#Beauvillier kids | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 years ago

Text

communication skills

anthony beauvillier x f!reader; platonic!mat barzal x f!reader

warnings: swearing, throwing up, based slightly on 'hits different' by taylor swift, i wrote a good 80% of this drunk so i apologise for everything

word count: 8.7k

The water was warm – not too hot that it burned your skin, but warm enough to encourage you to stand in front of the mirror – refusing to look at your own reflection – and keep your hands held under the steady stream. There was something relaxing about it, watching it cascade off your skin, fragmenting the light.

It was a twisty tap, and after a long period of you washing off the feeling of his last words, desperate to scrub any and all traces of him off your skin, even despite the pathetic futility of such a feat – another hand reached out from behind you, twisting it off and handing you a small pile of paper towels.

Much like your own reflection, you refused to look at the man on your right, keeping your head down and eyes entirely focused on the task at hand. If you even so much as caught a pitying or equally heartbroken gleam in his face, you’d be done for; that unwanted well of emotion would shatter, and Mat would be left to pick up the pieces in a bathroom of a club you’d only been to once before.

The last thing you wanted to do was talk about it, but when you chucked the scrap towels in the bin, the frustration had gotten the better of you, and your words spewed out of your mouth seamlessly. Mat was leant against a wall, nodding along to almost everything you were saying, and you could tell from the grave expression on his face that he was just as affected by the matter, too.

How could he not?

He’d known Beau since they were kids, and because of the inhumane system surrounding transfers, they’d be separated from each other for the first time in years.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” He asked, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, a stern yet altogether curious look about him.

You froze, knitting your brows together in slight bewilderment, “What am I gonna do about him getting transferred?” You checked, puzzled as to his query.

There wasn’t much you could do about anything; transfers were legally bound contacts as far as you knew, and you wouldn’t be able to hammer even the slightest dent in that framework – not that you’d even thought about doing that anyway.

It wasn’t your career, he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you weren’t going to mess with something set in stone. Still, that harsh truth didn’t exactly do anything to numb the stinging hurt prickling at your chest. Your throat tightened, and you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress the mounting build of sadness climbing up your throat.

You hated the helplessness of it all; you couldn’t control a single aspect of anything that had occurred within the last fifteen minutes and it petrified you. It sent goosebumps trailing down your skin, and a spike of adrenaline through your system.

“No,” Mat frowned, blinking at you, “What are you gonna do about Tito moving to Vancouver?”

You swallowed, trying to maintain the knot slowly building, “I don’t follow.”

You weren’t going to do anything. He was the one that had ended it. You were, however, going to go home and watch New Girl to cheer yourself up. Maybe call your parents; the time difference would mean they’d still be awake – and long term? Probably mope.

You weren’t sure you could quite stomach the thought of someone else at that moment – which was a shocker to you.

Moving on was always easy for you to do – it tended to be a benefit of never truly giving yourself to anyone. Yet, somehow, Anthony Beauvillier had worked his way under your defences and you’d given yourself to him in ways you never pictured yourself ever doing.

“I mean,” Mat rolled his eyes, “Are you going to let him break things off and jet across to the other side of North America?” He asked it like it was obvious, his shoulders shrugging as he watched you carefully.

He thought you were taking the entire situation rather well. You had since Anthony had panicked and dumped everything on you – how he’d literally just shouted in your ear ‘I’ve been traded to Vancouver and I’m leaving within the week’ – and how the only reaction you had was a poor ‘oh’ after you’d ingested his words. Other than that, you’d been in a sort of reverie, floating around the rest of the night, a haunted look on your face as you watched him leave.

He’d broken up with you, and Mat was almost certain that you didn’t know why.

Mat knew, of course he did. After Tito had told him, the first thing he’d worried about was you.

“I don’t want her to leave New York for me. She deserves better than that.”

And no matter how many times Mat had tried to persuade Tito that, no, you deserved each other wholeheartedly, Tito was insistent on the fact that the only way to solve that issue of his was to break up with you.

Obviously, he’d neglected to confide exactly why he’d broken up with you, to you.

And that left Mat in this current predicament: you in shock hiding in the bathroom, and Tito, no doubt, packing his suitcase and mourning your entire relationship.

Honestly, Mat was sick of you both. You were too blind to realise that you guys were made for each other – you were just too stubborn to connect the dots and allow yourselves to be happy – with each other.

Your reactions just seemed to lack emotion; it was as if someone had snuffed out your ability to feel – you looked subdued, an empty vacancy hidden behind your eyes.

And when he’d asked you if you were going to go with Anthony to Vancouver, you’d just stared, looking mildly unwell at the prospect.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You asked, placing a hand on your stomach as though to ease the rising sickness. Where had it come from? “He told me he was moving to Vancouver and that he didn’t want me to go with him. In fact, his exact words were ‘I don’t want you to come to Vancouver with me’ and ‘I want to break up’.”

Mat blanched, frustration fisting an angry hand in his chest, slowly pushing its way through his sternum.

He swore you two would be the death of him.

He didn’t say anything, but took your silence as an answer. You’d been throwing hopeful glances at the door, and he’d elected to ignore it in wanting to try to get you to see sense, but it seemed Tito had left that job even more difficult to follow through on with his harsh words.

Reluctant words. Words that Mat knew absolutely killed him to say to you.

He’d seen the way his friend had looked at you, and to know that he was moving to Vancouver – away from him and New York, a feat that he’d be doing alone – and leaving you behind was something that broke even Mat’s heart, and in that, he knew that it destroyed both yours and Tito’s.

If Mat hadn't known that Tito only broke up with you because he didn’t want you to drop everything for him, he would have assumed the guy was running from something.

In a sense, he was running away from you – but in doing so, he was running away from quite possibly the best thing he’d ever had in his life, and Mat wasn’t about to let either you or Tito make that mistake.

He didn’t voice any of that, however, just moved aside and let you through the door, making sure to keep a steady hand on your back in reassurance as you both made it out of the club, past the millions of couples devouring each other – who only served as a sour reminder of the night’s events – and outside.

It was chilly, and the frosty air nipped at your exposed skin.

You’d barely had time to string together a coherent thought before hands were tugging you in all directions; cold and clammy as you were pulled back and forth, concerned touches on your elbows, shoulders, and chin. You barely even registered exactly who you were looking at.

“Are you okay?”

“There’s a cute guy inside that’s been checking you out all night–”

“I can’t believe he just broke up with you.”

“Why isn’t she looking at us?”

Questions were fired left, right and centre, and you were numb to it all; their voices trickling in through one ear and flowing out of the other seamlessly. They sounded like they were underwater, and you felt Mat’s comforting hand on your back once more, gently guiding you away from your friends.

You heard him say something, it must have been something about getting you home because they all let out a chorus of disappointed ‘ohs’ and patted you sympathetically on your arm.

For some reason, hearing the truth of what actually happened barely half an hour ago seemed to set it into stone; it felt different keeping the breakup in the bathroom just between you and Mat – it felt more private somehow, like you could walk out of the room and pretend Anthony hadn’t left you in that club, heart shattered into oblivion and mind stuck on his words and the way he looked like he might break if you so much as even stepped towards him or touched him or whispered even a word of protest.

But you’d wandered outside in the hope of clearing your head, only to be bombarded and heralded and overwhelmed when you were busy trying to deal.

Why did he break up with you? You would have gone with him - you knew you would.

Did he get bored of you? He couldn’t have; he’d just told you he was wildly in love with you three weeks ago.

Had he met someone else? Was he in love with someone else?

And that was when you saw it; although they were further down the street, Mat pushing you into a walk as you both strolled down the sidewalk, you could just make it out in the hazy darkness.

They must have been illuminated by the light from the inside of the bar, because each time a door opened, their section of the sidewalk practically glowed, highlighting them.

You couldn’t see who the girl was, she seemed to be hidden from view by the man, but it was him who’d caught your attention. If it weren’t for Mat coaxing you along, you’d have frozen in place, eyes fixated watching them with the slow drip drip of dread pounding your body.

You were entranced by the way he brought his hands up to the side of her face, throwing his head backwards in a laugh – a real one, unbridled with joy – and then leant forwards, peppering kisses all over her face as she giggled sweetly at his attentions and affections. It wasn’t the PDA that had you stalling.

That man was Anthony. You could only see the back of his head, and he was further down than you, but he was around the same height and you could see the curls in his hair. He was even wearing a typical Anthony outfit.

It was simple, and you were sure almost every guy in the vicinity was wearing some variation of it, but what caught your eye was he was wearing the same grey t-shirt Beau had just left in.

It could have been any grey t-shirt.

But Anthony had just left wearing it and it was logical that he’d broken up with you because he was in love with that girl.

Mat seemed to sense your hesitation, and he slowed to a stop, brows furrowing at the intensity with which you were watching the young couple in front of you. His eyes drifted from you, his hand now gently grazing your forearm as though he was afraid you’d peel and leave him, to the couple.

He didn’t understand what was so compelling about them that had you completely fascinated. Granted, you looked horrified, and your eye twitched, a flash of pain appearing and then disappearing almost as soon as it had made its presence. If he thought you looked ill before, you looked like you were about to throw up–

He’d barely managed to steer you against a wall and wind your hair up before you’d thrown up on the side of the road.

You quickly pulled yourself up, hating that your eyes instantly drifted back over to the couple.

You frowned. The man wasn’t Anthony.

Then you hurled again, and Mat’s level of concern skyrocketed.

“How much did you have to drink?” He asked, helping you to stand back up, a slight grimace to his face as he made sure there were no splashes coating his jeans.

You briefly shut your eyes, stomach turning, feeling your heart break in real time as the emotions you’d bottled started to manifest itself in physical symptoms – completely against your will. Your eyes pricked with hot tears and the lump in your throat was back as your chin wobbled. You tried to hide behind your hand, but Mat had caught the momentary vulnerability before you could turn away.

He sighed, letting your hair fall back down and automatically pulling you into his chest.

“I didn’t have anything to drink.” You admitted.

His chest rumbled, and you didn’t know if it was the comfort he brought, because no one else seemed to understand what you were feeling at that moment, or if you simply craved a human touch from someone you trusted, but you felt your demeanour shatter, the tears tracking down your cheeks before you could catch them and reel them back in.

“I didn’t have anything to drink.” You repeated, shaking your head.

All you’d done was picture Anthony Beauvillier with other girls in love, and then promptly thrown up on the street.

Yeah, you were pretty fucked.

___

Yet, despite the fact that Anthony had moved to Vancouver, there was a temporary feeling about it – as though you didn’t believe the breakup had actually happened, or you didn’t believe it was really…a breakup?

It definitely had something to do with the fact that Mat was currently in your apartment, a rental, pre-furnished – one that rather conveniently, you hadn’t had the time to move into properly yet, and he was helping you box your belongings, taping the edges together and piling them up in the corner.

You were sorting out your clothes, placing them into a suitcase, and he was in the living room, going through your kitchen.

It hadn’t happened quickly. It took Mat a week to plant the seed in your mind, and it took you another three to decide to move out. Honestly, after Mat had pointed out that, in fact, your ‘friends’ weren’t really your friends; your job had previously offered you a different position in Surrey, not too far out from where you’d just rented another apartment – and it was a career move. That was what you kept telling yourself; technically the job move was a promotion – your salary had been upped and it was more of what you actually wanted to do job-wise.

Plus, your parents lived in Vancouver. You grew up there, went to school there, your friends still lived there. The only reason you stayed in New York was because you’d managed to snag a job straight out of college and you’d established a sort of life for yourself. Albeit, completely apart from your family, but you’d gotten used to the loneliness in college.

If anything, the only reason you’d stayed in New York and hesitated to accept that job offer in the first place – one that you’d gotten even before Anthony had dumped that bomb on you – was because of Mat.

You guys were pretty close, and it felt like a betrayal leaving him (especially after Anthony had just done the same thing, though it was out of his control) for the person he’d introduced to you.

And to say he was eager to send you back to Vancouver – ‘for your job opportunity’ – would be a bit of an understatement, if his volunteering to help you pack had anything to do with it.

It almost felt like someone had taken the knife already living in your chest and twisted it when you heard the song playing through the speakers. The song.

The melody was instantly familiar, even more so the croning of the voice, and it sent a pang of nostalgia ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

There were people everywhere; though it could have had something to do with the fact the venue was only one room – a large one at that, with tall ceilings and rather gorgeous curtains. The back wall was made up entirely of windows and the view overlooking the city was gorgeous from where you were standing. You swore you could see stars when you looked up.

Not that you looked very hard; your eyes were indefinitely locked onto Anthony as he leant back against the glass.

You were both sitting on the floor, him with his back to the glass, and you perpendicular. Somehow you’d both managed to find a quiet corner – literally – and sit down, because after you’d gone to get drinks, your chairs were occupied by some unfamiliar faces, and it was the perfect excuse to get him alone, at least to some extent.

You weren’t entirely isolated from the celebrations, but you made it work.

Your legs were stretched out along the floor, and because of the limitations of you being able to wear a dress in public, Anthony had elected to place his legs over the top of yours like some sort of criss-cross pattern. You were pressed together, him almost sitting on your lap, and you could tell he was comfy.

He’d shrugged his blazer off and a few extra buttons had come undone somewhere along the lines. Your hand stroked delicate motions on the material of his suit trousers, and although his head was resting against the glass, his eyes were watching your fingers.

There was a glass of champagne on either side of you both, yours empty, his only half.

Perhaps that was the reasoning behind your exaggerated reaction when you heard ‘Crazy in Love’ begin to play over the speakers.

You smiled to yourself, unaware of the soft look of mild amusement he was giving you. You’d noticed a pattern recently, and even through your high state of mind you’d somewhat remembered it.

“What?” His voice had your attention snapping back over to him, the motion of your hand on his leg never stopping. You could tell he was trying not to laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“You haven’t noticed?” You ducked your head, disbelieving of his obliviousness. You threw your free hand in the direction of the music, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Clearly not.” He breathed a laugh, eyes lighting up at the mock offence you’d managed to implicate on your face.

“Everytime we go somewhere together, ‘Crazy in Love’ plays. Yesterday, at the restaurant; Mat even played it when he hosted dinner the other day…it’s just something I’ve noticed.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” He trailed off, a cheeky smile donning his face as his cheeks turned a rosy pink.

“Now that I’ve mentioned it? How convenient–” You started, but were promptly cut off when he leant forwards, reducing the short distance already between you both, and kissed you.

It was an effective silencing method, one that he’d used on you many times before and one that you’d used on him before. You were at that stage where little displays of affection, no matter how intensely they made those butterflies swarm, didn’t swerve or particularly hinder the one-sided conversation anymore. In other words, they’d lost their effectiveness, and even after this realisation, it didn’t seem to stop either one of you giving or accepting such attentions.

“I was thinking,” he muttered, pulling away whilst you kept a hand on his wrist, preventing him from moving too far.

Usually you would have teased him, warned him to be careful in doing such a thing, and it seemed he was expecting some sort of comment, because he paused, brows furrowing when he was met with silence. You nodded, however, unable to hide the fact that you were completely enthralled by his existence – you were sure he could see it on your face; you could even feel your cheeks heat up for no apparent reason at all other than the magnetic pull you felt towards the man sitting in front of you – and urged him to continue.

“Maybe it should be our song?” He asked, lifting the hand in your grasp up to your face, momentarily brushing a strand of hair from your face with his thumb.

He wasn’t nervous about the suggestion, that much you could tell. He was comfortable, eagerly anticipating your answer.

You smiled, tilting your head and you felt your eyes widen slightly. It didn’t seem like a silly idea.

“Why?” You asked, unable to help the quick glance at his mouth.

“I think it’s fitting to us.” He shrugged.

You nodded, not entirely surprised by the implication. You hadn’t said the words yet, but you knew how you felt. Rather shockingly, however, it didn’t fill you with a sense of dread or unease.

So you replied, “I think it is too.”

Despite the complexity of love, it seemed remarkably simple with Anthony.

It certainly didn’t feel that way when you walked into your living room, seeing Mat half attempt to dance along with the music as he placed various cups and mugs into a box on the kitchen counter.

It felt irrevocably wrong to hear it without Anthony there, and that mere fact was what spurred you on to lean over the phone on the coffee table and hastily press the skip button.

You ignored Mat’s groan of disapproval as you wordlessly made your way back to the bedroom.

“What are your neighbours like?” It was Mat on the phone, his face in the frame on FaceTime as he virtually kept you company as emptied the last couple of boxes.

You’d officially moved back to Vancouver a month ago, your parents offering your childhood room back for the first few weeks until you moved in properly. You didn’t exactly have the heart to say no to them, but their coddling (however attentive it was) had begun to get a little overbearing, so you’d taken every opportunity to sneak over to your new apartment and empty as much as you could.

It was fairly livable now: your main priority had been the kitchen and bedroom, and you’d emptied nearly everything to the point you were comfortable actually moving in. In reality, you knew if your parents hadn’t been there you’d have easily put up with living in a skeletal apartment – so for that, you were grateful.

All the nighttime sneaking out of your parent’s house and into your apartment had meant that you’d neglected to actually talk and meet your neighbours. All you knew was there was an elderly couple living two doors down, who’d only smiled at you in passing, and there had been a card posted under your door from your neighbour on your right, but you didn’t know what they looked like.

So when Mat asked you that question, you sighed, “I don’t actually know.”

He didn’t seem too shocked, and nodded in understanding.

“I probably need to, to be honest, I got something posted under my door the other day.”

At this, his interest peaked, and you saw him look up from his plate, raising an eyebrow, “Who was it from?”

You frowned, his rather exaggerated interest raising your suspicions, and froze from where you were unwrapping a glass, “Why?”

He shrugged, playing it off, “Because I think it’s important to know who you’re living around. What if something happens and you need help? Forget your key?”

You returned to your previous task, mulling his words over. You knew he was right because you’d had that exact same reasoning drilled into you since you’d left home in college, but your why hadn’t really been directed at meeting your neighbours, more, “Why were you so interested in who it was when you asked?”

He swallowed, shrugging once more, “Just am. No reason.”

You didn’t believe him, and he could clearly sense it, because he rolled his eyes, not saying anything else.

