#Jack Hughes romance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tkwrites · 11 days ago

Text

The Hughes's Take Hawaii: Maui Edition

Photo from Instagram

Title: The Hughes’s Take Hawaii: Maui Edition

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts / Hughes family being family

Warnings: there’s quite a lot of pining in this, and Quinn is more than a little mopey, especially in the beginning. There's one very mild family fight and lots of brotherly chirping. Other than that, it's mostly fluff with some angst.

Summary: Quinn and his family are on Maui for their first week in Hawaii. Without the knowledge that Jack and Sarah have teamed up to surprise him, Quinn is missing her and wishing she were with them. After all, summer is a long time to be without the love of your life. The family goes snorkeling, Quinn proves just how down bad he is for Sarah, and he asks his dad a very important question, which leads to a full Hughes family discussion. All the while, Sarah and Jack are trying their best not to spoil the surprise.

Word count: 7,000

Comments: I know this snapshot has been a long time coming. The rest of the story - when Sarah and Kylee come in to surprise their guys, will be coming next (posting date tbd). I have a love hate relationship with parts of this. Quinn is so, so piney, but also I can’t see him being any other way. In any case, I think it’s still enjoyable to read. I also really enjoyed writing more about the brothers' relationships with each other.

Anonymous asked: Will we get to see the family in Hawaii before Sarah comes? Like I could imagine Quinn just talking about her a lot not realizing she is coming. Also I feel like it would be a good time for him to ask about using his grandmas ring. Anonymous asked: I just read your snapshot where Quinn talks about asking his dad for his grandmas ring for Sarah. I hope we get to see that and he asks in front of his brothers and Ellen as well. It would be so sweet. Anonymous asked: I was thinking about him asking his dad for the ring in front of his brothers and Ellen. Anonymous asked: Does Quinn get mad at Jack because Sarah isn't coming on the trip? We know she's coming as is Luke's gf, but he doesn't know that. Does he blame Jack for that, or does he just embrace the brother and family time instead. aloragrace asked: When do you envision Jim and Ellen finding out about Sarah and Kylee joining them on the trip? Are they surprised, too? Did Ellen try to get Jack to change his mind only to be told the plan? Or one of the girls accidentally tell them? Many possibilities 🤔

The Hughes's Take Hawaii: Maui Edition

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Upon landing in Maui, the Hughes’ picked up their car and got dinner before going to their vacation rental. It was a beautiful, modern house full of natural light and wooden furniture. It was the rich kind of beachy - all floor to ceiling windows, skylights, and open spaces with tiled floors so the sand would be easy to sweep out. There were stainless appliances and countertops made from the cross-section of a tree - raw edges and all. It looked impressive and expensive and also homey. The furniture was plush and comfortable, as were the beds. This was what a vacation to Hawaii was supposed to be.

On the drive from the airport, they’d decided they should take that first day to adjust to the time change, go to the store, and relax before starting their explorations in the morning.

After helping to unload all the groceries and luggage, Quinn pulled up his world clock to check the time in Vancouver. 8 here meant it was 10 there. Sarah would be getting ready for bed.

“Hey,” she greeted two rings in, “you made it?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling into one of the chairs on the patio, which overlooked some cliffs towering over the ocean. The sun was dipping into the horizon behind them, turning the sky orange and pink and blue. It was so beautiful here, it was almost surreal. How could anything possibly be this beautiful?

“How was the flight?”

“Fine,” he said, tracing the metal filigree of the chair.

“Did you not sleep?”

“Hu?”

“You seem really tired or something,” Sarah said, sitting on her bed. He was usually a little more talkative when they got on the phone.

“I just…” he knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He was in paradise, and he was with his family. Millions of people would trade him for this position any day. “I wish you were here.”

Wincing, she stood to pull pajamas from her dresser. “I know, Quinn, but you’re going to have a great time with your family.”

“I know,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I just don’t get to see you very much this summer, and I miss you. I’m still kind of pissed that Jack wouldn’t let you come.”

Biting her lip to keep from saying something stupid, she responded to the only thing she trusted herself to. “I miss you too.”

“You even know Hawaii,” he continued after his deep sigh rushed over the connection.

“I gave your mom a list of things to do,” she reminded.

Even though she had given Ellen a list, she’d done most of the planning with Jack. He’d messaged her as soon as her flights were confirmed, asking what she liked to do, and if there was anything she hadn’t been able to do while she was here.

He booked a helicopter tour she'd always wanted to take, but never had the funding to, as well as a kayaking and hiking trip she’d been on several times, and recommended to everyone who asked her what to do in K’auai.

“It’s not the same,” he said, knowing he sounded like a child.

“It’s not,” she agreed, “but you’re still going to have a great time. You get undivided time with your brothers, which I know you've been looking forward to.”

Although part of him wanted to argue the point more, Quinn let the subject drop. It was done and couldn’t be changed. Even he was growing tired of hearing himself talk about it. When he was able to see past the yawning chasm of missing her, he was looking forward to the time with his brothers.

She seemed to sense the change in his mood and asked, “what does the house look like?”

He switched the call to FaceTime to show her the view and then took her on a tour. Everyone waved from the living room, where they’d started playing chess, when he walked through.

By the time he made it back to the porch, she was yawning.

“I’ll let you go,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding her free hand over her mouth.

“No, don’t be. You’ve got work tomorrow. Call me when you’re off?” he asked.

“I will. Love you, Quinny. Have so much fun at the crater tomorrow.” Of all the activities they were doing this first week, this was the only one she was really sad to miss. She'd never been to the Molokini Crater, but the snorkeling was supposed to be unreal, legendary even.

“I’ll take pictures,” he said.

“I can’t wait to see.”

“Love you. Sleep well.”

“I will. Love you, Q.”

As soon as they hung up the call, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the bathroom wall. It had been terrible to keep this secret from him, but now that they were so close to the surprise, it was becoming almost impossible. She couldn’t tell Quinn half of what she was really doing, and it was getting harder and harder to redirect his attention. Now, on top of all that, he was so genuinely sad she wasn’t there, it made her ache. She wanted nothing more than to tell him to just hold on for a few more days. Just a few more days, and she’d be by his side again. The surprise would be incredible, but the build up to it was becoming damn near unbearable.

The next day started early - much earlier than Quinn was used to in the summer. Thankfully, the time difference made the 6am wakeup call feel a little less extreme. 6am Hawaii time was 11am back home. If he and his brothers hadn’t stayed up half the night talking and laughing, he would have been extremely rested.

They had to drive to the west side of the island to catch the boat that would take them on the tour of the crater. His mom had done a ton of research and, Quinn was sure, talked to Sarah, and learned that snorkeling was best in the early morning or late evening. Always the early riser, Ellen had booked them a boat at 7.

The Hughes boys spent most of the 45-minute drive slumped on each others shoulders, trying to catch some extra sleep. Poor Luke, stuck in the middle, got the brunt of it.

The crater, however, was well worth the early drive and the long boat ride. Seeing the half moon of rock rising out of the waves while the morning light glinted pink off of the water as they approached on the yacht, made for an incredible sight.

Once in the water, they saw fish and sea turtles and so much beautiful coral. It was a feast of color and texture.

After diving for a while, Quinn let himself float, taking in the surroundings. More tour boats had arrived while he was under the surface, bringing more people and making the water more choppy.

He couldn't help but feel of two minds. It was incredible to be there and to be there with his family, but he found himself wanting to share everything with Sarah and to hear what she had to say about everything they were seeing. She knew so much about the ocean, and he had so many things he wanted to ask her about.

The peaceful scene was shattered when water flooded into his face as someone suddenly surfaced next to him.

Spluttering and blinking salt water out of his eyes, Quinn laughed as Jack pulled his snorkel out of his mouth and gestured wildly, which only caused him to sink and splash more water around.

“There’s some giant…” Jack paused, gasping for breath through his excitement. “Some giant thing over there,” he exclaimed, pointing at the east end.

Quinn glanced over.

“You can’t see it from here. Come on!”

He hesitated for a moment, looking from Jack to the tip of the crater he was gesturing toward, wondering if this was some kind of prank. There was a crowd of people gathered, all looking the same direction, though, so there had to be something there.

“Dude,” Jack said, an earnest, eager look on his face, “come on.”

So Quinn followed. They made their way to the front of the crowd, and when Quinn dipped below the surface, a huge fish came into view. It was spotted and gliding through the water with lazy swishes of its tail. Compared with the beast, the people in front of it looked tiny, as if it could swallow them whole.

“See?” Jack demanded, when they came back up for air. Pushing his shoulder, he sent more water over Quinn

“What is that?”

“How would I know? Some kind of whale?”

Quinn looked around, spotting his parents a ways off.

After waving and yelling at Luke to join them, they all met in an open spot of water just off from the crowd.

“Did you see the leopard shark?” their dad asked.

“Is that what that is?”

Jim shrugged. “I don't know. That’s what someone by us called it.”

“Kinda big for a shark, isn't it?” Luke asked.

Jim shrugged, “Sarah could tell us.”

“Well, she’s not here,” Quinn pointed out, not quite able to bite back the accusing tone in his voice.

“Can't you send her a picture?” Jack asked to stop himself from apologizing. He had every right to request their vacation to be just their family. Not to mention that Sarah would be joining them in less than 6 days. He didn’t need to feel guilty for anything, and especially didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Oh. Yeah,” he supposed he could once they were back in the boat. “Give me the GoPro,” he gestured to Luke, making a grabbing motion.

Luke passed him the camera, and Quinn dove back under the water.

Each time they surfaced after that, even if Quinn was still under water, at least one of them would wonder what Sarah could tell them about what they'd just seen.

All in all, they were in the water until 1pm, by which time Quinn was so hungry, he felt like his stomach might just eat its way right out of his body. He'd never been so glad for his moms experience as a hockey mom when she pulled protein bars, trail mix and even Gatorade from that giant beach bag of hers on the boat ride back to the island.

It was at least enough to get back to the car and find a place for a small lunch before going to the luau that night.

“Luke, are you ready?” Ellen called down the hall. She told everyone to be ready at 5:30 so they could leave by six, but Luke was taking his time. She wondered if he was on the phone with Kylee.

“Yeah!” he called back, “just putting on my shoes.”

In a list of things to do, going to a Luau wasn’t on the top of his, but his mom wanted to go, and, as his dad pointed out, she put up with enough stuff she didn’t like, they could spend at least one night doing something she really wanted.

When they finally pulled out at 6:05 and Ellen put their destination in her GPS, she realized their timing was a little off. She’d been certain the center was twenty minutes away. They must have been further from their house when she looked it up earlier. Now, they were only ten minutes away and would arrive more than thirty minutes early. At least they wouldn’t miss anything.

“Why did we have to leave so early?” Jack asked as they pulled in and paid for priority parking.

“I thought it was further away,” she said.

The boys looked at each other, wondering if she’d told them to be ready so early so that they would be there on time. It was a bad day to be punctual.

A woman in a grass skirt and coconut bra welcomed them in without question, giving them each a lei, and leading them to their seats. The crazy thing was they weren’t the only one’s there. At least five other groups were already seated at the long counters overlooking the stage.

Sarah called as they were waiting for the show to start.

As soon as he’d picked up, Luke snatched the phone from Quinn’s hand. “Did you see the leopard shark?” he demanded.

“The whale shark, you mean?” she asked.

“Is that what it was?”

“Who said it was a leopard shark?” she asked, giggling.

“Some woman near us,” Jim said, reaching across Quinn to take the phone. “So, it was a whale shark? Everyone seemed really scared of it.”

“That's too bad.”

“Why?” Ellen asked, popping into the frame.

Quinn huffed. She’d called him, and now she was talking to everyone but him.

“I mean, you shouldn't just swim right up to a wild animal, but whale sharks only eat plankton, so they're usually pretty docile,” Sarah explained. “There was one that used to swim by our conservation cove a lot that we nicknamed Ferdinand. He was always really sweet. We'd pet him and stuff, and he never minded.”

Before Quinn could break in, Jack was reaching across his mom to take the phone, “you're telling me I could have pet a whale?”

“A whale shark,” she corrected.”They're not really whales. They have different fins and different skeletal systems.”

“Whatever,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand. “I could have touched it?”

“Maybe? Was someone telling people to back off?”

“I don't know, we didn't get any closer than that.”

“You might have then?” How was she supposed to know when she hadn't been there?

“This is bullshit,” Jack said, “I told you we should have gone closer,” he said, shooting a sarcastic look at his mom.

“I didn't know what it was,” she said, instantly defensive. “It was a big thing in the ocean. Big things in the ocean eat people.”

Sarah giggled, and unable to stand it any longer, Quinn interrupted, “can I talk to my girlfriend, please?” His demand came out strained and too loud as he practically lay across his dads portion of the table, reaching for the phone.

Several people sitting in front of them glanced over their shoulders at his sudden outburst.

“Sorry Quinny,” Jack said, handing it back as he fought to bite back his laughter. He'd known Quinn was anxious to talk to Sarah. It was one of the reasons he'd been so quick to steal the phone from his dad before Quinn could break in. He wanted to see just how long he could stand it.

Jim chuckled as he passed the phone to Quinn, knowing that this outburst would go down in Hughes family history. An instant classic, bound to be brought up at parties and dinners anytime someone asked about Quinn and Sarah. We knew he was whipped when…

Sarah was giggling when Quinn’s face appeared on her phone screen. She was anxious to talk to him, too, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t love the fact that she could hold a conversation with every one of his family members now. It was a relief, really.

“Hi,” he said, feeling heat rise into his cheeks as the reality of what he’d just done settled on him. He was almost always desperate to talk to her, but he could usually hide it better.

“Hi,” she said, a ghost of a laugh still on her face.

Now that he got a good look at her, he saw she was sitting at her desk, wrapping her hair around some kind of contraption he knew was for heatless curls. He’d seen her do it once before: after they got back from their escapades in his parents' car in New Hampshire.

“How was your day?” he asked, trying not to feel awkward about talking to her not only with his family as an audience but a growing number of strangers in the amphitheater as well.

“It was good. I finally got Walter to respond the way I thought he would with the dopamine. I figured out I was using too much. How was yours? Did you enjoy the crater?”

“Yeah, it was so beautiful. I wish you could have seen it.”

Even knowing he was likely going to say something like this didn’t stop Sarah’s heart from catching in her throat. She wished she could have seen it, too. It’d been on her bucket list the entire time she’d lived in Hawaii, but she’d never made it there. “We’ll go back someday,” she said smoothly, glad that she’d rehearsed something to say.

Her response soothed something in him. Yes, she wasn’t here, but they could always come back another summer or during a break in the season. They’d have to come back eventually to get her tattoo at any rate.

“Oh, damn,” she said as the scrunchie she’d been getting ready to wrap around the end of her curler flicked off her fingers, sailing into the closet.

When she got up to retrieve it, he got a clear view of her room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the riot of color covering her bed. Her space was usually very tidy, but today, she had a bunch of what looked like swimsuits spread out over her patchwork quilt.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Sarah stopped, mentally cursing herself for letting the hair tie get away from her. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to see the piles of clothing she was going through so she could more easily decide what to pack.

Deciding to feign ignorance, she asked, “hu?”

Jack glanced at his mom, eyes wide. He was going to be so pissed if Sarah was about to blow the surprise over a bunch of swimming suits.

Ellen subtly shook her head, trying to tell him not to react.

When she’d seen Jack’s opinion of Sarah shift a little more after the family reunion, she asked him if, maybe, he’d consider inviting Sarah to Hawaii. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the time with just their family, but she hated seeing Quinn so moody when he and Sarah were apart. Getting that happy side of her oldest son back in New Hampshire made her rethink Jack’s insistence on the vacation being just them.

That’s when he’d filled her in on the plan to surprise his brothers, making her swear not to tell anyone else because, “dad can’t keep a secret for shit.” She found herself surprised and so proud that not only was he planning something so special for his brothers, he was welcoming the girls into the family in a way he hadn’t before.

Now, she was trying to keep him from blowing their cover by reacting to Sarah’s honest mistake.

After retrieving her hair tie, Sarah sat back at her desk and tried to keep her voice level as she told him a partial truth, “Jane, Eunice and I are going to the beach tomorrow. I was just deciding what suit to wear.” She and her roommates were headed to the beach the next day, though Sarah usually didn’t pull out every swimsuit she owned for an outing like that.

He jumped on her story immediately, “not the black one.”

“Why not?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder, where it was laid out on her pillow, already in the ‘yes’ pile. “I thought you liked that one.”

“I do like that one. You look incredible in it.”

Incredible wasn't quite the best word - she could be on the cover of Sports Illustrated in that bikini.

“So I can only wear it around you?” she teased, finally getting the last of her hair secured in place.

“Well, no,” he flustered, caught in his imagined jealousy of some guy seeing her at the beach with her friends, thinking she was hot and single.

Pressing her lips together, she tried not to laugh at his flushed cheeks. “I promise I'll wear it the next time we go to the beach together.” If only he knew how soon that would be.

It wasn’t quite the conversation he wanted to have as his family was around, but it was when they could talk, so he took what he could get.

“Talk tomorrow morning?” she asked when he told her the show was about to start and he had to hang up.

He nodded, already planning to get out of the house so they could talk without anyone overhearing.

“Okay, love you, Quinn.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye, Sarah,” Luke said, jutting into the frame.

“Bye everyone,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief as the screen went black. All things considered, that call could have been so much worse. At least she’d been able to redirect him away from thinking she was going somewhere.

The lights in the amphitheater dimmed, and Jack couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to chirp his brother a little before the moment passed them by. “I didn’t know you were down THAT bad, Quinny.”

“Fuck off.”

“Boys,” Ellen reprimanded, “we’re in public.”

“He started it,” Quinn said, pointing at Jack.

“I don’t care who started it. Watch your language. We’re not at the rink.”

Jack smirked, glad to have pulled the reaction out of Quinn he’d been aiming for.

The next morning, Quinn woke before everyone else, having set an alarm expressly for that purpose. He wanted some time alone with Sarah, even if it was just to hear her voice.

The phone rang five times and went to voicemail. As he was checking the time — it was nine in Vancouver — his phone buzzed and her photo appeared on the screen.

“Hey,” he said. The greeting came out as a breathed sigh of relief.

“Hi,” she said through a yawn.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, guilt creeping into his stomach.

“No, not really.” He had, but she wasn’t going to make him feel bad about it. It was well past the time she should be up anyway. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he said. “We didn’t really get the chance last night. Not about important stuff, at least.”

“Important stuff?” she repeated, feeling hesitation flutter in her chest. “What important stuff?”

“Just like, us, you know?”

“I don’t,” she said, voice gone wary. What was he getting at here?

“I just mean…” he sighed, deciding he should just be honest, “I just want to hear your voice. Hear about your week.”

“That’s the important stuff?” she asked, feeling a little whiplashed.

“It’s important to me.”

Something in her melted. “I thought I’d pissed you off or something.”

“No. I’m just –” he was just desperate is what he was, and the longer they were apart, the harder it was to hide it. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Quinn,” she said,

“Just want to have a conversation with you where I get to keep you to myself,” he confessed.

“Is this your way of telling me you want to have phone sex?” she asked, her voice lilted with teasing.

“I mean, I'm on a public street right now, which would be a little awkward, but if you want to get yourself off, I wouldn’t say no.”

She laughed, and he smiled at the sound.

“So how was your week?”

“Good,” she told him about the tour she’d given to a rowdy bunch of daycare kids, one of whom fell into the touch tank while trying to pet the sting ray on the other side, and the string of experiments that all failed until they hadn’t.

It wasn’t as good as having her with him, but hearing her while he walked in such a beautiful place made her not being there more bearable than it had been.

He told her about the snorkeling, making sure to let her know everyone in his family mentioned wanting her around so she could tell them what they were looking at.

She smiled, thinking of the snorkeling cove she planned to take them to on K’awai. They’d get that chance, at least.

“So what are you doing next week?” he asked. He knew they’d talk before then, but he liked to know her plans so he could mentally picture where she’d be.

“Going to Trav’s house tomorrow” she said, “and then I have to cram a bunch of stuff in on Monday since I won’t be back to work…” she trailed off, mentally cursing herself. She’d managed to keep this secret from him for two months through two family vacations, and now she’d almost given it up twice in a span of less than twenty-four hours.

“Why are you only working on Monday?” he asked. She hadn’t told him she had any big plans. He would have remembered.

“I —” her mind raced. “They asked me to help out at the rehab hospital with Dr. Forrest,” she lied. They were real plans, but they wouldn’t be taking place for another few weeks. “He wants me to get more exposure to that side of things.”

“That’s awesome, Sar,” he said. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Sarah was lying. She usually halted like that when she was lying. But why would she lie about this? She’d been wanting to break into the research unit for months.

Sarah breathed a silent sigh of relief, glad to have dodged that bullet.

“I wish you were coming here,” he said.

“I know, Q,” she said, “but we’ll see each other soon.” It was the same answer she’d been giving him all summer. He just didn’t know soon would be much sooner than he expected. “And I’m glad you’re getting family time in.”

The call continued as he made his way back to the house. They talked about nothing and everything and made plans for her trip to Michigan.

“I can’t wait to show you the lake,” he said. “It’s so peaceful out there.”

“It sounds really nice.” She knew Quinn loved it in Michigan and that it was more home than anywhere else for him. “I want to see campus, too.”

He beamed. “I’ve gotta take you to Yost. It’s like…”

He was going to tell her it was like a cathedral, but she didn’t finish his sentence. He’d brought it up every time they talked about the Michigan trip. She liked the way he talked about it — with reverence and steeped in memory. It obviously meant so much to him, she couldn’t wait to see him there.

“It’s like a cathedral,” he said dreamily.

“I can’t wait.”

He was back at the house now. He could see Jack at the stove and his parents in the kitchen, preparing coffee. Luke must still be asleep.

Sliding into one of the metal deck chairs, he knew he needed to end the call but put it off a little while longer. Having to say goodbye was the worst part of any phone call with Sarah.

“Are you back at the house?” she asked.

“How’d you know?”

“It sounds different. And I can tell you’re not walking anymore.”

Laughing a little, he marveled at her attention to detail. These little things made him feel seen, like she was really paying attention.

“I guess I have to let you go,” she said, and he was glad she was doing the hard part this time.

“I don’t want to,” he said, surprised to find there was no whine in his voice. It was just a statement of fact. He didn’t want to let her go.

“I know, but we’ll be together before you know it.”

He was never doing a summer like this again. “Yeah.”

“I love you, Quinn.”

“I love you, too, Sarah.”

“We’ll talk soon?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect. I’m free anytime before four. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She even did the hardest part for him and hung up the phone.

Sighing, he lay his head back against the cold metal of the seat as the hand holding his phone fell into his lap.

“Was that Sarah?” his dad asked, coming out to the porch with a mug of coffee.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, still looking up at the sky.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“Me too.”

“You know Jack means well.”

“I know,” Quinn admitted with a sigh. “I just — I miss her, you know?”

Jim hadn’t felt the kind of honeymoon love in a long time, but he remembered it clearly. Wanting to spend every moment he could with Ellen, and feeling like time without her was time wasted. Looking back on it now, it seemed like some kind of euphoric fever dream. He got glimpses of it every once in a while, but the settled, understanding, companionable kind of love he and Ellen shared now wasn’t something he’d be willing to give up for anything.

“You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” It felt nice to say it out loud to someone else. He knew he loved Sarah. He’d known for a long time, but to be able to voice it to someone else made it more real.

“I was actually wondering —” Quinn cut himself off. Was he really about to ask this question?

His dad nodded, encouraging him to go on as he took a sip from his mug.

“If I could use grandma's ring?” he asked in a rush, forcing the words out before he lost the nerve.

When his grandmother had died, she gifted a ring to each of her children. Jim walked out with her engagement ring, and the romantic streak in Quinn had always imagined using it as his own engagement ring when he found someone he wanted to marry.

Jim’s eyes widened in shock. He knew Quinn and Sarah were serious and likely headed toward marriage, but Quinn was usually more level-headed than this.

“Not now!” he jumped to clarify, practically shouting. His voice grew softer as he continued to explain, “we haven’t even been dating a year. I don’t want to marry her right now, but I’ve never felt like this before, and I…I always imagined proposing with that ring.” Quinn felt a blush flood his cheeks with the admission. “I think Sarah would really like it. She’s not one to like something flashy, you know?”

“I didn’t know you were even interested in that ring,” Jim admitted. He’d figured none of the boys would actually use it, and it would eventually go to one of their daughters-in-law if she thought it was pretty. More likely, he thought it would end up with one of his nieces. Ellen wore it occasionally on a night out, but the women his boys dated all seemed like they would like something more…well, something more. He agreed that Sarah did seem the type to want something more practical.

“I just…” Quinn paused, trying to find the right words, “you always talked about one of us giving it to our future wife.”

Jim had no idea that sentiment had actually stuck. Plus, things were so different now that all of them had multi-million dollar salaries. Who would choose an old heirloom with a few small, bright diamonds over a giant rock like he saw most players' wives wearing?

“We’ll have to make sure it’s okay with your brothers,” he said. It felt sort of perfunctory, but he couldn’t just go giving something to one of them without talking to the other boys, too.

He nodded.

“We could always ask now,” Jim offered, noticing Quinn playing with the fabric of his basketball shorts. It was one of his nervous tells. “I think Jack’s almost got breakfast ready.” That was something he’d never expected to say while on vacation, but the boys had all volunteered to cook breakfast as they were shopping. He knew, more than anything, it was a surefire way for each of them to get what they wanted at least once, but as a parent, he’d take what he could get.

Quinn agreed. He wanted to have the idea settled. He’d been sitting with it enough now that he knew he wanted to marry Sarah. He wasn’t going to barge forward just yet. They needed to know each other through all four seasons and live together before he did, but as long as everything continued on the path it was on now, he wanted a ring on her finger. He wanted to make it official in every way possible.

The rest of the family was around the table when they walked back inside.

“Took you long enough,” Jack huffed, going to the stove to bring over the eggs, bacon, and pancakes he’d made.

“We were just talking,” Jim said casually, taking his seat across from Ellen.

“Yeah?” she asked, spooning scrambled eggs onto her plate.

“Quinn has a question for everyone.”

They all turned to look at him expectantly. He should have known his dad wouldn’t let him off easy. He always wanted his sons to do the hard work.

“I…” he cleared his throat, “I was asking dad if I could use grandma's ring.”

Before the freak out he could see building on Jack and Luke’s faces came about, he rushed to continue, “not now. I don’t want to propose now, but eventually. I’ve always wanted to use that ring.”

Instead of a freakout, Luke’s fork clattered to his plate, exploding a small mound of scrambled egg over the table. “I want to use that ring,” he said, his voice on the cusp of a whine. He and Kylee had been dating the longest. They should have first dibs, even if Quinn was the oldest, and he and Sarah might be closer to actually getting married.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” Jack admitted, staring down at his plate.

Jim looked across the table to Ellen, who’s surprised expression mirrored his own.

“I suppose,” Ellen said, “it would go to the first one of you to get married.”

“Hmm,” Jim pulled a face, “I don’t want any of them rushing into marriage just so they can have it.”

All three of his sons slumped into their seats in identical expressions of defeat. He almost laughed. Sometimes, it felt like they forgot who raised them.

“Who gets it, then?” Quinn asked, pushing his eggs around his plate.

“Well, traditionally, it would go to the oldest, right?” Ellen asked, looking at Jim for backup.

“That’s not fair!” Luke burst out, his youngest child whine coming out. “It shouldn’t go to Quinn just because he’s oldest. It’s not my fault,” he pointed a finger at his own chest, “I was born last!”

A heavy silence spilled over the table.

“We could get copies made,” she suggested when Jim didn’t say anything, She wasn’t about to touch that with a ten foot pole. She’d always thought inheritance in male birthright order was stupid, but she didn’t have another solution.

Jack snorted, “yeah because that’s not weird.” As much as he wanted to, Jack knew he didn’t really have a claim in the conversation. Luke and Quinn both had serious girlfriends, and Jack hadn’t dated anyone for more than three months since he and Madison broke up. He felt so separate from his brothers in this and nearly suggested that he ought to be the one to get it since he was the only single one. They already had girlfriends. Why should they get thing ring, too? Even thinking it, he knew it didn’t make any sense.

“What’s so weird? You all like it.”

“Because it belonged to grandma,” Luke said, “not because of what it looks like.”

“If you can’t decide, you could all use it as your engagement ring - give it back after the wedding,” Jim offered.

Quinn grimaced. Glancing up, he found an identical expression on Luke’s face. Jack was staring at his plate, forlorn.

