat’s last text message had completely thrown me off of my game.

It had been almost 12 hours since my phone indicated that a text message from him had come through, and I hadn’t received any since. I missed his constant nagging about calling him back; it made me feel as though he actually did care about our fight. But now without it, I found myself waiting around to hear the little ding of a new message.

You never miss a good thing ‘til it’s gone.

After a few minutes of failed attempts at sleep, I snatched my phone off of the bedside table and made my way out to Grant’s balcony that branched off of his bedroom. The cool Chicago wind blew any stray hairs away from my face, causing me to shiver slightly in my flimsy pajama shorts.

I swiped at the screen of my phone and opened up my most recently received message.

Patrick Kane (12:35 PM): Erica thinks I should stop smothering you and since she’s a girl, I’m gonna listen. Don’t think I’m giving up on you, please call me.

Without allowing myself to second-guess the decision, I clicked on his name and hit the call button. Though I expected him to pick up on the first ring, I soon found myself listening to his voicemail greeting.

“Hi, this is Patrick. I can’t get to the phone right—” I hastily hit the end button.

Patrick had been smothering me with text messages and voicemails for over a week. He acted like he was actually distraught about our fight, which was one of the reasons why I decided to finally answer him. But, suddenly, when I chose to call, he refuses to answer his phone?

God, that douche was probably fucking the brains out of some puck bunny in the bathroom of a club.

“Fuck this, too!” I whisper-shouted towards the darkened sky.

I know that I had been ignoring him for over a week. But I thought that when I was finally ready to talk, he’d at least be there to answer his phone. But he wasn’t. And he was probably giving some girl her fifteen minutes of fame in his bed. He didn’t actually care about whether or not I called him back. If he did, he would’ve answered his phone.

He gave up on me.

♢♢♢♢

The pile of sheets on my bed muffled the agitated groan that slipped past my lips.

Shit.

Allie had finally given me a chance—finally responded to my countless attempts at contact with her—and I missed her call. The one thing I had been waiting around for the past week and a half. I had taken one night off from watching my phone—just one night. And I missed out on the chance that I’ve been pleading for.

Though the timestamp indicated that she reached my voicemail hours earlier, the pad of my thumb quickly landed on the ‘return’ button. I rested the phone on my ear and silently prayed that Allie would answer the call. Despite this, after ringing just a mere few times, my call was sent to her voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Allie Barnes! I can’t get to the phone right now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!” Beep.

I quickly exited out of the call and allowed my head to fall back into my pile of pillows.

She ignored my call.

Fuck.

Knowing that she was near her phone, I hastily typed out a text message to her and explained myself.

I know I didn’t answer last night, but the guys kinda took over my house. Please answer me.

I tossed my phone onto the opposite side of my bed, only to have it erupt in a series of vibrations a few seconds after hitting the sheets. The sudden noise caused me to leap across my bed with whatever energy I had left and swipe my finger across the screen.

“Hello?!” I answered excitedly.

“Wow, someone’s eager this morning,” I heard Erica chuckle.

“I thought you were Allie calling.”

She scoffed loudly across the line, “Why because she called you last night and you didn’t answer?”

I let out another aggravated groan. Of course, my sister would already know all my business. That’s the way things ran between us. “Shut up, Erica.”

“She gave you a chance and you didn’t even answer your phone. Come on, Pat. That’s kind of a low blow,” she stated simply.

“I just looked at my phone this morning!” I argued, “And I’ve been trying to reach her for the past few minutes. She ignored my call.”

“Well, obviously,” I could practically see her eye-roll, “When she did the one thing you’ve been asking her to do, you flaked and didn’t answer. It looks like you gave up on her, especially after your last text message to her and all.”

“God, why do you always have to know everything?” I punctuated my question with a low grumble.

“I’m a girl, Pat. It’s in my nature to always be right,” she explained easily.

“Well, can you help me out? Because I clearly don’t know what I’m doing in this situation.”

She was quiet for a moment, probably thinking about the “obvious” solutions to my problem, before she cleared her throat and began talking excitedly. “Oh! I’ve got it! You’re going to Riley’s wedding, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I stated simply—though it came out as more of a question—as my thoughts attempted to catch up to her train of thought.

“Allie’s going, too. Get her alone for a few minutes, explain to her why you were such a douche two weeks ago, and hug it out,” I could hear her smirk through the phone. “Oh! And, also, profess your love to her. Okay? Okay, bye!” The line was quickly clicked off, only giving me a chance to roll my eyes at my sister’s absurdness.

Ever since she claimed that I loved Allie last week, she’s been making “sly” comments about it constantly. I ignored them for the most part, but more often than not, she didn’t give me a chance to respond—just as she did with her most recent remark.

Suddenly, the door to my bedroom flew open and exposed a very hung-over looking Mike. His short brown hair stuck up in every which way, his shirt was missing, and a thin layer of scruff was beginning to form along his chin.

“DUDE?!” he stomped over to my bed and gestured to the iPhone grasped in my hand, “You couldn’t have let me in?”

I quickly shushed him and nursed my pounding headache before turning my attention back towards his looming presence, “How’d you get inside?”

“I climbed through the fucking window. That’s how,” he huffed, snatching a water bottle from the top of my dress and finishing it off in a few large gulps.

I shrugged my shoulders in an attempt at an apology, “My bad, man.”

He simply nodded in response and retrieved my bottle of Advil from my ensuite bathroom. Before tossing the bottle to me, he placed two of the small pills in his hand and threw them down his throat in one swift motion.

“My question is who fucking locked the door on me,” he grumbled as he plopped down onto the plush chair that was positioned in the corner of my room.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” I flipped back onto my back and popped two pills into my mouth. The two tablets rested on my tongue as I swallowed hard, the taste of alcohol becoming evident again in my mouth. The water bottle that rested by the side of my bed was quickly grasped in one of my hands and its contents spilling down my throat. I shook my head slightly and stuck out my tongue in disgust. I probably shouldn’t have consumed all those mysterious concoctions the night before and I definitely didn’t need their taste lingering in my mouth.

Mike spread his body along the length of the couch and flung an arm over his eyes. While I battled the tastes on my tongue, he was mostly quiet—except for a few grumbles here and there—and was certainly fighting off his own sickness.

“Bro, where’s Allie been? I haven’t seen her around in awhile,” he asked, sitting up slightly, “I meant to ask you yesterday. But it slipped my mind because, well…I was beyond smashed.” He chuckled and sent me a suggestive smirk.

I shut my eyes tightly for a moment before also sitting up slightly and matching his gaze, “She’s back in Chicago, not coming home for the summer. But, I—uh—I haven’t really talked with her since I left…”

He rolled his eyes at my last statement, “What’d you do this time?”

I let out a heavy sigh, “I fucked up big time and now she won’t answer my calls. I’m waiting for her to come back for Riley’s wedding Saturday, but I don’t even know what I’m gonna do then.” I groaned and let my body fall back onto my mattress. Though it was Sunday and I had practically a week to prepare, I felt panic course throughout my body. I had to come up with a plan to win my best friend back and I had to make it nearly impossible for her to reject me. But how the fuck was I supposed to accomplish that?

“Let me help you out, Pat.”