“It was from ‘Number Twenty-Three’.” You answered, watching him carefully, still not entirely trusting him.

He just nodded, ensuring to keep his facial expressions impassive as he shovelled another spoonful of rice into his mouth, not caring when a few grains fell back onto his plate.

There was a few more minutes of general chatter, and you found yourself sitting back against the sofa, pensieve as you took in your new living quarters.

“Do you think I was silly moving here?” You asked Mat, not looking at him as he pondered the question.

“No.” Was all he said, and you turned your eyes back to him.

The thought was something that had been majorly playing on your mind since you first agreed to move back to Vancouver. There was a part of you that knew you wouldn’t have even considered moving back if Tito hadn’t gone – and it freaked you out. You were aware putting Tito above all else was risky, especially considering the fact you hadn’t messaged him since you’d broken up; you didn’t know where he was or if he’d even want you anymore, if he had a girlfriend. It had been months, and you knew he was a desirable guy. You wouldn’t blame him if he’d moved on.

But there was always that nagging thing that had you feeling like you’d moved only because of Anthony, and you hated it so much. It made you want to curl up and teleport back to your old life in New York, but even the thought of that made your stomach turn because you knew he wouldn’t be there.

It just kept coming back to him.

You didn’t know what would happen if he saw you – that was assuming you ever gained the courage to actually face him again.

A part of you felt almost sheepish at the mere idea of seeing him. Sure, your heart rate picked up and your hands trembled against your will, mouth going dry as you remembered the night he broke up with you.

And the only reason you knew you could confide in Mat was because he had both sides of it; although he didn’t talk about it much – presumably for your own fragile heart – you knew he talked to him as much as he could, if not, everyday. You felt like you were using him as a bridge, and even then his words of encouragement fell on deaf ears, your own insecurities drowning them out with fears of rejection.

You wouldn’t have even moved to Vancouver if it hadn't been for Mat’s support and help.

He sighed, and you could tell he’d sussed you and your doubts out.

“He told me he’s not been able to even look at another woman without feeling like he’s gonna hurl.” He started, pausing to gauge your reaction. You swallowed, feeling a little guilty at the relief you’d felt upon his confession, “He asks about you everyday, and he’s not doing too well. I don’t even know if he’s sleeping properly.”

You remained silent, instead choosing to reach a hand into the box next to you.

Fuck.

One of Anthony’s Islander’s caps.

Almost instantaneously you felt your eyes begin to water, both at the hat and everything Mat had just told you.

It was a lot, all of this new change, in one go.

“I think I’m gonna go.” You said quietly, trying to hide the way your voice cracked a little at the end. You refrained from sniffling, not wanting to raise Mat’s concern.

“Okay,” he muttered, his voice soft, “Look after yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Maybe think about replying to number twenty-three? Look at making a few new friends, yeah?”

You laughed, though it was watery – the kind that had you questioning if you wanted to cry or not, “‘S not one of your worst ideas, actually.”

“Hey.” He mocked, faking offence, “But, really, I think you should.”

“I think I might.” You admitted.

You missed the way he sagged.

“Good.” There was a brief pause, “Anyway, love you, miss you, have fun unpacking.” He waved at the camera, flashing you a charming smile, which you didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

“Miss you too, Barzy. Try not to hurt yourself before I next see you.” It was a low blow, and you saw the hurt flick over his face momentarily.

Then you promptly ended the call, unable to stop yourself laughing a little.

___

Tito had just finished washing up when a piece of paper slipped under his door.

He’d stopped what he was doing, midway to the living room. The paper had slipped under his door coincidentally at the exact moment he was walking past it, and he’d frozen, creeped out at the timing. It was almost as if the person on the other side had known he was walking past the door and chosen that specific moment in time to post the letter through with the purposeful intent of freaking him the fuck out.

Nevertheless, he’d put his coffee mug down on the counter, reaching to inspect the piece of paper.

He almost dropped it when he saw the writing.

His face drained of blood, and before he’d even opened it, he’d thrown the door open, hastily checking the hallway.

It was empty.

Disappointment clawed at his chest, but he remained somewhat hopeful, his fingers working quickly to unfold it, his foot holding the door open in case they decided to make another appearance.

Why did he spend so long looking at it? He could have caught her, for fuck’s sake.

It was a stretch, in hindsight. There had to be at least a million people who flicked their ‘f’ like that, and there had to be even more who wrote at an angle like that, with their letters remaining round.

It had to be common.

Thank you for the welcome, 23.

Then when his eyes tracked down to the sign-off, he swore someone was playing tricks on him.

Obviously, his immediate reaction – completely bypassing the excitement and blinding fear of her having moved on from him bubbling in his stomach – and shut the door behind him, scrambling for his phone.

Mat picked up almost instantly.

“You fucking prick–”

Needless to say, the injured Islander knew exactly what he was talking about.

___

He’d not wanted to scare you, truly.

Since Mat had admitted to everything – from the reason you’d moved to his helping hand in finding you a place to live temporarily – he’d taken measures to ensure you didn’t run into him without any semblance of warning, but he’d found it much harder to put into practice.

He’d almost run into you three times in the past week, and every time he had to leave or enter his apartment, he’d take a cautious look down the hall and run – not wanting to startle you too much.

He just didn’t want to catch you off guard was all.

He knew you’d probably want to see him under your own control, and he was all for waiting for you. From what he’d been told, you weren’t doing much better than him.

But he’d known his luck was bound to run out at some point.

Which was how he’d found himself in this exact predicament.

___

You’d been weirdly wanting to go downstairs. You didn’t know why you’d had the sudden urge, but all you did know was that there was a lounge and a bar, and you were in desperate need of some socialising. It had been a gruelling week – and incredibly dull – unpacking your things and overthinking your first day at work, and you needed to escape from it all.

Each and every time you’d left your apartment, you’d cast a curious glance at your neighbour’s door. Number twenty-three.

They were a perfect neighbour: very rarely did they disturb you, and when they did it was only the quiet hum of some music that you guessed must have been played in their bathroom, because when you pressed your ear against the wall it felt as though you were standing right next to a speaker.

The only issue you’d had with them was that you hadn’t seen them; whenever you’d heard their door shut, you’d immediately gone to look through your peephole, only to be met with an empty corridor.

It had frustrated you to no end, but you’d coped, helplessly wondering when you could thank them. They’d been the first person to welcome you and you hadn’t even seen them yet – there had been a nagging in the back of your mind that perhaps they’d been dodging you, but there was no way it could have possibly been intentional. You’d barely been at work a full two weeks, which hardly gave them time to actually deduce your timetable or hours.

You’d been watching the Canucks, unable to help yourself from consuming every piece of media Anthony was part of, and then you’d switched off the TV a few hours later, completely alone and needing to get out of the confines of your apartment – desperately and immediately.

That was how you’d come to be locking your door from the outside – ever-weary – and frozen, nerves tingling and heart pounding with nerves as you heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hallway. They were slow, and you could vaguely make out the sound of their trudging, so you’d stalled, secretly hoping that they’d be Number 23.

You’d pretended to fiddle with your keys as you waited for the footsteps to round the corner only when they did, you heard them stop short of you, a quiet “Putain” whispered under their breath.

You frowned, not yet looking up at the person. There was something familiar about their whisper, something you couldn’t quite place immediately.

It was a different story when you looked up.

You could immediately tell from the soft echo of sorrow on his face and abundant lack of shock at your appearance that he wasn’t entirely surprised at your presence. His hand was firmly holding the end of his duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder, and he was wearing the usual suit, his cheeks still a little flushed from the match you’d only been watching a while ago.

You couldn’t help thinking that the TV screen did him no justice, because even though he wasn’t smiling or expressing any semblance of excitement at your presence, he was stunningly breathtaking in your opinion. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was parted – he hadn’t wanted to see you at that moment, that much was obvious from the expression stagnant on his face.

You, on the other hand, found yourself quite unable to draw oxygen into your lungs at his sudden appearance. You were completely frozen, unable to do anything other than stare dumbly, your jaw half-dropped in sheer shock.

Your heart was thunderous, practically clashing against your ribcage so hard you were sure you could feel the pain of it, and your mouth had dried, eyes watering. You weren’t on the verge of tears, by any means. In fact, you felt rather numb to any sort of emotion, because you’d prepared yourself for this moment for months, and now that he was standing in front of you, looking almost sheepish at your lack of understanding, you were unable to string even a coherent thought together.

There was a moment when you had thought he’d arrived in your hallway purely to see you, but that had quickly dissipated when he regained his composure, seemingly on the verge of saying something, and slowly walked past you, unable to tear his eyes away.

You let out a shaky breath when he reached the door branded ‘23’, and furrowed your brows.

He’d been in front of you this entire time–fucking Mat.

He’d orchestrated this car crash. He was the one who’d suggested you speak to your boss whilst he’d look at possible apartment rentals for you, and you’d naively agreed, assuming he had no ulterior motives in his uncharacteristic generosity considering he’d been nothing but helpful with your entire move, but right now you hated his guts.

Anthonylooked away, briefly, considering something for a second, before looking straight back towards you, a hand smoothing his hair back unconsciously. Neither of you said anything as he blindly unlocked his door, taking one last look at you, before stepping through.

It was only when his door slammed shut that you were able to take a breath.

The hand that had been fiddling with your keys dropped to your side, and you were hardly able to realise what you were doing before you’d unlocked your door, flinging it open and making a direct beeline for the box you’d purposefully avoided since your unfortunate FaceTime call with Mat. Your hand immediately sought out the cap, and operating purely on adrenaline and the mindset of ‘what-the-fuck-I-have-nothing-to-lose’, you’d made your way back out of the door, plans to head downstairs completely forgotten.

You wouldn’t have done it if you hadn't had the confidence instilled in you from Mat, that Tito had been miserable since he’d left New York, even despite the efforts of his new teammates to introduce him to Vancouver society.

Your brain must have been running a mile a minute, because when you clashed into a suit-clad chest, not entirely taken aback by his sudden appearance, you were pushing the cap at him.

“You made me cry over a fucking hat, did you know that?” You asked, the Islander’s cap hanging between you.

Tito blanched, unable to speak.

You waited in anticipation, pursing your lips harshly to stop yourself from speaking.

You wanted him to say something to alleviate the doubts you’d had.

He gave you nothing.

“Say something.” You implored, hand dropping.

He took a breath, relaxing as his shoulders slumped forwards, “I’m sorry I made you cry over my hat.”

Your jaw clenched, fighting the burning in your eyes. You absolutely refused to cry until he confirmed what Mat had been telling you – only then would you let yourself break. You also had to be inside an apartment; you weren’t about to let yourself cry in the hallway for all your new neighbours to see.

“I’m sorry I broke up with you.”

It was quiet, so much so you would have had to strain your ears to hear him. His voice sounded broken and weak, and when you looked up at him his eyes were pooling with regret, lips turned down in what you could only place as sadness. It was plain and bare, and so hopelessly effortless than you felt yourself soften, even despite the bitterness you still held against him.

“Why?” You asked, not reaching for him. You were determined to keep him in the balance, refusing to give him even a snippet of what you were feeling. It may have been a harsh play on your behalf, but you weren’t about to forgive him too easily for unnecessary heartache.

He hesitated, fingers tapping his thigh uneasily, “Because we’d only been dating a few months and I didn’t want to ask you to uproot your entire life to Vancouver just for me.”

His honesty was startling, and you took a sharp step backwards.

It seemed too good to be true, yet you hated the doubt and mistrust placed in him to the point you felt like you were betraying him.

“I uprooted my entire life to move from Vancouver to New York in the first place, you know that.” You replied, somewhat coldly, turning around and entering your apartment.

There was that prickling feeling as though you were being watched through peepholes, and you desperately needed space to breathe.

You heard Anthony follow you, the door clicking shut behind you with ease, and you threw yourself onto the sofa, dreading and anticipating the late conversation.

“I do.” He admitted, hands in his pocket as he seated himself on the coffee table in front of you, “But I also know that you don’t enjoy change and I felt guilty even—”

“You didn’t even ask.” You interrupted, irritation flaring up.

He sighed through his nose, and you could tell he was almost as fired up as you were. This argument had been a long time coming, the reasons and excuses simmering beneath your skin for far too long, and now you were facing each other with no particular time constraint considering the fact you now shared a wall — something you couldn’t quite decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

“If I had asked, would you have come?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” you snapped back, looking at him as he rolled his eyes, “You really fucking made sure of that, didn’t you?”

“Well I apologise for trying to protect you from making a decision that could have ruined your career–”

“I don’t need protection, Beauvillier,” he winced, the surname jab stinging, “I can make my own decisions perfectly well.”

“Let me rephrase: I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to come with me because I wanted you to.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, jaw clenching.

“I would have wanted to go with you, dipshit.” You fired back.

“Would have?” He repeated, tilting his head, that wild element of determination flashing through his eyes. He was clearly referring to the past tense you’d used.

“Yes.” You breathed, “I would have, because I’d gotten a promotion located in Vancouver, and the only reason I would have said no, as much as I’m ashamed to admit it, was because of you and your stupid hockey team. I thought you’d stay an Islander so I held off–”

He spluttered, “And you didn’t think to tell me?” His voice raised in pitch, hands flying in front of him as he tried to convey his exasperation.

“No!” You raised your voice incredulously, unable to hide your appall from him, “You left before I could even argue against the breakup and I haven’t seen you since.”

“Ah,” he held up a finger, dodging your lame attempt to swat it away, “But when did you get the offer, huh?”

You paused, feeling your cheeks flush with colour, “You don’t have to patronise me, Tito.”

“Tell me when, and I won’t have to.” He explained, eyes wide as he waited for your answer.

“I got it a couple of days before you broke up with me.” You admitted, voice now a few notches lower.

“And why didn’t you say anything before?” His voice tipped with an edge of regret as he spoke, desperation coating his words as he finished his question.

You were both breathing heavily, adamant to portray your points and frustrations. Neither of you seemed to be thinking much of anything but about the other – much less of what or who you’d been doing since your departure – Mat’s words to both of you seemed to have eased that question, allowing you to freely have at one another without any holding back or worrying about the other’s antics.

You were both clearly still hung up on each other, and that knowledge had you feeling both euphoric and hopeful – a dangerous concoction you’d acknowledged amidst partially yelling at each other. Despite that, it was obvious you’d both been holding back – voices strained for the sake of not wanting to disturb your neighbours, even if you were closer to the wall you shared with Tito than your other neighbour.

“Because I didn’t want to be that girlfriend who says ‘oh, by the way, if those crazy rumours of you getting transferred to the other side of the continent were true, you totally wouldn’t have to worry about our relationship because I’d most definitely go with you anyway’, and then before I could tell you that you ran out of the club. Then when I tried to ring you literally a day later, you’d blocked me on everything!” You rolled your eyes, groaning when he took his blazer off, his hands on his hips after loosening his tie.

You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose to gain an upper hand in the argument, but it had you losing your train of thought briefly.

“Oh, so now it’s all my fault?” He frowned, a crease forming between his brows.

You laughed bitterly, “Dude, of course it’s your fault. You didn’t let me not allow you to break up with me.”

“But you didn’t tell me about the job offer – which, by the way, is amazing, so congratulations, I’m incredibly proud of you,” he sidetracked, his voice becoming gentler and allowing himself to express a little sincerity within his facial expressions, before returning to its previous sternness, “But you telling me about that job offer would have quietened any doubts I ever had about dragging you here.”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” You muttered sarcastically.

“You’re telling me? I just didn’t want you to be unhappy for the sake of my own happiness, okay?” He held up his hands in surrender, waiting for you to respond.

You shrugged, still not quite believing where he was coming from, “Why were you doubting it, I’m literally in love with you. I told you that.”

“Well, I’m in love with you, too. But I guess my guilt overpowered that. I wanted you to come to Vancouver because you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to.”

“You didn’t even ask me, though. You took that right away from me.” You said.

You’d both softened, voices dropping a few octaves and flailing limbs reducing as your frustrations slowly poured out of you.

“And what would you have said if I’d have asked?” He echoed from before, slightly breathless as his chest heaved.

He was looking straight at you, curiosity and a destructive hope practically radiating from his face. He wanted you to say no, to reassure him he’d made the right decision.

“I would have said yes.”

His face collapsed, and his hands immediately went to cover his eyes for a few seconds. You stayed rooted to your spot, watching him mutter to himself and shake his head. You couldn't hear what he was saying – some complex French mutterings, your ears may have picked up a string of profanities.

Then, just as you were beginning to submit to the gravitational pull towards him, he lifted himself back up, eyes watering and rimmed red – it had you wondering if this was how he’d spent your days and nights apart; torturing himself with what could have been if only he’d had the courage to ask you the question. You knew you were in no position whatsoever to criticise his lack of action, however. It was just the only thing you could stomach to blame.

At least this way you knew the fate of your misery the past few months had been out of your control, even if that small voice in the back of your mind screamed against that.

“Of course you would have.” He nodded, foot tapping against your floor. He still had a lot of pent up agitation begging to be relieved.

He’d just played a match and he still had energy to burn.

Instead, you did the thing you weren’t entirely expecting, and you could tell from his face that he wasn’t expecting you to pull such a move, either.

What you really wanted to do was launch yourself at him – there was no doubt in your mind he’d catch you, he always did – and not let him go, but you held back, both for your own sanity and his, as well as the fact that you knew you were both going to have to spend the night in your own beds, absorbing and mulling over every single thing that had come to light.

“We’re both idiots that should probably work on our communication skills a little more.”

The trace of a small smile worked its way onto his face, an idea flashing through his mind, “What was that?”

You didn’t even think before you’d picked up a cushion from the sofa and launched it in his direction. It felt like you’d been anticipating such a trashy joke because your aim was spot on; the cushion smacked him squarely in the face, eliciting a shout of surprise.

After he’d let it fall to the floor you both stood in your half-made-up living room, both your hands on your hips and considering each other carefully.

You didn’t know how you were going to go from here, but you knew what you wanted to get out of it, and what you wanted was the man standing in front of you, bravely looking as confused as you felt.

“You played really well tonight.” You said, desperately wanting to break the tense silence.

You could tell what he wanted to do, and you couldn’t exactly deny that you also felt that same desire begin to burn you from the inside, but you knew you had to make him work for it.