“I hate that idea,” Quinn said when no one else spoke up. Then, he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid like that he’d rather Luke have the ring than make Sarah give it back after they got married. If he said that out loud, Luke would jump on it — he would too if the roles were reversed — and he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. If it came down to it, he’d give it to Luke, but he wanted his shot.

“Well,” Ellen said, stepping into the diplomatic role once again, “since none of you are ready to get married just yet, we have some time to figure out what to do.”

“Yeah,” all three of them said in matching tones of resignation.

They spent that afternoon at one of the most beautiful golf courses they’d ever seen. Luke won by one stroke, and Quinn couldn’t help but think Sarah would have taken them all to task if she was there.

The next day found them at a small beach, trying to surf. The actual surfing wasn’t a problem. They all had excellent balance and wake surfed in the lake back home, but paddling out to catch a wave was exhausting.

After fifteen or so attempts, Quinn decided to take a break and flopped onto the beach blanket next to Jack, who was reading a crime thriller Quinn had recommended to him.

“Wha’d’ya think?”

“It’s good so far. This Audrey woman is nuts.”

Quinn laughed, remembering, “yeah, she gets worse.”

Jack didn’t think that could be possible, but it was fiction for a reason.

When he finished the chapter, Jack shut the book and set it back in the big basket his mom had brought. She and their dad were on a walk. If he’d been following their progress correctly, they were the two little specks in front of the sandy cliff around the north side of the bay.

“I can’t believe you’re getting ready to propose to someone,” Jack said when he and Quinn had been sitting in silence for a while.

“I don’t know that I’m getting ready, really.”

“Whatever. Semantics,” Jack defended, waving away his rebuttal.

Quinn laughed. “Can you call it semantics when it’s about a life altering question?”

“I just mean like, you know, you know? I’ve never felt that way.” Truthfully, Jack always thought he would be the first one to get married. He was more outgoing than his brothers, and he’d had more girlfriends. Although he supposed this was probably one of those things where quality held more weight than quantity. At the rate things were going, he was likely to be the last.

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, leaning back on his elbows. He hadn’t expected to feel like this either. Comparing this summer to the one before was like comparing apples to oranges. Sure, they were both summers, but he felt so off kilter last year, and this year, other than wishing he and Sarah weren’t living apart, he felt settled.

“It just seems right, you know?” he said with a shrug.

“I’m excited to spend more time with her,” Jack said.

Quinn glanced at him, “when are you spending more time with my girlfriend?”

Oh, Fuck. Jack’s heart jumped into his throat, and he coughed, trying to clear it. “Just that…” he couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was excited to spend time with Sarah, see how she was around just their family, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. They were only two days away from the surprise, and he was blowing it. He consciously stopped himself from slapping his hand to his forehead. A reaction like that would undoubtedly give him away. “I mean, she’s coming to Mich, right?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, sighing as he lay on his back. He’d put his t-shirt back on, but the sun still licked through the fabric, making him feel warm and sleepy. “Next month.”

Glancing over, Jack was relieved to see Quinn relaxed. Either he was an excellent actor — doubtful — or he’d managed to redirect him enough to not be suspicious. It was time to change the subject.

“You need to throw those glasses in the ocean, man,” Jack said, reaching over to pull the gold frames from his face. Jack knew he liked them, but everyone else agreed they were awful. He thought they made Quinn look like a finance bro.

Quinn smacked his hand away. “I like them. Sarah likes them.”

“She does?” Maybe he needed to rethink his opinions of her. She apparently had worse taste than he thought. “Has she seen them?”

Glaring, Quinn pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could get a better look at Jack, who was sitting with one of his legs bent, an arm loosely slung around it.

“Yes. She’s —” he broke off. “I think she’s seen them.”

Jack scoffed, “I don’t think she has. They’d give her the ick.”

“Fuck off. I do not give Sarah the ick, I can promise you that.”

“You don’t, but those glasses will. Just throw them in and get it over with.”

“First of all, that’s bad for the environment. Secondly, I like them, and third, they were expensive.”

Jack threw his hands in the air in defeat. “One day,” he said, pointing at Quinn, “One day I will make you see reason.”

“Yeah, sure,” Quinn snorted.

“Are we talking about Quinn’s fuck-ass glasses?” Luke asked, walking up to the blanket and dripping water over everything.

“See?” Jack demanded, pointing at their youngest brother as Luke reached for a towel.

By the end of the day, Quinn’s cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so hard. He had to admit, it was really nice to get this time with his family away from training and the grind of daily life, even if Sarah was still in Vancouver. Now, more than ever, he understood why Jack wanted this vacation to be just them.

Everything would figure itself out. They’d decide who got their grandmas ring, and Sarah would come to Michigan, and then move in when he got back to Van. And the next time a family vacation came around, Quinn knew Sarah wouldn’t get left behind.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

203 notes · View notes

lucijawriteswords · 2 years ago

Text

locker room | luke hughes

summary: you find an angry luke in the locker room after a loss and figure out exactly how to help him.

warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT. oral (m receiving), swearing, slightly angry luke, whimpering, begging if you look hard enough. a little fluff. poor rutger gets caught in the crossfire. pretty tame (just wait for my next one. it’s on its way.) not edited, i’m impatient

word count: 2.5k

A/N: hello! welcome to my new venture. i’ve not written anything like this before so please, give me some grace- and feedback, if you’d like. tell me how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. with that, let’s get into it, shall we?

18+ below the cut

you heard laughs echoing from the press stand where the opposing team was giving post game interviews. you scoffed as you strode by, muttering to yourself. absolute ref show.

the path to the locker room was second nature to you, ingrained in your head, as familiar as your own bed. you’d been there enough times. familiar faces passed you as players quickly headed out, a few gracing you with a look, even fewer with a smile. you smiled back at those who did. one caught your arm, a freshman who’s name you hadn’t learned yet, right as you were about to turn the final corner, and gave you a warning glance. “he’s really upset, y/n. really upset. just thought i’d warn you. i’m not sure if he’s sad upset or mad upset but regardless i figured i’d let you know.”

you knew this. you knew it the second the buzzer screeched at the end of the third and luke stormed off the bench, shaking his head. you knew when you heard a loud snap and then the angry voice of an equipment manager, scolding luke about breaking a stick.

you knew luke.

“thanks, kid.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. you reached up to gently pat his shoulder; friendly, comforting. “hey, don’t do that. you played amazing. the refs were horrid.”

he nodded, releasing your arm and bringing his hand up to wipe under his nose, followed by a loud sniffle. at the same time, you heard a scoff echo from around the corner and turned your head to find a brown, curly head and a bare shoulder disappearing back through the locker room door.

the freshman- who’s name you still couldn’t remember- looked at you, panicked. you just huffed out a sigh and drew your hand away from his shoulder. “oh, goodie.”

“i- y/n, he’s gonna think- shit,” he breathed out, letting his head drop backwards.

“hey, whatever he thinks doesn’t mean shit because it’s not true. he’s upset anyways and now he’s gonna spiral cause he thinks i’m messing with his freshman teammate. so, good game, honestly, but i’m gonna go figure out that situation before it’s too late.” you rushed out, pointing towards where luke’s head had disappeared to.

the freshman- you really had to learn his name- nodded and muttered a tiny ‘bye’ before making his way down the rest of the hall. you offered a quick wave as you stepped around the corner and pushed the door to the locker room open.

upon your immediate surveillance, there was no luke. but, you heard water streaming against tile, and the showers don’t shut off or turn on automatically, so that means that someone turned it on and was still in there. you did a quick second scan of the stalls, and upon seeing that everyone’s jerseys were hung up, bags folded, and there were no shoes resting underneath a stall- except luke’s- decided that it must be, could only be, luke in the shower.

“luke?” you called, making your way across the maize and blue carpeting.

“in here,” he answered, voice clipped. impatient. upset.

“can i come in?”

“yeah, i don’t care. ‘less you have rut with you, in which case, stay out there.”

“rut?” who the hell names their child rut?

“rutger, honey. my replacement, apparently.”

you surmised that rutger must be the freshman, and decided that yes, rutger was a name you’d have a hard time remembering.

“baby, he’s not your replacement. we were just talking.” the water shut off as you were talking and you heard bare feet slapping against the wet tile, followed by a low ‘fuck.’

“why are you swearing, lu?” you wondered, taking another stop towards the showers.

“forgot my towel. would you grab it for me? it’s hanging in my stall.”

you chuckled, walking back towards his stall and grabbing the towel. it was rough, pilled. threadbare on one end. “ew. gotta get you a new towel, babe.” you giggled, sticking your finger through a hole in the corner and turning, wiggling it at him.

“can you just bring it over here you weirdo?” he grumbled, but a small smile graced his lips as he poked his head around the wall.

“can i explain?”

“honey, i’m soaking wet. can it wait?” still upset, then.

“no.”

“go, then.” he bit out, exasperated, angrily gesturing at you to explain. you made a face at him before speaking.

“he was just warning me that you were upset, lu. i was thanking him and he looked sad so i told him he played well and that it was a ref show, ‘kay? just talking.” you finished, tossing the towel to him. his head disappeared behind the wall briefly before he made his way fully out, towel wrapped around his hips.

“alright. just don’t want him getting any ideas.”

“wait, lu, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? i swear, one of the freshmen this year has a girlfriend.” you thought out loud, following him towards his stall before plopping yourself onto the ground, electing to sit rather than stand as he got dry and dressed.

“oh. yeah.”

you laughed without humor, watching his back flex as he undid and redid the towel around his waist.

“glad i got you that shitty towel. didn’t feel like getting dripped all over, if i’m being honest.” you said, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

luke froze, turning his head with a devilish smile on his lips. your playful expression dropped as he turned all the way around, water slowly trailing down the planes of his chest. you gulped.

“lu, don’t even think about it- LUKE!” you started, trying to get up, but it was to no avail, because in a split second he was standing over you, shaking his head like a dog, sending water all over you- and the rest of the locker room, for that matter. “you little shit!” you screeched, holding your hands up to your face, the water splattering unceremoniously on you.

you heard his hoarse laugh as he finished tormenting you, turning back to his stall and pulling a sweatshirt over his body. you heard the rustling of fabric as he reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. your hands still covered your face, trying to be prepared if your child of a boyfriend got a second wind, but by the wet thump of the towel against the ground, you assumed he’d pulled the sweatpants on.

“i’m not gonna splash you again, baby. you can move your hands.” luke said, his voice calmer than it was a few minutes ago.

“why aren’t you putting your suit back on?” you asked, taking in his outfit.

“not going out the front, so nobody’s gonna see. just gonna go out the back, s’where i parked anyways.” he spoke towards the ground, pulling on socks and slipping his feet into a worn pair of birkenstocks.

“nobody’s even here anymore,” you added absentmindedly, looking down at your apple watch. 11:37. “it’s late.”

“yeah, honey, i know. you got a date with rutger at 11:45 or something?” he mumbled, the sass making its way back into his voice at in response to your apparently stupid statement.

“oh well, pardon me, mr. perfect. wasn’t sure if you were too busy being mad at me for talking to someone to look at your watch. oh, boy, am i excited to walk to the car, freezing and wet with your mopey ass.” you cut out, voice raising at the end, having had enough of him. “i get that you’re upset about losing but come on, luke. he’s got a girlfriend, he’s younger than me, and i would never do that to you.”

“oh, so you admit that i was right for thinking that? you’re defending yourself pretty heavily, y/n, i dunno. you sure he’s not waiting for you?” he whipped around. there was no more playfulness.

“you’re kidding, right?” you returned, voice emotionless.

he simply shrugged, nostrils flared slightly, anger written all over him. tense shoulders, arms crossed. wide stance.

“god, luke, you’re such a child sometimes.”

“oh, i’m a child for being protective over my girlfriend, but it’s fine for you to get all up on him and touch his arm? fucking double standard if you ask me.” he was harsh, accusatory.

your mouth dropped, incredulous at his words, but more so his tone. “don’t you fucking DARE talk to me like that. once you’re thinking straight and decide to not be an asshole, text me. i’m gonna go to my dorm tonight.”

you shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket and clicking into snapchat, swiping into your roommate’s chat, starting to type a message to her to ask her to pick you up, but you felt a hand close around your arm, spinning you back. you were ready to fire off more words but said words were nipped in the bud as you felt luke’s mouth on yours, hot and heavy. any anger you had took a backseat as you felt his tongue on yours, his hands finding their place on your hips, pulling you into him.

he kissed you desperately, hard enough to almost hurt. you moaned when he bit lightly on your lip, sticking the tip of your tongue out to flick his upper lip. a type of retribution. something between a moan and a growl clawed it’s way from his throat, angry and ready to be released.

you pulled away, shoving him firmly backwards by the chest. his eyes were apologetic and he looked like her was about to say something but you quieted him by pushing him down into the bench in front of his stall. “talk later,” you muttered, kneeling in front of him.

“baby, i was mean to you, you don’t have to-” he cut himself off as you undid his sweatpants and pulled him out, felt him heavy in your hand. you pulled slow, languid strokes over his cock, relished the way his head tipped back, the way his adams apple bobbed, the way he whimpered when your thumb ghosted over his angry tip. you grinned at the noise, deciding to tease him even more. his breath caught in his throat, a wet, choked, noise, as you dragged your tongue across his slit, letting your saliva mix with the precum that was gushing out of him. he looked down at you then, bringing a hand to the back of your head to gather your hair. “don’t tease me, baby. can’t take it.”

“gotta ask nice, pretty boy.”

“please, y/n. i need your mouth, i need to feel you on my cock, please.”

a wicked grin carved itself onto your face as you spat into your hand and gave him three long, hard strokes from the base. “all you had to do was ask, lu.” you purred, taking him into your mouth, moaning around him at the taste, the weight, the relief of feeling him in your mouth, on you tongue.

you heard his head thump against the wood of the stall, his breathing ragged as your moan vibrated around him. you felt him twitch in your mouth as you pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his dick and swallowed around him, curses falling from his lips.

“god, y/n, not gonna last. take me so good, baby,” he cut out, voice strained as he bucked into your mouth, hips and words stuttering in some sort of fucked up prayer to your mouth.

you smiled as much as you could with a mouth full of dick, moaning around him to try to get him there faster. his fist tightened in your hair and a whine escaped your lips, buzzing on his cock.

you looked up at him through your lashes, saw the flush on his neck making his way up to his cheeks, pride in the fact that you made him like that, that you could have him like this. that you could reduce him to a moaning, whimpering mess with only your mouth. you moaned at the mere thought, feeling him swell in your mouth.

you tapped his thigh twice, knowing he was getting close. his eyes met yours, hazy and hooded and drowning in lust, in you. you nodded, wanting, needing to see him when he finished.

his chest heaved, eyes trained on you as you worked him, bobbing up and down his cock, spit coating him at the base.

“fuck, y/n, look so pretty like this. so pretty, baby.” he whimpered, impossibly close. you moaned around him, long and loud, wanting to taste him. “so close, baby, so close.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before pushing your head down further, feeling his head hit the back of your throat, your nose pressing into the soft skin of his pelvis, feeling him tense under you. a long, drawn out call of your name left his lips as you swallowed around him, trying not to choke.

“fuck, gonna cum,” he whispered, lightly pushing his hips into your mouth, thighs shaking as he finally let go, warmth filling your mouth, his cock jumping wildly. you moaned, tasting him, feeling his hot cum coat your tongue and throat, swallowing it down as much as you could with his dick still in your mouth. he hissed, pulling your head off, overstimulated. you swallowed again, not wanting to miss a drop, settling back onto your knees, looking at him trying to collect himself.

“you still mad?” you quipped, cocking your head. he rolled his eyes at you, still trying to catch his breath as he tucked himself back into his pants. “gonna take that as a no,” you answered yourself, pushing yourself up, brushing your hands over your knees, feeling the imprint of the carpet and your jeans on the skin.

he stood up, gathering you into his arms and pulling your head into his chest. you nestled your head there, arms draping lazily around his waist, leaning all your weight onto him, the lateness of this rendezvous catching up with you. you smiled into the softness of his hoodie. “i’m sorry, babe. just get jealous, you know how i am.”

“i know, lukey. it’s okay. but you know i would never do that to you, to us, so i got defensive.”

he pressed a quick kiss into your hair, muttering an ‘i know,’ tapping your butt lightly so you would jump. you did so, weakly wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him lightly, knowing he had you. you rested your head on his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the column of his throat. “can we go home? i’m tired.”

he smiled, readjusting you so he could grab his keys from the hook in his stall. “‘course we can, baby.” he kissed the side of your face, and you felt the smile still gracing his lips.

2K notes · View notes

daeniradraconis · 1 month ago

Text

Where the Heart Is - Luke Hughes

Summary: After a tough game, Elara creates a cozy retreat for Luke and Jack, offering them a quiet escape from the weight of the loss.

Character count: 5594

Genre: fluff, cozy night, love in the air, no warnings

Note: I’m deep into my Luke era these days, so I thought I’d write something quick, short, and sweet for him. He really is a sweetheart after all. After the last game, I needed something like this too. Hope you enjoy it!

Elara loved these evenings. Just standing in the kitchen, freshly showered, wearing her boyfriend’s oversized hoodie while making pancakes, with Luke’s country playlist playing softly in the background. She’d lit a few candles earlier to make the apartment feel cozier—a small oasis against the chill of January’s biting cold. Tonight, the boys would need it. Both Luke and Jack played for the New Jersey Devils, and while the wins brought an electric high that the three of them shared, the losses weighed heavier.

And tonight’s loss had been particularly brutal.

Elara knew what it was like to share a small apartment with two grumpy hockey players after a rough game, and she’d decided to get ahead of the storm. A quick trip to the store had armed her with the ingredients for their favorite treat: crepes. She’d even made homemade caramel and chocolate sauces, something she knew would bring a spark of joy to the boys despite their mood.

As Zach Bryan singed softly in the background, Elara hummed along while flipping the last pancake. Just then, the door swung open, and she heard the unmistakable clatter of hockey bags and the muffled sounds of heavy boots being kicked off. As she turned, her suspicions were confirmed: two very grumpy hockey players stood in the entryway, their faces drawn and shoulders slumped.

Luke’s heart filled with warmth the moment he saw her. There she was, his girl, standing in his hoodie with a smile that could light up the darkest room. The table was set with candles flickering softly, and a plate of perfectly golden crepes waited for them, surrounded by bowls of rich caramel and chocolate syrup. Even Jack’s frustrated scowl softened as he took it all in, replaced by a quiet sense of appreciation. He wouldn’t say it, but the feeling was there, clear in his eye.

“Well, hello boys,” Elara greeted them with a soft, teasing smile. “I hope you’re hungry because I may or may not have gone a little overboard.” Her gentle laugh filled the room, warm and melodic.

The boys exchanged a quick glance, the kind that said everything without a word, before they tossed their gear aside with a loud thud, the sound echoing through the hallway. Without wasting another second, they hurried into the kitchen, barely able to contain their excitement.

“Hello, baby,” Luke murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. The familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo mixed with vanilla body lotion made his heart skip a beat. He loved this woman with every fiber of his being.

Elara smiled softly and pressed a trail of feather-light kisses along the curve of his neck, eliciting a shiver from him. She had always cherished how he reacted to the smallest gestures—how he would melt into her touch, finding comfort and calm in a way nothing else could. It was one of the things that made her heart ache in the best possible way.

“Hi, Sunny,” Elara whispered, her fingers brushing through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. She chuckled at the nickname, remembering the first time she’d called him that. They had been sitting on the dock of Luke’s family’s summer house in Michigan, soaking up the late afternoon sunlight. She’d told him he was her personal golden retriever, bringing warmth and joy to her world. The nickname stuck, and she could tell Luke secretly adored it every time she used it.

Luke’s grip on her tightened just a bit, his hands slipping under the edge of her hoodie to rest against her bare skin. He wasn’t sure why, but just being close to her made him feel steady in a way nothing else did. With every gentle touch of her fingers, it was like the weight of everything else faded away, the tension from the game slipping into the background as they shared this quiet moment together.

“Okay, lovebirds, that’s enough!” Jack called out from the table, his mouth already half-full of crepe. He waved his fork in their direction. “I’m trying to eat here. PDA this close to my food should be illegal.”

Luke groaned, reluctantly loosening his hold on Elara but stealing a quick kiss before he let go. “You’re just jealous,” he shot back, dropping into the chair next to his brother. “It’s not my fault no one wants to cuddle you.”

Jack snorted. “I’m not the one who clings to his girlfriend like a koala bear.” He turned to Elara with a smirk. “How do you put up with him? Does he follow you around the apartment too? Or is it just this bad when food’s involved?”

Elara laughed, pouring caramel sauce over Luke’s crepe before sitting down herself. “Oh, you have no idea. He’s like my shadow. But I’ve accepted,it’s part of the package.”

Luke rolled his eyes, shoving a forkful of crepe into his mouth. “Keep talking, Jack, and I’ll eat yours too.”

Jack clutched his plate protectively. “Touch my food and we’re fighting.”

“Oh, please. You couldn’t take me,” Luke teased, though he didn’t test the threat. Instead, he looked back at Elara, his expression softening. “Seriously, though. Thank you for this, babe. It’s perfect.” The weight of the game, the frustrations, the noise—all seemed to fade away in her presence. It was these small moments that made the hard days worth it.

“Yeah, thanks, Elara,” Jack added, his tone less teasing now. He paused before swallowing, his voice quieter, more genuine. “This is…nice. I mean, after a game like that.” He gestured vaguely, clearly uncomfortable expressing emotions but meaning every word.

Elara smiled, her heart swelling at Jack’s rare show of appreciation. “Of course, boys,” she said, leaning back in her chair to watch them. She felt a quiet pride in how they could still find a moment of peace, despite everything. Seeing their tense shoulders relax and hearing their laughter as they bickered over the last crepe made all the effort worth it.

As the candles flickered softly, the three of them fell into an easy rhythm, the weight of the game melting away with each bite and each teasing comment. Jack was leaning back in his chair now, his scowl replaced with the hint of a satisfied smile as he reached for the last crepe. Luke, sitting beside Elara, kept sneaking glances at her, his heart impossibly full.

It wasn’t about the game anymore—not the win, the loss, or the noise that came with it. It was about this. The laughter, the warmth, the simple magic of being home. And for Luke, home wasn’t just a place or a feeling—it was Elara. It was the way she could take a brutal loss and turn it into something that felt almost like a win.

“Hey,” Luke murmured, his hand finding hers under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. She looked over at him, her soft smile lighting up the room in a way the candles never could. She didn’t need to say anything. She just squeezed his hand back, and that was enough.

This was enough.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x oc #jack hughes #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #luke hughes fic #fluff #hockey romance #nhl #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hughes brothers

92 notes · View notes

puck-luck · 1 month ago

Text

new beginnings | july 29 - august 4

note to the masses: this is a big week for honeytrev. don't let the fact that it's the shortest chapter yet (19.4k) fool you. enjoy ;) always looking forward to hearing y'all's feedback

----------

64:90 – HONEY

If Trevor has noticed that Honey is weirdly silent today, he hasn’t mentioned it. Part of that is probably based on the fact that they’ve been hanging out with the group all day, so Trevor is doing the thing that she asked him to do a couple of weeks ago– leave her alone and not make it so obvious that they’re together.

Honey’s staring is obvious. She’s been elbowed by Bea twice, with a hiss from the girl to “stop looking at him so much!” Honey has also been poked by Quinn, who will pointedly look from her to Trevor, then back to her, and shake his head.

She can’t help it. There’s a lot on her mind and Honey feels a little bit like she’s losing control of herself. She’s become completely aware of herself in the wake of what happened yesterday, but she’s not… freaking out. Yet.

Honey hasn’t told Bea what happened. She knows she should, but she can’t say it out loud. How embarrassing is it to say that after she’d gotten thoroughly fucked, and Trevor had tucked her head into the crook of his neck, she’d caught a whiff of the sweat on his skin and kissed it, all before clocking the way she’d thought God, this is so great. He’s so great. I love…?

‘I love’ is as far as she’d gotten because she’d cut herself off, realizing how that sentence was about to end.

That is too far. Here’s why: (1) Honey doesn’t even like Trevor like that. (2) She’s only known Trevor for two months. (3) Trevor is leaving at the end of the summer. (4) Trevor has no plans to come back, which means that barring some psycho coincidence, Honey will never see him again after August 25th. She does not think that about Trevor. She will not think that about Trevor.

Now, they’ve ventured out on their own. It’s a Monday, so Trevor and Honey are at the fruit stand, like always. She’s resolutely trying to ignore her thoughts and her feelings– actually, she’s trying to push them away… and failing.

Honey has one slight problem when it comes to Trevor, other than the one that she’s been lamenting for the past twenty-nine hours. The problem right now is that Trevor is very pretty.

It starts with his hair. Honey has been looking at it a lot more since those interviewers asked Trevor about his routine and how he gets his hair the way that it is. He’s lucky. All he does is run his fingers through the hair, almost compulsively, and it falls perfectly. Honey has to tame her hair, but Trevor has it easy. She hopes that their kids get his hair.

That. What is that? Honey demands of herself, wishing she could reach up and slap herself across the face. Unfortunately, Trevor would have a problem with that. He would be very confused and Honey would not be able to explain herself. She doesn’t even want to try. They aren’t even dating– do you know how crazy she’d look if she started spouting shit like “I love you” and “I hope our babies get your hair?” She wrenches her eyes from Trevor’s profile and focuses on the pile of melons in front of her.

Their fruit stand shopping today is like Bea’s favorite term for when she and Honey hang out and do nothing together– ‘parallel play.’ Honey is silent, looking at the fruit in front of her. Trevor is silent, looking at the fruit in front of him.

It’s difficult to keep her eyes from his profile for long. Honey sneaks a glance and catches a glimpse of the ridge on Trevor’s nose. It’s such a straight and strong nose, very Greek, except for the curve at the top. That’s got some Romanness to it. Honey loves that nose. The few times that they’ve actually slept over together, Honey will wake when Trevor twitches in his sleep and she takes the time to admire his profile then, too. Ugh, now that she thinks about it, it’s that kind of indulgence that got her here.

Sweet, perfect Trevor. Patient, caring Trevor. He has no idea what’s going through Honey’s head. He has no clue that she’s over here thinking about how much she likes him, and then reminding herself that she can’t like him.

Honey is starting to come around to Bea’s thinking, now that she’s feeling… what she assumes Bea is feeling, too, even though she hasn’t said it back to Quinn yet. She doesn’t fight it when he says it– Honey absolutely would fight it if Trevor said ‘I love you.’

Like, there’s no way, right? They’ve known each other for two months. Two months. Sixty days. No one should be allowed to love anyone, here. It was absurd when Quinn said it and it’s still absurd when Honey thinks it.

But then, she looks at Trevor again, and her mind quiets. She likes to look at him, she likes to be with him, he smells nice, he’s kind when he speaks, and he’s good in bed. What more could she ask for?

Thomas used to be like that, too.

At the thought, Honey stalls. She feels a bit sick to her stomach. It’s true– Thomas used to be just as amazing as Trevor is. She thought about their babies, once upon a time. Wanting to tear herself away from the thought of Thomas, before it ruins her day even further, Honey turns back to Trevor. She’s about to reach for his hand, but they’re full.

He holds two baskets in his hands, pursing his lips and alternating the baskets like he’s weighing them. Honey doesn't even know what is in the baskets– his fingers are covering the contents. She’s staring at the shadows that his eyelashes cast on his face.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Trevor says. He looks up and turns to her, soft smile on his face when they make eye contact. “What do you think, Hon?”

I like the way you say my name, Honey thinks. She blinks, feeling her face flush. She absolutely cannot look at Trevor’s eyes anymore– he’ll recognize the look on her face and think something about it, and then he’ll say something about it, and then she’ll have to explain herself, and there are no words to describe what’s going on in her mind.

She finally looks at the baskets in his hands. Raspberries or blueberries. “I don’t know,” she supplies uselessly. “They’re both good.”

Trevor shifts them in his hands so he’s holding both between his fingers. “Okay. Both it is.” He digs his wallet out of his pocket and hands it off to Honey. “Can you get my card out?”

Honey swallows hard, feeling discomfort crawl up the back of her throat. He’s so comfortable with her. He just hands his stuff over like it’s nothing, like they share everything with each other. “Yeah, sure.” She plucks the wallet from his fingers and flicks through the pockets.

“Do you want me to get you some peaches?” Trevor offers, sliding the baskets of berries into her mesh bag, which he's been carrying over his shoulder ever since they got out of the car.

A possessive feeling washes over Honey. That’s her bag that he’s carrying. She wants to remind him that she doesn’t need his help– the other half of her, the part hidden deep in her chest, wants to leave everything as is. Everything is going so great with Trevor. But, for some fucking reason, Honey just can’t give into the desire at the pit of her heart.

