The Lonely Hour

Chapter 7: Guilty Pleasures

The goal, the goal.

It was the perfect NHL goal, it was the one you dreamed of scoring as a little child. So clean, so precise, a highlight reel goal.

A part of me wanted to say the goal was for me, for Patrick hadn't scored in four games prior. But another part called me foolish and caused me to hang my head in shame as I made my way to the box office.

The United Center, there were so many words to describe it. Large, breathtaking, so full of life. It was my first time here, my first time in an NHL arena. The fans here were dedicated, they believed in their home team, I had never seen anything like it.

As I stood there in the box office, all the windows closed and locked, I could see Patrick approaching. The suit he dawned was pristine, it looked freshly ironed and steamed. His hair was loose, not contained by any type of hat.

The most stunning feature wasn't his hair or his clothes or even his arms that looked like they were going to bust out of the suit any minute, but his eyes. They were the deepest hues of blue, sparkling and reflecting any type of light that hit them. His eyes were blue, but even that word couldn't perfectly describe them. I wondered, did they change? When he is angry does the color deepen? When he is sad does it soften?

"Ella" his voice was unexpected, low with a hint of huskiness.

"Good goal today" I giggled. A smile played on his lips, I guess he's use to getting that.

"Thank you for coming... I uh got these for you" Pulling out the arm behind his back he revealed six roses, six beautiful roses. The perfect hue of red, wrapped together in a hawks ribbon much like the ones I had received earlier that day.

"A dozen" I whispered by accident, blushing I looked at Patrick.

"I hope you don't think it's to corny" he chuckles lightly

"No, not at all.. Roses are my favorite" I flirt

"Really?"

"Actually it's Lilly's but these are beautiful too" I remark

"You actually lead me on!" His laugh that followed was like ripples in a still pond after a pebble has been throw in it. It rippled outward, echoing in the empty halls of the united center.

"It's the thought that counts" I blushed, my cheeks flushed red.

"Would you like to grab a drink?" He asked abruptly, but something told me that was his intention the whole time.

Something inside me told be I shouldn't, I knew better. But god, my life was so black and white and I needed a little color.

"I'd like that" With that I followed Patrick to the parking garage where his white tuck waited. It was so pristine inside, a flowery scent dwelled in the air from the little tree air freshener that hung from the mirror. The ride was fast, Patrick parked his hummer right outside a small bar.

The bar was empty, a hole in the wall hidden between the buildings surrounding it. I followed Patrick inside were two drunk men sat at the bar. One was passed out, sound asleep as his face rested in a puddle of his own drool. The other couldn't stop laughing at his drunk friend.

"I'm sorry it's not the nicest place, I'm just trying to avoid fans"

"You avoid your fans?"

"No, no it's not like that.. It's just when I'm out with people I like to not be bombarded"

"Oh I understand, privacy is taken away... It's the price you pay" I laugh, trying to lighten the tension. We both took a seat at the bar, a young man, probably as old as me (22), took our order. Patrick ordered for the both of us.

As we sat there waiting I noticed his hands. They were fairly large, probably large enough to cover most of his face. They looked soft to touch, probably would cup my hand rather nicely.

no stop

Finally the bar tender slid over the drinks. Patrick had scotch on the rocks with a twist. As for me, I had a tinted red drink, cherry vodka. "Cheers" Patrick mumbles as he holds his glass in the air. "Cheers" I say back, clinking my glass to his before taking a swig of the drink.

It was strong, I could feel the burn of the alcohol in my system.

3rd POV

Just thinking about the alcohol made Patrick's fingers tickle and mouth to water. Before it even touched his lips they would begin to tingle as if his brain couldn't wait for the intoxication to begin. It was Patrick's secret guilty pleasure. There were mornings when he would wake up all by himself surrounded by beer bottles and cans.

Normally, Patrick could control himself, he knew when another bottle would be to much. But today he couldn't, he didn't have the strength to put the beer bottle down. Ella, Ella had taken the vodka down, her speech wasn't affected and she was perfectly fine. She wasn't a light weight unlike Patrick.

After a beer and a half Patrick's speech would become slurred and his vision so blurry. But even with his vision blurry Patrick could still see Ella's beautiful hazel eyes. He longed to pull her close and admire them, run his hands through her precious brown hair, and kiss- no no he couldn't. He had a girlfriend he thought to himself as he took another swig of the booze. What about Ella though? What was her story? Did she have a boyfriend? A lover? She was a college student, but studying what? How long has she been playing hockey? What was her family like?

Millions of questions swarmed Patrick at once. It was if his impaired brain was over heating with questions and booze, everything went black.