“Thank you.” He replied earnestly, not entirely shocked by your revelation. Since he’d found out you were his neighbour, he’d been keeping an ear out for your TV patterns.

On more than one occasion he’d been able to hear the NHL channel blast through the walls.

“No problem.”

“I think I should go.” He made no move to do such a thing.

“I think you should.” This time, he took a few steps towards your door, his hand hovering over the handle as though expecting you to change your mind, before throwing it open and leaving as quickly as he could.

Your head was a mess and your chest was surely about to implode.

You let yourself think it over for about five minutes, hands pressed together and resting against your mouth as your eyes darted across the room. You caught sight of the Islander’s hat on the sofa – when had you even let go of it? – and picked it up, leaving your apartment to knock on his door.

He must have been standing behind it waiting for you because it swung open only on the second knock and you barely had time to breathe before you were tugged roughly against his chest, your hands not wasting any time in burrowing themselves in his hair, and moving your mouth against his, tongues intertwined and breathing just as heavy as it had been when you were arguing.

It was short, possibly about ten seconds of unadulterated desire and lust and love, before you were shoving him away, attempting to maintain some seriousness. It failed drastically, your eyes working to keep up the act, but your mouth giving you away hilariously as you still felt the remnants of his kiss on you, leaving you able to do nothing but smile dumbly at him.

“I’m giving you this back.” You shoved his hand against his chest, but he made no move to take it off you.

“I don’t want it.”

“Neither do I.”

“It looks better on you.” He argued, taking it from your hand and placing it on your head.

You pulled a face, and swiped it off, “I’ve always been more of a Nucks fan than an Islanders, so, no thank you.” You let it drop between you, before failing to resist pressing another hot kiss to his mouth, dodging out of his needy hold and leaving. You hear the vague protest of “I’m telling Mat you said that!” and you spun on your heel, inappropriately shouting, “Fucking go ahead!” Before you shut your door, unable to process anything until you collapsed onto your bed face-first, cursing Mat Barzal’s wicked plotting.

#tito beauvillier x reader #anthony beauvillier x reader #anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier oneshot #tito beauvillier imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

285 notes · View notes

doc-pickles · 1 year ago

Text

hockey fanfic masterlist

A handy dandy guide to all of my hockey fics!

Players I Write For:

Sidney Crosby

Mathew Barzal

Matthew Tkachuk

Anthony Beauvillier

Vince Dunn

The Hughes Bros

Nico Hischier

& more… Send me an ask for the player you’re looking for!

S. CROSBY

hat trick: Sid goes for a hat trick on and off the ice. Three goals and three girls.

- hat trick IG edits: Some Crosby family moments commemorated in photos.

give it to me (18+): Sidney is pissed at the state of the Penguins and takes it out on you.

sent to save me (masterlist): Sidney reunites with his ex and gets the surprise of a lifetime.

M. BARZAL

baby daddy: After you have dental work done you have some things to share with Mat.

sick day: Mat comes home to take care of you and your kids.

voicemail: You've been leaving voicemails for Mat for months and he finally answers.

too early (18+): Mat helps you get back to sleep.

morning glory (18+): Mat helps you wake up.

watching him those eyes (18+): Mat punishes you for the way you acted around Tito.

A. BEAUVILLIER

till forever falls apart: You and Anthony deal with the aftermath of his trade to Vancouver.

- til forever falls apart IG edits: Some photos to commemorate the Beauvillier family's new start.

i’ve got you: You and Anthony deal with the aftermath of his trade to Chicago. emergency contact: Thank god Anthony is listed as your emergency contact.

watching him with those eyes (18+): Mat punishes you for the way you acted around Tito.

M. TKACHUK

homecoming: Five times Matthew came home to you from a roadie.

waking up in vegas (masterlist): A Vegas trip with your siblings can't be that bad... Can it?

Q. HUGHES

puck bunny: Quinn appreciates your Halloween costume.

V. DUNN & A. LARSSON

it's enough to make a girl blush (18+): Adam has Vince apologize to you after an accident.

#hockey content #hockey fanfic #nina writes

75 notes · View notes

ilyasorokinn · 1 month ago

Text

pittsburgh penguins

* = from the prompt list

anthony beauvillier !

imagines,

✷ super dad - anthony’s life as a dad during quarantine.

✷ summer with the beauvilliers - a collection of moments during the summer with the beauvillier family.

blurbs,

✷ expensive wine - the love in y/n and anthony’s relationship is slowly fading away, but neither of them want to let go. *

✷ on the dl - y/n gets a job working for the rangers, and anthony gets a little jealous.

✷ spilled beans - y/n fractures her wrist; and instead of telling anthony first, she tells mat.

✷ change of name - y/n steals (borrows) a hoodie of anthony's with his last name on it. *

sidney crosby !

imagines,

✷ tiktok famous - sidney accidentally becomes tiktok famous after doing a tiktok dance with his daughter.

✷ gods and goddesses - y/n crosby, an actress, takes sidney to his first met gala.

✷ santa claus is coming to town - y/n and sidney spend the day with their children, putting up the christmas tree, decorating the house, making cookies, writing letters to santa, and most important of all, getting their hot chocolate. (part of “taylor’s 14 days of christmas” series)

✷ little giroux - y/n giroux is the little sister of claude giroux, the captain of the philadelphia flyers. so that means she's supposed to hate the penguins, especially their captain, right?

✷ not so alone - y/n and sid are staying in pittsburgh for christmas this year, with their families coming out to visit instead. y/n heard through the grapevine that some of the guys weren’t going home, so she decided to welcome them over so they weren’t so alone. (part of “taylor’s very merry christmas” series)

blurbs,

✷ can’t sleep - the crosby kids, as well as sidney, wake up and can’t seem to fall back asleep.

✷ protective dad mode - y/n gave birth a few weeks ago, and sidney goes into crazy-dad mode during a family skate.

✷ appreciation - y/n has a nail appointment, and sid volunteers to come along.

✷ the secrets out - sidney and y/n are expecting their first child. sidney wants to keep it a secret for as long as possible, being a private person, but y/n wants to let people know. (ig edit included) *

✷ work sendoff - mornings are hard so sidney gives y/n the little push she needs. *

✷ y/n y/l/n's hockey boyfriend - y/n y/l/n, famous singer, plays in the city she calls home, and finally confirms a years-long rumor people had been speculating on. *

series,

✷ the crosby clan - sidney crosby, and his life with his three kids, lucas, august and maggie.

ryan graves !

imagines,

✷ birthday twins - y/n and her daughter, charlotte share a birthday.

✷ 1 step forward, 3 steps back - a fic based on "1 step forward, 3 steps back" from olivia rodrigo’s sour album. (from the “sour” series)

[ wips ] [ masterlist of masterlists ] [ taglist ]

#pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins masterlist #nhl #hockey #taylor's masterlists

7 notes · View notes

drewsbuzzcut · 7 months ago

Note

I could imagine Evelina storming through the front door from school and Mateo and Adrien behind her and Tito and Scarlet are curious at what’s going on which then Evelina yells that Adrien is trying to get with one of her friends which Adrien is a bit of a player and she doesn’t need her friend getting hurt but Adrien doesn’t care bc during this time all he sees is a pretty girl

Blurb??

Evelina throws the front door open, stomping her way through the foyer. Her cheeks are blazing red and her eyebrows are set in a deep frown.

“Li!” Adrien shouts, coming up behind her with their older brother in tow.

“Shut up and leave me alone!” Evelina snaps, her eyes turning dark and almost unfamiliar.

“Woah woah. What’s going on?” Scarlet asks, coming down the stairs after hearing all the commotion.

“Ask him,” the teenager says, still avoiding her twins gaze.

“What’s going on?” Scarlet asks, the question being directed towards Adrien.

“She’s pissed because I’m trying to go out with Stacy,” Adrien shouts, his eyes glaring at his sister.

“Trying to go out? No, Adrien, you’re trying to screw her and then drop her. She’s my friend and I won’t let her get played by you,” Evelina accuses the boy, making her mother’s eyes widen.

“What’s happening?” Anthony asks coming in through the front door. He is surprised to be greeted by yelling.

“Your son is a slut,” Evelina muses with a cold shrug.

“Language, Evelina,” Scarlet warns her daughter.

“Our little girl here is upset because Adrien is trying to pursue one of her friends,” Scarlet explains to her husband.

“I just want to go out with Stacy, but Li is freaking out over it.”

“Evelina, there’s nothing wrong with your brother wanting to go out with Stacy as long as Stacy is a willing participant,” Anthony says gently to his little girl.

Evelina just scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

“Don’t call me Li and don’t talk to me anymore,” the girl says to her twin before she rushes into her room.

#tito x scarlet #Beauvillier kids

11 notes · View notes

offside-the-lines · 9 months ago

Text

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 9. Tito's Birthday

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 9

Chapter Summary: Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 4.2k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Tito’s Birthday

Tito — June 8

Tito's sitting on his parent’s couch, watching his nephew play with a mini stick, when the doorbell rings.

“Were we expecting someone else?” he asks the room.

“Why don’t you go answer the door, Tito?” Francis cuts in.

Tito furrows his brow, confused. “Wha— Why me?”

Francis rolls his eyes, “Just go do it. You’re closer, and we’ve got the kids.”

“Fine,” he huffs dramatically.

He’s still making a face at Francis when he pulls the door open, not even bothering to look through the peephole. He almost immediately slams the door shut. Almost.

“Hi, Tito. Happy birthday,” she says, voice impossibly fond and a soft smile on her face.

Standing in front of him is a vision illuminated by the warm mid-afternoon light. She looks radiant. She looks so happy to see him.

Evie's here. On the porch of his parents' house. In Québec. On his birthday. He wonders if it would be a little overkill to hit himself in the face to make sure he isn’t dreaming or hallucinating.

“Hi. What— How—” he stutters unflatteringly.

Behind him, he hears Francis call out, “Are you going to let her in or what?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off Evie as he shouts over his shoulder, “Shut up, Franky.”

Evie muffles a giggle in her hand. He feels the sound reach into every corner of his body, filling it with a tingling warmth. It’s the buzzing in his bones that finally gets his feet unstuck from where they're planted as he surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. He feels the little puff of air that's knocked out of her by the force of the hug.

“Woah there, big guy,” she giggles lightly, “Maybe a little less tight, please.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” he pulls back quickly, shaken from his stupor.

She shakes her head and laughs, incandescent and free, her head thrown back, exposing the long line of her neck.

“Come here, you idiot,” she whispers.

Evie steps back into the space between them and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly. His arms pull her in impossibly closer, one hand tucking her head against his cheek. In this position, her perfume floods his senses, and he feels the vice that has been around his chest since he stepped out of her apartment in April begin to loosen. She smells familiar. She smells like comfort. She smells like home.

“God, I fucking missed you,” he murmurs into her hair.

She hums, nuzzling closer, “Me too, Solours. It’s so good to see you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here, mon chou. How did you even get here? Or know where to find me?”

She shifts in his arms, leaning back slightly to look him in the eyes. The sight of her warm brown eyes makes him feel like melted chocolate. She smiles softly at him. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He chuckles. He turns to escort Evie inside, keeping her tucked neatly under his arm. He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Francis leaning against the wall a couple feet away.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Francis smirks.

Tito shoots him a warning glare as Evie gently steps out from under his arm.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” she says, shocking Tito.

“You too.” Francis pulls Evie into a brief hug, still smiling smugly at Tito.

When Evie turns back around to him, he shakes himself from his stupor.

“Wait… you did this?” he asks, looking at Francis, who shrugs.

“I mean, I guess. Technically, she’s the one who came here, but I helped. As I’ve said many times, your moping has been such a bummer.”

“Do Mom and Dad know about this?” he adds.

Francis shrugs, “Kind of? I told them there might be a guest joining us.”

Evie chuckles next to him, bumping her shoulder into him, “Wow, you're really surprised, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, yeah?”

“You thought I was going to miss your birthday? Come on, Tito. There was no way I was doing that.” She smiles up at him, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other applying gentle pressure on his chest.

“I mean, I had hoped, but I really did think— I didn’t want to assume—”

“Okay, this is getting nauseating for me,” Francis interrupts, “Come on, let’s introduce you to everyone.”

She greets his parents and sister-in-law warmly and crouches down so sweetly to say hello to his nephews. He feels breathless, heartbeat quickening as he watches her greet them.

Evie slots in so seamlessly with his family it makes his head spin. He watches her make easy conversation with both of his parents, both of them falling in love with her immediately. Karo and Francis seem to have already decided they like her. Even if they hadn’t, she would've won them over with the way his two-year-old nephew, Nate, becomes immediately enthralled by her, following her around everywhere. Tito can’t even blame the little guy. He understands how Nate feels.

He feels guilty, though, for the slight edge of irritation that builds in his gut; he just wants to bask in her undivided attention after so many weeks apart. He tries to push the feeling away in favor of the fondness that also grows in him as they sit at the dinner table as a family.

It's that idea, a yearning for an uncertain future, that hits him so hard in the center of his chest that it knocks the breath out of him. He excuses himself at the end of dinner to make an escape for the bathroom, where he just stands at the sink and catches his breath.

When he finally returns, the group has scattered for now. Francis and his parents are putting the kids to bed. Karo and Evie are putting the finishing touches on dessert. He goes looking for them.

Every cell in his body alights when he hears a truly filthy sound fall from Evie’s lips as he rounds the corner.

Evie —

“I don’t know if we should add the caramel sauce on top or if it’ll be too much,” Karo explains, “Here, try a piece with the sauce; tell me what you think.”

“Sure,” Evie says, reaching out to take the fudgy brownie in her fingers— a big mistake as the chocolate starts oozing out immediately, intermingling with the caramel and trickling down her fingers.

She takes a hurried bite and is immediately hit by the ambrosial flavor: thick, decadent dark chocolate and perfectly balanced salted caramel drizzle. It's so rich, coating her tongue.

She doesn’t even try to contain the long, deep moan that she lets out. Her mouth is still full when she says, “Oh my god, Karo. This is incredible. This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Karo beams at her in response, clearly pleased.

“What’s going on in here?” she hears Tito’s deep voice grumble behind her. It makes her freeze on the kitchen stool.

“She’s trying the dessert, confirming whether we should put on the drizzle or just skip it,” Karo beams.

“And? What are we thinking?” he says, voice still pitched low as he places a firm hand on the small of her back. She doesn’t stop herself from leaning into it.

“Oh, yes, for sure. It's so good.” Evie’s not sure if it’s the richness of the dessert that makes her mouth dry or if it's the firmness of Tito’s warm body pressing against her leg and side.

His other hand reaches out and grabs the wrist of the hand holding the remaining piece of brownie, making her look up at him over her shoulder. She watches his eyes flicker over to Karo, who's plating the desserts, before leaning in.

“Are you going to eat that?” he murmurs against her ear.

“Uh, maybe? Did you wanna try it?” she croaks, feeling suddenly too hot in her thin sundress.

“Yes.”

He makes eye contact with her again before bringing her fingers up to his lips. She’s holding her breath as soon as he makes contact. She's consumed by the groan he makes when the brownie hits his tongue, the sound enveloping her from every direction, completely unable to look away from him even when she hears a little “holy shit” from Karo as she scurries out of the kitchen.

He releases her fingers with a pop before the corner of his lips ticks up. “Mmm… So fucking good,” he smirks.

She squeaks, unable to form a single word as she wonders how inappropriate it might be to just jump him in his parents’ kitchen.

Before she can even do anything, though, he disappears from her side, and her skin immediately misses the contact. He walks over to the sink and wets a paper towel before walking back around, taking her hand in his again. She can only watch as he gently cleans the chocolate, caramel, and spit from her fingers.

He makes a satisfied hum and goes to throw the napkin away when he’s done, leaving her to wonder what the fuck she’s supposed to do with that hand now.

She jumps when she hears Francis loudly say behind her, “Okay, you freaks. My wife has informed me you guys are desecrating this kitchen, so get out before you ruin all of our appetites. I want to be able to enjoy this supposedly orgasmic dessert.”

Evie’s unsure how she’s going to be able to go back to the dining table and sit next to his parents now. She’s also not sure if her voice is ever going to come back at this rate.

Later, after the candles and singing and dessert, Evie's feeling a little more levelheaded. She still blushes every time Karo or Francis catches her eye, but she's able to speak again, so that’s a win.

They are moving to the TV room to watch the Stanley Cup Final game when Tito catches her elbow.

“Hey,” he smiles at her tenderly.

“Hi.” She automatically smiles back.

“Do you want to go for a walk first?”

“Oh…sure,” she stammers, heartbeat quickening again.

He places a soft kiss on her forehead before going to notify his family. When he comes back, he takes her hand and pulls her gently outside into the calm evening air. They walk for a while, hand in hand, just letting themselves take in the soft sound of insects chirping, the light breeze rustling through the trees, and the bright stars appearing above, one by one.

She’s the first to break. “God, it’s so quiet and beautiful here. I can’t believe you got to grow up with this,” she whispers, her head tilted back, lost in the twinkling stars.

He hums, his hand squeezing hers lightly in acknowledgment. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

They walk for a few more minutes in comfortable silence, the weight of his hand in hers pressing to the front of her consciousness. She really likes the way it feels.

When they turn the last corner, she gasps at the sight before her. It’s a small park backing up onto the riverbank. The water glistens, reflecting the soft lights of the city across from them.

“There,” Tito says softly, “I wanted to show you this.”

He pulls her over to a bench near the water and sits down. He holds her hand in his lap, his thumb caressing gently.

“It’s beautiful, Solou.” She looks out with wonder.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I always come here if I want to think.” There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “Mon chou, I’m so happy you’re here. I don’t even know how to— I just— I can’t believe you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“I have to ask, though, why?” His voice is so quiet she can barely make out the words.

Evie draws in a deep breath. She knew this conversation was coming. She was hoping that it did. That doesn’t stop it from feeling any less daunting.

“The short story?” she starts, “I just fucking missed you so much.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, chouchou, me too. I literally could not stop thinking about you. Constantly.”

She squeezes his hand while her other hand caresses the necklace that has been hanging over her heart for two months.