“No, I'm okay,” she says.

That catches Trevor’s attention. He catches her eye. “You love peaches. You were telling me last night that you'd run out.”

Honey feels slightly trapped. She did say that. Shit. “I mean, we can look at the peaches,” she mumbles, ducking her head.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows, although Honey is too busy staring at the cracks in the sidewalk and misses it. “Honey, are you okay?” He asks.

Honey sighs and rolls her eyes. “I'm fine. Let’s just look at the peaches.” She shoulders past Trevor and picks up one of the better looking fruits.

Trevor’s fingers prod at hers like he wants to hold her hand. “Baby,” he says. “What's wrong?”

Honey snatches her hand back and snaps, “Don’t call me that.”

The look on Trevor’s face stings a lot more than Honey wants to admit. He physically recoils, like she’s slapped him, and the deepest pits of Honey’s chest are screaming at her to take it back. She wants to. She wishes she could rewind five seconds and let him take her hand, to avoid the look on his face if nothing else, but Honey can never seem to avoid sabotaging herself.

Honey can’t believe she loves Trevor. It’s not that he’s not lovable– evidently, she feels as though he’s very lovable. It’s just that... isn’t she past this? She went into this summer so certain that she’s not looking for what Trevor is giving her, and now she’s fallen headfirst for it. This is against every plan she had for herself over the past five years. The plan was to avoid feeling the way Thomas made her feel, and now Trevor has Honey’s heart in the palms of his hands, and everything is out of Honey’s control. She can’t even control her own feelings.

She’s blindsided. It crept up on her and now she’s reeling from the fact that she loves Trevor, without making a conscious decision to love him at all.

God, you get fucked on the pool table one time, and your whole life changes. What is in the water at that damn rental house?

Honey wants to scream in frustration. She wants to throw this peach at Trevor’s head because it’s his fault that she feels like this. He had to be fucking perfect. She wants to start bawling and wrap her arms around his neck and hide and be comforted by the way he smells. There are a hundred different things she’s feeling, none of which she wants to be feeling, and her brain is short-circuiting.

Trevor rubs over the back of his neck, his eyes meeting Honey’s sporadically and never for more than a second. He’s taken a step back from her and Honey thinks that he looks a little… afraid. “Did I do something?” He asks. He clears his throat, then clarifies, “To upset you?”

Honey’s brain goes with the third option. She wells up and rubs the heels of her hands over her eyes, having long since dropped the peach back in the pile. “No,” she admits miserably. “I’m being stupid. I just– everything seems like a lot right now. Too much.”

“You’re not being stupid. What’s too much?” Trevor asks. “Other than everything. If you could narrow it down.”

“This,” Honey tells him tearfully, gesturing between them. “It’s a lot.”

His lips press together in a thin line before he speaks. “Good or bad?” Trevor pushes, closing the space between himself and Honey.

She wants to grab his shirt and tug him even closer, but her arms only rise to cross over her stomach in a tense hug. She shrugs, her chin wobbling a bit. “Both,” Honey whispers. Her eyes burn and she sniffs, looking towards the brick wall of the grocery store.

Trevor nods, calculating his next move. She can see the wheels turning in his head. “Why don’t we go home?”

Home, Honey repeats in her head. How can he call her place home? How can she love him?

Trevor talks on. “We can sit in silence and I’ll just cuddle you a bit, if that’ll help.”

Honey’s lower lip juts out. Sitting in silence and cuddling is what got her into this mess. “I don’t know,” she replies, voice cracking embarrassingly. It registers that Joan is not-so secretly watching this whole event unfold. Honey swipes her thumbs beneath her eyes and covers her mouth with one of her hands.

“Sweetheart,” Trevor tries, but he shuts his mouth abruptly when an indignant whine leaves Honey. That’s no better than ‘baby,’ even though her stomach usually flutters when he uses both terms. Trevor takes a deep breath and shifts her bag to his other shoulder, reaching for the car keys. He holds them out to her wordlessly, so Honey takes them.

She starts the car while she waits for him to pay for her fruit. A sinking feeling creeps over her when it computes that he’s paying for her, again. He’s taking care of her. Again.

It’s another minute after Trevor returns to the car before he speaks. “Can I just sit with you?” Trevor asks. “I just– I want to be there if you need me.”

Honey hides her face in her hands. She doesn’t know how to respond.

Yes, of course, please sit with me, I do need you there. No, I don’t want you to see me like this. You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight an internal battle just to love you.

The thoughts joust in her head. “I don’t want to decide.” She sounds pitiful. “I don’t want anything. But I don’t not want anything. I don’t know.”

“Let’s just drive around for a bit,” Trevor suggests. “We’ll go down the parkway. You don’t have to decide yet. We can ignore everything for a minute. Is that... better?”

Honey shrugs. She really feels helpless and unsure. Not even ignorance is an appealing feeling. This has been eating at her since yesterday and it’s just about consumed her entirely. “I guess?” She asks.

Trevor holds eye contact with her and quirks his lips in a dissatisfied, but well-meaning smile. He looks sympathetic. “Let’s just get you home. I think you might feel better if you’re in your bed.” He starts the car and drives out of town, toward her house.

The drive is silent. When they get to Honey’s house, she heads upstairs and he puts her fruit haul away. Trevor has started to learn what her system is, after doing this a couple of times, and it’s another thing that reminds Honey how much she likes him.

She goes upstairs and burrows in her bed, already feeling comforted by the warmth of the covers and the soft pillows around her.

Trevor climbs the stairs to her room and peeks his head in the door, laughing fondly at the sight of Honey. She pouts at him, then Trevor walks across the floor and leans down to kiss Honey’s forehead. “I’m going to go,” Trevor tells her, speaking under his breath. He presses another kiss above her eyebrow. “It doesn’t seem like it’s helping… to have me nearby. I think I’m making you more anxious. Can you promise me something? Before I go?”

Honey nods.

“You’ll call me.” Trevor smooths Honey’s hair behind her ear. His eyes are a clear and earnest green, shining with admiration. “If you need anything, promise you’ll call me?”

Honey nods a second time, trying to lift the corners of her mouth in a convincing way.

“Whatever you want,” Trevor continues, bumping the tip of his nose against Honey’s cheekbone like a gentle, tender headbutt. “Even if it’s not me. If you need Bea, then you give me a call and I’ll drag her out of Quinn’s bed for you. I’ll drop her off on your doorstep, wearing nothing but his bedsheet. Does that sound okay with you?”

Honey tries and fails to hold back a laugh, imagining how annoyed Bea would feel and how silly she’d look. All in all, it would make a hilarious scene in a movie. Honey might just take Trevor up on that. Still giggling a bit, she nods a third time– it’s a much more confident movement this time.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Trevor asks with a tiny smile on his face, proud of himself for drawing a laugh from Honey. He cups Honey’s cheek and meets her lips in a chaste kiss.

His final kiss feels a lot like ‘I love you.’

Honey wishes she hadn’t thought that. Now she can’t even promise to see him tomorrow. She pulls the covers over her head and listens to Trevor chuckle before he descends from the loft and leaves her alone.

65:90 – TREVOR

Trevor barely slept last night. He was tossing and turning, checking his phone every few minutes in case Honey needed him. He wanted to burn the world down when she’d gone quiet and hugged herself. She had looked so small and insecure and Trevor never wants to see her like that again. He wants to take all of her problems and bury them deep in the dirt, where no one will ever find them.

But there was nothing that he could do. So he left.

He didn’t want to. For a minute, Trevor had stood at the bottom of the loft stairs and thought about staying. He could’ve sat on her couch silently until she appeared, venturing out for dinner or something, and then they could’ve talked about it.

After taking pause, Trevor had shaken his head and moved along. Honey probably would not have liked to walk down the stairs and be surprised by Trevor, who she had told to leave a few hours earlier. So, he left the house and drove down the parkway for a little while on his own, trying to decipher what very little Honey had said.

Trevor doesn’t feel any better about it, even after running through every possible scenario in his mind. He’s not quite sure what upset her, or what caused the regression and confusion, but it seems like going away from her was the best option. She’s not upset anymore.

On the other hand, she’s not exactly talking to him. It’s not an intentional ‘I’m-ignoring-you-and-I-hate-you’ silence, but Trevor feels disjointed nonetheless. He’s adhering to her ‘Let’s-not-make-this-obvious’ rule although he’d like nothing more than to throw his arm over her shoulder and walk alongside her under the fluorescent, jarring white lights of this Target in Winston-Salem.

That’s how Bea and Quinn are standing. His arm is over her shoulder and her elbow is bent so that she can hold his hand, even though the angle is awkward for her. They didn’t even amend their position when a fan came up to Jack and asked for a picture with him, which he declined, but it did stroke his ego a bit. That’s good, because now he’s in a good mood. Trevor was surprised that Bea and Quinn didn’t inch apart when the boys were recognized– Honey certainly would have sprung away from him.

He understands, though. Honey’s whole life was derailed by some photos and some gossip. It’s not like he can offer her the most private existence, but he thinks he can keep her mostly away from prying eyes if that’s what she wants. She doesn’t have to jump away from him.

Surely they won’t hide their relationship forever, right? Eventually, Trevor will be allowed to flaunt her and show Honey off like she deserves.

It’ll be really awkward if Trevor is the only one doing the first dance at their wedding reception because she doesn’t want to be seen by the public. There are very few things that Trevor won’t budge on, but a big party after the wedding with all of their friends is one of those things.

“Litchton should have a Target,” Bea says, running her hands over a rack of dresses. “I miss the vibe in stores like this.”

Inviting the boys to Target had been Bea’s idea, according to Quinn. It’s not that Honey didn’t want them to come, but Trevor knows that this is a thing that she and Bea do together. They’ve gone to Target together on this day every year since leaving Charlotte because it’s the anniversary of when they finished apartment shopping. They’re very sentimental over things like this– the girls have all these little traditions that they allow the boys to experience. It’s nice. Trevor enjoys being around them.

He wishes he could be closer to Honey, though. She’s looking through the racks of clothes and she’s got a little crease between her eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t be Litchton if there was a Target,” Honey replies, eyes flickering up to look at Bea in the mirror. “You don’t like the Food Lion?”

“You know the Food Lion has a different vibe than this,” Bea laughs.

Honey scoffs out a laugh and begins to rifle through the hangers again. She shakes her head as she laughs, then the frown returns to her face as she evaluates the clothes.

It would be so nice to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her middle. Trevor doesn’t care about the clothes. He just wants to hug his pretty girlfriend and get rid of that line between her brows.

Trevor pulls his phone out of his pocket and composes a message.

You want a coffee? He texts Honey. I can go grab one for you.

She doesn’t check her phone right away. It’s a few minutes until she does, after Bea and Quinn went to go look at makeup and Jack and Luke went to look at the beer. Cole is looking through a stack of t-shirts and Honey finishes up with the rack of clothes she was on. Trevor is standing next to Cole, at a safe distance away from Honey, but he’s watching her.

The corners of her mouth twitch upward when she reads the text.

No, but you’re sweet.

Trevor is quick to reply, hoping to catch her before she slides the phone back into her pocket.

Taste sweet too. Will I see you later? ;)

The wink is to make her laugh. It works, but only barely– instead of laughing the way that she probably wants to at Trevor’s comedic props, she side-eyes him and types a very short reply:

LOL.

Then, she puts her phone away and disappears around the back of the aisle.

Trevor turns to Cole.

He holds up a pink t-shirt with a unicorn and a rainbow on the front. “Do you think this would look good on me?” Cole asks.

“Yeah. I’ve always said that you seem like the kind of guy to wear a crop top,” Trevor says. “The pink with the unicorns and the rainbows would really work for you.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll get a matching one for Honey,” Cole says with a nod to himself. “Do you know what size she is?”

Trevor blinks in surprise, then has to school his reaction. Cole asked his question so nonchalantly that he was probably just wondering aloud.

“I don’t know. Maybe just get her a medium to be safe. Take a receipt when you buy it so that she can return it if she hates it. You know she’ll probably hate it,” Trevor tells him.

“Yeah, I know. But she’ll like it ‘cause it’s our thing, like how Bea and I watch the same dating show because it’s good and funny. Honey and I will have the same shirt.”

“What if she returns it?”

“Meh, she won’t,” Cole replies with a shrug. “She actually likes us a lot more than she says. I don’t think it was Bea’s idea to invite us to come to Target.”

Trevor furrows his brow. “You don’t?”

Cole shakes his head. “Quinn and Bea take credit for a lot of things, but I saw the texts on Quinn’s phone. Honey said, like, ‘If you guys want to come you can’ and that was it. I’m glad, too. It’s been a while since I was in a Target like this. I feel like we’re back at NTDP shootin’ the shit and being annoying kids.”

“Yeah, we’re like a real friend group,” Trevor laughs, speaking somewhat sarcastically. Of course they’re a real friend group. They’re together for the entire summer. “Imagine that.”

Cole shrugs again. “I just think it’s nice. I miss Michigan and being home for the summer, but this is really nice. I think we should come back next year.”

“I don’t know if Jack will let us kidnap him again,” Trevor says.

“He won’t have a choice. Quinn will want to see Bea again and I think all of us will want to see both of the girls. If Jack doesn’t come, though, maybe the girls can come to Michigan.” Cole balls the shirt, and Honey’s matching one, up in his fist. “Let’s go find the dudes.”

As they continue shopping, Trevor mulls this over in his mind: he’s not the only one who wants to come back to Litchton and continue to hang out with these girls. Cole and the other boys, Quinn by name, have been thinking about it too. Trevor might just call a rental house family meeting and broach the subject.

66:90 – HONEY

“Let’s go outside,” Trevor proposes. He pinches Honey’s bare sides with his spindly fingers and kisses over the curve of her breast. ��We can go look at the stars.”

“Trevor, dear, you’re the one laying on top of me,” Honey points out, teasing him with the pet name and tweaking his nose between her knuckles. “I couldn’t get up if I tried.”

“Well, you’re also under the covers, so I’m not the only thing keeping you here.” Trevor catches one nipple between his teeth and bites, then switches to the other and repeats the same action, then rolls to Honey’s side and reaches for the t-shirt that he’d dropped off the side of the bed before he and Honey had made good use of their nakedness. He pulls the t-shirt over her head and squeezes her hips before he throws the covers off of both of them and goes to find his own clothes.

Honey tucks the covers underneath her armpits. “I feel like I’m in a movie,” Honey says. “I’m one of those one night stands who wears your sheets like a strapless dress.”

“You’re not quite a one night stand,” Trevor replies with a laugh. He pulls a shirt over his head and ruffles his hair once it springs free. “But if it makes you happy, then you can keep pretending, baby.”

Honey doesn’t correct him this time– she probably never will again. After a day or so of freaking out over the whole “I love you” thought, Honey decided that it was a nonissue. So long as she never admits it or allows herself to think that again, everything will be fine. Therefore, Trevor is still allowed to call Honey ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart.’

Honey swings her legs over the edge of the bed and leaves her hookup-bedsheet-dress on Trevor’s mattress. His t-shirt falls over her hips, but she still needs shorts. She reaches past Trevor and digs through his underwear drawer to find a pair of cute boxers, which she’ll steal for a while.

Trevor sidles up behind her and wraps his arms around her middle. “You don’t really think you’re a one night stand for me, do you?”

He kisses her cheek right as she shakes her head and says, “No, Trev. You know I don’t think that.”

“I don’t know much of what you think at all,” Trevor says, pouting slightly. “I know we’re hooking up. I know that I think you’re my girlfriend. I don’t know where you stand, Hon.”

Honey rolls her head back onto Trevor’s shoulder. “Do we have to talk about it now?”

“I just want some confirmation that you like me,” Trevor teases. He kisses down Honey’s neck and blows cool air over her clavicle. “Since every time I show you affection, you laugh at me.”

“Trevor,” Honey complains. “That’s just not true.”

“Okay, fine, last time when I said you liked me, you kissed me. But I want to hear you say it,” Trevor whines. He squeezes Honey a little tighter. “Tell me!”

Honey giggles and wiggles away from Trevor. “Absolutely not.” She sneaks to the door and listens to the hallway, waiting for any noise from the boys. She’d gotten into Trevor’s room without any trouble, but getting out is another story.

“Anyone out there?” Trevor asks.

“I don’t think so, but you’ll have to go first.” Honey puts her hand out, which Trevor takes. He kisses the back of her hand when he nears the door, then swoops in to take Honey’s lips.

“Meet you in the car?”

“Yeah, give me three minutes.” Honey puckers her lips and pecks Trevor’s mouth. “Then I’ll join you.”

“And you’ll tell me that you like me?” Trevor asks. “While I chauffeur you around and find a pretty place to look at the stars?”

“In your dreams,” Honey says.

“We do a lot more than talk about how much we like each other in my dreams,” Trevor replies. “Unfortunately you and I already did the other stuff in real life, so I’m just waiting on those three words.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Honey tells him. If only he knew just what she was thinking– Trevor would be over the moon. She likes him so much that she dared to discover that she loves Trevor, in this bizarre turn of events. Maybe Trevor’s asking Honey if she likes him because he, somehow, has figured out that she’s in love with him. Ughhhhhh.

Trevor slips from the bedroom first, giving himself a head start. Honey primps her hair in the mirror above his dresser while she waits her three minutes, which gives Trevor enough time to start the car and get the AC running before she joins him.

They escape from the house without running into the guys, although Honey can hear them talking in the distance. They probably look out the window once Trevor starts driving down the road that leads up to the house, but Honey shields her face from the window so they can’t see her even if they tried to be big snoops.

Cole especially has a problem with snooping– he texted Honey from Quinn’s phone yesterday. She’s not sure if he read all of their messages, but she’d glad that they hadn’t been chatting about Honey and Trevor’s relationship that day. It would have been very weird for Cole to read messages about Honey and Trevor being together and all mushy when they regularly refer to themselves as 'Zegras Haters.'

It takes them all of ten minutes to drive to the reservoir where they spend their lake days. Trevor parks in the same lot where they always park, but instead of going down towards the boat piers, Trevor slings his arm over Honey’s shoulders and walks toward the swimming piers.

It’s dark out and night has fully fallen, so the piers have been closed for ages. There’s no one around.

“How romantic is this?” Trevor bumps Honey’s hip with his own. “This date is so much better than dinner.”

“This is a date?” Honey asks. “But we already fucked. Why am I buying the cow when I already got the milk for free?”

“Because you’re a wonderful farmer who enjoys animal life,” Trevor says. He drags Honey down when he sits, his feet dangling over the edge of the pier. “I think you’re a very benevolent owner. I am never afraid of you sacrificing me to make burger patties on a whim.”

“You’d make a very tasty burger,” Honey assures Trevor, patting his cheek kindly and settling down against his side. Her feet dangle over the water as well.

Trevor leans over to kiss her and Honey redirects him, clasping his hand with both of hers and looking out onto the water.

“It’s nice out here,” Honey says. “It’s still. The water is.”

Trevor lets out a half-chuckle, smiling with a dipped head. “It is nice out here.” He leans against Honey, pressing his thigh against hers. “But I think it’s the company that makes it nice, not the weather. If it started raining right now, I’d still want to be here with you.”

Honey awws internally. He’s a sweet boy– so sweet that it rots her gut and makes her heart thump. He’s got a rocky exterior, although Honey managed to penetrate that within seconds, even despite her better efforts to keep Trevor at an arm’s length. He’s so good to her.

“I have to tell you something,” Honey says suddenly.

“Oh, yeah?” Trevor asks, quirking his eyebrows. “Sharing a big secret with me?”

“Mm, huge,” Honey says. She grins at Trevor and pinches his chin between her thumb and index finger. “Come closer, I can’t say it out loud.”

Trevor’s smile widens. He shuffles closer, leaning in so he’s about two millimeters from Honey’s lips. “What’s up, baby?” Trevor whispers. “What’s the big secret?”

“I…” Honey trails off, touching Trevor’s waist.

“You…?” Trevor questions, tilting his head and eying Honey’s lips.

“I like…” Honey continues to tease him, balling her fingers in the fabric of Trevor’s shirt.

Trevor wiggles his eyebrows. “You like… me? Is this the big reveal?”

“I like… the idea of going for a swim,” Honey announces with a big shove.

“Hey!” Trevor goes flying off the edge of the pier and swallows a mouthful of water while exclaiming at Honey. He splutters when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out of his face like a dog.

Honey’s laughing aloud, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, the look on your face, Trev,” she giggles.

“Oh, you’re funny,” Trevor says. “You’re very funny, Hon.”

In a flash, he fixes his fingers around her ankle and tugs her into the water with him. Honey is submerged in cold, nighttime water. Her clothes are saturated with the water immediately and Honey can feel her socks, and her shoes, grow heavy.

“Trevor!” Honey shouts.

Trevor swims closer and wraps his arms around Honey, treading water and keeping them afloat. “What, baby? You said you liked the idea of a swim. I wasn’t going to be the only one in the water.” Trevor finishes his sentence with a kiss, palming Honey’s ass over his soaked boxers.

Honey frowns. “Trevor,” she complains. “Ugh, you’re so mean to me. You got my shoes all wet.”

“You started it,” Trevor tells her. He nuzzles against Honey’s neck and kisses up to her mouth.

“Ugh, but now I have to put my shoes in the dryer,” Honey says. “Maybe I’ll use the dryer at the Nook so that I don’t break my own, but I bet Ada would get mad at me.”

“I don’t know how Ada could get mad at your pretty face,” Trevor murmurs.

“I don’t think she cares about how pretty I am,” Honey replies. She kisses him briefly, then swims back to the pier and pulls herself up. “Neither will you when I drip all over the interior of your car.”

“Nah, you’re always pretty to me,” Trevor says, paddling after her. “I think I’d think you’re pretty even when you’re deathly ill.”

“I hope you never see me when I’m deathly ill,” Honey scolds, cutting her eyes at Trevor. “I’m notoriously grumpy when I’m sick. Bea hates it.”

“Bea doesn’t like you as much as I do.” Trevor pulls himself onto the pier as well, then whips off his shirt and wrings it out. “That’s just a fact.”

“I don’t know, Trev. She’s known me longer.”

“Not quite as intimately,” Trevor says. He pulls Honey closer, looping his wet shirt over her shoulders and dragging her forward. He bends down and kisses her. “Wanna sneak back into the house and spend the night with me?”

“Maybe we go straight to my house instead?” Honey asks.

“I don’t have clothes there,” Trevor points out.

Honey eyes Trevor. “You don’t need clothes at my house, Trev.”

“Oh!” He exclaims. His teeth glint under the moonlight, smile wolfish. “If you want me naked, just say so.”

“I will claim no such thing.”

Trevor hums. “You don’t have to say it out loud. I know the truth. You need more milk from your cow.”

Honey laughs. “That sounds so gross when you say it like that,” she groans.

Trevor draws Honey’s t-shirt up as much as he can before she shoves it back down, covering her stomach and the underboob that Trevor exposed. She glares at him, but all Trevor does is grin.

With his hair all wet and stringy like that, and his nose dripping with water droplets, and his skin glimmering under the moonlight, Honey can’t do anything but take back her glare and kiss him again.

67:90 – TREVOR

“When do you guys leave?” Honey asks, reaching into the communal pile of laundry and coming up with a t-shirt. “Whose is this?”

“Mine,” Luke says.

“We leave tomorrow,” Quinn adds.

Honey folds the shirt and hands it to Luke to put in his pile. She frowns. “What about–”

“We’re not leaving until after the softball game, don’t worry,” Bea assures Honey. “I already signed the boys up to play, anyway, so we can’t miss it. Earl wouldn’t be happy with us if we left early and took three of his players.”

“I’m surprised you’re going to Michigan with the guys,” Trevor tells Bea offhandedly, folding some of Cole’s socks into a little ball and launching them at the boy. “Are you ready to hang out with Ellen and Jim while the boys are on the shoot?”

“I don’t think I’ll be hanging out with them that much,” Bea laughs. “Q said I could come to the shoot if I wanted.”

“Big Jim will take you golfing, probably,” Cole says. “He’s finally got someone he can beat.”

“He’ll be sorely disappointed when I turn him down,” Bea replies. “I’d rather tan at the pool.”

“You can do whatever you want at the house,” Quinn says directly to Bea. “Don’t let Mom and Dad pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.” He pats Bea’s behind before grabbing another article of clothing from the pile.

Doing communal laundry has become a once a week thing. It’s easier for them to do laundry together than to each do laundry for themselves– plus, this way, there are at least five people doing the folding. The pile of clothes disappears much quicker when they’re all helping out, rather than when Trevor would do his laundry alone.

“What’s the schedule like for the shoot?” Honey asks.

Jack shrugs. “We’ll be there all day, probably. We have to do a lot of media so they can stagger the release. Then Quinn and Bea are coming back on Monday so that Bea can go to work–” He pointedly side-eyes Honey, who shrugs with one shoulder and smiles to herself. Trevor presumes she made a big deal out of Bea missing a week of work to hang out in Michigan, not that it truly matters. “And Luke and I will hang out at the house with Mom and Dad until next Thursday.”

“We’ll be without you for a whole week?” Honey laments sarcastically, grabbing Jack’s left hand with both of her own and holding it close to her chest, like she’s clutching at her pearls. “Whatever will we do!”

Jack pulls his hand free and sneers at Honey. “Fuck off.”

“He’s excited to go home,�� Cole says, grinning widely and reaching over to punch Jack’s arm. “Jack might never come back, actually. You know it was a big fight to get him here in the first place.”

“I’ll come back,” Jack groans, lips tilted down like they always are when people start to poke fun at him. “It wasn’t that big a deal when we first got here.”

“We had to triple-belt you in the backseat,” Trevor says. He snorts out a laugh and grabs a pair of Jack’s underwear from the pile– they’d all decided separately that they’d do their intimates on their own time, but Jack seems to have missed the memo. Well, that, or he just doesn’t care.

“You didn’t have to,” Jack grumbles. “You just did it to piss me off. It’s like how you made me take the first shift driving, even though I’d just woken up.”

“Technically, it wasn’t the first shift,” Trevor corrects. “After all, Coley and I had to drive down to N.J. to pick you up.”

Jack’s face stiffens and sours. “I don’t want to hear about your technicalities,” he says.

Trevor shrugs, smug because Jack can’t manage to form a proper reply… likely because Trevor stated only facts and Jack can’t be delusional when faced with facts.

“It’s okay, Jacky. I’m not so emotionally repressed that I can’t admit when I’ll miss someone,” Honey tells him in a sickeningly sweet voice, petting over Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll say it enough for the both of us. We’ll miss you so much while you’re gone for one whole week. I mean, what’s Trevor going to do without you?”

To seal her joke, Trevor makes a kissy face at Jack.

Jack doesn’t take the joke well, even though everyone else is chuckling at the unfolding events. He curls his lip at Trevor, looking judgmental and offended.

The conversation lulls after that. The pile is down to the last ten items– all pairs of Jack’s underpants– and everyone disperses.

Cole and Bea disappear upstairs to make some bowls of ice cream for the group, Honey and Luke head off to the foosball table to compete in something new for a change, and Quinn sits down in the middle of the sofa and kicks his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. He whistles as he sits, the opposite of intimidating, so Trevor decides to join him. Jack is still folding his own laundry.

“Hey, man,” Trevor says, knocking Quinn with his elbow as he hops over the back of the couch and settles down on the cushion next to Quinn.

Quinn side-eyes him. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Why are you talking to me,” Quinn replies in a monotone voice.

Trevor rolls his eyes. Can’t he talk to his friend without a fight? “Because you’re so approachable,” he tells Quinn sarcastically. “No, really. I was going to ask you about going to Mich.”

“What about going to Michigan?” Quinn asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you excited to go back?” Trevor asks. His questions start easy– he doesn’t want Quinn to refuse to answer him right away. He gives himself four questions before Quinn frowns and leaves the couch.

Quinn looks at Trevor. “Yeah. Michigan is fun.”

Well, he’s responding, but he’s giving Trevor absolutely nothing to work with. Trevor might as well cut to the chase now and evict Quinn from the couch with his questions.

He will refrain– Trevor wants to get full use of all four of his questions.

“Did Jim get the boat ready for y’all?” Trevor asks.

“Y’all,” Quinn repeats with a scoff. “Careful, Z. You’re starting to sound like Honey.”

“Not Honey,” Trevor says with a look over his shoulder. He wants to make sure no one is listening in. “I’m just picking up the colloquialisms of the locals.”

Quinn’s eyes widen and he laughs. “The colloquialisms? We’ve gotta get you out of here. You’re starting to sound smart. That’s against nature.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. He’s smart. He reads books. It’s not Litchton’s fault that he seems intelligent. “Well, did he?”