“I just kept thinking… I couldn’t imagine one single universe where I wouldn’t be here for your birthday. I couldn’t think of a single reason why I should not be here and at least a hundred reasons why I should.”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah.” She looks over at him to find him already watching her, his eyes bright and glossy. She chuckles breathlessly. “And it’s so stupid that I kept putting off this conversation because I was scared of what you might say when you've never given me any reason to be scared. You've always listened to me and been so kind and understanding, no matter what. You’ve never made me feel bad for whatever insane thing I’m feeling at that moment. You just somehow find a way to support me through it.

“I don’t know what either of our futures holds, but I think that— I think my fear was holding me back. My life's just infinitely better with you in it, and it gets increasingly hard to imagine living it without you. You make me a better person— You make me want to be a better person.

“I should’ve just told you how I felt. Because even if you didn’t feel the same way, you would never have judged me for it. Or stopped being my friend.”

“What are you saying, Evie?” Tito urges gently.

“I’m saying that— I’m saying that I don’t think we're just friends. I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a long time. And I like that— I want that. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, and I want to be the person you come home to at night. But I just thought— I knew I would regret it if I never said this. Like, if I woke up one day and it was too late. That you’ll be gone, and I would still feel this absolutely horrific gut-wrenching sadness and regret at having never said anything. I don’t— You don’t need to say anything back right now— or at all, really, but I just—”

“Evie, mon chou, may I?” He takes her other hand in his as well, threading their fingers together and pressing a light kiss to them so gently.

“Yeah,” she nods, smiling softly up at him.

“Okay, good because— I need you to know that I—” His voice cracks, the words catch in his throat. He looks at Evie’s smile and feels his throat loosen. He takes a deep breath. “Evie, I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time. God, I want— I want to be there in the mornings, and I want you to be there when I come home because I think the concept of home in my brain now is just a scratch-and-sniff picture of you—”

Evie snorts.

“Shut up, that was romantic— Let me finish. I don’t want to be just friends. I want to be so much more than that. I want to be your boyfriend, your partner, and maybe one day, your husband if you’ll have me. And I want to maybe have little babies that are half of me and half of you if that’s what you want. Or we can just have like twenty dogs; that’s cool too. I want to be holding your hand on the ice when we’re too old to even tie up the skates.”

He pauses and exhales all the remaining tension in his chest. “I want it all. I want to be there for all the big moments and the little moments. I want to make you tea and rub your cold-ass feet while we watch TV. I want to dance with you in our kitchen when you’re baking. I want—

“I don’t know where I’ll be next season. But I want to make it work with you. Whatever that looks like. I want to give this a shot. And I promise I’ll put in the work every single day. Even if I’m in fucking Edmonton or Anaheim.”

“I don’t think Anaheim would appreciate being compared to Edmonton, Solou,” Evie laughs wetly, reaching a hand up to wipe at her eyes before placing her hand back into his grasp. “Can I speak now?”

“What? Yes, of course. Sorry. I got carried away,” he chuckles nervously.

“Well, firstly, my job is fully remote. So I can technically live anywhere—”

“I don’t want you to have to choose me over your career,” he interrupts.

“I’m not. I promise. But we can talk through logistics at another time. For now, I just want to say that I fucking love you too. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And I’m also incredibly fucking sure that if you don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I will self-combust, and all this idiocy would’ve been for nothing.” Her smile is dazzling and proud when she looks up at him.

It startles a chortle out of him, and he shakes his head. He raises a hand to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of her cheek. His eyes flicker between her eyes and her lips a few times, an adoring smile blooming on his face as he leans in. She moves to close the distance.

Their lips meet in a tender kiss. Their mouths move gently together, content to just be for a while. Eventually, Tito’s tongue brushes along the seam of her lips, and her mouth drops open, letting him in. The familiar heat returns to her like a freight train coursing through her veins as their tongues slide past each other.

Without breaking their kiss, Evie climbs into Tito’s lap and threads her hands through his hair. A pleased hum escapes her lips when she gives the curls a gentle tug, Tito rewarding her with a clipped groan of his own. She sinks deeper into his lap, feeling his big hands rake down her back to cup her ass lightly.

She rolls her hips down, and he moans before pulling away.

“No— wait—” he groans.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need to stop. I’m not doing this for the first time on a park bench, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you make me come in my pants again. Franky will literally never let me live that down.”

She tucks a curl behind his ear and hums. “Hmm… So should we go back to the house then?”

“No— Well, I mean yes. But we're also definitely not doing this for the first time in my parents' house. While my parents and brother are there.” He shakes his head vigorously and dramatically shudders.

“Okay,” she sings. She leans back in for a final kiss before climbing off Tito’s lap. She pulls down her dress as he groans again, pressing his face into her belly. “What?”

“Do you have any idea how incredible you look in that dress?” he mumbles, muffled by fabric and her skin.

“I think I do, actually. I thought you had a stroke when I put it on for you a couple weeks ago on FaceTime.”

He leans back to examine her face. “So you’re wearing this one on purpose?” he concludes, voice pitching up an octave.

“Yeah,” she smiles proudly and holds out her hand, “You sure you don’t want to just go in the back of my car real quick.”

He groans loudly as he stands, his hands firm on her waist. “God, mon chou, I— Fuck. No. I’m not going to— We're not having sex for the first time in a car, Evie. Jesus Christ.”

“Oh? And where will we be having sex for the first time? I want to make sure it’s on my calendar.”

He grumbles and starts pulling her back to his parents' house. “Tomorrow. When we're back in the city. In my apartment.”

“Oh yeah? And when are we leaving for this apartment?”

“As soon as possible in the morning,” he replies, clipped.

She laughs devilishly before allowing a calm silence to settle over the walk home. When they start to approach the Beauvillier home, he unlocks her rental car and leans in to grab her bags for her. She lets him catch her shamelessly admiring his body.

When their eyes meet again, she cheekily teases, “So, you’ll fuck me for the second time in a car then?”

Tito hums too loudly, exaggerating his ponderous expression. “Hmm, I’m thinking maybe it’ll be the fifth time. But yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

She chortles. “Wow, so confident,”

He looks over at her and winks. “Yeah, I am,” he calls over his shoulder as he unlocks the front door.

When they walk into the living room, Francis takes one look at them before he cracks up. Evie feels her cheeks flame immediately as Tito shrugs.

Their mom looks at Tito meaningfully. “If you're going to bed soon, the guest room is set up already, honey.”

It only makes Francis laugh harder, and their dad also joins in on the hooting. Evie wishes the ground would just swallow her up, even as Tito tucks her tighter to his body proudly.

Tito — June 9

The following day, Tito wakes up with the biggest smile on his face. It doesn’t even flicker once as he puts on his pajamas and heads downstairs into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mama,” he greets cheerily, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” she chuckles, “Something you have to tell me?”

He fusses around the kitchen, putting the kettle on. “Yeah, I guess, um… We worked it out. Last night.”

“So she’s your girlfriend now?” his mom asks, eyes glistening as she sips her coffee.

“Yes, Mama. She is,” he beams at her.

“Good,” she nodded, “You take care of her like I taught you to, okay? She’s a good one. I like her.”

“Yes, Mama, I will,” he replies, voice impossibly tender.

He revels in the comfortable silence as he makes two cups of tea. The aroma of Earl Grey fills him with so much lightness and joy he feels like he’s floating. It hits him in that moment why this particular tea has been affecting him so much.

Tito tiptoes into the guest bedroom and sets the tea down on the nightstand. He sits on the side of the bed and smiles as he brushes the hair out of Evie’s face before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She stirs, making a pleased sound when she sees him, her face splitting into a crooked grin.

“Good morning, mon chou,” he leans in for a kiss.

She squeaks and leans away, shaking her head. “Morning breath,” she mumbles.

“Chou, I couldn't care less right now as long as I get to kiss you again. To make sure last night was not a dream.”

She giggles, and rolls her eyes before pulling him in by the collar of his hoodie. He kisses her tenderly on the lips before nuzzling into her neck.

“Did you know you smell like Earl Grey tea?” he mumbles into the soft, intoxicating skin.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. That’d be my favorite perfume. It’s got that scent profile.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whines.

She chuckles softly, “I didn’t think about it, I guess? Why should I have told you?”

He looks up and pouts, “I would’ve bought it much sooner.”

She laughs, shaking her head, pulling him in again to kiss the pout off of his full bottom lip.

“Oh,” she says, leaning over to the nightstand, “I forgot to give this to you last night. Happy birthday, Solou.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, I wanted to. Open it!”

He recognizes the packaging immediately and furrows his brows in confusion. When he opens the box, he sees a gold chain with a single charm.

“It matches mine.” She touches her necklace reverently. “But instead of the book, it’s a library card. Do you like it?”

He rests their foreheads together. “Yes, chouchou. I love it. I really love it. But you're still the best birthday present I've ever gotten and will probably ever get. So, thank you for both those things.”

“God, you're truly so fucking soft,” she giggles before pulling him on top of her with a bruising kiss.

“Well… I’m not gonna be soft for much longer if you keep doing that,” he mumbles when she nibbles on his lips.

“Tito!” she squawks, slapping his chest, laughing.

He shrugs, trying to keep a straight face but finding her laugh to be too infectious.

“God, I fucking love you,” he whispers in wonder, his eyes scanning her face when they finally calm down.

“I love you too,” she smiles.

It hits him finally that no matter what happens after July 1st, no matter what city he ends up in, he will be okay because he has her.

That is the end!!! If you are reading this, you are truly a prince among men. Thank you so much. <3

Series Cover Page/Masterlist

Requests / Come chat about this with me!!! | Masterlist & Who I Write For & Taglist

#rox writes #tell me who i run to series #anthony beauvillier imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #chicago blackhawks

43 notes · View notes

titobarkvillier · 2 years ago

Text

For the kids!

#for the kids indeed #anthony beauvillier #phillip di giuseppe #andrei kuzmenko #vancover canucks

29 notes · View notes

starshine-hockey-girl · 1 year ago

Text

The Invisible String

Summary - Rocky is from Texas, looking to make it big as a tattoo artist in NY. What happens when Rocky meets NY Islanders forward Anthony Beauvillier and two people so unalike discover that they have more in common than they think. Will their invisible string lead to love or friendship?

This is my very late entry to the summer fic exchange. Yes, I am aware that it is the middle of October. The "No results and a story" excuse is that I got a huge case of writer's block followed by an ass-whooping of self doubt. However, I powered through it, and then the story just grew into this massively long piece. (17.2K- yikes)

This is written for @jarmorie who requested a reader insert or OC (she/her preferred). fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers pls I would die with Anthony Beauvillier. Jarmorie is also a big Taylor Swift fan so I tried to incorporate as much Swift content as I could.

Acknowledgements and thank yous-

@laurenairay, I can't thank you enough for pinch hitting for me when I missed the deadline. I am incredibly thankful for your endless encouragement. I hope you enjoy your brief, but pivotal cameo

@cellythefloshie - Thank you for the encouragement and embracing my verbose nature.

@dreamofstarlight and @fallinallincurls for sharing their Swiftie knowledge. I hope that I do that I did Queen Taylor justice.

@wyattjohnston - one for organizing these fic exchanges. It's a tiring and thankless task. Thank you for understanding my struggle and not shaming me.

@jarmorie I am sorry that the story was so delayed. I really wanted to write something that give you everything that you wanted.

@pattiemac1 and @penstxgal1968 for being the best support system ever. Seriously, they both deserve writing credit for all of their ideas.

Gorgeous

Inked On Ice Tattoo Shop - Long Island, NY

“Inked on Ice, how may I help you?” Daisy yawned as the shop’s computer fired up and she settled into her chair.

“Uh yeah,” the deep voice on the line answered, “My buddy and I want to get some ink today. Do you have anyone available?” Daisy glanced at the artist's calendars.

“Well, it’s going to depend on size, subject and budget. What do you have in mind?” she answered quickly. After a brief discussion, Daisy honed in on available artists. “Do you want to do back to back appointments or get inked at the same time?” she asked.

She could hear a discussion on the other end. The bland voice in a spirited discussion with another voice with a slight French accent. “Barzy,” the second said with authority, “I do not need you to hold my hand while I get a tattoo. We can get inked at the same time.”

Daisy’s ears perked up at the name Barzy. “Can I get your names?” she asked as casually as possible as New York Islanders Mat Barzal gave his name along with Anthony Beauvillier. The tattoo shop was owned by Cameron Davies, a former New York Islander. Daisy knew that Cameron would want the pair treated with kid gloves. She examined the schedule again and made an executive decision. She would schedule the more complicated tattoo, Anthony, with JD Porter, master tattoo artist, who just had a last minute cancellation. She would schedule the simpler design, Mat Barzal, with Rocky, JD’s apprentice. .

“So Tito is with JD and I am with Rocky? Sounds good,” the NHL upstart stated as they confirmed details, “See you at 6 PM.”

In the cozy one bedroom apartment, Rocky picked up the phone and quickly read the text from Daisy. “Yes….” Rocky whispered to no one in particular. As a tattoo apprentice, paying customers were difficult to come by. The last minute addition would give her just enough to pay her share of the rent. Given that most of her time at the shop was unpaid, Rocky’s contribution to the rent was more symbolic than practical. Kelly made enough to cover their expenses and then some, but Rocky insisted on contributing, even if it was essentially meaningless.

“Rocky!” Kelly screamed, “Are you even listening to me? We need to leave in fifteen minutes if we are going to be on time.”

“Of course, I’m listening.” Rocky replied, “Listen- don’t be mad, but I can’t go with you. I gotta to work tonight. I scored a last minute tattoo.”

“An actual tattoo?” Kelly mocked, “or will it be another night of cleaning and wiping up after the professionals?”

“Ouch,” Rocky replied, “You know that is part of apprenticeship. I have to pay my dues.”

Rocky’s tattoo apprenticeship was a source of contention in their relationship. The couple had moved to Long Island from Dallas as a stepping stone in Kelly’s financial services career. Together since high school, Kelly disapproved of Rocky’s fascination with all things tattoo. The financial analyst with the fast-rising career wanted a partner that would fit into the corporate world. Rocky decidedly did not fit that mold even if Kelly couldn't admit it. The apprenticeship highlighted their vastly different career paths and their relationship bore small fissures as a result.

“Listen,” Rocky pleaded in an attempt to head off another fight about the apprenticeship. Kelly was convinced it was going nowhere. “It’s an actual tattoo so I will get paid,” Rocky explained, “Also apparently these two guys are some sort of VIPs. The fact that Daisy and Cameron are giving one of them to me to ink is a good sign. I can’t turn it down.”

Kelly stood in disbelief and tried to summon anger at Rocky and none came. Honestly, it was a relief to put off introducing Rocky to conservative co-workers a little longer. “Fine,” Kelly said bitterly, “I’ll see you when you get home.”

Two hours later at the shop, Rocky waited patiently to the side as JD inspected the set-up of her station tucked away in the smallest room in the shop. As a mentor, JD held Rocky to a high standard. An Apprenticeship endorsed by him would carry weight within the tattoo community and JD wanted Rocky to be prepared. He gave a nod and Rocky let out a sigh of relief. Together they walked out to the lobby.

Cameron stood talking to the two athletes about his glory days with the Islanders. Rocky could tell right away that both had passed from polite attention to “oh my god, get us out here” by the tone of their voices. After the third “that’s crazy,’ uttered by Barzal, Cameron noticed JD and Rocky standing there. When he waved them over, Barzal and Beauvillier turned to look over their shoulders. Barzal blinked and gulped while Beauvillier offered a shy smile before looking down at the floor.

Rocky approached Barzal and extended her hand to him, “Hi, I’m Rocky. I think that you are with me tonight.”

“You’re…..You’re….. “ Barzal stammered, “a woman.” Rocky took a step back and dropped her hand in disappointment. JD and Rocky exchanged a glance before Rocky let out a sigh. Usually any pushback she received came from men much older than Barzal so she was honestly a little shocked. Mat looked stunned. “Wait, I am getting tattooed by a woman?” he asked out loud.

“Is there a problem?” JD asked as he looked Barzal in the eye.

“Look, I don’t want to sound sexist here, but…..” he started to say, “I just was expecting a man. I am pretty sure the girl who made the appointment said "man.”

“I did not,” Daisy interjected, “I know for a fact I said no such thing.” When Rocky began as the first female tattoo artist in the shop’s history, Cameron and crew did not anticipate the push-back from their largely male clientele. Most guys came in because of the hockey/Islanders connection and well, their views on gender roles were not exactly progressive. The shop had adopted the policy of referring to all of the artists as gender-neutral as possible. Daisy, Cameron’s wife and partner, was especially intentional about it. Other than a few clients shocked to be facing a petite, brunette pixie of an artist, there had been no issues.

Rocky looked to Cameron and back to Barzal. She knew that Cameron would want to keep Barzal as a client but also did not want to face the wrath of Daisy for caving in. She was about to speak when Tito Beauvillier spoke up. “She can do my tattoo,” he spoke softly at first to everyone’s surprise. Rocky turned to face the blonde and studied his face. He gave a gentle smile and spoke louder, “Yeah, I think I want her to do my tattoo.”

“I have to let you know that she is still in her apprenticeship. Just so that you are aware, she may not be able to give you the tattoo that you want,” JD explained. A pained look flashed in Rocky’s eyes and Tito took notice. Rocky hated the implication that just because she was still in an apprenticeship that she was less talented. She sucked in a deep breath that she hoped went unnoticed. She was mostly successful with the exception of Tito. He recognized the frustration of being underestimated.

Then JD turned to Barzy, “It also means that you are going to pay more for my time. It’s up to you.”

Barzal began to hem and haw. His mouth had gotten the better of him and he had stuck his foot so far into it that he didn’t think it would be possible to retrieve. Even if he changed his mind and selected Rocky, the damage was done. Finally Tito spoke again firmly, “No way Barzy. You had your shot at her and you blew it. I want her now.” His eyes fell onto Rocky’s face and he gave a slight nod.

Rocky laughed out loud, “Well then, let’s get to work.”

The tiny brunette led Tito to her small section of the studio. She pointed to the table and chairs in the corner. He sat down as she picked up a notebook to take notes. “I have a few questions,” Rocky began as the scent of his cologne wafted into her nostrils. She inhaled and let out a small moan before she realized it. Tito cleared his throat and Rocky blushed in response. “The notes say that this is your first tattoo. Is that correct?” she asked in earnest, “What made you decide to do it today?”

Tito blinked slowly and thought. He hadn’t anticipated the question and was stumped for an answer. Finally he spoke, “I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but never got around to it. When Barzy said he was coming, I decided that I would go ahead and do it.” Rocky nodded her head as she listened.

“So do you have a design or an idea in mind?” she questioned.

“Yeah, I found this on the internet and thought it would be cool,” he answered as he fished his phone out of his pocket. Rocky waited patiently as he scrolled this phone. Finally he found the picture and held his phone out to her. She took the phone and looked at the picture.

Rocky blinked slowly and zoomed in on the picture. Internally, her mind raced with thought “No fucking way”, but her reasoning kicked in. Technically, it would be a challenge which pleased her, but something just didn’t sit well with her.

She looked up to see him looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked. Rocky flashed a smile similar to a mother gave a child when presented with a treasured piece of artwork.

“You don’t like it?” he questioned.

“I didn’t say that,” she replied quickly.

“You didn’t say it out loud, but it’s what you were thinking,” he countered.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she responded, “You are a paying client. If you want that design, then that’s what we will do.” Rocky bit her lip and paused before speaking again, “Let me talk to JD and get his thoughts. I want to be sure about some of the technical aspects.” She was trying to buy time to think of ways to politely talk Tito out of his design idea. Rocky walked over to JD’s station just as he was placing the stencil on Barzal’s arm.

“Hey, before you get started,” Rocky started, “Can we go over his design?” They walked away and began an animated conversation.

Tito looked down the hall at Rocky and watched intently. Her hands gestured wildly as she spoke with passion. He couldn’t make out the words, but whatever she said, it was said with conviction. Barzal nudged Tito with his arm, “So she is…… uhhhh…. different.” Tito continued to stare without answering. “Beau!” Barzal said loud enough to draw the attention of JD and Rocky.

Tito was caught staring at Rocky before he quickly turned around to face Barzal with a scowl. “Did you have to yell?” he spoke softly.

“You weren’t answering me,” his friend replied with a laugh, “I don’t like to be ignored.”

Tito looked back over his shoulder quickly before he answered, “Technically, it wasn't a question, but a statement. Yes, I agree. She is quite unique. By the way, what was up with your attitude earlier? You think she can't tattoo because she is a woman?"

"No, that’s not it,” Barzal shot back, “I had a big, burly guy named Rocky in my head so when the pixie queen of tattoos came out, I was surprised. I put my foot in my mouth.”

Tito began to respond but noticed the duo of tattoo artists were walking back to them.

Rocky gave what could be best described as her “customer service” smile and gestured to Tito to go back into her section. He gave a shrug to Barzal and followed her. Then he turned around to Barzal who watched, “You know what you need to do.” Barzal nodded and followed JD back to the table.

The sound of Barzal’s soft yelp and the buzz of JD’s tattoo needle floated into Rocky’s section as they sat down again.

“Soooooo…” Tito smiled.

“So now that I had the technical questions I had about the design answered. I can certainly do it for you,” she smiled.

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ hanging in the air?” Tito smiled.

“There is no but, you want the design then I will give you the correct one,” she replied coolly.

“Rocky, tell me the truth,” Tito urged her to answer.

“How does he know I am lying?” she questioned herself. She looked into his eyes and saw his genuine concern. She paused and thought about her answer. For some people tattoos were just not that deep, but she got the sense that Tito wasn’t one of those people. She decided to flip the script. “What is it about the design that you like?” she asked.

“Well, I like the black and gray,” he began. When she nodded in understanding, he continued, “I liked the logo because I play for the Islanders” When her nose scrunched ever so slightly, he asked, ”What do you not like about the design?”

“This is a design for every wannabe hockey bro that wasn’t good enough to make it to the NHL,” she blurted out, “Why do you want to look like every other Goomba out there? This design tells me nothing about you as a person. It’s bland and generic and that’s not you. You’re not bland and generic.”

Tito laughed, “Tell me how you really feel.”

Rocky’s eyes flashed up and held his gaze, “Look, maybe I should take the easy money and give the tattoo you want, but that’s not the kind of artist I want to be,” she answered with passion, “I want my work to mean something, both to my client and to me. It’s probably not going to make me “successful”, but that’s really not my goal anyway.” She sighed dramatically, “And that’s not even the most obvious objection to it.”

“And what’s the most obvious objection to it?” Tito questioned as he studied the design again.

“When is your contract up? Do you have some sort of non-trade clause?” she asked plainly. He blinked slowly. She continued, “Seriously? When is your contract up?”

“2024,” he said softly as he began to process what she was saying, “I have another season and a half.”

“And you’re sure that they are going to re-sign you?” she prodded, “I don’t know too much about hockey so I don’t know if you are good or not. I do know that tattooing your team name on your body seems like the hockey equivalent to tattooing your girlfriend or wife’s name on your body. It’s a lovely gesture at the moment, but what do you do when things go south?”

Tito gulped and spit out, “I see your heart and soul is as black as your jet black hair.”

Rocky sat up straight, “Would you rather me not say anything?”

“No, you’re right,” he laughed, “You’re totally right. It looks like I am not getting a tattoo, at least tonight.” They sat silently and looked at each other. Both of them sizing the other up. Finally Tito spoke, “So if you think this design is trash, what design do you think I should get.”

“Something unique, something that tells a story about you,” Rocky pondered out loud.

“Unique? What’s unique about me? I am just a guy who plays hockey,” Tito challenged.

“Nah, you are so much more than that,” Rocky answered a little too quickly.

“How can you tell?” he quizzed.

“That twinkle in your eye,” Rocky smiled, “There is a whole world hidden behind the twinkles in your eyes.”

Tito leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I could say the same about you.”

Rocky blushed momentarily before the vibration on her phone drew her attention. It was a text from Kelly letting her know that he would be home late. His department decided on dinner after drinks. Rocky shook her head and silently admonished herself. She wouldn’t exactly call her behavior flirting, but it definitely wasn’t strictly professional. Rocky looked up into Tito’s soft blue eyes again. She was right. There was a whole world hidden in there. A world that she wanted to know more about.

“I could design something for you,” she blurted out before she processed the thought.

“I would be honored,” he answered quickly, surprising himself.

“So tell me about yourself, Mr. Beauvillier,” she leaned forward and put her chin into her hand while her elbow rested on the table.

“Well, I was born in Quebec….” he began.

She held up a finger and grabbed a pen and paper to write notes and sketch ideas. She motioned for him to continue and he did. Every once in a while he would lean forward to sneak a peek at what she wrote down or doodled. She pushed him away with a playful shove and smile

An hour later Rocky jumped at the sound of JD’s loud knocks. “Hey,” he said with a frown on his face, “We’re done in here.” Tito looked up with a smile. JD. grunted and turned around.

“What’s his problem?” Tito nodded his head at the door.

Rocky shrugged her shoulders, “He’s probably pissed that he is going to miss his cut of my fee.” Tito tilted his head in question. “Since he is my mentor, he gets a cut of my fee along with the shop,” she explained, “No tattoo, no fee.”

“If it’s about the money, I am happy to pay,” Tito offered

Rocky neatly piled up her things. “He’s probably pissed too since he told me just to do the damn design.” she added. They walked out together and waited as Daisy cashed Barzal out.

“Beau,” Barzal popped off, “What? Did you wimp out?”

“Nah,” Tito answered, “I convinced her to work with me on a custom design. I am thinking of a half sleeve to start that we can add onto later down the road.” JD’s eyebrows raised and Rocky shrugged her shoulders. Barzal turned to them, “What do you think? Pretty badass, huh?”

Rocky suppressed a giggle, “Oh, totally. You’re like the Lion King. Should I call you Simba?” Tito guffawed until Barzal shot him a look.

“Hurry up so I can pay, Simba,” Tito joked. Barzal casually flipped him off and turned to pay.

“Pay for what? You didn’t get a tattoo?” Rocky said in a stunned voice.

“Yes, I do need to pay. We were in a consultation. JD, what’s the price per hour for consultations?” Tito looked over to ask Rocky’s mentor.

“One fifty,” he answered tersely. Rocky bit her lip. He quoted a rate that was double her normal rate and Tito hadn’t blinked an eye. Of course, she knew that JD’s reasons were not altruistic at all. A higher rate meant a higher cut for him and the shop. It also meant that he could now charge Barzal double his normal rate for the basic tattoo he did. Rocky admired his hustle, even if she felt guilty about Tito paying more than necessary for it.

After Barzal paid, Tito cleared his throat loudly and nodded to Rocky. Barzal shot him a look of confusion. Tito muttered under his breath, “apologize”. Rocky’s head shot up and she looked at Tito who shrugged his shoulders. Barzal nodded in understanding.

“Uhhhh, Rocky?” Barzal started, “I apologize for earlier. I really wasn’t trying to knock you as an artist. I really was just expecting a big, burly guy based on the name. No offense meant.” Rocky smiled and looked down as she contemplated how long to make the hockey phenom squirm. “Seriously, I am not really a sexist pig,” he continued, “I have much respect for women.”

“Sure you do,” Rocky laughed.

“I swear I do,” Barzal squeaked, “Tell her Beau.”

Tito paused to allow him to sit in his discomfort, “I can attest that Barzy is a great admirer of women who happened to stick his foot so far into his mouth that he is choking on it. I am not sure if it's because of the nasty toe jam or God-awful odor.” Barzal’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Rocky giggled, “It’s okay, Simba. I am just busting your balls out of amusement. A little bit of friendly fire, I suppose.”

Barzal shot Tito a glare. “Thanks. It looks like I may need new friends these days,” he smiled as the group walked toward the exit. Rocky and Tito exchanged numbers, which did not go unnoticed by Barzal. When he questioned Tito in the car afterwards, Tito dismissed his comment. “It will be easier to set up time to go over ideas directly with her.”

“Whatever you say,” Barzal retorted, “I am sure it has nothing to do with the puppy dog eyes you make when looking at her. No, not at all.”

Inside the tattoo parlor, Cameron buzzed about the potential exposure the shop would receive if Barzal posted his new tattoo on social media. JD looked like a deer caught in headlights. While a master tattoo artist, JD was woefully behind the times on social media, considering it an unnecessary evil. Rocky shook her head, “I’ll take care of it.”

Kelly was sitting on the couch when Rocky arrived back at their apartment. She walked over and kissed the top of his head as he watched Squawk Box on CNBC. “How did the dinner go?” she asked softly. She began stripping as he watched the television.

“Huh?” he answered as he glanced over at her bare torso as she stripped off her leggings.

“I said how did the dinner go? Were you able to talk to Ross about your idea?” she asked as she walked into the bedroom to grab one of his large t-shirts to sleep.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, “We just need the go ahead from Grant and we will be good to go. Hey, I brought you dessert from the restaurant.”

Rocky walked back out and smiled, “That’s great. We both got good news tonight.” Kelly had turned his attention back to the television. She sighed and walked into the kitchen, opened the take out bag and stared at the cheesecake in the container. It was covered in strawberry syrup. She looked at Kelly in disbelief and then shook her head. Rocky’s favorite was, indeed, cheesecake, but she was allergic to strawberries. She had been since childhood. Kelly knew this, or at least had been told at least a dozen times. He probably scanned the menu, saw the cheesecake and ordered it in hurry. It was the little details that he ignored that drove her crazy. When he was in his "work zone", he lost all focus on anything else.

She placed the cheesecake into the refrigerator. She mumbled something about going to bed. She glanced at her phone and saw the text notifications.

Rocky looked at her phone and her eyes widened. She had almost 1,000 new followers including Tito, Barzal and a half a dozen other Islanders.

Thursday- Inked on Ice- Long Island

JD did a double take when Rocky passed him on her way to her station. Rocky’s de facto uniform for work days was a vintage concert or slogan t-shirt with distressed jeans. Today, however, she wore form-fitting black leather pants paired with a crisp white button down shirt. The shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hot pink spaghetti strap camisole. Her hair had also been artfully piled atop her head with a hot pink bandana in the “Rosie the Riveter” look. Most of the staff had a similar reaction.

“What?” she questioned when Daisy let out a low whistle, "I just felt like dressing up."

“I hope you are comfortable because you are now officially booked solid," Daisy smiled.

Rocky blinked and swallowed deep. She was finally coming into her own as a tattoo artist. She was still doing smaller and less intricate designs but her technique improved with each one. She took her schedule and got ready for her first appointment.

Seven hours later, Tito walked into the shop. Daisy immediately greeted him, "Rocky is wrapping up a tattoo. It should be a few minutes." Tito took notice of Rocky's neatly labeled portfolio. The contents mainly consisted of small tattoos that she had done in a variety of styles. The mix was split evenly between color and gray. In the back were larger, more intricate designs.

He was lost in thought when Rocky approached from behind. "See anything you are interested in?

"They are all great," he said after he collected himself, "I like these landscape ones. That one reminds me of my days playing on an outdoor rink."

Rocky leaned forward to confirm which drawing he meant. Her breath felt warm against his neck and he inhaled her perfume. "Oh, that one? Let's go talk in my section," she said softly, oblivious to his reaction. She turned around and walked back to her small room. Tito gulped and turned to follow. His eyes involuntarily swept over her body as she walked in front of him.

She was already sitting down when he entered. He stopped at the door and observed her as she pulled out her sketch pad and pencils. "Either come inside or go get me coffee," she joked.

"Coffee?" he asked, "What's your order?"

"Unsweet iced coffee with an extra shot and skim milk, 2 pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, 2 Splenda and light caramel drizzle," she answered without looking up.

"You know I have zero shot of getting that right," he smiled.

"Beauregard, if you can remember the draft line-up of your draft in order, then you can remember this," she looked up and flashed a smile. He laughed softly. "Or you could just tell them Rocky's usual," she smiled wider, "Whatever is easier."

"You’re a regular over there?" he asked as he began to leave.

"Yes, and I tip very well. Don't ruin my rep, Beauregard," she warned, "Go and let me work. I am inspired."

"Beauregard?" He stopped, "You can't call me Tito or Beau like everyone else?"

"Do I look like a woman who does what everyone else does?' she retorted.

"Silly me," he sighed, "and to think I am paying to go be your coffee bitch." He waited for a response but she had focused on her paper again.

When he returned with her iced coffee, music was playing. She expertly added shading to the drawing while she sang. https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZY1PqizIl78geGM4xWlEA?si=eebcaf1014c24c38

But if you're single that's honestly worse

'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

(Honey, it hurts)

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face (to your face)

'Cause look at your face (look at your face)

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way (this way)

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

He watched her for a moment before he involuntarily started singing as well.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad (mmh)

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have and

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats (yeugh)

Alone, unless you wanna come along (oh)

Rocky looked up when she heard his voice and smiled. Tito gallantly presented her with her complex coffee order. He glanced over at the picture before teasing, “So you’re a Swiftie? That’s surprising.”

“Why?” she asked.

He made a hand gesture up and down. “The hair, the tattoos, piercings all scream metal goth girl, but here you are jamming away to basic white girl music while drinking basic white girl coffee. Color me confused.”

“That’s what you get when you judge a book by its cover. You miss the complexity of most humans,” she said philosophically. “By the way, I did notice you jamming along. Are there a lot of Swifties in the NHL?”

“Nah, my ex, Tiffany, was one," he answered, "I became one by osmosis."

"Really?" She replied, "My boyfriend just mocks me."

“Ahhhhh,” Tito, “He doesn’t know what he is missing. Taylor Swift is a musical genius.”

"Well, well, well," Rocky whistled, "Look who is the basic white girl now.”

“Shut up and show me the sketch that you have been so focused on,” he answered as he rolled his eyes.

She slid the sketch pad over to him and looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “I tried to incorporate everything that we talked about last time,” she said quietly. Rocky wasn’t sure as she was filled with apprehension suddenly. Her art was one of the few areas of her life that she was sure about these days.

Tito gingerly touched the sketch pad and took in each detail of the illustration. He was surprised by the lack of color, but it was so effective that he couldn’t imagine the piece in anything but simple black and gray. It was the embodiment of everything that they had discussed.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Tito swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the tears filling his eyes. “I think,” he started before pausing to steady his voice, “I think it’s perfect.”

“Really?” she smiled tentatively, “You really like it?”

He looked up at her and stared for a moment. Underneath the heavy make-up and tough exterior, he saw her sweet spirit. She was more complex and multi-dimensioned than anyone he had ever met despite practically being a stranger. She had put her heart and soul into this drawing and the magnitude of that action was not lost on him.

“Yes,” he smiled, “I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

MIDNIGHT RAIN

The next few weeks were a blur to Rocky. Her days were filled with appointments and consultations. Word of mouth began to spread as client after client posted their ink on social media. Glowing reviews accompanied each post, and Rocky’s reputation began to grow in the tattoo community. Pretty soon, some pretty big name artists began following her, including Catarina Vandewahl, who was a pioneer female tattoo artist.

With her growing popularity came sacrifices and hardships. Rocky worked hard to capitalize on the buzz around her work and kept herself booked solid. It meant less and less time at home with Kelly. They became like ships passing in the night. He was going to bed as she got home from a long day at the shop and left before she woke up for the day. On the rare occasion they were together, they both struggled to find the connection that had bonded them in their youth. Kelly worked feverishly on his work project while Rocky sat on the couch and watched hockey.

The texts between Tito and Rocky began as strictly business. Short and brief texts to schedule time to work on his tattoo. It was a task that was becoming more and more difficult to complete due to their hectic schedules. However, somewhere along the line, the tone changed from professional to borderline flirtation.

They scheduled his six hour session two days after Taylor Swift’s Midnights album release. It was a rare day off for Tito and Mondays were usually light for Rocky so she was able to make adjustments to her calendar. The plan was for the duo to experience the album together so they swore to each other to remain as “spoiler free” as possible.

In the meantime, Rocky began to follow the Islanders closely. Growing up in Dallas, she was a casual fan of the Stars. She knew the basics of hockey, but not the finer details. She grew frustrated trying to watch Tito play. Eventually, they developed a routine of Tito picking a game on his “off” nights, and they would text back and forth throughout the game. Of course, it was all in the name of teaching Rocky about hockey. However, the subject quickly opened up to broader discussions that almost touched on the philosophical.