“He’s been keeping the boat warm all summer,” Quinn says. “Just because we aren’t there doesn’t mean Jim and Ellen can’t enjoy the water. They’re still doing all the normal shit, just without us.”

“Bro, you’re so dry,” Trevor complains. “I’m just trying to talk with you.”

“No, Trevor, you’re trying to butter me up so I don’t walk away when you ask me about Bea. Go ahead and ask. I know you want to.”

How does he know? Is he a psychic? A mind reader? Does Trevor hate Quinn– possibly. He gets closer and closer to saying yes every day. Just when they make headway… they stop.

Fine. Three questions is enough for Trevor.

“Why did you invite her?” Trevor asks, trying not to sound as blunt as the question is.

“To Michigan,” Quinn clarifies. “Why did I invite her to Michigan?”

“Yeah,” Trevor says.

Quinn starts to laugh, loud. “Because she’s my girlfriend, Trevor. Yeah, I’m going to take her home with me and my brothers.”

Trevor checks over his shoulders. Honey is watching him, one eyebrow raised. Everyone else is minding their business– everyone else being Luke, as Jack has gone upstairs to put his laundry away and Bea and Cole have not returned yet.

“Yeah, but, like, you’re breaking up,” Trevor says. “Why would you take her home if you’re breaking up?”

“God, you guys are all obsessed with me and Bea breaking up,” Quinn groans. “It’s not the end of the world. We’re on the same page– her and me. That’s it. We’re the only people who need to know about our relationship.”

“That’s fine, I just don’t get it,” Trevor concedes, frowning at Quinn. “I’m asking because I want you to explain it to me.”

“I don’t know why you need to know so bad,” Quinn deflects.

Trevor shakes his head in frustration and leans in close. “My girlfriend cares a whole lot about Bea’s happiness,” Trevor hisses lowly. “So, yeah, I need as much information as I can get. For her.”

“Don’t act like you’re asking this for Honey,” Quinn says. “You’re nosy, bro. You’re asking this for yourself.”

Trevor pauses, staring at Quinn. “Look, I know I get on your nerves, man. I get that you would hang with any of the other guys over me,” he informs Quinn in his lowest, deadliest voice. “But we’re still buddies. We’ve known each other forever. I’m allowed to ask about your life. So, really, Quinn. Why did you invite Bea to the lake house?”

Quinn’s eyes drift over to the aforementioned girl, who is now bounding down the stairs with two bowls of ice cream in her hands. She beelines for Honey, handing over the bowl in her left hand, and begins eating one of the scoops in her own bowl. Her eyes are rapt on the foosball table and Quinn’s are stuck on her. He smiles slightly and Trevor thinks that he’s forgotten about the question.

“We just want to spend as much time together as we can before I go,” Quinn replies.

Trevor looks over his shoulder, following Quinn’s gaze. Bea has turned to them and sticks her tongue out at Quinn, a bit of ice cream still coating the muscle. She smiles wide.

Next to Bea, Honey’s got a look of determination on her face that is unrivaled by any of the competitive men in the house. Her lips are pressed together, teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheeks, and her knuckles are nearly white against the rods that control her foosball team.

God, she’s gorgeous. They spent nearly twenty-four hours together yesterday– and into this morning– and Trevor still hasn’t quite gotten his fill of her. They should go upstairs. They should go upstairs, to Trevor’s bed, and never leave it. They’ll teleport back to Anaheim together and Trevor will only teleport out of bed to go to the rink for practices and games, otherwise he’ll be stuck to Honey’s side like gorilla glue.

Quinn’s words make a lot of sense. It’s the first of August. They’ve only got twenty-four days left together. Why wouldn’t Bea go to Michigan with the boys?

“Yeah,” Trevor breathes out. He nods, but it’s mostly to himself. “I get it.”

When Luke gives up on foosball and runs to take his own laundry upstairs, Trevor gets up from the couch and joins Honey.

“Are you free tonight?” Trevor mumbles, tugging on her belt loop discreetly as he adjusts the pronged scoring unit on the end of the table. He straightens out the goalie so that he’s standing tall.

“Are you trying to come over?” Honey replies.

“I thought we’d try again on the whole ‘I like you’ thing,” Trevor teases. “No lake this time. Just you, me, and my tongue on your pretty pussy. How many times do you think I can make you come before you say that you like me?”

Honey blanches and looks around the basement. “Someone could hear you, Trevor.”

Trevor looks down. “Do you think we could tell them sometime?” He’s fiddling with the foosball players now, rounding the other side of the table and taking two of the rods in his hands. He’s sheepish when he continues and as quiet as he can be without anyone other than Honey hearing him. Cole has finally returned downstairs, as has Jack. “I want– I miss touching you.”

Honey makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “We can… talk about it. Later. Saturday. When everyone’s gone.”

“Cole won’t be gone,” Trevor points out, but he’s smiling. Honey is willing to have a conversation about going public– that’s a good sign.

Honey stares at him with a reproachful eye.

“I’ll dispose of him,” Trevor amends, trying to hide his smile from the girl. He doesn’t want her to know how excited he is that they’re moving forward in their relationship. If he can just get her to admit that she has feelings for him, then they’ll be golden.

“Good,” Honey tells him curtly. “Now drop the ball– I’m gonna kick your butt. Whoever loses has to pay Griffin for the weed we’ll consume while the Hugheses are gone.”

68:90 – HONEY

“Stop heckling me!” Jack snaps. His head turns towards the bleachers so quickly that he might have given himself whiplash. He points the end of the bat at Bea and Honey, glaring ferociously. “How do you expect me to bat when you’re yelling constantly?”

“Aren’t you an athlete?” Honey calls back. “You can’t handle a little heckling from the audience?”

“My audience is always behind the glass!”

“Stop making excuses!” Bea shouts, shaking her fist above her head. “Hit the ball!”

“Yeah, hit the ball!” Cole echos from second base.

“You guys should be ejected,” Jack grumbles with a scowl.

“We’ve been coming to these games a lot longer than you have, Jack,” Honey tells him. “You’re just some eye candy for the ladies. Right, ladies?”

Scarlett hoots next to Honey, clapping enthusiastically.

Litchton’s annual softball game usually goes one of two ways: not enough people sign up to play and they dissolve the game after three innings or…

Well, they’re in the fifth inning now and the concession stand– Sarah and her husband’s traveling bar cart from the wine shop– is almost out of alcohol. Honey, Bea, and the ladies practically monopolized the shooters that Sarah brought. The seven of them had finished all thirty of the shooters by the time the third inning ended. It’s not as crazy as it sounds, to be fair. It was only four shots each, plus an extra for Honey and Bea. The founding ladies of Litchton had claimed that they were too old to take the remaining shots… even though they had been the ones to choose the stronger drink before the game started. They could’ve had wine or beer, but Scarlett had moseyed behind her daughter’s cart and nabbed the entire pack of tiny vodka bottles for the price of “Sarah, I put clothes on your back and food on your plate for the first two decades of your life, these drinks cost less than that did!”

A lot of the game’s success can be attributed to the boys. It’s not that the other players aren’t good, it’s just that they know each other too well to be competitive.

Earl can’t run anymore, so he’s the permanent pitcher. He stands on the mound and trash-talks every person who comes to the plate, especially the people in town that he’s known their whole lives. The best part is that he always knows exactly what to say to piss those people off and break their focus.

Some of the outsiders– specifically Quinn, Trevor, and Cole– are able to escape Earl’s teasing. They brush it off easily. Quinn handles the jibes about Bea well, chuckling and shaking his head before choking up on the bat. When he hits the ball to the back corner of the field, where Sacha’s husband stands every year despite needing a cane in the winter months, Quinn blows Bea a kiss as he jogs through the bases. Earl doesn’t bring Bea up after that.

Cole escapes because he’s Vera’s favorite– Honey is nearly certain that she’d told Earl something that morning, banning him from talking bad to her Sweetie. Honey can hear it now, imagining Vera taking out her curlers and eying Earl in her vanity mirror, saying, “Now, I better not hear you talk bad to that young man on the field today. He has been nothing but kind and sweet to us, helpin’ with inventory and unloadin’ things for the store. You oughta treat him with some respect.” There’s no confirmation that Vera actually said anything to Earl, but the man only grunts with a stink-eye when Cole comes up to bat. Vera claps and hollers each time he hits the ball and Cole runs through the bases like Rocky, arms raised above his head.

Honey will admit that she was nervous when Trevor came up to bat. Earl knows about her and Trevor– the same way that, apparently, he knows about Bea and Quinn. Her heart was racing when Earl opened his mouth, but all he’s been doing is spouting trash-talk about Trevor’s appearance: his tattoos, his hair that’s too long (well, Earl is an army man and a boomer, so…), his short shorts, and that stupid athletic brace he’s wearing around his ankle. She’s glad that Earl isn’t saying anything, but she also knows that he could. Honey didn’t ask him to keep her relationship hush-hush. All she’d done was say that she didn’t know if Trevor really felt… all that way about her.

Maybe her hesitation had been enough of a sign for Earl to keep quiet. Honey has always liked him and he’s always liked her, in his grumpy old-man grandfather-figure way.

Jack and Luke are a different story. Luke blushes too easily and always greets Earl sheepishly, ever since he’d been called out for chopping his own wood instead of buying some at the hardware store. That makes him an easy target. Jack is too darn cocky for his own good, which is perfect for Earl. With the help of the girls on the sideline, who find it hilarious to giggle about Jack until he’s pouting and shouting in their direction, Earl is able to get under his skin and strike him out. It’s been that way for the last three innings. Jack hasn’t had a good hit since the ladies on the bleachers stopped drinking.

He’s winding up and glaring at Earl again, probably ready to claim that he didn’t hit the ball because the sun was in his eyes, when Bea lays herself down along the bleachers and puts her head on Honey’s lap.

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” Bea asks conversationally.

Honey brings her hand to Bea’s hair and traces it absentmindedly, leaning back on her other palm and lifting her face to bathe her features in the sunlight. It feels nice, like a physical touch, but that’s probably only because Honey is tipsy. “Look at your picture and cry, probably,” Honey teases. “Because I’ll miss you so much.”

Bea’s lips curl into a soft smile, her eyes glinting with affection. “I love it when you’re sweet to me,” she decides. “Sometimes I really think you’re tired of me by now.”

Honey snorts. “I don’t think I could get tired of you, Buzz. If I could, I think we’d know it by now.”

“Where are you going?” Rosalind asks Bea, leaning forward and patting her knee. “You didn’t tell us anything about a vacation when we were knitting this week.”

“It’s a recent thing,” Bea says, waving her off. “I didn’t know I was going on Tuesday. The brothers and I are leaving for Michigan tonight, they have a couple of appointments for their jobs and they wanted to visit their parents. Quinn asked if I wanted to come, so I said yes. We’re heading out after the game.”

“Are you flying?” Sacha asks. “It’s a bit late to be flying, sweetheart. You oughta be on your way if you’re driving down to Charlotte.”

Bea plasters a big smile onto her face. “We are driving,” she says. She pulls her lips back into a grimace, but there’s still a hint of excitement in her expression. “It’s a little over 9 hours and we’re leaving after the game. The boys are going to drive about three hours each and then Q and I will split it on the way back.”

Perhaps Honey and Bea don’t talk enough, or Honey doesn’t ask the right questions, because she had no idea that they’d be driving. Bea’s going to be exhausted on Tuesday when she gets back to work and for once, it won’t be because she was up too late in bed with her boyfriend.

“That’s a long drive,” Honey says. “Are you going to be okay coming to work after that?”

Bea laughs. “Baby-Honey,” she says as if she can’t believe Honey’s concern. “I’ll be fine. Q and I planned the road trip perfectly. We’ll be back at, like, 7:30 on Monday. We’ll get a full night of sleep and everything.”

Honey wants to sass “Oh, you will?” because she knows that Bea and Quinn have never been very committed to a full night’s sleep, but she won’t say that in front of the ladies. Instead, she just nods and watches Luke switch places with Jack– he’d struck out yet again.

“Oh! You girls might tell me,” Gillian says suddenly. “All Emma-Kate said was that her date was ‘good.’ She won’t say anything else! Where did they go? What did they do? Was Luke kind to her?”

“He is a sweetheart,” Bea tells Gillian. She sits up from Honey’s lap, turning to face the elderly woman. Her back is to the game now, but Honey is still watching. Earl has already made Luke turn bright pink and he swings and misses the first pitch.

“C’mon, Lukey, you’re better than that!” Honey calls, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

Luke glances her way, but doesn’t interact.

“Stop heckling!” Jack shouts again, from the dugout this time. “Don’t make me come over there and eject you myself!”

Honey sticks her tongue out at Jack before returning to the conversation around her.

“...then they got ice cream at Sweet Scoop, duh, and they hung out at the rental house for a while. I think they watched a movie,” Bea tells Gillian.

Gillian quirks an eyebrow. “They hung out at the house? I know what you kids mean by that these days. My Emma-Kate is too young for that sort of thing.”

Honey titters, pressing a hand to her lips to cover her mouth. Emma-Kate has been in college for two years and even before that, when she would hang out with Honey and Bea while she visited Litchton in the summers, she was very interested in the romantic lives that the girls lived. She was enthralled with Bea’s ability to date guys casually and feel so confident in herself and she was captivated by the way Honey felt perfectly fine without male attention. Emma-Kate has been capable of making her own romantic and sexual decisions for a long time– at least, it feels that way. She’s 20 years old now, but she’s been asking questions since she was 15. Honey is pretty sure that Emma-Kate has ventured into that world by now.

“All we know is that they held hands after getting ice cream,” Honey tells Gillian. “I didn’t see him kiss her and Luke is a gentleman. He probably wasn’t doing all of that with Emma-Kate, especially not the first time he met her. They’re both smarter than that.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say it’s about being smart,” Bea jumps in, turning her head and frowning at Honey.

Honey rolls her eyes. Of course Bea takes issue with her words, even though Honey has never insulted Bea’s intelligence. She’s a very smart girl. So what if she sleeps with people– Quinn– the first time she meets them? “This isn’t a slight at you,” Honey tells her. “I’m just saying that Emma-Kate and Luke probably didn’t rush into it.”

“Probably not,” Bea agrees. She looks at Gillian. “He might’ve kissed her goodnight when he dropped her off, but I wasn’t there, so I can’t tell you.”

Gillian continues chatting, as do the ladies around them, but Honey and Bea fix their attention on the softball game. Luke managed to hit a single, so he’s on the first base. Cole is on third. Quinn and Trevor are on the field this inning, but they’re due to switch soon. Trevor is in center field and Quinn is on first base, playfully blocking Luke from stealing 2nd base. Jessie’s husband Tyler strikes out, which is the final out of the inning, and then they switch.

Thus starts the sixth inning. They’ve been at the game for what feels like forever, since the morning. It takes time to choose the teams and the positions and, in the many years that they’ve been doing this, no one has made a move to make teams beforehand. Every year, the town swears they will and every year, they forget. It’s been long enough that Honey is starting to wish she was out there– she used to play softball, way back when. She could show these guys a thing or two.

“Actually, I have something I want to ask you ladies about,” Bea says suddenly, swiveling around to straddle the bench and face everyone.

Honey turns to her, intrigued. She eventually turns all the way around so that she, Bea, and the ladies are forming a circle. Her back is to the game, but she can hear Earl chirping Trevor for his white crew socks, now riddled with dirt.

“I’m not asking this because of anything,” Bea clarifies seriously. “So don’t go assuming and don’t go talking to anyone else about it.” She points a finger at each of the ladies, waiting for them to nod before she continues. “How long did it take for your husbands to say ‘I love you?’ Or did they even say it first? How did you feel about it?”

Honey feels like her blood actually runs cold. Obviously, Bea is asking this because of the things that Quinn has been saying for a few weeks. After deciding the whole ‘I love you’ thing was a nonissue, Honey hadn’t even told Bea about her thoughts.

But she knows now, because as soon as Bea finished asking that question, she made eye contact with Honey to come to a silent understanding about her question– which Honey understood the implications of without making eye contact with the girl. When Bea looked over, though, she caught the way Honey’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and her body tensed up. It wasn’t a voluntary reaction, but Bea caught it nonetheless. Since she can read Honey as well as Honey can read Bea, she seems to immediately know what Honey’s reaction signifies.

Bea narrows her eyes at Honey and parts her lips as if to say something, but she snaps her mouth shut and furrows her brow even tighter for just a moment before turning back to the women, who have started talking.

“I don’t think I have a good answer for you, since Earl and I were married after two months of dating. He says he knew since the moment he saw me, but I don’t think we actually said we loved each other until the wedding. He just wanted to take care of me in case he died during the War,” Vera says with a laugh. “It was a very controversial relationship at the time. We were the talk of the town.”

“I remember that!” Rosalind says. “We all thought you were crazy for marrying him. I don’t care if you both grew up in Litchton, you were crazy for marrying a man so soon! Especially not that grump, he’s been the same since he came into this world.”

“He’s a man of few words, not a grump,” Vera corrects.

Honey stifles a smile, dipping her head and looking at her knees. Earl is a grump. Vera’s been using the same statement to defend him for fifty years.

“Did you say it back?” Bea asks.

Vera nods. “It was our wedding. I mean, I felt like I loved him after that first dance at Scruffy’s. God created us for each other and He decided to put me and Earl together at that exact moment. God chose Earl to walk alongside me and help me grow, and when you meet that person, you know. It’s not just fate, you know, it’s God’s grace.”

She means well and Honey knows that Bea can understand what she’s saying, even take it to heart. The problem is that Honey doesn’t believe in the power that Vera, Bea, and the other ladies do. Nothing brought Trevor to her– it all just happened. By chance, he came here. By chance, he ran into her at the fruit stand. She’s not sure why Trevor chose her– not when Bea is right there and so much easier to deal with than Honey is– but he did. And he continues to do so.

Honey’s chest grows a little tighter.

The ladies are nodding solemnly. Bea hums, but her eyes slide over to Honey. She’s always been really good about this– steering the conversation away from religion when Honey grows too uncomfortable. It reminds her of the past.

She used to believe. She really did. Honey went to church with her parents and knew Bible stories, even verses. She would pray. All of that changed when the rest of her life turned upside-down. Before she came to Litchton, Honey felt like she was crying out into a void, with nothing but her own voice echoing back at her. Her calls for guidance went unanswered and the silence was suffocating… and Honey’s belief was completely shaken.

In the first year, Bea tried to reassure Honey with the typical phrases: “God has a plan,” “Everything according to His will,” and so on. They’d gotten into a screaming match one night in Honey’s house, in the dead of winter, and Honey had finally broken. It’s one of her worst moments, one of those things that happen that you immediately regret. She doesn’t even remember what she said– something about how she told God she needed him and he was radio-silent, unwilling to take away her pain– but Honey remembers the look on Bea’s face and the way she’d dissolved into tears, hugging Honey and apologizing for the hurt, unable to let go. Bea always cries during a fight, and even when she has to confront someone in a calm setting, but that was different. Bea never tried to sway Honey about that again, and Honey has never tried to convince Bea that she’s right.

Honey wishes things were as simple as divine intervention. Maybe then, she’d be able to give Trevor all the things he wants without questioning herself. It’s just… more complicated than that.

“What about you all?” Bea asks, looking around. “You didn’t get married after two months. You didn’t know right away, did you?”

Scarlett laughs. “God, no. Sammy didn’t catch my eye until we’d grown up and gone to college and gotten our jobs back here. I’d known him my whole life, but I never thought for a second that I’d love him. Our dating was very casual, you know, because I had to see my options.”

Bea nods very seriously, which makes Honey want to laugh. Scarlett and Bea are two peas in a pod, just born in different generations.

“I think once we started going steady, I started to fall in love with him. He said it first, but it was about… golly, I can barely remember. Six months, maybe? We’d been together for a little while, and he was always slower than me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to say it first, so I think it was about six months. That was a good day,” Scarlett says. “And I did say it back to him, after he’d finally grown the balls to do so.”

“I think William told me he loved me around six months, too,” Sacha adds. “It wasn’t a big deal. We were talking on the phone after dinner one night because he was on a work trip in Philadelphia and I was in Charlotte still, working as a secretary, and he said it when we said goodbye. Casual as can be. I said it back and then I hung up and then I realized what happened and I called Vera– ‘cause she was the only married one of us at the time– and we talked about it all night long.”

“Oh, that was so fun,” Vera says. “I felt like we were gigglin’ at a sleepover and Ma was about to come in the room and tell us to be quiet, or else.”

“Ma loved that ‘or else,’” Rosalind laughs. “That’s what I had to say to Doug. We’d been datin’ for almost a year and he still hadn’t said it, so one day I put my fork down at dinner and I said, ‘Doug. Do you love me?’ and he said ‘Yes, ma’am,’ ‘cause you know Doug is all proper and respectful like that given how his mama was, and I said, ‘Well, you better say it more or else I’m leavin’ you for someone who will!’”

Honey laughs at the way Rosalind delivers the lines, looking out at the field and catching Doug’s position at shortstop. He’s one of their regular customers at The Reading Nook, now that he’s retired from his job as a dentist and found himself with too much time on his hands. He’s always reading James Patterson books. They keep having to order new ones so that he doesn’t run out or reread the same one twice.

“And he’s said it every day since,” Rosalind finishes with a grandiose smile.

All eyes turn expectantly to Gillian.

“I’m not retelling that story again for y’all to laugh at me,” Gillian complains. “You’ve beaten that thing like a dead horse.”

That is definitely not the saying, but Honey isn’t going to correct her.

“C’mon Gilly,” Vera says. “It’s not that bad. We only laugh because you’re still embarrassed over it.”

“What happened?” Bea asks, lips splitting into a smile. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Gillian replies. “It’s not bad. I just happened to say it first. And Art was asleep, so I got away with it. The girls will never let me live it down.”

“Because you packed up all your stuff and high-tailed it over to my apartment to hide from him!” Sacha laughs. “You came all the way to Charlotte just to escape three little words that your boyfriend didn’t hear you say.”

“But he could have,” Gillian argues. “And he would probably think I was crazy!”

That piques Honey’s interest. “Why would he think you’re crazy?” She asks.

Gillian sulks, snapping her mouth shut.

“They’d only been datin’ a month,” Scarlett reveals, patting Gillian’s back and rubbing it. “But it’s fine, because we all trip up and we all make mistakes and you’re still together to this day.”

“Because he didn’t hear me,” Gillian insists. “I’ve never been so lucky that construction tires that man out. His head hits the pillow and he’s done for the day. We hadn’t been dating long enough for me to know that. I was just going into his room to say goodnight– I was staying over because the kitchen in my apartment had caught fire in the middle of the night and I was scared it was going to happen again, I wasn’t sleeping in the same bed with him like you girls do nowadays– and I said, ‘See you tomorrow, Art. Sleep well. I love you,’ like some damn fool!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wake him up with all that noise you made, running away,” Vera says. “But you’ve always been very lucky, so it’s alright.” She turns to Bea. “I know you said no assuming, so I’m just asking you a question.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is this about a certain young man who comes to church with you every Sunday?”

Bea smiles, then zips her lips, locks them, and throws away the key.

The ladies cajole about it, saying that that’s not fair, they told their stories so Bea ought to too… but Honey is elsewhere. She chuckles to herself to save face and make sure the ladies don’t notice that she’s stuck in her own head.

She watches Trevor on the field– they must be in the next inning by now, since he’s back in the center of the grass– and can’t seem to string anything together into a coherent thought. Her head is full of fuzz and fog, thoughts crowded so closely together that she can’t distinguish a single letter, word, picture, or idea.

Bea bumps Honey’s shoulder. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Honey answers. “I was… caught off guard by that.”

“Because…?” Bea trails off, her eyes flickering over to Trevor.

Honey shakes her head. “Nothing happened with him,” she says. “I don’t know.” She grows quieter, although Honey knows all of the ladies at least suspect that she and Trevor are an item. “Even if it did, he’s… he lives in California.”

Bea exhales at her words, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, she touches Honey’s knee. “Yeah. That’s about where I’m at, too.” There’s a pause, then her lips quirk into a smile. “With a few notable differences.”

Like the fact that he’s already said it, Honey thinks to herself, but she doesn’t say it out loud. She knows that’s what Bea is thinking. They continue to look out at Trevor, who’s standing in the field with his hands folded on top of his head, elbows pointed out from his body. He’s standing very casually. The other team is a group of high schoolers, middle-aged dads, and Jack and Luke. Trevor seems very assured that nothing will reach him.

The crack of the bat says otherwise. Trevor’s arms drop to his sides and he seems to wake up, looking skyward. Honey and Bea jerk their attention towards the space between first and home base, where Jack is running. He points at them as he passes, shouting, “See what happens when you’re not heckling?”

69:90 – TREVOR

There is a lawn mower running in Honey’s backyard. It wakes him up. Trevor knows it’s not Honey who’s driving it because he’s got his arm wrapped around her waist and his lips are smushed against the back of her shoulderblade. There’s a bit of drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, probably cooling against Honey’s skin, but Trevor can’t be bothered to move. Honey is warm against his front and he likes that they’re both naked in bed.

“Who’s that,” Trevor questions, although the slurred and sleepy words fall flat when they leave his mouth.

“It’s Griff,” Honey replies. Her voice is as thick as Trevor’s and, to his dismay, she starts to shuffle out of his arms. “He told me he was coming today.”

“No,” Trevor drawls, elongating the word and rolling flat onto his stomach as he occupies the space where Honey was. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I have to go pay the guy, Trev. He doesn’t mow my grass or supply me with weed for free, I’m not Bea,” Honey says. She sits on the edge of the bed for a second, legs curved over the side of the mattress. She takes a big deep breath before she stands, like she’s bracing herself for the day.

Trevor cracks an eye open and watches Honey pull on those old boxers she loves, then a tiny white tank top that does nothing to hide her nipples. He moans into the pillow, annoyed that their day is apparently starting and that Honey is planning to go talk to a man in such scant clothing. If this guy is her weed dealer, he’ll probably look at her tits, too. “Put on your robe or something,” Trevor complains. “I don’t want this guy to see your tits.”

“Griffin doesn’t care about my tits, babe.” Honey scratches gently over Trevor’s back, soothing him with her nails.

Trevor moans more softly this time, muffled against the pillow. He can feel his cock stir against the mattress, just from Honey’s touch. “Just come back quick, I wanna go back to sleep. Can I put my cock inside you while we sleep? You’re so warm.”

“Mmm… let me think about that. Probably not this morning,” Honey says. “Stay here while I talk to Griffin, okay?”

Trevor pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Wait, is this the same Griffin who’s the cop?”

“That’s the one!” Honey replies cheerfully. She leaves Trevor alone in the bed, traipsing down from the loft with quiet steps.

Trevor buries his face back in the pillow, Honey’s pillow, and wraps his arms around it. It smells like her– all vanilla and laundry detergent. She washed her sheets on Thursday. She’s almost militant with her bedsheet schedule; she washes them on the 1st and the 15th of every month, normally. She’s had to wash them more often since Trevor has been around, given that her sheets usually get sweaty and wet when he’s around.

Not that he’s bragging. It’s merely a fact.

He dozes off while Honey is gone, only coming back to full consciousness once the bed dips and Honey tucks Trevor’s hair behind his ear. “I’m going to have to douse one of my shirts in perfume for you before you leave, aren’t I,” Honey teases softly. “I wasn’t even gone ten minutes and you’re holding onto my pillow for dear life, Trev.”

“Missed you,” Trevor sighs. He stretches, holding onto Honey’s pillow with one hand as he rolls onto his back and spreads his arms to the side. “Cuddle me.”

“So needy,” Honey laughs. She pulls the tank top over her head and tosses it to the foot of the bed, then discards her boxers. Trevor bites his lower lip as he takes her in, then Honey climbs back into bed and curls up into his arms. “What do you want to do today?”

“I want to go back to bed for now,” Trevor replies. The clock on Honey’s nightstand says that it’s not even 8:00. “We can sleep ‘til whenever, but I don’t want to leave this bed until, like, ten.” He kisses over Honey’s face, even as she giggles and tries to push him away. “And then we can do whatever you want.”

Honey groans. “Ugh, I don’t know if I can fall asleep again. Usually, once I’m up, I just get up.”

“Well, that’s okay, we can go make breakfast if you want,” Trevor offers.

“No,” Honey says, pressing her palm against Trevor’s bare chest. “No-no. We’ll take a little nap because it’s what you want to do, and then we’ll smoke a little bit because it’s what I want to do. Griffin brought the goods over this morning. The mowed lawn was just a perk.”