Tito kept her updated about life on the road and humorous stories of adventures with teammates. Rocky threw in stories from the tattoo shop. From there, the subject of relationships bubbled up. Tito was shocked to find himself revealing his frustrations in finding a woman that was willing to put up with his unusual schedule while maintaining her own identity. Most women seemed more than ready to give up their own “careers” to make themselves available to NHL players. Tito found it tedious and boring.

Eventually Rocky found herself venting to Tito about how Kelly and her were on almost completely opposite schedules and how isolated she felt from him. Almost immediately, she regretted it and walked back her statements. Internally she scolded herself for crossing some imaginary line. For his part, Tito avoided the subject and redirected back to the game they were supposed to be watching. He couldn’t even think of a reason why he felt the need to change the subject. They were both venting about essentially the same subject. Still he felt a sting as he listened to her vent and he pictured her domestic life with her boyfriend. The sting was especially strong as he looked around his nondescript hotel room and remembered that there would be no one waiting for him when he returned home at the end of the road trip.

The cracks in Rocky and Kelly’s relationship began to deepen the weekend before Tito’s appointment. With his big work project complete, Kelly looked to reconnect with his long-time love. He made a reservation at a romantic restaurant and booked a suite at the Plaza. It was the sort of restaurant that demanded a level of elegance and style that was out of Rocky’s comfort zone.

“Quit fidgeting,” Kelly smiled as they followed the hostess to their table at the back of the restaurant. His hand was on the small of her back as she smoothed her hair down. She had just dyed her hair a vibrant red that morning and spent an inordinate amount of time curling it to achieve the perfect vintage fifties vibe she was going for.

“People are staring at me,” she said quietly.

“Please,” he joked, “You don’t dye your hair that color while wearing that dress if you don’t want attention.” Rocky flinched internally at his words. After they sat down, she quickly picked up the menu to study it. The fact it also shielded the tears that welled up in her eyes was an added bonus.

“Hey,” Kelly said softly, “Let me see your face.”

“I’m deciding what to eat,” she said as she willed her voice to remain steady.

“Rox,” he whispered, “Let me see your face.” She bit her lip. He only called her Rox when he was being sweet and kind to her. While she couldn’t say that he had been unkind recently, there had been a dearth of sweetness over the past couple of months. Slowly, she lowered the menu to let him see her face. “Rox,” he sighed.

“Do you think I dress the way I do for attention?” she murmured, “Do you think I am that kind of person?”

Kelly reached for her hand and grabbed it before she withdrew it. “I think that you can’t dye your hair fire engine red and cover yourself in tattoos and then be shocked when you get attention from normal people.”

“Normal people?” she questioned as she raised her menu again, “I am not a normal person? Since when?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said flatly, “I don’t want to argue. I like the hair and the dress. You look beautiful and unique. You should rock the hell out of it while you can.”

“While I can?” she asked after the server took their order, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Rox,” he said, “Don’t overthink it. I just want to have a romantic night with my girl.”

Something inside of her bristled at the comment “his girl”. She tried to focus on his intent or at least what she believed to be his intent. Kelly wasn’t a malicious person. He was actually quite thoughtful and caring. In fact, it was one of her favorite qualities about him. She looked at him and smiled. "So do you want to hear about my week?" He nodded in affirmation and she began telling a funny story about a misspelled tattoo.

Back in their hotel suite later, they had exhausted all subjects of conversation. Rocky pulled out her phone as a distraction and saw the notification from Tito.

Rocky quickly typed out a reply.

Rocky- Hey…. Quit cheating

Tito- Who? Me?

Rocky- Yes, you - Beauregard

Tito- #sorrynotsorry. I am bored in the hotel room. Staying spoiler free is hard.

Rocky- Quit being a spoiler whore and go to sleep. You will need your energy for Monday.

Tito- That's right- you're going to pop my cherry. Be gentle with me.

Rocky stared at the screen. She knew full well that he was referring to his first tattoo experience. However, suddenly, a very graphic image of her sliding down onto him filled her mind. She could almost hear him whisper in his light accent, "Be gentle with me." Rocky dropped her phone which drew Kelly's attention. He gave a funny face and she scrambled to grab the phone to prevent Kelly from seeing the content. Then she remembered that it had only been a figment of her imagination and not anything that could be read

Tito- Rocky?

Rocky- Sorry, dropped phone. Yes, I will be gentle with you. I gotta go. We’re headed to bed. TTYL.

Tito stared at the screen. "Headed to bed?" he thought. A vision of Rocky riding him while throwing her head back filled his mind. He tried to imagine just how much of her upper body was decorated with ink. He stared at the screen, then put the phone down. He turned on the TV and willed himself to not look at the phone. “Fuck it,” he groaned as he picked up his phone again. Without thinking, he found himself on her Instagram page scrolling through pictures. “Don’t hit like, don’t fucking hit the like button,” he reminded himself as he stalked. It was mainly tattoo photos with an occasional selfie. He scrolled back up and stopped. “Damn,” he whispered to himself, “Damn.”

Before he could stop himself, he responded with a flirty reply. He saw Kelly’s response and exhaled in disgust before clicking on his profile. His posts consisted of mainly “bro” activities - hanging out with friends, tailgating at Jets games, trips to the shore, etc. Tito noticed that they were only rare pictures of Rocky, at least recently.

Pretty soon, he had spent an hour down the rabbit hole of Kelly’s profile. He had pieced together a rough timeline of Rocky’s relationship with Kelly. It started off strong in high school with nearly constant photos. Things definitely cooled in college as Kelly morphed from slightly emo/goth boy to total finance bro . There was a direct correlation between their individual transformations and their relationship-at least based on what you could see on social media. Tito would bet that Rocky's tattoos and fashion style were an issue. The more she got, the less he posted her picture. A couple of years after graduation, other than holiday and anniversary posts, she was non-existent on his timeline. It wasn't as if Kelly was necessarily hiding his relationship with Rocky on social media, but he wasn't exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. He did a similar deep dive onto Rocky’s page and reached the same conclusion.

He scrolled back to her post from that night. How could the things that he found so fascinating about Rocky be an issue for this Kelly dude? He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it all. Tito gently touched the screen with his thumb. Her smile made him feel things. Her eyes, he thought to himself, her eyes were bright on the surface, but underneath there was a world that he wanted to know. He wanted to know what made her happy and what made her sad. He wanted to know what she thought about the new Taylor Swift album. He wanted to know her thoughts about everything.

Back at the Plaza, Rocky sighed heavily as she tried to get comfortable in the oversized hotel bed. As much as she appreciated the thought and effort that Kelly had put into making the night special, something had fallen flat. Even their lovemaking had been lackluster with them both going through the motions without any true passion between them. Muscle memory elicited perfunctory orgasms for each of them before both they rolled in opposite directions to sleep. Rocky tried "fluffing" her pillow before grabbing her phone.

She glanced at Instagram and smiled at Tito's comment. "Can't sleep?" Kelly said sleepily.

"No, maybe it was the espresso martini at dinner?" She replied.

"Rox, you mainline coffee all day long. How can an espresso martini affect you like this?" he challenged. She shrugged her shoulders. "Come here," he held out his arm to her, "I'll try the head thing." Rocky rolled over and snuggled into his chest. They laid in silence for a minute. Kelly's fingertips ran up and down arm gently in slow, methodical fashion. He could feel the tension oozing out of her pores. "Rox, talk to me," he finally asked, "I know that something set you off tonight."

"Well, first you said I wasn't normal," she started meekly.

"Normal wasn't the right word," he interjected, "Average is more accurate. It wasn't meant as an insult, Rox. You should know that you stand out in a crowd. You are special and unique….."

"Why do I sense that there is a but hanging in the air?" She questioned.

"There is no but hanging in the air…." He snapped back.

"What did you mean when you said I should rock the hell out of my look while I can?" she lifted her head and stared into his eyes.

"There it is. That is what you have been stewing over since dinner," he sighed, "What I meant was that eventually you will need to dress more appropriately. Wait, appropriate is not the right word. Hmmmm, maybe I should say….ummmm, subdued."

"Subdued? Why do I need to be subdued?" She shot back.

He sighed, "because eventually I will need you to be a partner. I can't become a CEO without a good partner."

"CEO?" she balked, "Since when do you want to become a CEO? What happened to the 'work as hard as we can fo the next ten years so we can retire and travel the world" plan? When did that change?"

Kelly blinked, "When I started and discovered that I actually liked it. I am good at my job and I can go further than I thought I could. I know it doesn't mean shit to you but I love it. If you gave it a chance, you might like it too."

Rocky searched into his eyes to gauge his seriousness. Her gaze was met with an expression of such earnestness that she felt actual pain in her heart. "Tell me more about this plan," she said softly before she laid her head on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. She listened as he explained his fifteen year long route to CEO. It included getting married within two years and having their first child two years after that. Everything was mapped out in such detail that Rocky was beginning to wonder when exactly the original plan changed and when he was planning on telling her.

"You're being awfully quiet, Rox," he said at the end as he wrapped up.

"It's a lot to take in," she whispered, "It's a lot to take in."

"You'll at least consider it? Will you at least consider it for me?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, I will think about it," she sighed.

Kelly kissed the top of her head, "You're the best. I love you."

"Love you too," she yawned, "let's get some sleep."

TWO DAYS LATER- INKED ON ICE Tattoo Shop

Tito winced and gritted his teeth as Rocky worked on the outline of the complex tattoo design they had settled on. “How are you doing there, Beauregard?” Rocky asked cheerfully. Tito had been sitting stoically for almost three hours. The session started out strong. They started with listening to Taylor Swift’s Midnights, but after two times they grew restless. When Rocky suggested switching to Speak Now, he readily agreed.

He groaned, “Why on earth would you willingly do this multiple times?”

Rocky smiled, “I don’t know. The art is worth the pain, I suppose. Of course, it could also be that I am tougher than you and can take the pain. I would have thought a hockey player would be tougher but then again Barzal cried like a little bitch too.”

“Hey,” he whined, “Would you like me to tell you all of the injuries that I have played with?”

“Will it make you quit whining?” she countered, “If so, then by all means, tell me how tough you are.” Rocky knew that it would draw his focus away from the tattoo and therefore the pain. Sure enough, the conversation bought Rocky about forty five minutes of productive work time. When he began to lose focus again, Rocky tapped his leg. “Hey, we are at a good stopping point for a break. You rest and I will go grab us some lunch from next door. The lasagna is top notch.” Tito breathed a sigh of relief. Within minutes, Rocky had prepared his arm enough to move freely. “Stretch, move around and relax,” she instructed, “We have about another four hours to finish it. Think you can handle it?” She looked at him with concern. It was his first tattoo and she wanted to be sure that he didn’t tap out before she finished. Also, she wouldn’t admit to anyone, but part of her wondered if she could take another four hours on trying to focus on tattooing while she ignored the intrusive thoughts in her head.

When she returned with the food, he was casually scrolling through his phone. He graciously accepted the lasagna and bottle water. “What do I owe you?” he asked.

“You don’t need to pay me back,” she insisted.

“I am not used to women buying me food,” he blushed.

Rocky blinked, “Beauregard….. What kind of women are you dating? They don’t even do the courtesy to reach for their wallet? Where are you finding them? Puckbunnies.com?”

“Hey,” Tito cautioned, “Tap the brakes there.”

Rocky immediately hung her head, “I am sorry, Beau. Truly, I am. I am just dealing with a personal thing and it’s got me extra “fight the patriarchy” right now.

Tito’s face immediately softened, “Something personal? With your boyfriend? What’s his name again- Kelly?”

Rocky sighed, “Yeah, something with him. Hey, how did you know his name?”

Tito blinked. He didn’t want to admit to the stalking of Instagram. “Ummm, didn’t he comment on the picture the other day?” he answered casually.

“Oh yeah,” Rocky smiled, “I forgot about that.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The unanswered question hung in the air. Finally Tito asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rocky fought the impulse to open to him. “He’s a client,” she told herself before she took another bit of lasagna. She looked out of the corner of her eye to find Tito staring, waiting on an answer. “Beauregard, I appreciate the offer. It’s nothing earth shattering or dramatic," she offered as an answer. When his eyes didn't move from her face, "Stop staring at me. You're being weird,"

Tito looked down and thought, "Was he being weird?" Then he shook his head and looked at her. Her eyes held a silent plea to drop the subject. He waffled between pushing for an answer, absolutely hoping for any news that the relationship had cracks that could be exploited and letting her tell him without pressure. He grimaced at his mind that jumped at the opportunity to "exploit" any weaknesses in her relationship. No, if they had a future together in their destinies, it would happen without manipulation or pressure. He smiled and deflected, "So, ummmm, where did Rocky come from? Did your dad just really want a boy?"

She was thankful for the deflection. She wasn't ready to put her emotions into words yet. Rocky grinned widely, "It's short for Raquelle. My younger brother, Gabriel, could only say Raq and not Raquelle. Alexander turned it into Rocky after I beat him up." Tito's eyes widened. "Well, he deserved it. He stole my Nintendo DS," she explained.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Raquelle," Tito smiled.

There was something about the way that he said her name made her heart leap with joy. She felt blush overcome her cheeks and she looked away. Tito thought she never looked more beautiful. "Yep, I am going to call you Raquelle from now on," he teased casually.

"Whatever you say, Anthony " she countered. Both of them scrunched their noses immediately. "Nope, Beauregard is better," she declared. She glanced at the clock. "Now eat up, Beauregard," she ordered, "We are going to start in ten minutes and keep going until we are done."

"Yes, Raqueĺle," he cooed, exaggerating each syllable in his slight French accent. Rocky bit her lip and took a bite of lasagna. "I will let you torture me again in ten minutes." he laughed.

Rocky's plan to carb load Tito worked. When they began again, he got into the zone. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. His body entered into a trance like state and they powered through together. They were reaching the finish line when "Midnight Rain" started. https://youtu.be/Odh9ddPUkEY?si=IRMd5VC86a0xnQ77. Taylor's voice filled the room

Rain, he wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Rocky's head popped and listened to the song that seemed to encapsulate the current state of her relationship. When the words "Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain,.He wanted it comfortable,I wanted that pain" floated across the room, her eyes filled with tears. Unable to see, she lifted the needle from Tito's skin. The lack of sensation reached into his brain but did not penetrate. It was the tear that splashed down on his forearm that got his attention. He looked at the wet mark and then lifted his eyes to look at her face

Tears streamed down as she stared into space. "Rocky? Are you okay?" He sat straight up in the chair. She glanced at him and cried harder. "Rocky, what happened?" He questioned. "Mon ami, what happened? Did you make a mistake?" She shook her head vigorously.

"He is sunshine and I am midnight rain. He wants comfortable and I want pain," she said out loud to no one in particular.

"Who?" His hand went to her cheek, "Kelly?" She nodded her head. "What happened, Mon Ami? You were fine," he soothed.

"The song," she choked out.

He listened as the song ended. "Which song?" He asked.

"Midnight Rains," she whispered.

"The breakup song?" He asked in the tenderest voice.

Rocky wiped her tears, "He has a fifteen year plan now. He wants to be a CEO and he wants me to be the good little corporate wife." Tito's mind raced. "Can you imagine?" She whined, "Can you imagine me at the country club."

"No, no I can't." He answered honestly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Terrified," she blurted out, "What if I can't do it? What if I lose myself in the process?

"Do you even want to do it? He asked sincerely, "Is that the life you want?"

She stared at him like he had three heads. Of course, it was Kelly. He was her future. He had been her future since she can remember. She hadn't considered what she wanted.

He wiped her tears that still flowed." It is just a song," he whispered, "It doesn't have to mean a break up." Internally he screamed at himself to shut up, but he couldn't stop himself. No, if she was going to end things, she would do it without his interference. It was clear that she wasn't ready to let go. "Rocky…." He continued as she stared into space, "Raquelle…." Her head snapped in direction. "It's just a song," he explained, "You get to decide your future. You can have any future you want."

Rocky inhaled deeply, "You think?"

"I know," he smiled back.

"Thank you Beauregard," she smiled, "You're a good friend to me." Her breath hitched as the word came out of her mouth.

"It is my pleasure," he smiled, "It's.honor and a pleasure to be your friend. However, if you don't finish this ink soon, I am going to come to my senses soon and I will never let you near me with a needle again."

Rocky glared, "No way you are tapping out now. Buckle up Beauregard.".He sat back and closed his eyes. "Alexa, play Shake It Off."

Thirty minutes later, Tito stood and admired the design. "It's perfect," he praised, "I can't wait to post it."

Two weeks later - USB Arena

Kelly held the ticket stub in his hand as they walked around the concourse of the USB arena. “Rox,” he said suddenly, “These are lower bowl seats. I think these seats are pretty close to the glass. Where did you get them again?”

“I told you,” she said sweetly, “A client gave them to me as a thank you.” Kelly led them down the stairs to the seats which were right next to the Islanders penalty box. Rocky took the seat nearest the box. Kelly had a thing about having an easy exit out of crowded places and would have felt boxed in. The music in the arena was loud and pulsating. Rocky looked around and absorbed the vibe. She was lost in thought when a loud horn sounded. She looked up to see the Islander team taking the ice. She hadn’t even noticed that she held her breath until she saw Tito step out onto the ice following Barzal. She smiled and exhaled as her eyes stayed glued to him.

She couldn’t help but notice the difference in him. His face was devoid of expression and his eyes focused on the ice in front of him as the group began to make laps around their end of the ice. Gone was the friendly, but somewhat introverted Beauregard that she knew. In place was a determined and focused warrior. Rocky was tempted to bang on the glass when Barzal took a position in front of her seats to begin his stretches. She decided against creating a potential awkward moment. Instead she searched for Tito, she found him on the opposite side of the ice, stretching as well.

A high pitched squeal of "Barzy" penetrated the air and he leisurely looked over his shoulder to find the source. A gaggle of college girls stood behind Rocky holding a sign that said "Barzy- You can go 5 hole on us." He smirked and shook his head before noticing Rocky, who very obviously focused on something that had her complete attention. He had a hunch on the object of her focus. It was confirmed when he followed her sight line that went straight to Tito.

He almost shouted across the ice, but thought better of it. Instead he waited, they stood next to each other for a drill. "Hey Tito, why didn't you say anything about Rocky being here tonight," Barzal remarked casually, "Those are better seats than we normally get to give away. Did you ask for extra nice ones for her?"

Tito's head spun around in surprise, "What? Where?"

Barzal pointed to Rocky's location. Tito looked and saw her staring in his direction. He felt his stomach flip while a smile spread across his face. He waved shyly and Rocky felt her face flush.

"Did that player just wave at you?" Kelly asked. He turned to Rocky who waved back to Tito before she turned to face him.

“Yeah, I know him from the shop,” she answered evasively. Immediately she felt a pang of guilt hit. Between her earlier fascination and not completely honest answer, she walked the boundary of both her relationship with Kelly AND Tito. She added, “I actually did a tattoo for him a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Kelly turned to assess the hockey player, “So that’s why your schedule has blown up recently. You are tattooing ‘celebrities’ these days. Good for you.”

Rocky turned to Kelly with her arms folded. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Did I say that it was a bad thing?” Kelly questioned incredulously.

The couple stood and stared at each other.. The stare down lasted long enough to attract Tito’s attention. His eyes widened slightly when Rocky’s angry expression registered. He started skating before his brain engaged. A guttural instinct took over. Someone had upset his Raquelle and that- it was just unacceptable. He hit the boards immediately in front of Kelly with enough force to knock Kelly’s beer off the ledge he had left it sitting on. The beer splashed Kelly’s jeans while the sound of the hit reverberated through the area. Kelly looked down at his pants, then to Tito who stared him down on the other side of the glass. “Hey!” Kelly yelled as Tito looked at Rocky who stood with her jaw dropped.

Her mind raced to imagine a justification for Tito’s actions and she could find none. Her look of confusion felt like a stab in the heart to Tito. Rocky turned to Kelly who burst out laughing. The reaction of the crowd in the section was the rousing cheer of approval and amusement. Tito winked at Rocky before he skated off to the bench. “Hey Jake,” Tito called the equipment manager, “You have any money?”

“Why?” the assistant equipment yelled back.

“I knocked that guy’s beer over. I need to buy him another one,” Tito explained.. “Come on, you know I am good for it,” Tito cajoled. Jack turned to delegate the task to one of the team interns when Tito yelled again.

As he made his request, Jake looked on incredulously. “You owe me, Beau- you owe me,” he laughed as he walked away.

In the brief time between end of warm-up and puck drop, a hapless team intern came bounding down the steps toward Kelly and Rocky. He stood at the end of the row and yelled down to them. “Hey, Tito bought you a beer to replace the one he knocked over,” the intern said cheerfully as he passed the cup of beer down the row. Then he passed down the large coffee cup and added, “This is for Rocky?” Kelly eyed her suspiciously as Rocky waited for the cup. When she received it, she glanced to get confirmation. It was her ridiculously complicated drink. Tito made someone go to Starbucks and return with a coffee specifically made for her.

“Can you tell him thank you?” she smiled at the intern.

“You can tell him yourself,” the intern responded, “He wants me to bring you down to the locker room after the game. Wait here and I will come get you after the third period.”

“Wow,” Kelly quipped, “That must have been one hell of a tattoo you did for him. You’re getting VIP treatment.”

Later, toward the end of the second period, Rocky leaned forward and intently watched the faceoff taking place in front of her. Kelly had made an early exit to beat the line at the concession stand. The Islanders were in a tight, chippy game against the Dallas Stars- the score tied up at one. Tito lined up against Jamie Benn who acknowledged him with a head nod. Tito looked back over his shoulder and glanced at Rocky but then returned his focus to the task at hand. Benn laughed, “Is that your girl? She looks like fun.”

Tito responded with a shove to Benn’s chest, “Shut up.” Benn retaliated with a stick poke and a smile- content with the knowledge that he had found a way to get under Tito’s skin. Both resumed position again but began jostling sticks back and forth. When the puck dropped, he used his stick to upend Tito.

The move drew the ire of the Islander crowd and Rocky stood up and yelled, “Hey, you can’t do that.” Benn smiled even bigger as Tito got up and launched a shove into his opponent’s chest. The captain grabbed a hold of the stick and they jostled for a few moments before Tito dropped his gloves and reached to pull Benn down into a headlock before he started swinging. He landed several punches before the bigger man was able to pull him down to the ground. Refs separated them. Tito ripped off his helmet as he got back to his feet and shook his head. .

Benn smiled, sure that he had instigated Tito into a penalty. During a tie game, drawing a penalty was crucial. His smile soon disappeared when he realized that it was he that was getting the extra penalty for his trip. Tito gave him a smile, “Thanks for the power play. It will come in handy.”

He entered the penalty box casually, sitting down on the bench and placing his helmet beside him. He wiped his face with the towel as Benn yelled from his box. Tito looked over lazily as he caught his breath. “Lucky you,” the captain yelled and pointed. Tito turned around to see Rocky staring intently at him, her brow furrowed slightly. She quickly smiled as he turned around.

Tito scooted on the bench so that he was closer to her. Suddenly, he forgot where he was and focused on her smile. “Fancy meeting you here, Mon Ami,” he greeted her.

“Beauregard…..” she spoke in an exaggerated drawl, “I’m not a hockey expert, but I do believe that you are supposed to stay OUT of the penalty box.”

“Raquelle…..” he began with a little more accent than necessary. Rocky felt her cheeks begin to flush. Tito stared at her face, “If I stayed OUT of the box, then we wouldn’t have this chance to chat. You know that chatting with you is my favorite thing in the world.” Rocky leaned forward and grinned.

Somewhere in the TV control room, a producer proclaimed, “Are you guys seeing this?” The director looked up as the producer shared the camera view into the Islander penalty box onto the large screen. There, in the picture, were Tito and Rocky shamelessly flirting. Within seconds, the shot was on live TV with the Islanders TV announcers commenting on it.

“Butch,” Brendan Burke chuckled, “It seems like we have a bit of an off-ice situation happening here.”

Back in their bubble, Rocky joked, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in…”

Tito retorted, “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

“At tea time, everybody agrees,” she finished.

Back in the control room, one of the female interns shouted out, “Holy shit, they are quoting Taylor Swift to each other.”

The director yelled, “No fucking way!” He suddenly had visions of a viral moment. The information was relayed to the announcers.

Tito moved on to another song, “Best believe I’m still bejeweled, When I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer.”

Rocky picked up, “And when I meet the band, They ask “Do you have a man?” I can still say, ‘I don’t remember’”

Inside the control room, the announcer's booth and the entire Islanders liveblog tag on Tumblr, people watching were losing their collective minds. Comments flew back and forth- “Do you think he even knows that there is a game still going on? The moment was interrupted by the penalty box attendant who tapped Tito on the shoulder, “Fifteen seconds, dude.”

Tito’s head spun around and he remembered where he was. He quickly gathered his equipment and stood by the door. He turned to Rocky and smiled. She started “I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

The door opened and Tito skated onto the ice. He glanced back and saw Kelly returning to his seat. He handed Rocky a bottle of water and she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. The voice inside Tito's head finished the lyric, “Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” He felt the sharp pain in his abdomen like a punch to a gut. It pulled him out of dream-like state and back into the reality of the game. “Use this,” he said to himself, “Use the pain as motivation.”

His eyes returned to the play and he saw his opening as he gained speed. He knocked Miro Heiskanen off the puck and took it onto his stick. He weaved his way through the two defensemen and circled the net. He passed the puck to Barzal who shot it at the net. Jake Oettinger coughed up a juicy rebound that landed on Tito’s stick. He lifted the puck up and over Oettinger’s shoulder into the net. It took a second for Tito to realize what had just happened. He was swarmed by his teammates as the arena erupted in cheers.

He looked over to see Kelly pick Rocky into his arms and swing her around. He quickly turned to accept congratulatory pats on the head from his teammates. Rocky’s head spun while in Kelly’s arm to find Tito. When she found him on the bench, she swallowed hard. The focused expression on his face had returned and he stared directly in front of him. It was Rocky’s turn to feel the gnawing ache in her stomach. The period ended and she watched him walk to the tunnel without looking back.

The Islander locker room buzzed with excitement of the new lead. Round of "Thatta boy, Beau, spread around the room. Tito didn't respond. Instead he replayed his time in the penalty box -the ease of talking to Rocky, the way she pulled him out of the game, the butterflies he felt when he looked into her eyes. He could have stayed lost in that moment for the rest of his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by Anders Lee's voice. "Sooooo who is the girl and can we buy her a beer?" he joked.

"Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you," ran through his head. The memory of her hug with Kelly flashed in his brain. Tito gritted his teeth and shook his head. "She's nobody- just the woman who did my tat," he spit out, 'She's nobody." With that, he got up to find the intern from earlier. Barzal watched in silence before getting up and following him. The rest of the team looked at each other in confusion.

Barzal caught up as Tito finished his conversation. "Are you sure" the intern asked. Tito nodded his head.

"Sure about what?" Barzal questioned.

"Sure that I don't want her to come down after the game," Tito answered emphatically.

"Why?" Barzal questioned as they walked back to the room.

"Because I said so dumbass," Tito muttered as he put on his gear.

Upstairs,the intern made his way to Rocky's seats. Kelly looked confused when the intern gently explained, "Tito is not going to be able to see you after the game after all. There is a mandatory team meeting that he can't miss."

Rocky blinked. She knew it was a lie but didn't want to argue or appear too eager to see Tito.. "Oh okay- well, tell him that I will see him around I guess.” She tried to hide the disappointment on her face, but Kelly knew her well enough to spot the fake smile. They rode in uncomfortable silence back to their apartment.

Later in bed, they faced opposite walls with their backs to each other. “So that’s who you've been texting recently?” Kelly asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she said softly, “He has been teaching me about hockey.”

"Clearly it worked. You were really focused on the game. I am glad you had a good time. You deserved it." Kelly yawned "Good night Rox. Love you."

"Ditto, Kels," she replied softly. Rocky's phone began to buzz. She picked it up.

Daisy: Girl…

Rocky: What?

Daisy: You're viral.

Rocky: What? How?

Daisy sent her the link to SportCenter and the segment about Tito's time in the penalty box. Rocky watched in a combination of sweet memory and horror. She thought back to what she felt in the moment. The feeling had been so pure and she struggled to name it. It finally dawned on her- joy.

"What's the problem with joy?" She asked herself as the dread and horror spread around her body. It had been so long since she had experienced true joy. She couldn't remember when the last time was. One thing she knew that it wasn't with Kelly- the person who she should share joy with.

She looked back at Kelly with a wistful look. "I have to be better," she said to herself, "He deserves better." She rolled over and watched the clip again. The feeling of joy returned as she watched Tito's face and a thought popped into her head, "Don't you deserve better?" She pursed her lips and turned off her phone.

Barzal/Beauvillier condo- Long Island

"Fuck you, I would have made that shot,," Tito yelled out to no one in particular as the NHL22 game played. Barzal gave him a side eye and continued playing the video game.

After Tito added "motherfucker," Barzal paused the game. Tito protested meekly before Barzal cut him off, “What in the hell is your problem dude?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Tito countered.

“Don’t lie to me Beau. It insults my intelligence,” Barzal challenged. Tito began a pithy response, but stopped when he saw his roommate’s expression. The concern was apparent and completely out of character for Barzal. “Does it have something to do with Rocky?” Barzal asked quietly. Tito leaned back and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I am going to take that as a yes,” Barzal continued, “Want to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about. I misread her signals,” Tito spit out, “I thought there might be something there, but clearly I am wrong.”

“I am not so sure about that dude,” Barzal sighed. The brunette turned and studied his roommate's face. He pondered his next words carefully. "Look, I was going to wait and let you find out tomorrow, but there is something that you need to see." He pulled out his phone and started the video of Tito and Rocky from the penalty box.

Tito smiled involuntarily at Rocky as his finger went caress her face on the phone screen. He wanted to push the feeling down but it swept over him like a tidal wave. Barzal chuckled, "Dude, you have it bad. You are so into her."

"Too bad she isn't into me," Tito whined.

"Look, she may have a boyfriend, but she is into you," Barzal countered. Tito began to shake his head but Barzal interjected, "Look at her face when she looks at you. She desn't look at her boyfriend that way. I watched her during the game. Trust me there is something there, Beau. It wasn’t just during your penalty. Her eyes were on you the entire game.."

"So what should I do? She has a boyfriend," Tito asked.

"Be patient until she figures it out," Barzal suggested, “I don’t know much but I know that she doesn’t look at him the way she looks at you.”

"So business as usual?" Tito asked. Barzal nodded his head. "One Sec," Tito held up his hand. He reached for his phone and typed a quick text to Rocky,

Tito: Hey sorry we couldn't connect after the game, but it was great to see you.

Rocky: I thought you were mad at me.

Tito: Never mon ami

Rocky: You sure?

Tito: 100% sure

Rocky: You wouldn't lie to me, would you Beaugard?

Tito: Raquelle, you wound me

Rocky: Sweet dreams. Great game by the way

Tito: Thanks- good night

Three days later-INKED ON ICE Tattoo Shop

Rocky tidied her work station and eyed the door. She had received a terse text from Kelly during her last appointment that simply said "We need to talk. I am working at Starbucks. Let me know when you can chat.” She responded with an equally terse "It will be fifteen minutes as I finish up. It can't wait until tonight?"

"No- I don't want to have this conversation after midnight," was the response.

Precisely fifteen minutes later, Rocky looked up when she sensed his presence and their eyes locked. Her soft smile was met with pursed lips. "Hey," she said as she kissed his cheek before he settled into his seat. His hands held a to-go coffee cup that she was certain contained her order to perfection. "What's up?" she asked casually.

Kelly studied her next design before he sat down. His eyes looked at her askance. His mouth opened and shut several times. With each time, Rocky felt a knot in her stomach develop. "Rocky….." he began, "...... you know I love you. I have loved you since kindergarten when you walked up to me, the new kid, and announced that we were going to be best friends." Rocky smiled at the memory. He continued, "You were the girl, Rocky. You were the girl I was going to love forever. You were my past, you were my present, and you were going to be my future."

Rocky gulped, "Were?"

Kelly swallowed hard, "Yes, were. You have to know that we haven't been working for a while. We lead completely different lives with completely different goals. I don't think it's fixable, Rox. I don't think we can make it work now.

"Kelly, I love you. You know that. There is no one I love more than you," Rocky gasped.

"I know, Rox. I love you too. You are my favorite person but somewhere along the way, we fell out of love with each other. It doesn't make you the bad guy and it doesn't make me the bad guy. We are just two best friends whose lives are on separate tracks," he spoke in a hushed tone. "I tried to ignore it but I can't anymore. I deserve to be in love and you deserve to be in love.” Rocky stared at the ground as his words sunk into her soul. Her head popped up when he said, “Honestly, I think you are in love."

Rocky stood up, "What are you talking about? There isn't anyone but you. You think I am cheating on you?"

"Tito," he stared into her eyes, "I saw it when I saw the video."

"We were just goofing off and being silly," she exclaimed.

“During a game? A game that he is passionate about?” Kelly countered, "And when was the last time we goofed off like that?" Kelly sighed, “I can’t ignore the evidence. I mean it went viral.”

"I didn’t mean for it to go viral," she countered weakly, “We’re friends I swear. Nothing else. He just gets me. Kelly- he and I are just friends.”

"I believe that you think that," he stood up to walk to her, "I believe that you are doing everything in your power to honor your commitment to me. You are denying what your heart is telling you."

"And what do you think it's telling me?” she whispered.

"That you are not in love with me anymore and if I were out of the picture, you would fall in love with him," he reached for her hand. "Look, I could tell at the game. It's there and I would be a fool to try to deny it."

"I don't want to hurt you," she cried, "I don't want to break your heart."

Kelly intertwined his fingers into hers. "It would break my heart to settle for less than we deserve. You deserve to be in love. You deserve someone who wants the crazy lives you two lead." He stopped and inhaled, "And I deserve someone who wants the white picket fence, the PTA and the ordinary life I crave. I deserve someone in love with me."

Tears streamed down Rocky's face, "I'm sorry."

Kelly wiped her tears with his thumbs, "Don't be. Don't be sorry for being you. I love you. I love you enough to set us free."

"I love you, Kelly," she leaned her forehead into his chest, "I'll always love you."

"I know, but now it's time to love each other from a distance," he kissed the top of her head, "One day we can be best friends again."

"I would like that," she looked up at him, "So we're over? We're really over?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "at least as lovers."

Out in the lobby, Tito held his finger up to his lips as he entered the shop to keep Daisy from announcing his arrival. In his hand, he held a large coffee and protein box. He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. Kelly stood with his arms wrapped around Rocky’s back. Her face was nuzzled into his neck. Tito’s body lurched like he had been punched in the stomach. “I love you Rox,” Kelly smiled as he set her down and kissed the top of her head. He then turned around to walk past Tito. He glanced at Tito, who stood frozen, and smiled. Rocky watched the exchange in numb silence. Tito watched Kelly leave the shop and then turned his head to look at Rocky. She gave him a soft smile. Internally, Tito’s mind raced. He didn’t have an agenda when he decided to drop by and see Rocky, but he certainly didn’t expect to witness such a tender moment. “Snap out of it, Beauvillier,” he told himself, “You got the wrong idea. She has a boyfriend- one that she loves even if you can't make it make sense to your brain.”

“Hey Beauregard,” she stepped toward, “To what do I owe this surprise?” She fought to keep the tears out of her eyes and her voice smooth and steady. They exchanged a look and Rocky watched as Tito’s expression hardened before her.

“I, uhhhhh, was in the neighborhood, “ he began. He couldn’t think of a singular good reason why he would be here that didn’t involve a fervent desire to kiss her. So like all good men when forced to face an uncomfortable emotion, he lied. “I wanted to be sure that you were still eating,” he stammered, “You need to eat so you can keep doing good tattoos. I vouched for you and uhhhhhh, I don’t want anyone who listened to me to be disappointed by a sucky tattoo because your blood sugar level dropped.”