Trevor snuffles out a laugh. “Do you think it’s weird that you get drugs from a cop?”

Honey frowns. “No. Griffin can’t smoke it, and it’s not like they can burn it, and the old guys don’t know how to get rid of it. They just let Griff take care of it. It’s not like there’s a lot of weed running rampant in Litchton, so this is a luxury.” Honey puckers her lips and waits for Trevor to kiss her before continuing. “Plus, we have texts from him about selling the weed. So if he ever arrested us, we could literally prove that he was the dealer. He’d be caught up in it too.”

“You’re evil,” Trevor tells Honey, although he doesn’t mean it. “Blackmailing a cop.”

“We’re not blackmailing, it’s a mutual understanding,” Honey says with an eyeroll. “He’s a friend. Hey–”

“Hey,” Trevor interrupts, grinning stupidly when Honey cuts her eyes at him.

“–Speaking of friends, do you think Cole is going to be lonely without you at the house today?”

“I think he’s okay,” Trevor says with a laugh. “When I left last night, he was in the hot tub with a beer. He’s probably doing just fine. He lives alone most of the time, so an empty house is probably very refreshing.”

“Hmm, I’ll believe you,” Honey decides. She narrows her eyes suspiciously at Trevor for a moment, then cuddles even closer to Trevor. She plants a kiss securely between his pecs, along his sternum– right over his heart– and rests her head there. She closes her eyes.

Trevor pulls her closer and falls back asleep.

The next time they wake, Honey’s head is tucked into Trevor’s neck and she’s laying with her leg over his hip. Her tits are pressed up against Trevor’s torso and, really, how can he be blamed for having half of a hard-on whenever she’s around? She’s making little noises against his neck. They’re not quite snores, but that’s the closest comparison. Her arms are wrapped tightly around his waist, preventing Trevor from going anywhere. Not that he would.

With a look at the clock, Trevor can see that it’s past 9:00. He reaches over to the nightstand and finds his phone, which he hasn’t opened since he got to Honey’s house last night. He’d actually turned it off– if Cole needed anything, he’d have to call 911 or one of the Hughes boys. As Trevor turns the phone back on, the messages start to roll in.

And they keep. Coming.

Message after message comes in. Trevor watches them appear, watches the tiny red bubble at the corner of his message app grow and grow. At first, he’s concerned that something happened. He waits for the messages to stop popping up, then enters the app to check the damage.

His mind goes in a number of directions– something happened at home, something happened to his family, someone died, he got traded out of nowhere, he’s going to have to move to another city and cut his time in Litchton short…

Save for four texts, which are from his mom, Jamie, and Cole, every message is from Bea.

One hundred and twenty six messages.

All from Bea.

Trevor presses his lips together in a thin line, clicking on her messages and scrolling to the top.

As he reads through the barrage of messages, Trevor feels like he’s seeing red. Every message is from Bea’s stream of consciousness– he’d be fine if Bea had sent over a hundred messages about “oh the car broke down,” “we have a popped tire,” “i think we have to stop for a hotel because xyz happened”... but all of them… every single one… is a complaint, question, or thought about the car ride.

To name a few:

Jack won’t vacate the front seat :( I can’t even hold hands with Quinn so unfair

We’re on potty stop #3 and it’s only been 2 hours THIS IS SHIT

We r never going to make it to Mich

omg Luke just started driving and I think I am afraid for my life

Why does Jack skip every song on the playlist after like 1 min…

Trevor they are SO LOUD I can’t even fall asleep how do u deal with these fuckers

Also why aren’t you replying :(

I know you’re with Honey, u guys should save me from this :((

Quinn fell asleep I’m bored

Ohio is the worst state in the world to drive thru

I don’t like the merge lanes

Ok now Jack is driving and NOW I’m scared for my life… if I don’t text you that we made it, assume that we didn’t.

ok we made it TTYL give Honey a kiss for me

Those are just a few. The rest of the messages are similar or the same– and Trevor knows that being on road trips with the Hughes brothers is hard, especially when it’s your first one and it’s nine hours long– but this is not what he wanted when he and Bea exchanged phone numbers.

“What are you reading?” Honey murmurs, lifting her head and craning her neck to see his phone.

Trevor is doing his very best to stay calm, but he feels a lot like a pot of water that’s about to boil over. He knows that his reaction is irrational and over the top, but Bea sent him more than one hundred messages overnight. He thought he was getting traded. He thought someone died. He thought that he’d have to leave Litchton– leave Honey– to deal with whatever big news had overtaken his phone. Instead, he had gotten worked up and anxious about nothing. It was just Bea. Just Bea!

Bea, who is Honey’s best friend but a constant thorn in Trevor’s side. He can’t deny that she’s a nice person, or a good friend, but she seems to derive some sick sense of pleasure from annoying him and it’s too much. He didn’t sign up for this. He doesn’t want to be Bea’s middleman. He doesn’t want to be the person she texts when she’s annoyed with the brothers, just because he’s known them his whole life. He doesn’t want to have to hand over his phone to her when Quinn is away so that they can call.

Trevor shoves the phone into Honey’s hands. “I know she’s your best friend, but I can’t fucking do this,” he tells Honey. He detangles himself from Honey’s grip and leaves the bed, finding his own boxers and a pair of sweatpants. “This shit can’t be happening. I don’t care enough about what Bea is thinking to tolerate a hundred and twenty-six messages about nothing of importance.”

Honey raises her eyebrows in surprise, holding Trevor’s phone delicately in her hand. She blinks at him, then brings the phone to eye level and begins to scroll. Her brows are pursed as she starts reading, but occasionally she’ll smile or laugh or roll her eyes in reaction to a text.

Trevor just stands there, breathing hard and trying to hold onto his temper. The silence is awkward, and Trevor feels silly about his stance. Honey is laying comfortably on the bed, toying with her hair with one hand and moving through the texts with the other. The covers are sliding down her body and Trevor can nearly see one of her piercings, just a breeze or a shift away from being revealed, and that is doing nothing to aid his continued frustration. He is determined to hang onto this irritation, but it’s getting harder with each passing minute.

Finally, Honey removes the phone from her eyeline and looks at Trevor with an amused smile on her face. “Not liking my best friend is a dealbreaker, you know,” Honey says.

Trevor almost immediately deflates. “I like Bea just fine,” he groans, rolling his head back and running his hands through his hair. “I just hate it when she blows up my phone.”

“Baby, how often does she blow up your phone?” Honey asks, starting to laugh. “I’m sure she was only texting you because she wasn’t going to say these things out loud with all of the brothers in the car. She hates confrontation.”

“But I’m the only one with her number, so she only ever texts me, and she’s not shy about it because she doesn’t care if she’s annoying me,” Trevor explains, feeling childish even though it’s true. “And I hate it.”

“Why are you the only one with her number?” Honey scrunches her nose up in confusion. She sits up and reaches for her tank top at the foot of the bed.

“You’ll have to ask her,” Trevor says. He’s momentarily distracted by Honey’s chest and the way her breasts move when she pulls the shirt on. “It’s stupid. Like, she won’t give her number to Quinn because then Jack will want it. If Jack wants it, Cole wants it. If all of them have it, then Luke feels left out. I was her middleman at the beginning of the summer, but like… it’s not like she has to organize hookups now.” His voice turns to a grumble and Trevor looks down at the ground, a little embarrassed by his complaint. “She could give her number to Quinn, at least. He could keep it a secret from Jack.”

“Quinn doesn’t have Bea’s phone number,” Honey repeats, her voice flat and full of doubt. She scoffs. “They’re dating.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Trevor says. He crosses back over to the bed and sits across from Honey, crossing his legs like he used to in kindergarten.

Honey blinks at Trevor, thinking hard. She purses her lips.

Trevor would pay buckets of money to know what she’s thinking right now. “I guess it’s not that big a deal,” he says after a minute. He leans over and presses a kiss to her lips, pretending like her pursed-thinking was an invitation.

She bats him away. Again, she picks up his phone and goes to unlock it, but she stops short at the wallpaper.

Oh, yeah. He’d forgotten about that.

“When did you take this picture?” Honey asks, voice controlled and neutral. There’s no way to know which way this will go.

It’s an image of the trail where they did their first hike, after they’d gotten to the peak and she’d started to let down the guarded, exterior walls that kept her safe. It was the first day that she’d really told him about herself– that her favorite movie was 13 Going on 30 solely because of the scene where Billy Joel’s “Vienna” plays, that she’d gotten the job at The Reading Nook because Ada had known her since she was a kid exploring Litchton on her own, that she didn’t talk to her parents anymore and she left Charlotte because of “something that happened” (which Trevor now knows), and that she learned how to play pool from a bunch of the dads in town. In the picture, she’s a few yards ahead of him, surrounded by greenery. She’s standing on a tree branch, one they’d crossed to get over a ditch, and her hair is tied into a knot at the base of her neck.

“On our hike,” Trevor answers. “When Ada made you hang out with me because you were mean to me when Jamie left.”

Honey looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “Oh, Jamie. I miss that guy.”

Trevor goes to agree, but he remembers that Jamie kissed Honey before Trevor did, so he doesn’t. Instead, he narrows his eyes. “Do you?” He asks.

Honey pays him no mind, except for rolling her eyes and holding up her index finger to silence Trevor. She clicks around on the phone, then holds it up to her ear.

“What are you doing?” Trevor asks, leaning in so he can hear the phone ringing.

Honey shushes him and pushes him away. “Hi, Bumblebea,” Honey says sweetly. As she continues, her tone turns on its head. She snaps, “Stop texting my boyfriend. You’re getting on our nerves. You can text me all you want, but he’s tired of it.”

She continues on, ranting about how Bea is perfectly capable of giving Quinn her contact information, even if it means Jack, Cole, and Luke start texting her regularly. Trevor, though, doesn’t hear any of it. Honey called him her boyfriend.

He’s going to fuck her so good tonight.

Why wait ‘til tonight? He thinks.

Trevor touches Honey’s thigh, but she bats him away again and points a threatening finger in his direction. Even the glare on her face isn’t enough to deter him– he wants to be good, he does. He wants to be patient and put off the kissing and touching and fucking until she’s off the phone, but Honey said Trevor was her boyfriend and she has never said that before.

He’s more insistent this time as he shuffles forward and fills the space between her neck and her shoulder with a messy kiss. His hands are on her waist and Honey leans back against the headboard, bringing her free hand to Trevor’s hair and yanks him away.

She flashes him a warning glare and continues talking, telling Bea off through the receiver.

Trevor sits back on his heels, but he lasts all of a minute before his eyes drift to Honey’s naked bottom half. If he could just spread her legs a little bit, he could get right between them and… well, be a good boyfriend.

Honey closes her eyes and sighs, listening to something Bea is saying on the other end. Trevor seizes his opportunity, spreading her inner thighs enough to make room for his head. His thumb spreads her folds once and he nearly gets his tongue on her clit before Honey bops him on the head like a whack-a-mole.

“Ow!” Trevor exclaims, retreating and kneeling back on his heels like a scolded puppy. He holds the back of his head, wincing.

“Would you behave? I am on the phone!” Honey hisses. She sounds more like a mother being bothered by her child than a girlfriend receiving head from her boyfriend.

Trevor pouts, making his eyes nice and big as he continues to rub the back of his head.

“No, I don’t know, Bea. He just tried to fucking eat me out while I’m on the phone with you,” Honey snaps, practically snarling into the phone. Her eyes don’t leave Trevor, keeping him in place.

Trevor is close enough that he can hear Bea’s laughter through the speaker. “Probably because you called him your boyfriend, silly,” Bea exclaims.

Honey’s eyes widen. “No, I didn’t,” she says, disbelief written all across her features. Trevor nods and leans in, but Honey places her hand on his chest and keeps him in place.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Is Trevor drooling all over you right now? More than normal?”

Trevor’s hands are on Honey’s thighs, palming the skin there and stroking it lightly with his thumb. He’s staring at her, eyes fixed on her pretty mouth. That’s the mouth that just confirmed that they’re boyfriend-girlfriend. Trevor thinks he might paint a picture of it and hang the picture up in his apartment back in California, so that he can look at her lips every day. He’s going to need something to look at if she’s still in Litchton during the season, but he might be able to convince her to visit once a month…

“Not– more than normal,” Honey replies, but her voice is a little shaky and high, like it is when she starts to lie. She’s bad at lying.

Trevor rolls his eyes and takes her free hand from his chest, bringing it to the back of his head. He pouts at her, patting her palm over the place where she smacked him. Honey’s fingers tighten in his locks like a reflex, scratching his scalp in a satisfying massage. Trevor sighs, then leans forward to kiss Honey’s neck again. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. He likes that.

“You definitely called him your boyfriend. Trevor can vouch, I wasn’t the only one who heard that. Ask him.”

“I did not call him that,” Honey insists. She glances to Trevor for confirmation.

He does not give her the answer she wants to hear. He’s too giddy with excitement, feeling like he could jump as high as the moon. His smile, and the kiss that he slathers onto her collarbone, are answer enough for Honey.

Her hand drops and she ends the call, cutting Bea off in the middle of a sentence. It’s only a moment before the phone starts to buzz again, but they both ignore it.

Trevor even tosses it across the room, not caring if the screen cracks and breaks. Honey is his girlfriend and he’s her boyfriend. Trevor kisses over her neck again, humming against her skin. He’s just about to say… something, although he’s not sure what, since his head is full of excitement and too overjoyed to properly think, but Honey speaks instead.

“Wait,” Honey says, her throat sounding tight. Her voice seems a little strangled. “Stop.”

Wait. Stop.

The joy falls to the back of Trevor’s mind immediately, and his thoughts flood with something else. Wait. Stop. He pulls away, really pulls away, and sits all the way on the foot of the bed.

Honey pulls the blankets over herself and covers her face with her hands. She takes a deep breath and swallows hard, then scrubs her hands over her face. She continues to cover her mouth, but Trevor can see how her eyes are somehow dazed and moving with thoughts, like she can physically see everything going through her head, and she’s unable to focus on one thing.

Normally, Trevor is okay with handling Honey’s anxiety. She can calm down from a touch or a soft question, but… he doesn’t know what to say. Wait and stop, said in that choked voice, echo through his brain. Over and over. Wait. Stop.

Honey’s eyes finally fix on a point in front of her, slightly to Trevor’s right. She stares at one spot on the floor, near her dresser on the opposite wall. She takes a shaky breath, still covering her mouth with her hands, and closes her eyes. Her eyebrows draw together, creating that wrinkle that Trevor always wants to kiss away, and she shakes her head.

Trevor feels like there’s cement in his throat, drying quickly and unable to swallow.

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that.

But it’s a long time.

“I don’t like that word,” Honey says quietly, after all that time has passed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hands leave her mouth and cross her chest, hugging herself. Trevor can see goosebumps on her arms. She turns her head and one shoulder moves upward, kind of like a shrug. “It’s… it’s what you are, but I don’t like that word.”

The edges of her lips turn down and Honey meets Trevor’s eyes. She steals a glance at his expression, then her gaze falls to his hands. They’re clasped in his lap. He’s squeezing his thumb to try and ground himself. She looks like a cornered animal, like one of those scared dogs in the shelter.

Trevor just– he doesn’t know what to do.

The confirmation is there. She’s not denying what she said. Honey admits that Trevor is her boyfriend, but there’s no pleasure in hearing her say it this time. In saying it, she seems to lump him in the same category as him. The other one. The one who ruined everything.

“I’m never going to do that to you,” Trevor breathes. His voice grows a little louder. While Trevor was serious before, now his tone is grave. He continues, and it’s more than a promise or a swear– he’s pledging. “I will never try to hurt you. He and I, we’re not– we’re not the same. I might, y’know, be stupid and make you upset but I’d never– not on purpose. And nothing like that.”

Honey sniffs and nods. “I know,” she says. “I–” She cuts herself off and shakes her head, taking a deep breath to center herself. She raises her hands and wipes under her eyes, removing the line of moisture from her waterline. When she speaks again, Honey’s voice is much stronger. “I know you’re not him.” She presses her lips together.

Trevor waits for more, but nothing comes. Instead, Honey meets his eyes and she wells up again. Her frown turns into a pout and she holds out her arms.

Trevor collapses into them and falls back on the pillows, keeping her close to his chest. He kisses over her face, on all the teardrops that managed to escape. He’s so– so happy. His heart is bursting at the seams and he really wishes he could tell her how much he loves her, but that’s probably a bit much for her right now. Calling him her boyfriend and having to reply to a declaration of love? She’d start convulsing and breaking into sparks like a malfunctioning robot. But he does– he does. He’s relieved, and happy, and he’s holding Honey in his arms, and it’s okay.

Boyfriend and girlfriend. August 3rd might just be the best day of Trevor Zegras’ whole life. Honey is his– she said so.

After he’s done peppering her face with kisses, he holds her tight. He listens to her breath and strokes her hair, letting her take all the time she needs to process the change.

“You asked on Thursday if we could tell them,” Honey says eventually.

“Mhm,” Trevor hums, confirming that he remembers.

“I don’t, um.” Honey’s voice falls to nearly a whisper. “I don’t think I’m ready for everyone to know just yet.”

The only thing about her sentence that disappoints Trevor is the way Honey says it– like he’s going to be angry with her. God, he’s elated that they’re even together. If Honey isn’t ready to tell, then they don’t have to. Trevor can’t imagine telling her no, or fighting her on this, after she took such a big leap today.

“That’s okay,” Trevor says. “We don’t have to tell them yet.”

“Just give me a couple of weeks,” Honey says. “I think I can–”

“No rush,” Trevor interrupts. He kisses the top of her head. “Take your time. Just don’t change your mind about today. I really, really want to be your boyfriend.”

Honey blushes and hides her face in his chest. “Fine,” she mumbles, voice muffled by his skin. “I’ll consider keeping you around.”

Trevor laughs and kisses her again. He really hopes she’s up for that Very Good Fucking he’s planning to give her tonight, maybe after a romantic dinner that he cooks just for her. Plans for the day be damned– all Trevor wants is to be with his beautiful, thoughtful, brave, sexy girlfriend, no matter what they do.

70:90 – HONEY

“No, put your hands on my boobs,” Cole commands with a huff, grabbing Honey’s wrists and pulling her into place. “This is supposed to be weird, Honey. I want you to touch my tits.”

Honey bites down on her lower lip to stifle a laugh. She presses her face between his shoulderblades.

This morning, Cole had gifted her a pink shirt with a unicorn and a rainbow on the front, then produced a matching one for himself. Since then, they’ve been taking pictures in the shirts. Honey knew she should’ve been more suspicious when Trevor texted that Cole was asking for Honey to bring her polaroid over.

“Why are you laughing?” Cole demands, whining a bit. “The picture is supposed to be serious.”

It’s a version of a prom pose, but Honey is standing behind Cole. As per Cole’s request, her hands are on his pecs. His hands are on top of hers, keeping them in place. They’re standing sideways, so that Trevor can capture an over-the-shoulder gaze from the pair. He’s sitting on the couch, so the angle is low and looks up at them, making them seem taller.

“You are so strange,” Honey tells him.

“Smile for the camera,” Cole replies pointedly. “No teeth.” He straightens his spine and rolls his shoulders back, smiling so that his dimple deepens.

“Yeah, c’mon Honey, give us a smile,” Trevor quips from behind the camera.

She plasters on a fake smile, but her glare is still deadly.

Trevor snaps the picture anyway.

Cole snatches the developing polaroid from Trevor, bouncing with excitement. “Hey, this is nice,” Cole says once the picture is clear enough. He hands the photo over to Honey and grins. “What do you think?”

She has to stifle a laugh again. Trevor managed to capture a moment that is steeped in absurdity. Cole stands tall, smiling thoughtfully. He’s proud, eyes glinting. His stance is secure, as is his grasp on Honey’s hands.

Honey, by contrast, is clearly not in the mood. Her lips are pressed together in a tolerant line, although her gaze is annoyed. She looks like she’s just putting up with Cole– to be fair, they’ve been doing these poses for the better part of an hour, and this is one of the saner ones. They did the Titanic pose (Honey was Jack), one where Cole lifted Honey onto his shoulder and knelt down on one knee, then another where Honey was perched on Cole’s knee, a back-to-back smoulder, one where Honey had to dip Cole like they were ballroom dancing, and a number of others. She’s probably almost out of film.

“I like the pictures, Co, but can we stop doing this?” Honey asks. “I’m not, like, a huge photo person.”

“Okay,” Cole agrees easily. He gestures toward the stack of photos in front of Trevor. “Choose your favorites. You can keep them.” He wiggles his eyebrows and pretends to wipe tears from his eyes, continuing in a fake-weak voice. “To remember me by.” He recovers quickly and claps Honey on the shoudler. “I’ll take the rest. I’m going to go take a dump.”

As he walks toward the stairs, Honey turns to Trevor and makes a face. “He’s so–”

“We like to say that he’s expressive,” Trevor interrupts with a smile. “He’s very good at overexaggerating his feelings for comedy.”

Honey laughs. “That’s– yeah, that’s actually a good way of saying it.”

Trevor reaches forward and picks a photo out of the pile. It’s the one of them standing back-to-back, giving intimidating glares to the camera. Their lips are puckered “like they’re in Zoolander,” as per Cole’s instructions. “I think this one is my favorite,” Trevor says. He hands the picture to Honey. “You should keep it.”

Honey takes the picture and studies it. Her eyes flicker up to Trevor, who is unabashedly watching her. “Oh my God,” she groans when she catches him, rolling her eyes and dropping her arms to her sides. She’s trying to sound serious, but there’s a smile trying to fight onto her face. “Stop.”

“Sorry,” Trevor apologizes, shit-eating grin on his face. “Can’t help it.”

“Fix your face,” Honey tells him, still trying to prevent herself from laughing. He’s positively helpless when it comes to Honey. He’s been staring at her every chance he gets since yesterday, when she’d accidentally called him her boyfriend.

“Cole’s going to be in the bathroom for ages,” Trevor says, reaching out and looping his fingers through Honey’s belt loops. “He’s taking a shit, it’ll be a while. C’mere.” He pulls Honey onto his lap and kisses her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and making a soft noise of content.

Honey returns the kiss, shifting on Trevor’s lap so that her knees bracket his thighs. She brings her hands up to cradle his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks gently. When she pulls away, she complains, “You guys always tell me things that I do not need to know. Cole’s bathroom habits are one of those things.”

“Do you want to know about my bathroom habits?” Trevor asks, knowing that it’s going to bother her based on the way he’s chuckling.

“No,” Honey decides, squishing Trevor’s cheeks between her hands. “I am very against learning your bathroom habits. In fact, I would prefer to be blissfully unaware of all of your trips to the toilet.” Honey smiles and pecks Trevor’s lips. “This should be our last conversation about it until there’s, like, a medical emergency.”

Trevor laughs and leans up to peck Honey’s lips in return. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

They kiss again, and Trevor pushes his hips up against Honey’s core. It makes her giggle against his mouth– he’s not satisfied after the previous evening? He didn’t get his fill after drawing five orgasms from Honey throughout the night, using everything he could to bring her over the edge? Honey couldn’t even walk by the end of the night, and her legs were a little bit sore this morning. She’d stretched after getting out of bed, trying to regain total control of her limbs.

When Trevor pulls away, his head falls back onto the couch cushions. He admires Honey, pure content on his face. His hands slide to her behind, fingers sliding into the back pockets of her jean shorts and staying there.

Honey smooths his hair out of his face and returns his smile. Her eyes are hooded and she tilts her head to the side as she looks at him. As much as she hates the word, there’s still a thrill that runs up her spine when she remembers that Trevor is her boyfriend and how delighted he was when she’d stood by what she said.

“Can I take a picture of you?” Trevor asks sweetly, blinking up at Honey. “You look so pretty.” He reaches up and touches a bruise at the base of her neck, which she’d explained away to Cole in a terrible, stammering ramble. Luckily, he’d bought it. “Especially with this,” Trevor adds.

Honey tenses slightly, shrugging her shoulder and displacing Trevor’s hand. “I don’t know,” she says. “That’s kind of… y’know.”

She doesn’t really have the words to explain it, but Trevor’s request sends a shiver up her spine, the same way she shivers whenever she thinks about the misuse of her image in the past. She tries not to remember how it felt to have her photos, and videos that she and Thomas took, spread throughout the community that surrounded her. Trevor’s community is much larger than that, given that he’s famous, and all. Maybe without the hickey, she’d let him. I mean, it’s small… and from this angle, you can’t really see it. She could. Honey is trying not to let all of her fear consume her because, really, Trevor isn’t like Thomas.

Trevor doesn’t let her hesitation bother him. “That’s okay,” he says, bringing his hand further to touch her cheek. “I don’t mind. I’ll just take a picture of you in my mind, if that’s okay.” He pinches her behind, nonverbally telling her that he’s teasing. Trevor even winks.

Honey laughs. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” she tells him, bringing her arms to his shoulders and twining them around his neck. She plays with her fingers behind his head, pinching the skin as she tries to explain herself. “I like that you want to take pictures of me because you think I’m pretty, but there is the whole ‘Thomas’ element.”

Trevor nods along, understanding as always.

“I’ll let you take a picture if you pinky-promise to burn it when we break up,” Honey decides, pulling a hand back and sticking her littlest finger out.

Trevor’s jaw drops. “When we break up?” he scoffs. “What are you planning? I’m not pinky-promising you until you take that back.”

“Oh my God,” Honey laughs, rolling her eyes and turning her head to the side. She sticks her tongue into her cheek and looks back at Trevor. “If we break up,” she amends, overexaggerating the opening word.

“I still don’t like it, but that’s better than ‘when,’” Trevor teases, finding Honey’s pinky and looping his own around it. He kisses the intertwined fingers and then puckers his lips for her to meet, only briefly. “I promise to burn the picture in the very unlikely event that you break up with me. Because I…” He holds up a finger before Honey can interject. “Do not have any plans to break up with you for the rest of our lives.”

Honey laughs again. “Would it kill you to be subtle?”

“Uh, yeah,” Trevor jeers. “I’ve got the world’s best girlfriend, I’ve got to make sure she knows how I feel about her.” He sticks his tongue out at Honey and grins, kissing her again.

“I hate you,” Honey tells him between kisses.

“Oh, I bet,” Trevor replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes hold of the camera at his side. “Gimme a big smile, baby.”

Refusing to give him what he really wants, just to reinforce that Honey does in fact “hate” Trevor (probably one of the bigger lies she’s told him, if she’s being realistic), Honey looks down at him with the tiniest quirk of her lips. She’s certain that her eyes are not nearly as unimpressed and menacing as she wants them to be, rather, tinged with the affection that she can’t hold back for the boy. Her lips curl further into an amused, knowing smile and her cheeks flush, almost aching with soreness from how often she’s been laughing and grinning when Trevor is around.

Trevor takes a minute to snap the picture and Honey is pretty sure she knows why. He wants to get it just right, so that he can remember this moment exactly as it is. Her look, and this picture, is the kind of thing that is worth the suspension of time, to him. He’s so… good to Honey. There’s a connection between them that can’t be defined. It’s quiet and persistent and irresistible, no matter how hard Honey tried in the beginning of the summer. She’s fallen for him harder than she thought she would for any person, given her history. And he– well, he’s not ashamed about telling her how much he feels for her.

“I’m going to put this in my wallet,” Trevor announces once the polaroid has printed, flapping it in the air and blowing on the image.

Honey catches his hand. “Don’t do that,” she complains. “This is a modern polaroid camera, not an old one. It’ll develop just fine without waving the picture around.”

“But it’s more fun this way,” Trevor replies.

“But you might ruin the picture this way, and you’re not carrying a warped picture of me around in your wallet,” Honey insists, wrenching the photo from Trevor’s grip and setting it down on the table in front of them.

“Let’s do one of us kissing.” Trevor changes the subject, lighting up at the idea. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll keep that one in my nightstand.”

Honey draws her eyebrows together in faux-offense. “Right next to the lotion and the tissues? I don’t think so.”

Trevor heaves out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll just have to rely on my memory.” He drops the act immediately and starts to smile again, pulling Honey forward at the waist and catching her lips.

They kiss for all of one second before Cole starts to bound down the basement steps again and Honey has to scramble to the side, smoothing a hand through her hair. She makes herself comfortable on the couch and kicks her feet up, while Trevor grabs the remote and turns on the television.

“Oh, sick, what should we watch?” Cole asks, rounding the couch and stepping over Honey’s legs so that he can plop down between the pair. He ruffles Trevor’s hair with his right hand, then extends his arms over the back of the couch behind both Honey and Trevor. He makes himself right at home and seems none the wiser that Honey was just on Trevor’s lap, lips locked and tongues meeting. “I just started watching Arrested Development again. You good with that, Hon?”