He thrust the coffee and food into her hands. Before she could protest, he was half-way to an escape. “Thanks for the coffee, Beauregard,” she called out to him. She could see his body flinch but he kept moving. Rocky watched in despair as he made his retreat.

What had happened? After their post-game chat, Tito had been reserved but still friendly. Now he was running away because of why she did not know. Rocky replayed Kelly’s words in her brain. “If I were out of the picture, you would fall in love with him,” he had said. She sighed bitterly and added, “Yeah, but Kels, clearly he will not fall in love with me.”

She turned to walk back into her section and looked around. She had two consultations and three appointments scheduled. She went to her table and sat down. She started the music but quickly turned it off when the starting notes of “Lover” began. Impulsively, she picked up her sketchbook and threw it across the room. Loose papers and notes tucked into it scattered on the floor. “Whoa,” JD whistled as he entered her section, “What happened here?”

Rocky got down on her hands and knees to gather the papers to her chest. She placed her hand on a blank piece of paper and flipped it over. It was Tito’s tattoo design. Tears filled her eyes and she sat back on her heels. JD looked at the paper and then back at Rocky. Her face dissolved into tears. “Rocky?” he questioned, “What happened?”

"Kelly broke up with me," she cried.

"What? Why?" JD resigned himself to getting down on the floor and sat next to her.

Rocky wiped her nose with her arm. "He wants sunshine and I am midnight rain," she explained to JD as if he would understand. The words brought Tito to her mind and she started sobbing again. "Beauregard would understand," she thought to herself.

JD sat patiently and waited for a break in the sobs. He had not been sure when Rocky had shown up at the shop, boldly asking for an apprenticeship. He found himself unable to say no despite the fact that had never mentored anyone before her, something he had taken great pride in. However in the almost year later, they had formed a unique friendship despite their age difference.

"I am going to assume that was some sort of Taylor Swift reference," he said drolly, "Care to explain it to the non-Swiftie?"

"He was this whole corporate life with the house in the suburbs and PTA wife," she sighed. "I was going to try to make it work," she continued, "but things changed and he didn't want to try anymore."

"You mean he didn't want to try to force a relationship with a woman clearly in love with another man?" he asked gently. Her jaw dropped and she started to protest. "I saw Beauvillier leave," he added.

"Yeah, you saw him leave. He couldn't get out of here fast enough," she cried, "Clearly he isn't interested."

"I think the evidence points to the contrary," JD countered, "but his loss if that's true." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "You know, I think you are ready to end the apprenticeship."

Her head shot up, "Getting dumped twice in one day. That has to be a record."

"I am not DUMPING you. I am telling you that you have freedom to choose your next path," he explained. "You are ready, Rocky," he nudged her shoulder.

"You think I am ready to go solo, really?" Rocky asked in earnest, "What if I fail?"

"I have a feeling that you are going to fly," he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"What should I do about Tito?" She asked.

"I think that you shouldn't go from one man to another. If you are going to go solo, then go solo," JD spoke, "but potentially? Yeah, I saw you on Sportscenter and ship it. That's the right word, right?"

"You're learning, old man," Rocky joked.

Daisy poked her head in the room, "Ummmm, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I overheard about Kelly." Rocky looked up at her. "I canceled the rest of your day and tomorrow," Daisy added, "Pack up your stuff. I am taking you home and we're having a meeting of the 'Boys are stupid and they suck' committee. No arguments, Rocky. We are going to laugh and we are going to cry until you don't need to anymore." Rocky's eyes filled with tears. "See, you've already started."

Hours later, Rocky stood in the guest bathroom of Cameron and Daisy's large home. She looked at her face. Her eyes were puffy from tears but she felt a wave of peace wash over her body. Daisy and she had discussed her future and what she wanted. As much as she felt a pull toward Tito, she could not shake the feeling that she needed time. JD was right. She couldn't jump from one man to another man. Rocky had spent her entire adult life committed to Kelly. It was time to spread her wings and fly. She felt confident that even if she crashed and burned that she was strong enough to make it on her own.

She took a deep breath and picked up her phone. She noticed two things- no communication from Tito and a text from Kelly. She opened the text and smiled, "Rox, I miss you already but know that our destiny lies as best friends. I will be here waiting to see where your destiny takes you. You are capable of greatness. I'll love you forever."

She typed out her response to Kelly. Then she hit the dial button.

"Hey Rocky,” the voice on the other end answered.

"Is that job offer still good?" Rocky asked.

"Yes, are you considering it?" The voice asked.

"If you still want me," Rocky responded.

"Pack your bags. I have a guest house you can use until you get settled. Can you be here in a week?" Cat smiled.

"See you then," Rocky smiled.

STATE OF GRACE

A WEEK LATER- ISLANDERS PRACTICE FACILITY

"Hey Tito," Kelly called to him as he exited the ice after practice.

Tito stopped and stared, "What the fuck does he want?" He thought to himself.

Kelly held out a cardboard tube and Tito, "It's from Rocky."

"A delivery? From Rocky?" He called back, "Why didn't she deliver it herself?"

"I think you know why," Kelly replied dryly. Tito thought about the multiple texts and calls from her that he had ignored. "Just read the card," Kelly added before he turned to walk away.

Tito ripped the card open and read it quickly.

Beauregard-

I hope this note finds you well. This is not the way I wanted to tell you but I am moving.

Tito's eyes snapped up, "You two are moving?"

"No, just her," Kelly explained. Tito tilted his head in question. "We broke up last week. In fact, the day I saw you at the shop, " Kelly added.

Tito thought back to the day. He had been so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion. "You idiot," he told himself, "You fucking idiot." He continued to read.

I tried texting and calling several times, but those have not been returned. I have decided to make a fresh start in a new city. All of my adult life has been bending myself and sacrificing my dream to allow Kelly to pursue his dream. I am going to some place brand new and testing my wings to see if I can fly on my own.

Tito smiled to himself, "Oh mon ami, Raquelle, you can fly. Oh how high you will fly."

I am sad to leave you and our friendship. I didn't want to leave without saying two things. First, I am thankful that fate brought us together as friends. Your friendship reminded me who I am, the part of me that I had hidden away to fit into the mold of what Kelly wanted and needed. I am Midnight Rain and that's okay. Thank you for accepting me and all my quirks. Not only did you accept them- you embraced them which helped me embrace them too.

Second- I am thankful for the joy that you brought back to me. It had been so long since I felt the joy that I felt with you. I love you, Beauregard. I don't believe that our journey is over. In fact I think that you are just at the beginning of a wonderful life full of adventure and more importantly, love. You will bring so much joy to the life of the woman who you love and she will be so lucky. So long for now. In the words of our Queen Taylor- "And when you find everything you looked for, I hope your life leads you back to my door. Goodbye, Mon Ami."

He pulled out the sketch of his tattoo out of the cardboard tube. She had written- "Never forget the joy of hockey. Keep it in your heart forever just like I will keep the joy of you in my heart forever."

"Goodbye Mon Amour," Tito whispered as he placed the drawing back into the cardboard tube, "No, not goodbye-see ya later."

THREE MONTHS LATER- BEAN AROUND THE WORLD COFFEE SHOP-VANCOUVER

The coffee shop was crowded with the morning rush. The barista greeted Rocky with a smile. In the three months since she had moved to Vancouver, she had become a regular so there was no need to give her order.

"So what's your day look like?" Lauren, the barista from England, asked cheerfully.

"I have an easy day today. Only two appointments and a consultation," Rocky answered with a grin.

"Ahhhh," Lauren winked as she rolled her sleeve so her new tattoo was prominently on display, "I'll advertise for walk-ins." Since getting inked by Rocky, Lauren had fed a steady stream or referrals over to the tattoo shop. The large black and gray realistic wolf was a showstopper and customers complimented her on it daily.

"Keep that up and I'll have to give you a discount on that sleeve we discussed," Rocky quipped.

"Don't tempt me," the Brit joked. Rocky moved down to the pick up counter to wait for her drink. She faced away from the crowd and studied her phone.

Further down the line, Elias Pettersson stood with his new linemate. They had just completed a practice and workout. "So you are set in your airBNB?" The Swedish superstar asked, “No issues?”

Tito looked up as they moved up to the counter, "Yeah, I'm all set." Tito had been traded to Vancouver earlier in the week in a trade that the hockey media dubbed "The Bo for Beau exchange". His first game was the next night, "I really like the area. It's got a cool vibe." Canucks players segregated themselves - the married players sought the comforts of the suburbs while the single guys stayed close to the active nightlife by the arena.

"What can I get you, Petey?" Lauren asked the Swede. After he gave his simple order, she turned to Tito, "and you?"

Tito rattled off his order, "Unsweet iced coffee with an extra shot with skim milk, 2 pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, 2 Splenda and light caramel drizzle."

Lauren looked up in disbelief. What were the odds that TWO people would have that same, very specific coffee order? "Can you repeat that?" she asked. Just then the other barista that made the coffees called, "Order for Rocky."

Tito shook his head in disbelief. Surely he had misheard. They hadn't said Rocky and if they did, it couldn't be HIS Rocky. He turned to see the petite pixie walking toward the door. Her hair was now a pastel pink but there was no mistaking that it was indeed HIS Rocky. He immediately chastised himself, "You have no claim on her, especially with the way she had left." Undeterred, he started weaving his way through the crowded shop while his mind raced. She was here in Vancouver. He was here in Vancouver. His path was blocked at every step. He stopped and yelled "Raquelle!"

She stopped and turned. It sounded like Tito but it made no sense. Why would he be in Vancouver? "No," she told herself as searched the sea of faces unsuccessfully, "You're imagining things." She turned back around and headed down the crowded street.

Tito felt the air leave his lungs when she turned at the sound of his voice. She was here. It felt like a dream so he gave chase. Petersson called after him, "Beau!!" The call landed on deaf ears as Tito made it out to the street.

Fifteen minutes later, a dejected Tito entered the coffee shop. He found Petey sitting at a small table with a bemused smile on his face. "Where did you take off to?" The platinum blonde asked as he handed Tito his coffee.

"A girl," Tito spoke breathlessly, "A girl I knew from Long Island."

"Let me guess. Her name is Rocky?" The Swede said although he had pieced together some info.

Tito took the coffee and sat down, “Yeah. I can’t believe she is here. What are the odds that we would be here at the same time?”

“So this girl- is she an ex or something?” Petersson.

Tito paused before answering, “It’s complicated.”

Petersson raised a single eyebrow, “Men and women are not that complicated unless you make it complicated.”

“She’s the one that got away,” Tito sighed.

“So go after her,” the Swede replied.

“You saw me try. She vanished. I searched, but if I didn’t know better, I would think she was a figment of my imagination.

Now that the rush had subsided, Lauren walked through the shop- straightening tables and greeting customers. “Who is a figment of your imagination?” the beautiful brunette asked with a smile.

Petersson answered, “The elusive Rocky who apparently is the owner of Beau’s heart.”

“You know Rocky?” she replied in her delightful accent, “it makes sense now.”

“Wait, what makes sense?” Tito questioned.

“It makes sense you know each other. You have the same coffee order,” Lauren pondered, “You are the only two people with that order.”

“You KNOW Rocky?” Tito practically jumped out of his seat, “So she is a regular here? She LIVES here in Vancouver?”

“She moved here a few months back. She’s been a regular since starting at the tattoo shop- Pink Ink,” she answered, “She did my wolf.” She held out her arm for Tito to examine.

Tito looked down and studied the tattoo. It was Rocky’s work all right. There was no mistaking her technique. He could tell immediately it was her design and work. He head spun with this newfound information. Electricity ran through his body. Rocky- his Raquelle- was here. She was so close he could feel her pull him to her like a magnet pulling a piece of metal.

Lauren studied him quietly but the realization hit her. “Wait a minute! You’re the guy from that video. The hockey one with the penalty box. Bloody hell, that’s you?….. And she’s the gal, right?” she exclaimed. Tito smiled and nodded his head yes.

“But that doesn’t mean anything now,” Tito said, suddenly filled with apprehension. They hadn’t ended on good terms. Well, more specifically he had acted like an idiot. What if she had moved on already? What if she had sworn off men altogether? Did he still have a chance?

When Tito looked up, she saw the questions in his eyes. “She said she had unfinished business in Long Island with a guy. I didn’t recognize her with the new hair. By the looks of it, her unfinished business must be you.” Tito’s jaw dropped when she continued, “Don’t just stand there. This is True Love. You think this happens every day?”

“Princess Bride!” Petersson exclaimed- proud that he caught the pop culture reference. Tito glared at him. “What? I am a man of many layers,” the Swede continued.

“Where is that shop?” Tito interrupted as he stood up and started walking towards the door. “What’s the name of it?” He heard her answer, Pink Ink, and Googled as he walked. He smiled when he realized how close the shop was and hit the call button on his phone.

Rocky puttered around her station, getting ready for the day. She overheard Emily, the receptionist, answer the phone. “Pink Ink where we specialize in sarcasm, good tattoos and fighting the patriarchy. How can I help you?”

“Hi….uhhhh,” Tito stammered, “I’d like to get a tattoo. I have heard good things about a Rocky?”

“Oh yeah, Rocky? She’s one of the best,” Emily answered, “When did you want to come in??” Rocky stopped in her tracks to listen to the conversation.

“Now?” Tito hesitated.

“Sure, I’ll let her know that she has someone coming in,” the receptionist responded. “Can I get a name? Okay, great- see you soon.” Emily got up and walked to Rocky’s room. “Hey you have basically a last minute tattoo.” Rocky nodded her head in understanding as she finished lighting her candles and started her playlist. “Yeah, some guy named Beauregard,” Emily called as she headed back to the front.

Rocky spun around and walked out to the hallway, “I’m sorry. What did you say the name was….” Her head turned as the front door chimed and the door opened. “Did you say Beauregard?” Rocky questioned. Tito walked in and Rocky’s jaw dropped.

“Raquelle!” he exclaimed as he walked in, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Rocky stood frozen in disbelief. She willed her mouth to say something. She willed her body to move. “Do something!” her mind screamed, “Do something.” She watched him walk towards in what felt like slow motion. Suddenly the message hit the message center of the neurons that controlled her body and her body launched into motion. She sprinted to him and threw herself into his waiting arms.

“Beauregard,” she cried out, “What are you doing here?”’ Her brain raced for answers. “Do you have a game here? How did you find me?” she quizzed, “I don’t care. I don’t care. You’re here.”

“Well, you did say you hope my life leads me back to your door. So here I am,” he laughed as he swung her around. When he stopped to keep from getting dizzy, they stared at each other. Breathless, they stayed glued to each other- their lips nearly touching.

Rocky’s eyes scanned his face. His bright blue eyes sparkled as she searched for any clue as to his thoughts or feelings. Internally, she questioned “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he is just glad to see his friend?” The doubtful thought was immediately met with the equally loud thought, “Take the chance, Rocky- take the chance.” She brought lips to his lips in a tentative kiss. The electricity jolted through their bodies and together, they deepened the kiss.

“Mon Amour,” he moaned, “Raquelle, mon amour.” They kissed in the hallway, oblivious to their surroundings.

Finally, Rocky broke the kiss and he set her down gently. She took his hand to guide him to her room. When they stepped inside, she turned to him and asked, “Wait, did you say Mon Amour?”

“Yes, I did,” he pulled her to him, “Rocky, I love you. I have loved you from the moment you shot me down and told me that you saw a whole world hidden behind my eyes.”

“But I live here now, Beauregard,” she protested.

“So do I,” he kissed her, “So do I.”

“Wait, what?” she questioned, “You live here? In Vancouver?”

“Oui, I was traded earlier this week. Life literally brought me to your door, or coffee shop, to be exact.” he answered. When she looked confused, he told her the story about their almost meeting at the coffee shop.

It was Rocky’s turn to kiss him, “Remind me that I owe Lauren that sleeve.”

“I owe her everything,” he smiled.

“Did you really want a tattoo or was that a ploy?” she smiled as she studied his face.

“I definitely want a tattoo,” he laughed.

“Oh?” she took a step back.

He pulled up his shirt and pointed to his chest. “I am thinking of getting Raquelle right above my heart in a fancy script. Think you can do that?”

“I mean it’s the kiss of death for relationships. How long have you been with this Raquelle?” she mocked.

“For about sixty seconds, but I have a good feeling about her,” he teased.

“Maybe you should at least wait until after your first date,” she poked his chest before inhaling sharply as she caught sight of his abs.

“That’s a good idea. I have an idea for the perfect first date,” he quipped as they fell into the easy rhythm of their banter.

“What’s that?” she quipped back.

“Have you ever heard of Taylor Swift?” he laughed, “She has a concert this summer near here. You might like her.”

Rocky laughed, “You are going to make me wait until July for our first date? So rude.”

“Fine,” he kissed her before he continued, “How about hockey? I know a guy who can get you into the Canucks game tonight.”

“Perfect first date,” she returned his kiss. Suddenly the words of JD rang in her head- Don’t jump from one man to another. Rocky pushed off of his chest and took several steps back.

“Raquelle?” he questioned, “Did something happen?”

Rocky studied him for a moment, trying to verbalize her thoughts. "Beauregard, I like my life. I have a good job. I have good friends. I worked hard to create a life that makes me happy, and I am absolutely not changing it to fit into yours no matter how much I adore you."

"Raquelle, I don't want you to change anything for me. You're perfect exactly the way you are. Don't change a thing."

"I mean it Beau. I am not giving up my passion for you," she says as he inched toward her.

"I would be disappointed if you did," he said and took another step.

"You're really here in Vancouver?" she said, “Like for real?”

"Yes, I am," he said.

“And you want to be with me?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, I do. I want it more than anything I have ever wanted before,” he continued. He placed his hand on her cheek as she smiled, "It looks like all along there was some invisible string tying you to me."

"You think quoting her majesty Queen Taylor will help your case?" she whispered as he stood inches from her mouth.

"I would call on the hockey gods if I thought it would help me," he smiled.

"Shut up and kiss me," she started to quip back.

"Yes, Raquelle, yes Mon Amour" he cooed before he kissed her.

#tito beauvillier fic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #the summer fic exchange 2k23 #anthony beauvillier fic #ny islander imagine

44 notes · View notes