“Mhm,” Honey agrees, covering her lips with her thumb and staring at the TV.

“Cool.” Cole wrestles the remote from Trevor’s hand. “Gimme that,” he says, just before wrenching it away and navigating through the pop-up keyboard on the screen. He leans forward, squinting at the TV and choosing letters carefully.

Honey sneaks a peek at Trevor and finds him already looking. He winks and she has to hold back a giggle, knowing that Cole will press her for more information if she starts to laugh. She looks back at the screen and pinches at her bottom lip, still feeling the phantom touch of Trevor’s mouth. He’ll probably be a gentleman and walk her to the door when she leaves, although Cole might try to join them. If they’re alone, Honey will be sure to steal another kiss to tide her over until the next time they see each other.

51 notes · View notes

bluewxrld07 · 1 year ago

Text

Cut My Hair

Cole Caufield x female!reader x Ethan Edwards

Warning(s): Angst, situationships, intentions of smut, hints to cheating

A/N: will be a mix of instagram posts :) enjoy!

Summary: Based off of Tate McRae's song Cut My Hair

celebrity.news just posted a photo!

liked by yourusername, yourbff and 18,796 others

celebrity.news Young and famous hockey star, Cole Caufield, seen at a club in Montreal after a post game win Saturday night! But the twist? The girl in the photos is NOT his girlfriend, well known social media influencer and future sports broadcaster, yourusername!! Possible trouble in paradise??

Click the link in our bio to read the article, and see all the photos and videos!

load more comments

user1 Oh no poor y/n 🥺

user2 She is literally the sweetest human being, that's so sad. I can't imagine how hurt she is right now.

user3 She must be so heartbroken right now, that girl in the photo is such a fucking home wrecker!!!

user4 I hope she's okay :( Cole doesn't deserve a baddie like her!!

yourbff just posted a photo!

liked by yourusername, edwards.73, trevorzegras, and 111,741 others

yourbff Heartbroken, angry, sad, confused. Those are just a few I feel for you y/n. He doesn't deserve a real girl like you. His loss baby, I'm so sorry. I'm headed your way right now, be there soon 💜

user has limited comments

user1 send her all of our love <3

jackhughes I am in awe. Let her know if she needs anything, I'll be there.

liked by yourusername

trevorzegras this shit isn't right. my heart goes out for her.

edwards.73 Lu and I are driving out right now. Should be there in twenty.

liked by yourbff

colecaufield I'm so sorry

comment deleted by yourbff

*one month later*

yourusername just posted a photo!

liked by yourbff, jackhughes, edwards.73, colecaufield, and 457,596 others

yourusername Just wanna cut my hair, lose myself, make u sweat

load more comments

user1 omfg YALL WAKE UP, MOM POSTED

user2 the hair color??? the BOB??? HELLO?!

user3 oh boy if this is her silently @ ing who I think it is, he's messed up with losing her

yourbff oh what is this? best friend is blessing my feed???

liked by yourusername

yourbff this bob and hair color was the move, my work here is done

liked by yourusername

jackhughes slay bestie

liked by yourbff

jackhughes He's a dumbass

liked by yourusername

user4 No because it is the fact that Cole liked this but didn't comment, speaks VOLUMES

user5 Cole done fucked up, she's about to slay this glow up

edwards.73 I'm bringing the vodka

yourusername please don't, I can't look at another thing of alcohol after last night lmao yourbff If he doesn't bring it, I will

yourusername just posted a photo!

liked by yourbff, edwards.73, colecaufield, and 601,978 others

yourusername just wanna cut my hair, little black dress, can't forget

load more comments

user1 I'm living for these Tate McRae lyrics

yourbff See??? I knew you'd post this one. Fucking hot ass best friend I've got, these men bouta be on the FLOOR tonight

user2 If she doesn't wind up under someone else tonight after what Cole did to her, I WILL CRY

user3 He be creeping on her page tho, I see his ass in those likes.......

tatemcrae a true goddess 😍

liked by yourusername

lhughes_06 I'm keeping an eye on you tonight

edwards.73 easy easy, I called dibs first yourbff Both of y'all put your dicks away, and chill out? After all it'll be me who takes care of my girly tonight 😙 yourusername None of you are taking care of me tonight, I'll be fine 🙄 edwards.73 That's what you said last weekend and whose bed did you wind up in.... yourusername shhhhh 😳 edwards.73 lhughes_06 kept me up most of the night edwards.73 Idk what you're talking about lhughes.43 yourusername me neither

user4 Am I sensing a lil sum sum between Ethan and Y/n???

User2 If it's happening, I neeeeeed to know because I'd be here for it

colecaufield 😧

yourbff just posted a photo!

liked by yourusername, edwards.73, lhughes_06 and 301,473 others

yourbff Just wanna show you, whatever she do, yourusername can do it better

tagged: yourusername, lhughes.43, markestapa, edwards.73

load more comments

markestapa What a fucking night

lhughes_06 I think I need a cleanse after that fiasco...

yourbff You sure it wasn't from the lake you boys decided to swim in at two in the morning?

lhughes_06 Don't remind me 😑 yourusername You guys were wilding' last night lhughes.43 markestapa says the wild one herself 🤔 lhughes_06 Yeah yourusername where did you and edwards.73 disappear off to? edwards.73 Nowhere yourusername Nowhere markestapa where tf did you come from edwards.73 edwards.73 I saw I was summoned, so I entered the chat yourbff All of you get out of my comments and argue in the group chat

user1 Ohhhh boy I smell quite the upgrade for miss y/n....

user2 If y/n is seeing Ethan Edwards I will die happy

user3 I'm so curious as to what's between those two rn. Whatever it is, y/n seems happier than when she did with Cole

liked by yourbff

colecaufield just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, kirbydach, trevorzegras, girlusername and 96,736 others

colecaufield Heard you got a new guy, that ain't fair

load more comments

user1 Nah because it's THE WAY he used Tate McRae lyrics from the same song yourusername has been using on her posts.....

user2 Cole my dude... she deserves better after you did what you did

jackhughes come on C you better than this

trevorzegras she deserves better bro, I'm with jackhughes on this one

girlusername See you soon 🥰

user1 lmfao this girl clueless as fuck user3 Oh honey.... you the home wrecker? sheesh.. user4 DAMN talk about a downgrade 🤣 liked by yourusername

user5 Y'all it's fine he's just depressed and in his feels because he be knowing he cheated and lost a good one

yourusername just posted a photo!

liked by edwards.73, yourbff, jackhughes, lhughes_06, trevorzegras, and 817,748 others

yourusername Just wanna get messed up, find myself, in his bed

tagged: edwards.73

load more comments

user1 I KNEW ITTTTTTTT

user2 now THIS is a pair I can get behind

user3 Their kids are gonna be literal heartbreakers wtf

yourbff about fucking time I was getting antsy. Now get dressed we have a brunch to go to today.

yourusername yes mommy 😣 lhughes.43 Can I call you mommy??? yourbff No yourusername No

edwards.73 Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry.

yourusername Have you learned nothing?? edwards.73 you never said I couldn't call you mommy😝 yourusername You're unbelievable edwards.73 Do something about it🤭 liked by yourusername yourbff LET HER GET READY YOU ASSHOLE OR WE WILL BE LATE edwards.73 trevorzegras JOJO.....?? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING...?! liked by yourusername, yourbff, edwards.73

jackhughes I feel like I need to cleanse my eyes from that conversation thread I just read 😨

yourusername You'll survive

liked by yourbff, lhughes_06, yourusername, markestapa and 778,240 others

edwards.73 Good girls, so overrated

tagged: yourusername

load more comments

user1 Wow now this is an upgrade. He gives her her OWN POST????

user2 Cole could never

user1 He was an embarassment

markestapa WOAH give us all a warning here fifty shades of grey!

yourbff Treat her like a queen, Edwards!!!!!!

edwards.73 No.... I'll treat her like a Goddess 🤩 yourusername How long did you wait to use that one? edwards.73 edwards.73 too long yourusername yourbff Long enough edwards.73

lhughes_06 Is the caption hinting that yourusername is a certified baddie?

yourbff yes edwards.73 yes yourusername yes markestapa yes jackhughes yes lhughes.43 Okay no need for the attack damn

yourusername My Eddy 🥰

edwards.73 My baby 😘

#cole caufield x reader #instagram post #social media au #hockey boys #hockey imagine #ethan edwards x reader #Luke hughes #jack hughes #trevorzegras #markestapa #romance #angst #Ethan edwards

349 notes · View notes

d4isyr1dleys · 1 year ago

Text

obsession, auston matthews

ꨄ︎ pairing: stepbro!auston matthews x reader

ꨄ︎ summary: he's a man obsessed, his mind replays any and every interaction he's had the honor to have with you. because let's face it, in his mind, you are more than just his step-sister, you are a goddess in his eyes. and who is he to not steal something for his earnings?

ꨄ︎ requested: yes/no

ꨄ︎ warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of dark(?), mentions of smut (like barely any, in my eyes), stepcest (do not condone, in fact, am highly against it), auston's lowkey got a god complex, a hint of reader being innocent, implied age gap (reader is 18!)

ꨄ︎ author's note: it's been so long since i've written anything and im so insecure in this so please love it! (give me validation). a self indulgent auston blurb (?) that came to mind when i saw this slutty little edit of him. please forgive me for any grammar mistakes to typos, for i wrote this while i was saying hello to my friend mary jane. much love to every one of you who decides to read this mess of a story, and shall we meet again!🤍

he should've felt disgusted with himself. his skin should be crawling with his current demeanor. the hairs in the back of his neck should be standing up straight when the idea briefed over his mind during the excruciating quiet family dinner that your parents force you guys to have nightly.

but he wasn't.

in fact, he was quite proud of himself, with how far he's gotten into this 'plan' of his. here he was, in the midst of the day while you were at school, attending your one out of only three classes you had to attend your senior year, standing in the middle of your bedroom.

he had taken the afternoon off, canceling his strength training, his excuse being that he was sick. along with his place of employment he texted you, the one thing that had been occupying his mind ever since he laid eyes on you. your parents having you guys meet, thus starting his obsession.

to their shock, neither of you were angry when your father announced that they had eloped. both of you sat across from the newly weds in a low light restaurant, with pristine christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling. a little annoyed, maybe; at least you were. you never got the chance to ask him how he felt about the whole ordeal. but from what you could see, he was perfectly contempt with the major life change.

he shifts in your room, walking backwards until the back of his calfs hit the edge of you bed, causing him to plop down harshly with an anticipated huff. your pure vanilla sent traveled to his nostrils, and himself becoming encapsulated with only you. his hands laid stoic along the tops of his thighs, even though he wanted nothing more than to palm himself through his pants. he was already half hard, just by your scent.

his eyes lingered to your nightstand, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips at just how perfectly girly it was. a picture of you laughing with your friends in your camp counselor shirt from the past summer, your forgotten airpods, which he thought about how irritated you were when you figured that out, a small pout on your lips. god, he wanted nothing more than to feel yours against his.

he would be happy if it was just on his cheek, as a thankful gesture.

as he admired your dimples through the glass of the picture frame, he could help but let curiosity get the best of him. that's how he got here in the first place, right? his eyes trailed down to the drawer that was painted a darker color than the rest of the dresser, to perfectly match the rest of your room.

he hoped one day he could see if your room truly matched you– light perfectly balanced with dark. he already knew the light part was too good to be true, with your big eyes that light up at the sight of him, but only enough that he would notice. the way you blush if he gets too close to you, not that he creeps you out or anything, but the fact that it was a man besides your dad that was this close to you. even if it was your step brother.

you didn't know why you felt this way around auston, you didn't know what made him different from any other boy you thought was pretty. bust auston was so, so, pretty that you couldn't help but redirect your eyes to your shoes when he caught your burning gaze. your skin burned from what seemed like hour from when he would place his hands on your waist to 'move you out of the way'. and it had only grown with time, with how nice he is to you and the names he calls you that he doesn't seem to do with anyone else. 'princess', 'baby', or even 'doll' when he's showing you how to swing a golf club, on those rare, rare, days when he could finally persuade you to come with him to the country club just down the street. he even bought you your own little golf girl outfit, all baby pink and white, to perfectly match the picture of you he has implemented into his mind.

and you had thought you were going to look ridiculous, and you did, until you saw the way he looked at you as you walked down stairs where he was waiting for you. a certain glint was in his eyes the entire day, and you couldn't help but squirm in the passengers seat as he was driving. trying to descreetly press your thighs together to at least try to ease the pressure and throbbing that was happening down there. you didn't know what caused the throbbing but it was so strange and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but sniffle lightly, suppressing a whine at how uncomfortable you felt. but you didn't completely hate it. especially not when auston was right next to you, his large frame blocking the street lights that passed by through his window, his side profile creating the perfect tattoo of a shadow on your face, one that you didn't want to go away.

of course he had noticed his little girl writhing around in the passenger seat of his car. her soft thighs pressing against each other, all supple and smooth from imperfections. he needed to be suffocated by them, the image he wanted to die from was your shaking body from all the pleasure he was causing you, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as he sucked you clit in between his full lips.

he had completely forgotten he was in heaven, (your room), when he felt the pulse from his balls that he was about the cum, all from the thoughts of your innocence and his hand that found his hard on cock through his sweatpants. he didn't want to do that yet, not without the one thing that caused him to be here in the first place.

the most obvious place would be the dresser, so he head towards that area of your room, placed right next to your closet. and surprise, surprise! the top drawer just happened to be your underwear drawer. all filed with pale colored bras and panties, not that they were old, but because those were the colors you loved; all muted and quiet, instead of vibrant and loud. you was shocked you had some lace and he would've gone for those, but that's not what he was going for.

his mind craved something less out there and more reserved. something that he had seen tossed in the washer with his colored laundry load, a pair of your painted that were red with white little hearts scattered across the cotton material. a throaty groan came from his as he felt his cock twitch, being retrained by the boxers and pants he wore.

he could only imagine your ass being perfect covered in white little hearts, or even getting a glimpse of them as you sit down next to him on the couch in the living room after a long day at school. your school uniform only urging on his obsession– a short little navy blue pleaded skirt with thigh high socks, and the cutest little best he had ever seen. the way the thick knitted wool spread across the curves of your breasts.

god, he was nothing but a man obsessed.

#auston matthews #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #dark aesthetic #stepbro!auston #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #fanfic #romance #hockey boys #jack hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #ethan edwards #luke hughes #mark estapa

264 notes · View notes

hallllllllllsy09 · 2 years ago

Text

BOOKTOK HAS FOUND JACK HUGHES!! Alert the police I’m terrified.

#GET A JOB #STAY AWAY FROM HER #jack hughes #booktok #new jersey devils #devils #hockey romance #nhl #njd #nj devils

48 notes · View notes

hockeylovee12 · 11 months ago

Text

Anyone But Him

Table of Contents

Jack Hughes x Original Character

Summary: Over the course of a year Sadie Howe and Jack Hughes find themselves falling hard for one another only problem is Sadie is the best friend of Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother. Read along to find out their story plays out.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I previously posted a version of this story with a prologue, but I write this story on AO3 and I wanted to try my hand at coding, and at then when I came back to writing I realized I didn't actually need my prologue and decided to just recreate it, so this is the version that will contain the full work, the other version will be left up, because I don't believe in deleting my work, and I still like it it just doesn't work this, so just keep that in mind if you read the prologue, then come here and notice inconsistencies, it's because they weren't written with the intent of going together. Additionally, as I mentioned this is posted on AO3. Once a chapter is completed it will be posted below. Please feel free to leave any feedback for me in asks! And feel free to share just don’t take credit for my work please!

Characters

Sadie

Jack

Luke

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

#luke hughes #nj devils #jack hughes #hughes brothers #original character #original story #best friends brother #secrets #lies #developing relationship #jack hughes romance #betrayal #summer antics #2021-2022 season

33 notes · View notes

sweetteainthesummerx · 7 months ago

Text

|◁ II ▷| down bad ! |◁ II ▷|

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x famous singer! reader

warnings: fluff, smut is implied but not graphic!! use of y/n.

summary: your sister sends you an article of you and quinn being absolutely down bad for each other...

word count: 2.4 k

notes: saw one too many edits of my handsome boy on TikTok and this is the consequence :) also, this is sort of based off of taylor swift and travis kelce. enjoy!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you're finishing up in the studio, just done tweaking one of your last songs on your new album when your phone dings! with a notification.

it's your sister, who sends a trail of emojis that don't really make sense and a link.

you press on it, confused and assuming it's something she wants for her birthday that's coming up soon.

instead it's an article that reads, TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE.

you laugh, because the cover photo is one of you and quinn from last year when you took him as your plus one to the grammy's. you have to admit, you both look really good, and so, so in love.

so you nestle into your chair to read it.

TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE

one of Hollywood's up and comings, y/n l/n and quinn hughes of canucks and nhl fame have been dating for over three years, and have been public for two. we have complied a list of fan favourite moments of the couple over the span of their relationship that show their deep (and public) affection and love for each other

10. 2023 Grammy's Award Ceremony

picture: you are wearing a light blue floor length gown, hair loose and curled. your makeup is simple and glowy. quinn stands next to you, in a clean, slate grey suit with a hand wrapped around your hip, fingers nestled in the dip of your hipbone.

the award ceremony for the grammy's - where y/n won best album for the second year in a row - was when the famous couple first went public officially, not counting the many paparazzi pictures taken in both vancouver and Los Angeles.

sources show that the two could hardly keep their hands off of each other. they were seen kissing multiple times through out the night.

it was true, quinn had been extra handsy that night, and had all but ripped that dress off of you when you got back to the hotel. you sigh at the memory, stomach warm and a little achy. you can't wait for him to come back from the roadie he left for only two days ago.

9. y/n's tiktoks

despite their massive success in their respective industries, it is easy to forget that they are also part of gen z. y/n's TikTok page features fashion, her music and most popular of all, her boyfriend. here are only some of her most viewed and liked videos:

video one: you smile into the camera, fluffing your hair in a close shot. the subtitles read: fit check with my bf! quinn pulls you against him by your waist, kissing your face over and over as you laugh, pushing at his chest. over the song, you tell him to let go so you can show your outfits. he lets go reluctantly but holds your hand, spinning you around to show off your sundress. then he grabs you and dips you low, hands dangerously close to your ass, as you giggle into his cheek.

video two: the video is taken by one of your friends who took your phone. she's on the couch and you and quinn are in the kitchen cooking for the small get together in your vancouver apartment. you lean up to smile at him, and he bumps his nose with yours. some trending love song plays in the back.

you flush at the comments gushing about how he looks at you, the height difference and how cute you guys are. there's something so sweet at seeing the two of you from an outsiders perspective.

8. quinn knowing y/n's entire discography

during media days, one interview has elias petterson and quinn hughes guessing songs and the artists. the journalist managed to sneak at least four of y/n's songs in, quinn getting all four correct, with the full name of the song, name of artist and then album, all under 10 seconds of the song playing. now that's a supportive boyfriend!

you watch the video linked, your boyfriend sweaty and hair wet. the media person is impressed, and quinn just shrugs bashfully and offers a crooked smile. you look at the time stamp and bite a grin: it's from before you guys went public. no wonder all of your fans say you guys were obvious.

7. quinn hughes: nhl player and personal bodyguard

fame in hollywood forces many in the industry to have body guards, and y/n is not exempt. for many years before she started dating the canuck's defensemen, she's had many bodyguards following her around. now, it seems like her boyfriend has taken over that job.

video: your body guard, john moves to open the limo door as you and quinn arrive to an event, but your boyfriend crosses from his side of the car to open it himself, patting john on the shoulder and gently pushing him from the entrance and helping you out himself. he helps you balance on your heels as you stand and wave at the cameras, one hand on your waist as he maneuvers you to the other side of the sidewalk so he can block you from the cars. he keeps your hand cradled in his, his other arm around your waist as he shoulders through the paparazzi.

quinn looks so attractive and so masculine in this video. you've never had boyfriends who took princess treatment so seriously, but quinn has always been a defender, on ice and off. it was a little awkward and it took a long a while for him to get you, but ever since he had you, he's made sure he tried his very best to keep and protect you.

6. getaway in hawaii

although the couple hasn't had any announcement of engagement yet, early last year they were sighted in hawaii on a trip eerily like a honeymoon: here are some pictures.

picture one: you're in a tiny pink bikini and he's in board shorts. he's taken off his hat to give to you, and you're pressing on a pair of your too-small sunglasses onto his face while both of you laugh.

picture two: the two of you are standing in the water up to your calves. he's got his fingers tangled in the strings of your bikini bottoms, and yours are on his chest as the two of you look into the horizon.

picture three: quinn has you balanced on his shoulder, smiling as you clutch at his back. one of his forearms is possessively covering your ass from the camera, and his other hand is wrapped fully around your ankle to give you a semblance of balance.

you still smile every time you think of that trip, afternoons playing in the water, romantic dinners and nights with his head between your legs, your fingers tangled in his hair. you silently remind yourself to book a vacation back there the next time both of you are free.

5. the NHL award ceremony

the recent NHL award ceremony when quinn hughes received the James Norris award for his skills as a defenceman gave us another peek into y/n's relationship with hughes family.

video one: you're sitting between quinn and luke in your pretty dark blue gown. your hair is pulled back from your face the way quinn likes. he's got an arm thrown over the back of the seat, fingers rubbing your shoulder as you talk to Luke about his hair routine. quinn murmurs something the camera can't catch into your ear and you laugh, tucking your hand into the his that's resting on his lap. he leans back, stretching his legs as you absentmindedly rub his knee, leaning over his brothers to talk to his mom.

video two: his name is called, and you stand with him, clapping loudly. he hugs you first, and you press a kiss into the corner of his lip, but he plants a firm, real one on yours. your manicured, white nails contrast against the black expanse of his suit and broad back. you push him gently towards luke. when he's finished hugging everyone and comes back down the aisle, you quickly fix his tie and smooth down his lapels. he kisses your cheek again and goes down to the stage.

photo three: the trophy is in the middle, the whole family wrapped together. you're tucked between ellen, the older woman has an arm around your waist and your boyfriend's got is arm slung across you shoulders on you other side, everyone smiling big for the camera.

you still remember ellen and jim insisting that you get in the photo, because "you're practically family anyways," and "it's any day now" that their son proposes to you. the photo is on their fridge, to this day.

4. quinn's y/n shirt

another video from y/n's tiktok. during the christmas season, she spent the holidays with the hughes family. her future brother in law (hopefully), jack hughes got quinn a pretty special present.

video: jack is holding the camera, and it pans to you and quinn. your holding a giant sushi stuffed toy (long story) from luke on your lap as you sit next to your boyfriend.

"here," he extends a hand holding a bag to his older brother.

Quinn smiles in thanks and digs into it, retrieving shirt. but it's no ordinary shirt. it's one of those old, retro looking ones with your face blown out all over it.

pictures from red carpets, your album covers, and in gaudy, shadowy text, it reads: IF LOST, RETURN TO Y/N L/N.

Luke cackles as you bury your face in quinn's shoulder. he's letting out a deep, belly laugh as his parents smile and take pictures of it when he holds it out.

he immediately pulls off his sweatshirt and tugs the shirt on. it fits a little tight.

"merry christmas!" jack yells as he gives you a high-five.

he still wears that stupid shirt around the apartment, just because he knows you like the fit and your face plastered all over his chest.

3. y/n's songs about her boyfriend

through many new releases, we have determined a list of songs about quinn from her new album, lover.

sweet nothing

paper rings

lover

daylight

I think he knows

afterglow

good looking

wow, you think. these people must not have lives if they're rummaging through your digital footprint and media presence with your boyfriend just to link them with your songs.

2. quinn's interview

since the couple has gone public, y/n has been seen at Canuck's games with family and friends. since she's from vancouver, born and raised, she is passionate about hockey and fits right in.

video one: the jumbotron flashes your face an name; you're wearing quinn's canucks jersey, hair loose. you smile and flutter your fingers at the crowd that's going crazy. one the ice, quinn's teammates jostle and holler at him, and you blow him a kiss. he pretends to catch it, and the screaming in the stadium reaches a new level as the screen pans to him: he's pink and all smiley.

video two: the ref makes a call and you stand, throwing your hands up in the air, exasperated. you huff, sitting back down with your head in your hands. your friends watch on with disappointment, and the three of you let out complains.

video three: quinn grins while looking off camera in the middle of an interview, and the journalist laughs.

"your girl?" he asks, and quinn nods shyly.

"yeah, it's real nice to see her here supporting. I mean, she's really busy too with her tours, but it's nice to have her on my turf."

"I saw! she got really riled up for the penalty during the second period. she's wearing your jersey as well."

"yeah," he scratches his neck, scrunching his nose to hide the big ass smile on his face, "she looks great, eh?"

"glad to see her in her hometown, too."

"right. yeah, I love her so much."

you snicker at how love sick he looks, because early on in the relationship he followed you around like a clingy, lost puppy. he still does sometimes after a roadie or one of your tours. you love it.

1. karma is the guy on the rink, coming straight home to me

the internet broke when y/n changed one of the songs on her song list for her tour last year at rogers arena in vancouver: instead of "karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me", which is a reference to her ex, she changes it to better fix her new romance.

video: you dance through the song, your backup dancers clueless as you reach the line.

"karma is the guy on the rink, comin' straight home to me!" your voice breaks a little in a giggle at the end, your dancers shocked laughter and gasps visible from their faces that even an iPhone camera from 25 meters away can catch.

video two: quinn's in the tent with your parents and some of his teammates and their girlfriends, all of them are vibing to the music and dancing, most holding drinks in their hands.

when the line hits the speakers, everyone is screaming so loud and filming him, and he blushes so red that it spreads to his ears and neck, even in the dim light. his boys are slapping his back, and your dad gives him a high-five. he just smiles at you, dopey and deliriously happy in his shirt of your face and the 20 friendship bracelets your fans had made for him.

you remember that show perfectly, and the night after even better. you barely got any sleep because of his attentions, and your makeup artists spent nearly half an hour covering up the bruises on your neck and chest the next morning.

all in all, we can come to the conclusion that quinn hughes and y/n l/n are completely down bad for each other, like she teased in the song list of her unreleased album. we only hope for good things in the future for this famous couple!

you smile at the closing statement, sending it to quinn to read later in his hotel room.

he facetimes you that night, hair wet and eyes sleepy.

"that article was absolutely right. I am so down bad for you." he tells you seriously, with the promise of lots of love when he comes straight home to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

2K notes · View notes

hockeygossip01977 · 9 months ago

Text

hi i just wanna introduce myself a little and tell u stuff about me i like to read romance book, i watch hockey a lot im a nyr fan. i met braden schneider before and i met jack at luke at the gala and i did see sammy there. i have a cat and dog and like to spend time with family and friends!

#hockey #romance books #hockey romance #braden schneider #jack hughes #luke hughes #ny rangers #pets #family #friends

2 notes · View notes

y2kdolll · 2 years ago

Text

hockey game outfits

#hockey #nhl #nhl playoffs #nhl players #boston bruins #nashville predators #new jersey devils #roman josi #brad marchand #jack hughes #hockey romance #hockey wags #wags #hockey game outfit #outfit board

12 notes · View notes

hottiesforhockey · 3 months ago

Text

no nut november ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜smut ⎜angst? warnings: no nut november ⎜teasing ⎜ mentions of a bet/deal ⎜mention of sharing sex life ⎜fingering ⎜light dirty talk ⎜quinn second guessing his life choices ⎜ masturbation ⎜finger sucking ⎜insecure reader⎜hints at breaking up ⎜p in v ⎜ swearing ⎜praise ⎜no protection (please wrap it before you tap it)⎜ synopsis: quinn makes a deal with his brothers - he never realised how hard this would be for the both of you. word count: 3.8k authors note: Quinn was the clear winner of my poll to decide who would star in this fic - so I hope all 39.6% of you enjoy. do we want a sequel? called dicked down december

(unedited)

DAY ONE

Quinn was only one day in and he already knew he wasn’t going to make it through the month. He knew now that he should’ve never let Jack drag him into the deal that most of the New Jersey Devils participated in every year - the winner coming out with a donation to the charity of their choice and the ability to pronounce themselves as “not whipped” by their girlfriends.

But Quinn was very much whipped.

Your whip was so tight around him, he could barely breathe as he watched you wander around the house in just your towel, grabbing your clothes fresh out of the dryer for the game later today. Quinn’s fingers twitched at his sides, as he resists the urge to reach out for you - knowing the only way he was going to get through this month was going to be by avoiding touching you at any and all costs. He wanted nothing more than to abandon this ridiculous bet and wrap his arms around you, pulling that towel away inch by inch. Every day, this month-long challenge to abstain from any intimate contact with you felt like it was going to kill him.

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching as you glanced over your shoulder and flashed him a teasing smile. You knew exactly what you were doing to him - you had to know.

But how did you know? He certainly didn’t tell you, and he made his brothers swear to secrecy.

Quinn's gaze was glued to you, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his eyes. He tried to focus on anything else, on his suit laid out on the bed, or on his phone buzzing in his sweatpants pocket. Anything but the sway of your hips as you walk down the hallway - or the hinting smile you send him as you reach the doorway to the bedroom, inviting him to follow you.

The sight of you, so effortless and beautiful, had his mind completely tangled.

"You okay there, babe?” you asked, clearly confused by his discomfort and unwillingness to trail behind you. He nods his head with a tight smile as you shrug and disappear from sight, Quinn letting out a long groan as he rubs his hands down his face - cursing his brothers in his mind for what they are doing to him.

“One day down” he whispers, exhaling slowly. “Only twenty-nine more to go.”

DAY FIFTEEN

“One of you two must’ve told her something.” Quinn sneers at his phone.

“We didn’t tell her anything, I swear on my life.” Luke retorts, making the sound of Jack’s laughter ring even louder in his ear, as Quinn waves goodbye to some of his teammates leaving the rink after practice - Quinn’s frown deepens as Jack tries to compose himself, only to laugh even harder as soon as he calms down.

“Maybe she figured it out on her own.” Jack suggests one his laughing finally dies down, a few chuckles spilling out before he lets out a grunt of pain, presumably caused by the youngest of the brothers.

“Well she knows something - she’s never been like this before.” Quinn sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, a habit that’s becoming far more common since the month began. “She’s ravenous, any chance she gets she’s trying to take my pants off.” Quinn’s words set his younger brother off again.

“Look we promise we didn’t say anything to her - but maybe you should.” Luke suggests softly, the sound of Jack’s laugh quieting in the background as Quinn assumes his youngest brother walks away from the noise. “I’m sure she’d try to take things easier on you if you told her what you were doing - it’s for charity.” Luke voice is hopeful but Quinn knows that he’s wrong - his girlfriend would rather sell her soul then help him win a bet with his idiot brothers.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” Quinn says into the phone before hanging up not waiting for his brother to respond. Quinn makes his short journey home - his apartment only a five minute drive from the arena, the apartment almost silent when he walks through the door - Quinn surprised not to see you perched on the couch like you usually are.

The small muffled whimper coming from down the hall catching him even more by surprise.

“Babe?” He calls out into the apartment, sliding off his shoes at the front door, placing his keys on their hook besides the front door. He waits for a moment, another whimper cutting through the silence. Quinn takes slow, quiet steps down the hallway, your soft sounds getting louder as he reaches the closed bedroom door - the softer whisper of his name giving him pause.

“Baby? Are you okay in there?” He calls through the door, knowing that opening the door right now might be a mistake, but he can’t help his hand turning the door handle, peeking through the small gap as the door swings open.

Quinn can feel his mouth drop open as he watches your fingers slip inside of you so easily. Your legs falling further open against the mattress as you let out a long sigh, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Fuck.” Quinn curses under his breath as head shooting up at the interruption, your legs snapping closed your hand trapped in between them.

“Quinn? When did you get home?” You question as your cheeks burn a bright red, pulling yourself into a sitting up position slowly sliding your hand out from between your legs - your shirt falling from where it was bunched against your waist to cover you a little more.

Quinn opens his mouth to speak but clamps it shut against as he sees you reaching for the towel besides the bed, his body moving faster then his brain as he steps forwards, his hand clamping around your wrist as he pauses your motions, glancing down at the sheen of liquid on your fingers. Quinn smiles as you try to yank your hand from his grasp, your whole body freezing as he raises your soaked fingers to his mouth - sucking them clean, a loud hum resonating from his throat.

“What the fuck?” You whisper as he releases your wrist, letting the hand fall limply besides you as he lunges forwards, his hand clasping either side of your head as he attaches his lips to yours - the taste of yourself still fresh in his mouth. Quinn pulls away first, his hand knotting in your hair as he pants over your, your hands desperately clinging to the sides of his shirt.

“No, wait.” You whine as he moves to pull away, pushing the hair off your face as his eyes lock with yours. “Why are you stopping?” His thumbs stroke your cheeks gently as a small pout forms on your face, Quinn smiling as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before pulling away from you completely.

“I just can’t right now.” Is all he gives you before he turns quickly and leaves the room - leaving you sitting on the mattress with burning skin and a throbbing pussy, the anger bubbling under the surface. You huff as you bed down, pulling your pyjama pants back on before marching into the living room behind your boyfriend.

“What do you mean, you just can’t?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch him flop onto the couch, his face pushed into the cushions as he lets out a sigh. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You ask, the room suddenly feeling colder as a shiver racks your body, your arms pulling tighter against yourself.

“No.” Quinn groans against the pillow.

“Really? Cause it seems like I’m the problem - Quinn I’ve been throwing myself at you and you don’t even look at me anymore.” You don’t mean for your voice to tremble when you speak but you can’t help the growing lump in your throat. “I just want you to be honest with me, if this isn’t something you want anymore.”

Quinn’s head shoots up from the pillow - his body scrambling off the lounge to make his way to you, your body stepping away from him as you hands wipe at your face. “I’m not going to be mad if you do want to brea—”

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence.” Quinn hisses, his hands reaching out for yours, forcing you to uncross the arms against your chest. “What on earth would make you think that I want to break up with you?” He questions, bringing your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses across your knuckles.

“Are you kidding me?” You respond, a cold laugh leaving you before you add, “You’ve wanted nothing to do with me over the last two weeks - every time I try, you run away like you’ve been burned and not to mention you’ve been sleeping in the guest room. I never thought that I was so bad you couldn’t even share a bed with me.” Quinn flinches at the shaky breath you let out, the small hiccup as you try to hold back your tears.

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it, Quinn because I’m really fucking confused.”

“Jack and Luke convinced me to—” Quinn pauses as he watches your head tilt in confusion - your mind racing a million miles an hour as he tries to figure out how to word this right, but falling short as he blurts out. “It’s because of no nut November.”

A flicker of surprise crosses your face before a look of incredulous amusement takes over. You blink at him, as though waiting for the punchline.

“Wait, that's why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of… some dumb challenge?” You try to hold back a laugh, but a snort slips out anyway. Quinn’s cheeks flush, his gaze dropping as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

“It’s not dumb. It’s for charity—Jack and Luke both dared me, and if I finish the month, we’re each donating a bunch of money to the children's hospital.” His voice grows defensive, though he’s clearly embarrassed. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to resist. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Both!” he bursts out, letting out a frustrated sigh as he flops back down onto the couch. “You have no idea how hard this has been… and every time I see you—” He cuts himself off, cheeks going even redder, which only makes you chuckle harder.

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, crossing your arms. “So you’ve been turning me down, not because you’re mad at me, but because of a bet?” Quinn grimaces, looking up at you with guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I know it’s dumb, but I didn’t want you to feel bad. I thought I could just… tough it out without saying anything.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of relief and exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone so stupid”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples. “I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. It’s just… Jack and Luke won’t let me hear the end of it if I quit now. They’d never let me live it down.”

You roll your eyes, moving closer to him on the couch. “Well, maybe I can make this month even harder on you,” you say, grinning as you trail a finger along his jawline.

His eyes widen, and he gulps. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. You’ve already put me through two weeks of this. You think I’m not going to make you work for it?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “This is going to be the longest month of my life.”

You laugh, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before taking up ridiculous bets with your brothers.”

Quinn pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s worth it. For the kids.”

DAY THIRTY

“I can’t take this anymore” Quinn sighs as he watches you waltz around the room in your underwear, the sunflower yellow matching set the same he had picked out earlier in the year for your birthday. You shoot him a grin over his shoulder as you pull on the mid length dress, saving Quinn from drooling over your ass for any longer.

“It’s the last day Quinn, think of the children.” You coo, adjusting each breast to sit more comfortably in the dress, Quinn letting out a long whine as his threads his fingers through his hair pulling on the roots.

“Fuck the kids.” He grumbles, a surprised laugh escaping you as you make your way over to him - his hands instantly grabbing hold of your hips pulling you between his legs. His forehead dipping to leans against your stomach, your fingers gently playing with the ends of his curled hair.

“Quinn, if you can make it to midnight, then I promise it’ll be worth your while.” You promise, your hands smoothing down the back of his head and dipping under the collar of his dress shirt, rubbing soft circles against his back. “And with the jackpot combined that’s almost fifty thousand for the children’s hospital palliative care unit. That’s so special, Quinn.”

Quinn groans, his grip tightening on your hips, as he pulls you closer. “I know, I know… you’re right.” He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes smoldering with barely contained desire. “But you’re not making it any easier for me.”

You chuckle, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Just a few more hours. Then I’m all yours.”

Quinn sighs, releasing you reluctantly, his hands sliding down your waist before finally letting go. He leans back in his chair, watching as you smooth out the dress and adjust your hair in the mirror. The way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation for what’s to come once this night is over.

"Fine," he relents, his voice low and gruff. "But I’m holding you to that promise."

You grin, blowing him a playful kiss before grabbing your purse and heading towards the door. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Hughes.”

As you both step out, ready to put on smiles and charm for the last fundraiser of the year, you can feel Quinn’s hand settle on the small of your back, a silent reminder of everything waiting between you once the clock strikes midnight.

Quinn could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket for most of the evening, his brothers and their teammates admitting defeat and wishing Quinn congratulations - his hand tight in yours the whole evening as he watches the clock in the corner of the room, each tick of the hour hand building his anticipation.

“Quinn you need to actually pay attention.” You hiss in his ear, his fingers squeezing yours as the clock ticks to eleven thirty pm.

“I’d be able to pay attention if I could think of anything other then how good it’s gonna feel when I can finally put my dick inside you again.” Quinn leans his head down, his lips pressing to your ears as he whispers - your gaze instantly shooting around to see if anyone had heard what he said. “I hope you’re not attached to that matching set, baby.” He grins as he pulls away from you, the Quinn from the past month quickly replaced by a man you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Hey, we’re going to head off, she’s not feeling too well.” Quinn whispers to the table as the speeches conclude - his teammates immediately wishing you well, as Quinn collects your purse and coat, dragging you from the ballroom hall in haste. Quinn makes quick work of the drive home - not even glancing in your direction as he fidgets in his seat, his hand clamped against the inside of your thigh, his other hand tapping against the steering wheel as he makes his way through the streets of Vancouver.

“Five minutes, I can do this.” He mumbles to himself, as he races around the car, pulling the door open for you, offering his hand as you slide out of the car. The two of you taking the longest journey of Quinn’s life to the apartment, the tension rising to a boil as the front door clicks shut - Quinn’s pupils blown out as he glances at the clock.

“One minute.” He whispers, your hands making quick work of your heels as you strip them off your feet, a bright grin on your face as you tug on the hem of your dress, pulling it up inch by inch as you watch Quinn, who watches the clock. You pull the soft fabric over your head just as the clock ticks to midnight, Quinn’s eyes shooting over to yours.

“I did it.” He says in disbelief.

“You did it.” You confirm, leaning against the front door as you fiddle with the band on your underwear. “Now fuck me.” Quinn doesn’t waste time, his hands pushing you hard against the door as his lips capture yours, the two of your breathless in seconds, as his lips leave yours to press soft kisses down your jaw.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last.” He admits, a groan escaping him as you run your fingers against his scalp, his lips dipping to your collarbones before making their way back up. “God, you’re just so fucking gorgeous.” He says against your skin, your hands gripping his face to pull it away from your neck for a moment.

“Let’s make this quick then, cap.” You says as you press a chaste kiss to his lips before slipping out from between his body and the door, sprawling yourself against the couch your legs opened wide in invitation. “Clothes off.” You murmur as he stumbles over to the couch - Quinn nodding his head vigorously as he strips himself of his shirt, pausing to watch as you tug on the front clasp of your bra, the two cups springing away from each other as your breasts tumble free.

“I think I’ve been blessed by angels.” He says as his mouth falls open a little, his fingers fumbling on the button of his pants, finally letting out a sharp curse as he yanks at the pants, his button popping off and hitting the floor with a clattering sound. “I’ll fix them later.” He says, kicking the trousers off his legs as he dives towards you on the couch.

You let out a soft moan as Quinn attaches his lips to your left nipple, his free hand grabbing hold of the right breast as kneads it slowly, before switching sides, your legs wrapping around his waist as you whisper - “God, please.”

“My name is Quinn, and I expect you to use it.” He retorts, a wicked grin on his face as his finger tickle their way down to the waistband of your underwear, slowly slipping them down your legs and throwing them to the side - your pussy glistening as he sits back on his heels, glancing down at you.

“What’re you doing?” You hiss.

“Admiring the view.” He admits, his body jolting forwards as you use your legs to tug him back down towards you.

“Well stop admiring and put your dick in me.” Quinns hands move faster now, his lips finding their way back to yours as he fumbles to strip off his underwear, his body slotting easily against yours as his hand guides himself to your entrance.

“It’s as perfect as I remember.” Quinn says as he slowly pushes inside, a sigh of relief leaving you at the feeling of him after thirty long days. “God, your pussy is so perfect.” He groans, his hips slowly starting to rock back and forth, your arms thrown around his neck as you hold him to you as tightly as possible - his lips pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks as you let out a quiet whine.

“It’s made for me.” He continues, his hands finding purchase against your waist gripping tightly as his motions speed up, his thrusts heavier as he pulls himself into a kneeling position, your arms loosening around his neck grabbing hold of the cushion beneath you.

“Quinn, shit.” You hum, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as your throw your head back, his thumb rising to your mouth, your lips softly parting as he dips it into your mouth your tongue swirling around the digit before he pulls it back out - rubbing gently against your clit.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Quinn moans, his thrusts becoming more erratic, your hand letting go of the cushion to grip his jaw - pulling his face down to yours.

“It’s okay.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw before adding, “Come for me, Quinn.” His movements halt, his hands leaving you to plant above your head as he lets out a low groan, your legs holding him against your as he whispers soft praise in your ear.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He apologises as his body falls against yours, your arms wrapping around him as you chuckle into his hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“It’s okay.” You mumble, your fatigue already setting in as you try to yank the blanket off the back of the couch. “Let’s just stay here for a while.” Quinn humming in quick agreement as he settles against your chest, his fingers tangling with the ends of your hair as your hands rub against his bare skin.

“We didn’t use protection.” He notes, his dick softening inside of you, the bare feeling something new for the both of you.

“We can figure that out later.” You admit, surprised that neither of you had thought to grab a condom before leaving for the event earlier tonight.

“I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning for you.” Quinn murmurs, his words softer as his body relaxes against yours. “I’ll make this up to you.” He adds.

“Quinn, really it’s okay… It’s been a long month for you.” You chuckle, Quinn huffing against your chest in agreement. “Well we’ve got the whole of December to make up for it.” You add, pressing one more kiss to his head before settling into your boyfriends embrace, your legs wrapped around him until the early morning, when he drags himself away from you starting the bath and pulling you away from the couch in a half asleep daze.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispers in your ear as he insists you go to the toilet before sliding into the enjoyably hot water, Quinn sliding into the bath behind you.

“Thank you, for being patient with me.” He says against your skin, your body melting against his in the soapy water.

“Just promise you won’t do it again.”

“Deal.”

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fanfic #no nut novemeber

1K notes · View notes

pucked-bunnie · 2 months ago

Text

un-offical ⎜j.hughes

pairings: jack hughes x reader genre: romance ⎜situationship to lovers ⎜christmas special ⎜ warnings: readers ex being a jerk ⎜ jack being a doberman boyfriend ⎜ this is honestly just short and sweet synopsis: things with jack are complicated at the best of times - but they're about to get even worse when he meets your ex boyfriend at your families annual christmas party word count: 3.9k authors note: this was a combination of two requests i thought went really well together - I hope you all enjoy!! Happy Christmas season!

(unedited)

“Hon, there is someone at the door for you.” Your mum calls through the house, her voice casual yet carrying that sing-song lilt she used when she knew something was about to stir up excitement. You shoot to your feet, the soft rustle of your dress swishing against your ankles as you jog to the front door. You give her a quick nod of thanks as she drifts away, leaving you alone to handle the unexpected arrival. Standing in front of the door, you take a steadying breath, smoothing your dress and running a hand through your hair to make yourself look a bit more composed. Then, with a slight smile, you pull it open.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d make it,” you greet, the words sliding off your tongue with practiced ease. It’s a lie, of course. You’d been tracking his location on Find My Friends only minutes ago, and the little dot marking his presence had been slowly inching closer to your house, sending a flutter of nerves through your chest. But the moment Jack steps into view, all of those feelings morph into a warm kind of familiarity. There he stands, a neatly wrapped present in his hands, his white button-down pristine and tucked into tailored black slacks. His hair, as always, has that perfectly messy charm, and his grin is enough to light up even the frostiest winter night.

“Come in, come in, it’s freezing out there,” you say, stepping aside to usher him into the entryway. The air outside bites at your skin, a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of your home, but Jack’s presence brings an added heat—an unspoken connection that’s been brewing for months.

“I managed to squeeze it into my schedule,” Jack jokes, his tone light but his eyes sincere. That, too, is a lie. You know it, and he knows it. The moment you had mentioned your family’s annual Christmas party weeks ago, he had cleared his calendar without a second thought. The idea of being here, of being with you in a space so intimate and familial, was something he couldn’t resist. “I…um, got this for you.” Jack says softly, handing over the small present.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the air from the living room. “Is that Jack?” your younger cousin, Emily, calls out, poking her head around the corner. Her face lights up the moment she sees him, and Jack waves, his easy charm working its magic as always. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s Jack,” you confirm, and she’s gone as quickly as she appeared, probably to alert the rest of the family of his arrival. Your stomach flips slightly at the thought. Having Jack here is already complicated enough, given the undefined nature of your relationship. Your family, however, has an uncanny way of reading between lines that don’t even exist yet.

"They're expecting a lot of photos tonight." You say with a chuckle - your hand reaching out to slip into his. “Don't say I didn't warn you,” you tease, leading him into the living room. The scent of pine, cinnamon, and freshly baked cookies fills the air, wrapping around the two of you like a comforting blanket. Jack’s eyes wander, taking in the twinkling lights on the tree, the garlands strung along the bannisters, and the small army of cousins bustling around in various stages of sugar highs.

Just as Jack is about to say something, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, cutting through the festive chatter like a needle scraping across a record. You freeze. For a moment, you think about ignoring it, but your mum’s voice rings out again. “Hon, could you get that?” she calls, and your stomach twists with a sense of foreboding.

You glance at Jack, who raises an eyebrow in curiosity but stays silent. With a sigh, you make your way back to the front door. The moment you open it, the air seems to drain from your lungs. Standing there, a crooked grin on his face and a bottle of wine in hand, is your ex-boyfriend.

“Surprise,” he says, his voice tinged with that familiar cocky confidence that used to charm you but now only makes your pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons. You’re too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to understand why he’s here.

“Tyler? What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Your mum invited me. Said it’d be nice to catch up.”

“Of course she did,” you mutter under your breath, stepping aside to let him in. He’s barely in the entryway when Jack appears, his presence filling the space and immediately shifting the dynamic. His warm smile fades slightly as his eyes dart from you to the man now standing too close for comfort.

“Jack, this is, uh…this is Tyler,” you say, the awkwardness of the introduction making your cheeks flush. “Tyler this is Jack.” Tyler extends a hand, his expression unreadable.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, though his tone suggests the opposite. Jack hesitates for only a fraction of a second before shaking his hand firmly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

“Likewise,” Jack replies, his voice calm but his eyes sharp. The tension between them is palpable, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation.

“Do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar,” Tyler says, his grin returning as he doesn’t wait for Jack to respond, immediately greeted by the rest of your family as he steps further into the house, leaving you and Jack standing by the door. Jack’s gaze lingers on Tyler’s retreating figure before he turns to you, his expression softening slightly.

“Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Welcome to my life,” you reply, your tone half-joking but your heart pounding as you realise the evening is only just beginning.

Jack doesn’t say anything as the two of you move back toward the living room, but you can feel the shift in his energy. His easy-going demeanour has been replaced by a quiet alertness, his jaw tight, his hands slipping into his pockets as if to ground himself. You can’t blame him. Tyler has always had a way of commanding attention, whether or not it’s welcome.

And Jack? Well, Jack isn’t the type to back down from a challenge—even one that hasn’t been fully issued yet.

When you re-enter the living room, Tyler’s already making himself at home. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, chatting animatedly with your dad about some mutual interest in sports, the bottle of wine he brought resting on the coffee table like a trophy. The room buzzes with holiday cheer, but for you, the atmosphere is anything but jolly.

Jack hangs back slightly, his gaze fixed on Tyler. The subtle scrutiny in his eyes makes your stomach twist. You know Jack well enough to know he’s piecing things together, every detail adding fuel to the silent fire building between them.

You’re about to steer Jack toward the other side of the room when Tyler’s voice cuts through the conversation.

“Hold on a second,” he says, leaning back on the couch and pointing a finger in Jack’s direction. “Now I know where I’ve seen you before.”

The room goes quiet, all eyes flicking between the two men. Jack, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He merely raises an eyebrow, his posture calm but commanding.

“You’re Jack Hughes,” Tyler says, a slow grin spreading across his face as if he’s just uncovered some great secret

“New Jersey Devils, right? My buddies and I are huge fans.”

Jack offers a polite nod, his expression unreadable. “That’s me.”

Tyler lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head in mock amazement. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into an NHL star at a Christmas party. Small world, huh?”

You feel Jack’s gaze flicker toward you for a moment, as if seeking reassurance. But before you can say anything, Tyler leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So, how do you two know each other?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes alight with something more probing.

You open your mouth to answer, but Jack beats you to it.

“We met through mutual friends,” he says smoothly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Been close ever since.”

There’s something in the way he says it—something deliberate—that makes your heart skip a beat. Tyler catches it too, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Close, huh?” Tyler repeats, leaning back again. His gaze slides to you, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s not the type to let things go easily, especially when it comes to you.

“Yup,” you say quickly, trying to defuse the tension. “Jack’s been a great friend.”

Jack’s eyes dart to you, and for a brief moment, you swear you see a flicker of something unspoken there—something that contradicts the word friend.

“Friend,” Tyler echoes, his tone light but with an edge that makes your skin crawl. He looks back at Jack, his smile widening. “Well, I guess that makes you one of the lucky ones. This family’s not exactly easy to crack into.”

Jack chuckles, the sound low and deliberate. “I guess I’ve got a knack for that.”

The subtle back-and-forth isn’t lost on anyone in the room. Your dad clears his throat and starts up a conversation with your aunt to break the tension, while your cousins exchange wide-eyed glances, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

You, on the other hand, feel like you’re standing on a tightrope, one wrong step away from sending the whole evening spiralling out of control.

As the night progresses, Tyler continues to insert himself into every interaction, his charm dialled up to maximum.

But Jack doesn’t back down. He’s there, steady and unshaken, his quiet confidence cutting through Tyler’s bravado in ways you’re sure only the two of them fully understand.

At one point, Tyler corners you in the kitchen under the guise of catching up. “So,” he says, his voice low as he leans casually against the counter. “Hughes seems…interesting. You two really just friends?”

You glare at him, your patience wearing thin. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Tyler says with a shrug, but the smirk tugging at his lips says otherwise. “Just curious. Guy like that, I’m sure he’s got plenty of options.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Jack’s not like that.”

Tyler chuckles, his eyes narrowing slightly. “If you say so.”

“Why are you even here, Tyler? What made you think it was a good idea to come to your ex-girlfriend’s families christmas party.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead lightly.

“I told you, you’re mum invi—”

“Forget the fucking invitation… A normal person would’ve said no.” You hiss, slapping his hand away as he reaches out to place it on your thigh.

“Maybe I wanted to see if we could fix things - I miss you, baby.” Before you can respond, Jack appears in the doorway, his presence filling the small kitchen like a protective shield.

“Everything okay in here?” he asks, his tone light but his eyes locked on Tyler. The word ‘baby’ echoing around his head as his eyebrows furrow. You let out another long sigh, slapping at Tylers hand again as he tries to reach for you.

“Peachy,” Tyler says, pushing off the counter and brushing past Jack with a pointed pat on the shoulder. “We’ll finish this later,” he adds, throwing the comment over his shoulder as he disappears back into the living room.

Jack watches him go, his jaw tight. Then he turns to you, his expression softening. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, though your voice wavers slightly. “He’s just…Tyler.” Jack doesn’t press further, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not about to let Tyler ruin the night—or whatever it is the two of you have been carefully building.

As the evening winds down, the tension between Jack and Tyler remains unspoken but undeniable. And its as jack follows you around the kitchen helping place the dishes in the dishwasher at the end of the night, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of relief—like you’ve made it through a storm together.

“Thanks for coming,” you say softly, your breath visible in the cold night air.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Jack replies, his voice warm and steady. For a moment, neither of you moves, the world around you falling away. Then, with a small smile, Jack leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just a second longer than they need to.

The night stretched on, the warmth of the party doing little to ease the nerves that Tyler’s presence had stirred up. He seemed determined to inject himself into every conversation, his charm dialled up for your family’s sake, but every so often, you’d catch his eyes lingering on you, his smirk creeping back like an unwanted shadow.

Jack, on the other hand, was the epitome of steady confidence. He stayed close but never possessive, moving easily among your family members, cracking jokes with your cousins, and even helping your mum carry dessert platters from the kitchen. But his watchful gaze never strayed far from you, especially when Tyler was nearby.

You did your best to avoid being caught alone with Tyler, but the tension was wearing you thin. By the time dessert had been served, you needed a moment to yourself. Slipping out the back door, you welcomed the sharp bite of the winter air, hoping it would clear your head.

The backyard was quiet, the snow glistening under the faint glow of the string lights your dad had hung along the patio railing. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your sweater, when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” Tyler said, his tone smooth as he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed, your breath fogging in the cold. “What do you want, Tyler?”

“To talk,” he said, moving closer. “Just you and me. Like old times.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied sharply, backing away slightly. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Come on, babe,” he said, his grin widening. “You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. Us. The way we used to be.”

Your patience snapped. “You mean the way you used to lie and manipulate me? No, Tyler, I don’t miss that.”

His grin faltered, his eyes narrowing. “You’re being dramatic. You’re seriously going to let some hockey star replace me?” You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Tyler took another step closer, his voice dropping.

“I still love you. You know that, right? We could fix this. Just say the word.”

You froze, disgust bubbling up in your chest. “No, Tyler. There’s nothing to fix.”

He reached out, his hand brushing your arm, and you flinched away. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

“Everything okay out here?” Jack’s voice cut through the tension like a knife - for the second time that night. You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Tyler with a sharp, unreadable intensity.

Tyler dropped his hand, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just catching up,” he said casually, his tone dripping with false innocence.

Jack stepped down onto the patio, his calm demeanour doing nothing to hide the tension radiating from him. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

“Relax,” Tyler said, straightening. “We’re just talking. No need to get all territorial.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to you. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered. “Tyler was just leaving.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow, really? You’re gonna let him speak for you now?”

Jack took another step forward, his posture unwavering. “She doesn’t need to explain herself to you. You heard her. Leave.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you thought Tyler might actually swing.

But then he scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. I’m out,” he said, brushing past Jack and bumping his shoulder in the process. “But don’t think this is over.”

As Tyler disappeared back inside, Jack turned to you, his concern evident. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but the knot in your chest tightened as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why did you bother stepping in, Jack? I could’ve handled it.”

Jack frowned, his expression hardening. “Because he wasn’t listening to you, and I wasn’t about to stand there and let him intimidate you.”

“I didn’t need you to play the hero,” you snapped, the adrenaline making your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything.”

Jack froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression shifting from surprise to something deeper—something hurt.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “You’re not. But I care about you. And I wasn’t going to let him treat you like that.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, but your frustration hadn’t fully burned out. “I didn’t ask you to care, Jack. This was my problem to deal with.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Maybe you didn’t ask, but I’m here anyway. Because I want to be. Because you deserve better than him.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the icy wind biting at your skin. Finally, you sighed, your shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…tired of all this.”

Jack’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm lightly. “I get it,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, and for the first time that night, the tension in your chest began to ease. You looked up at him, your breath hitching as you met his gaze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Jack offered a small smile, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled back. “Come on,” he said, his voice lightening. “Let’s get back inside before your mum starts sending out search parties.” You laughed softly, nodding as you followed him back toward the house. The warmth of the party enveloped you as you stepped inside, but the real comfort was the steady presence of the man beside you.

As the night wound down, the atmosphere in the house gradually shifted back to the cozy warmth you had hoped for. Tyler had left not long after his confrontation with Jack, throwing a half-hearted goodbye to the room before disappearing out the front door. His absence was a relief, like a storm cloud finally clearing, leaving the air lighter and easier to breathe.

Jack, ever the charmer, stayed grounded and helpful, seamlessly blending into the group. He helped your dad carry a stack of empty trays to the kitchen, indulged your youngest cousin in a surprisingly competitive game of charades, and even won over your aunt with a discussion about her favourite holiday baking show. But no matter how relaxed he seemed, his presence remained tethered to you, as though he was silently letting you know he was there, ready to step in if needed.

The evening began to quiet as guests filtered out, hugs and cheerful goodbyes exchanged at the front door. Your cousins had retreated upstairs to play video games, your parents were tidying up in the kitchen, and the glow of the fireplace bathed the living room in a soft, flickering light.

Jack stood near the mantle, inspecting one of the framed family photos with an amused smile. You watched him for a moment, your heart softening as the warmth of his presence settled over you.

“You’re really good with them, you know,” you said as you approached, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly. “With who?”

“My family,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I think my aunt is ready to adopt you. And my cousins… I haven’t seen them this hyped about charades in years.”

Jack chuckled, leaning casually against the mantle. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

A comfortable silence fell between you again, the crackle of the fire filling the space. You glanced around the room, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingering in the air. Your gaze landed on a small sprig of mistletoe hanging above the archway leading into the foyer.

Jack followed your line of sight, his eyes landing on the mistletoe as well. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Really? You’re the one who leaves mistletoe up?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Blame my mum. She’s the one who insists on the ‘holiday charm.’”

Jack took a slow step forward, closing the small distance between you. His expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something more sincere. “Holiday charm, huh?” You felt your pulse quicken as he stopped just a step away, the warmth of him radiating in the cool room. The mistletoe loomed above, a quiet reminder of the tradition it carried.

“It’s silly,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Maybe,” Jack said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “But I don’t think I mind.”

His gaze flickered briefly to your lips, and your breath hitched, the world around you fading into the background. The glow of the fire, the faint hum of holiday music from the other room—it all blurred into nothing as Jack leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you a chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and electric, a perfect blend of warmth and tenderness. Your hands found their way to his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt grounding you as the kiss deepened ever so slightly.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, a small smile curving his lips.

“If you call me your friend one more time I might throw myself off the roof,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing as you shook your head. “We’re not friends?.”

“Not even close.” Jack’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press another soft kiss to your lips before pulling back completely.

The sound of your mum’s voice carried from the kitchen, breaking the spell. “Hon, is Jack staying for hot chocolate before he leaves?” You exchanged a glance with Jack, both of you smiling as the moment settled between you like a secret.

“I think I’ve got time for a cup,” Jack said, his voice warm as he took your hand, leading you back toward the living room.

The night had been a whirlwind, full of tension and unexpected twists, but as you sat beside Jack on the couch, sipping hot chocolate and stealing glances at him, you couldn’t help but feel like it had all led to this—something new and quietly wonderful blossoming between you.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagines #christmas special

1K notes · View notes

puck-luck · 8 months ago

Text

new beginnings | may 27 - june 2

note: before i start this, i just want to warn y'all that it's 24.4k. if you want to read this in one sitting, i recommend locking in.

please hit me up in my inbox to give me feedback! or your thoughts! or speculation on what's coming next! i want you guys to talk to me all the time and tell me every thought you have. if i could send each of you the google document and force you to leave comments, i would.

also, i think by the time this fic is finished, it might be long enough to be a novel. should we all work together to get it published?

1:90 – TREVOR

“Do we really think it’s a good idea to spend the summer down here instead of the Michigan house?” Jack asks. “We own that one, after all.”

“Everyone knows about the Michigan house,” Trevor points out.

Cole, who had plotted this with Trevor after last summer’s debacle, sighs. “We can’t keep having the same conversation. We decided that we would train at the Checkers’ rink when we can get down to Charlotte and use the cement slab as our own rink in the yard of the rental house in the meantime. So that’s not your problem. So, what is, Jack? You’re gonna miss the girls?”

Jack fixes Cole with a cutting glare. “Fuck off.”

“You know, there are girls in North Carolina,” Cole says, a grin dimpling his cheeks. “Sweet, southern belles, even.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I can’t wait for the rest of the goons to get here. We’ll put it to a fucking vote and I’ll get to go home.”

“If you want to go home so bad, why don’t you?” Trevor asks. “We’re not forcing you to be here.”

“You triple-belted me in the backseat,” Jack argues. “You’re taking me away from Michigan and you can’t even let me have shotgun.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Trevor mocks. “You have hands. And fingers. You’re not helpless.”

Jack huffs from his spot in the back, stubbornly turning his head to the right to watch the trees pass. Cole does the same from the passenger seat, tapping his fingers along the pane of the window.

There are twenty miles, an hour total, still on the GPS. Trevor hasn’t seen a town since they stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the mountain, the closest city being Winston-Salem almost an hour and a half ago, barely more than sparse houses and fields in the time since. They’re driving along a stream now and the latest exit off this small, two lane highway said “Love Valley.” Trevor snickers at the sign and goes to point it out to Jack, but Jack beats him to it.

“Don’t, Z.”

“It’s funny, dude.”

“It’s not, though.”

Cole cranks the volume up, drowning out the continuing argument that floats forward from the backseat.

They drive on and Trevor thinks about it– everything. They have three unobscured months in Litchton, the only people knowing about their whereabouts are their families and coaches. The goons, as Jack referred to them, would be joining them sometime in the next day or two. Quinn and Luke had to wrap up some loose ends at home (Quinn, closing up his apartment for the summer; Luke, visiting some college friends as their semester comes to an end.

Litchton was the safest bet and Krebs had mentioned North Carolina to Trevor in passing the one time they caught up throughout the year, heaving heard from Leschyshyn that the mountain towns of his home state were notoriously quiet and drama-free and that their inhabitants, although lovers of gossip, kept to themselves.

After those girls had snuck into the Michigan house at the end of the summer and started showing up wherever the boys went in the evenings, Trevor just wanted a summer off. He wanted time with his friends the way they used to have it, just working out together and drinking until they dropped, swimming and parading around the town like normal guys in their early twenties.

In Litchton, they could pretend to be guys that were home for the summer, ready to start some corporate finance or everyday-tie job. It was a look into what could’ve been, had they not dedicated their lives to their sport.

For three months, he gets to be Trevor Zegras, the kid who complained about his name being last on the roster in every class growing up and the kid who worked in his mom’s store after school. But he’s also Trevor Zegras, NHL superstar, ninth overall pick, owner of the best Michigan goal in the United States, so he might toss his name around in Litchton this summer. Just to see if it gets him anything.

If it doesn’t, his good looks certainly will. What’s flirting with a few old ladies on the street? It’ll be the highlight of their year.

Trevor misses the driveway the first time the car passes it. It’s hidden by brush and along a curve. The GPS reroutes them– but they have to drive an extra fifteen minutes along this road before they can turn around.

They drive into a small town, a strip of eclectic stores littering the main road. There’s a small grocery store with a fruit stand out front that Cole points to.

“We could pick up some food while we’re out here,” Cole suggests. Upon hearing Jack’s mouth open in the backseat, he continues, “Just so we don’t have to come back later.”

Jack slouches against the backseat, huffing about being cut off at the opportunity to express his discomfort.

“Jacky, will you relax? We’re going to have fun this summer.” Trevor tells him, turning into the parking lot and choosing a spot close to the entrance.

Cole laughs when Jack unbuckles his three seatbelts in the wrong order and has to untangle them. Trevor flips the mirror down and fudges his hair, fluffing the ends. He had gotten it cut just before they left for this trip, so the edges were still even and sharp.

Jack is the first to exit the car, practically throwing himself onto the pavement with his excitement to leave the vehicle behind, if only briefly. They’d been driving for hours. Cole flew into New York from Montréal, so Trevor had to pick him up from the airport. They picked Jack up in Jersey in the early morning and started driving south.

Trevor can’t blame Jack for his annoyance. They’ve been in the car with him for ten long hours and they forced the first stretch of driving on him, having spent about two hours in the car before getting him. He had just woken up and had to drive four hours through the traffic of Philly and into Baltimore. He napped while Cole drove down through most of Virginia, and then woke up grumpy anyway when Trevor took over to take on North Carolina.

It’s been a long fucking day.

They shop together, but they bicker quietly. After years of friendship, their arguments seem more like brotherly spats. The knowing smiles from the women in the grocery store prove that they’ve heard encounters like this before, likely in their own homes.

Eventually, Trevor rolls his eyes and goes to sit in the car. He leaves Cole and Jack to pay for the groceries. Upon leaving the store, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Instagram, hoping to catch up on the posts that he had missed on the long drive.

Walking past the fruit stand out front, Trevor bumps into someone and he stumbles back.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes, reaching out and steadying the girl with a touch to her elbow. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hard to see me when you’re on your phone,” she replies with a tilted smile.

Trevor lets out a little laugh at her reply, barely a breath. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She nods with an approving hum and turns back to the stand, picking up a peach and turning it over in her hand.

Trevor turns and walks to the car, climbing into the vehicle and settling behind the wheel. He watches the sliding door for his friends, but his eyes drift back to the girl.

She’s tied a red bandana in her hair and she slips peaches into her mesh bag. She talks to the vendor, using her hands to speak. She’s pretty, he realizes, far prettier than the girls he knows from California. The vendor hands her a basket of strawberries, which she takes carefully, inspecting the red berries by twisting the basket’s handle from side to side, spinning it. Trevor can see her profile this way– the slope of her nose, smooth. Her eyelashes, long. Her lips, pink and pursed into a little smile. Her stance is tilted, one hand on her hips.

Trevor is back outside the car before he can think. He approaches her as she pays for her fruit, standing behind her when she turns around.

She jumps when she sees him. “You’re still here?” She asks.

“No, but I’m back,” Trevor replies, realizing just how lame he sounds. “My friends and I are staying here for the summer and I just wanted to introduce myself.”

When he falls silent after explaining himself, she looks at him expectantly. He can see the bottoms of her teeth as her lips part. “So introduce yourself.” She gestures for him to go on.

“I’m Trevor,” he says, sticking his hand out. “My friends call me Z.”

Her eyes drop to his hand briefly. She considers it before reaching up and taking his hand, shaking it. “Why?” She asks.

“My last name starts with a Z,” Trevor supplies. “Zegras.” The smile he gives her is strained, expecting her eyes to light up in recognition. They do, but it’s not in the way he expects.

“You’re Greek?” She asks, her interest piqued.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies. “But not, like… Greek. I’m from New York, but I live in California now.”

At the mention of California, her face stiffens. She hums disapprovingly. “Got sick of the West Coast, I take it? Is that why you’re back east this summer?”

Trevor flounders for a moment. “I love California, but the guys and I always spend our summers together. Usually we’re in Michigan.”

“So y’all travel all around, huh?” She asks. She doesn’t sound impressed, which makes Trevor nervous. In fact, she sounds almost disdainful, but the look on her face appears as though she’s holding back a laugh. Whether that is at his expense, he doesn’t know.

“We’re very lucky,” Trevor confirms, nodding tightly. “Most of our travel is for work, though. We all work in the same industry and it involves a lot of, um, business trips.”

“Business trips?” She asks, letting the laugh overtake her this time as she looks him up and down. “You?”

Trevor looks down at his own outfit, the basketball shorts and loose t-shirt. They’re two of the few clothes he owns that are not branded with the Ducks logo. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve been driving a while and I wanted to be comfortable.”

“You certainly look comfortable,” She agrees with a nod, her grin knowing and wide.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Trevor says with a similar grin, shuffling forward just a step now that he’s got her smiling and laughing.

It’s then that Cole and Jack exit the grocery store, each with a hefty load of grocery bags on their arms. They’re laughing, so it appears Cole has managed to cheer up the sullen Jack in Trevor’s absence. Trevor watches the girl’s eyes leave his, drawn to the movement and volume of his two friends. He curses them in his mind, watching as they find him and decide to approach.

“I thought you were warming up the car, Z,” Jack accuses, his eyes flickering between Trevor and the girl. “D’you get distracted?”

Trevor bites his tongue before forcing a smile on his face. He turns back to the girl. “These are the some of the friends I mentioned, Jack and Cole. The other ones, Jack’s brothers, aren’t here yet.” Trevor knows he’s overexplaining, but he can’t help it. Something about this girl has him awkward and tongue-tied, yet his tongue can’t stop forming words and pushing them out.

“Yeah, your business partners.” She rubs a hand over her face, smoothing out the half-smile that was clearly keeping a laugh at bay. “Are they also from California?”

Cole snorts. “Business partners?” He repeats. “From California? No way. You’d never catch me dead in Anaheim, unless we’re playing there. Believe me, I’d be on the quickest flight back.”

“I just said we all worked in the same industry,” Trevor corrects, throwing on his most charming smile to try and salvage the situation. He wasn’t lying, but this girl might think he is, and that would be disastrous. He doesn’t know why, but it would be. He wants her to think highly of him and now he’s made two bad first impressions.

The second one is his friends’ fault, of course.

And she does think he’s lying– Trevor can tell by the way she looks him up and down, then Cole, then Jack. Her eyes squint imperceptibly at Cole’s mention of “playing” in Anaheim, rather than working. It was a statement that could have extended the conversation, but this girl seems to decide that she is uninterested.

She nods sarcastically, then scoffs quietly. “I have to go,” she says. “It was nice to meet you, Trevor. Have fun in Litchton this summer, boys.”

“Oh, we will,” Jack assures her. Trevor hates how his eyes rake over her, combing through each detail of her skin, her clothes, and her hair.

“Nice meeting you!” Cole calls after her as she walks away.

Both boys turn to Trevor, equally annoying smiles on their faces.

“Shut up,” he hisses before they can say anything.

“Who was that?” Cole asks.

“I didn’t get her name,” Trevor growls through gritted teeth. “She was just about to tell me and then the two of you showed up.”

“Boo-hoo,” Jack teases. “So you won’t be the first to bed a girl this summer, for… how many summers in a row is it now, Coley?”

Cole’s laughter breaks his face, but Trevor interrupts before he can speak.

“It’s not even a real competition, Jack. You only act like it is because you fuck the same girl every summer as soon as we get to the lake house. It’s trashy.”

“Being a winner isn’t trashy, Trev. In fact, maybe I should go follow after the girl you were just chatting up. I’ll show her how a real man flirts.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Trevor feels a flare of anger well up inside of him when Jack insinuates taking this girl for himself. It should be anger about questioning Trevor’s manhood, but it is not. “Get in the car.”

He stalks off, starting the car this time and situating himself behind the wheel. Jack vies for the passenger seat unsuccessfully, souring his mood yet again. Despite Cole’s smaller stature, Jack is the one left in the backseat with the bags of groceries around him. Soon, Trevor’s shirt joins him after a misguided throw to the trunk of the car where their luggage resides.

When they arrive at the house, Jack only carries the groceries inside. He claims he’s been stilted all day and Trevor can’t really do much to prove otherwise. Cole carries in his and Jack’s luggage into the home– a rental that Trevor paid good money to book for the entire summer.

“I get the best room!” Trevor yells after them. “I paid for it! I want the ensuite bathroom!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jack replies. He’ll leave the room for Trevor to take anyway.

The three boys had planned this ahead of time. They would be in Litchton the whole summer, so they will take the three bedrooms that have king beds. Quinn and Luke will take the queen beds in the other bedroom, and the various guests throughout the summer will take the bunk beds in the basement. From the pictures alone, Trevor realizes that the house could sleep more than ten people. If they can find ten people, maybe they could throw a party.

and invite that girl, Trevor thinks.

He’s taken aback by the thought and its suddenness. He doesn’t even know her name or if he’ll see her again– so why is he thinking of her?

Trevor shakes the thought and grabs his bags from the back of the car. He used an extra practice bag from the bottom of his closet in Anaheim to pack his clothes for the summer, so he has a free hand to open the door that Cole closed behind him.

He finds the big bedroom easily and drops his bag in the closet, not bothering to unpack. He looks out the sliding door onto his porch, the wrap-around that encircles the entire back of the house. His porch holds two rocking chairs and a wooden bench. The house is built out of wood– almost overwhelmingly so– and the decorations match. His bedframe, his dresser, his bedside table, his small desk, the fan, even the blinds on the window… all of them are made of wood.

His bathroom has double sinks and a granite countertop. The handles are gold in color, but likely not in material. The spout of the sink is more like a water spigot that one might find outdoors, but it’s classy. When Trevor enters his bathroom, he’s in awe of the jacuzzi tub and shower on the other side of the room.

The tub and shower are both built from dark marble, bespeckled with lines of darker ore. The tub has wooden cabinets beneath the feet of marble on either side of the tub, which holds towels and toiletries on the right and left respectively. The tub has jets and a handheld spout that’s detachable. Trevor considers them. He can think of a use for both.

The shower is spacious with an overhead spout, wide and fancy. It has ledges for toiletries, as well as a seat in the corner. The door is glass and there is a hook for towels next to the opening. The shower stands from ceiling to floor, completely confined. Despite the windows to the side of it, the occupant of the shower would be completely hidden from sight, once the glass door steams up.

Trevor explores the house further, but doesn’t take up residence anywhere. Cole and Jack seem to have put the groceries away while he found his room and looked around. Now, they’re nowhere to be found. They’ve likely taken up residence in their bedrooms for the night, tired from their eleven hour drive.

Lord knows Jack needs sleep before he braves this vacation. He always gets grumpy when he’s tired, part of the reason why he naps prior to every game.

Trevor is glad that all of the boys can make it up for the summer. He can’t wait to get things started.

2:90 – HONEY

She wakes with the sunrise, as she does every Tuesday. It’s her first day of the week at the bookstore and she has to open. The Reading Nook is always closed on Mondays and she is one of three workers– the owner, Ada and her best friend since childhood, Bea. Ada opens the store on Thursday, whereas Bea opens it on Friday. Every other day of the week, the responsibility falls on her.

She makes her coffee and drinks it on her couch, looking out the window towards the mountains in the distance. It’s clear today and she can see the rows of mountains clearly– ten rows back. Once, her father had told her that if you could count ten rows back, you were looking at the mountains across state lines. If you could count ten mountains, then you could count all the way to Tennessee.

She believed him, until she realized that the sun always rises behind those mountains. She faces east. Tennessee is to the west.

Still, the memory comes with fondness. It was before she moved away from home to pursue a life of quietness in the mountains, her favorite place in the world. Those days are long in the past. She has no interest in returning to them, given how far she’s come. The only person from her hometown that was welcomed into this new life was Bea and she has proven time and time again that she is deserving of that role.

Not only did they grow up together, but she got her nickname because of her friendship with Bea. As children, a long-forgotten teacher had made a comment about the two being attached at the hip, stuck together like glue. She had corrected herself with a laugh, evidently feeling clever when she said: “No, more like a bee to honey, right, girls?” From that day on, she had only gone by Honey and Bea had shortened her name from Beatrice to keep the analogy.

She drives to The Reading Nook and unlocks the store, wiping the counter and sweeping the main room while she waits for her regular patrons to enter the store.

On Tuesdays, the “founding” women of Litchton convene in the bookstore and knit. Some days, Honey joins them. Others, she just wishes to sit and read at their table, listening in on the gossip of the week. The women are not so much founders as the grandmothers who lived in Litchton since their birth, having married and worked and raised families here. They are true Appalachian women– driven by superstition and fantastical solutions, lovers of a good story, and wonderful bakers who only crave to share their gift. They are churchgoers, often multiple times a week, and headstrong believers in their chosen politician. These are the attributes that Honey does not share with the women– she was an outsider, although she has been welcomed into the Litchton society since moving here. She attended church when the ladies asked her to, usually for the rare wedding or baptism. Rarer for a funeral, luckily. Honey does not feel any particular way about politics, at least not out loud, and she’s lucky that the ladies try to reserve that topic for the debates of their husbands over dinner parties, not the knitting circle on early Tuesday mornings.

Sacha is the first to arrive to the bookstore that morning, armed with blueberry muffins in a tupperware that Honey will have to wash in the little sink in the back while the women are knitting. Sacha has left one too many tupperwares and bowls in The Reading Nook and Honey won’t allow her to leave another behind.

Honey plates the muffins for Sacha while the elderly woman secures the long table in the store for her friends. It does not take long for Scarlett, Gillian, Vera, and Rosalind to join. The women each knit their own project, waking up over coffee and muffins before the gossip starts.

It begins with Vera’s son’s divorce, something she had been dreading since he proposed to his soon-to-be ex-wife while they were still students at NC State. They had moved to Raleigh permanently, an action that Vera believes started this whole thing. When her son left home, and his wife finally revealed that she didn’t want children, Vera knew it was over. Or so she said. Honey thinks that she’s just butthurt about her son fleeing the nest… ten years ago. She wonders, briefly, if her own mother feels this way about her.

Honey shakes herself out of her thoughts as soon as Scarlett introduces the next topic, the topic that Honey knew was coming since the night before.

“Did you see those young men at the store yesterday? I know you always do your shopping on Monday evenings, Rosalind.” Scarlett tilts her head like she’s conspiring with Rosalind, like Rosalind has been holding information from the group.

Rosalind nods, eyes glinting behind her wired glasses. “They were such handsome boys. Lord, I tell you, if I were a young lady nowadays…”

She trails off and Honey stifles a laugh, looking down at the counter. She can feel the ladies’ eyes on her, no doubt hoping that the mention of boys piques her interest. Honey knows how these ladies were in their day– boy crazy but also efficient, looking for the perfect match and settling for no less. All of them prevailed, although from their complaints, you would never know their husbands were the loves of their lives.

“Ladies, you know this conversation would be better suited for Bea,” Honey teases.

“Bea is too forthcoming, you are still somewhat of a mystery.” Gillian lifts an eyebrow.

“Where is Miss Bea?” Vera asks. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here half an hour ago?”

Honey doesn’t stifle her laugh this time. “Miss Vera!” She exclaims. “It is a Tuesday morning. You know Bea has no interest in showing up to work for at least another hour.”

Vera shakes her head. “You and Ada have got to stop allowing her to show up so late.”

Sacha laughs. “As if they could stop her if they tried!”

All of the women, and Honey, laugh at the joke. It’s well established in Litchton that Bea is the tardy sort, whereas everyone else prefers to be early or on time. Bea has the attitude of a city girl, to quote the old ladies, but the work ethic and priorities of a Litchton woman. She likes her men, she likes her job, but she loves a nice lay-in.

“Besides,” Honey tells the women, hesitating with a coy smile before dropping the bomb of information: “I’ve already met those men.”

The effect is instantaneous. All of them drop their knitting onto their laps and gasp. Gillian clutches at her chest, always the most dramatic of the quintet.

“My darling,” Rosalind marvels.

“Well?” Scarlett questions. “How? When? Tell us everything.”

Honey moves from behind the counter to an empty seat at their table. She sits next to Sacha, the woman taking her hand and holding it tightly.

“You ladies seem to forget that I go to the fruit stand outside the store on Monday evenings,” Honey begins. “Which is where I ran into them. Literally, too– one of them had his nose buried in his phone and bumped into me. He could’ve knocked me over!”

“You should have fallen so that he could have helped you up,” Rosalind suggests. The women murmur in agreement.

Honey rolls her eyes. “I did not. He apologized, I told him that he only bumped into me because he was caught up in his phone, and he said he would be more careful next time.”

“Next time,” Gillian repeats, nodding. “So he wishes to see you again?”

“Turns out, ‘next time’ was about five minutes later, when I went to leave the stand and he was right behind me!” Honey reveals, purposefully lacing incredulity into her voice. She places a finger on her lips and widens her eyes, playing into the dramatics of the ladies as if to say “What do you think of that?”

The women gasp in time.

“Which one was it?” Scarlett asks.

“I only saw the other two for a moment, so I don’t think I could describe them well enough to you,” Honey says. “The one I spoke to is named Trevor.” She pauses to roll her eyes before adding sarcastically, “But his friends call him Z.”

Scarlett and Rosalind nod and look to each other.

“It must have been the one who left earlier than the other two,” Scarlett says. “With those awful tattoos.”

Honey bites back a giggle. Once a southern mother, always a southern mother. “He did have tattoos,” she confirms.

“You two would get along,” Vera suggests, not so subtly casting a glance at the leafy vines that crawl up Honey’s arm.

Honey goes quiet, glaring at Vera. She has worked to try and get the ladies to stop commenting on her body and habits over the past few years, but the ladies are stubborn and traditional in most senses.

“How long will they be here? Or were they just stopping through?” Gillian asks.

“They’ll be here all summer, so I’m sure we’ll get our fill of them.” With that, Honey effectively ends her role in the conversation. She returns to the counter and opens her book, pretending to read it.

She knew the ladies would have caught wind of the men’s arrival by now and would want to discuss it. She knew that the ladies would be interested in setting her up with one of these new arrivals. They were cute, she’d give them that. At a glance, any of the three could have been nice company at a brewery, but Honey wasn’t looking. She was perfectly content with finding herself and making her own life, even if it meant that she wasn’t finding a husband like most women in Litchton wanted her to do.

The other thing was this: Trevor hadn’t made the best first impression. He bumped into her, then startled her, then told her some story about business partners or colleagues that definitely was not true, and he was from California. He’s a yuppie, a hipster who probably enjoys the bustle of Los Angeles and can’t handle the slow, satisfying life of a small town. To her estimate, Trevor has got a week before he leaves Litchton for something more glamorous and fast-paced.

The ladies relay the news to Bea when she finally shows up for her shift, a travel mug of coffee in hand from which she sips throughout each tantalizing detail of Scarlett’s retelling. Upon Honey’s information, Bea’s eyes flicker knowingly toward the counter and Honey just shrugs. Bea’s eyes then narrow, accompanying a questioning tilt of her head. Honey shakes her head at that, and Bea lets it go.

“Well, I heard the reason that Mr. Mayes wasn’t at church last week wasn’t his hip acting up,” Bea says to the ladies when it’s her turn. That starts a whole new tangent for the knitting club, one that will keep them occupied and in their seats for a number of minutes. It gives Honey the time to slip into the back and cut up one of the peaches that she brought from home to snack on during work.

The ladies leave The Reading Nook about an hour after Bea’s arrival, leaving the store empty except for the two girls and floaters looking for their next novel.

Bea leans against the counter with a smug smile, blinking innocently at Honey.

“What do you really think about them?” She asks.

“I think they’re trouble,” Honey says. “They didn’t seem on the same page about their jobs, they don’t know anything about living in a small town, they travel a lot, and I think I saw one of them carrying a 48-pack of beer.”

“Are they cute?”

Honey fixes Bea with a stare that could put a stop to anyone else’s questions. Unfortunately, Bea is immune to Honey’s intimidation tactics and her sarcastic jabs. She sees right through them. Honey’s silence is another thing she sees through.

“Interesting.” She draws herself up to her full height.

“I think you would find them cute,” Honey says.

Bea hums. “You can’t backtrack now. You said enough without saying anything at all.” She crosses her arms over her chest then leans back down onto the counter. “So, tell me, Honeybear,” she muses. Fortunately, she changes the topic. “Did you get my strawberries from the stand, or were you too enthralled by the pretty boy in front of you?”

“He wasn’t pretty.”

“Sure he wasn’t.”

Honey scoffs, then leaves to the back to grab the basket of strawberries. She does so carefully, not touching the strawberries in case she breaks out in hives like she did last time. Bea swears that more exposure to the fruit would “cure” her allergy, but Honey only picks up the baskets to humor her. Honey doesn’t think she’s missing out on much, being allergic to strawberries. It’s her peaches that she would miss, and the blackberry pie that Ada makes when her vines turn ripe. That’s something to look forward to– blackberry season is starting and Ada could show up with a pie any day now.

The day continues slowly, with Ada making an appearance to close down the shop with the girls and help unpack a new shipment of books. After they’re done, Honey and Bea head to their respective homes.

Honey curls up with her book in her bed and listens to some music before the soft noise of the background and the comfort of her blanket draws her to her sleep.

3:90 – TREVOR

They have to go to the hardware store today.

Yesterday, the boys wasted the day, sleeping later than they have in weeks. They ate a late breakfast, which turned into their lunch. They played pool on the pool table, ping and beer pong on the foldable table, and sunbathed out on the porch. Cole watched lazily as Trevor and Jack tried to outline half of a rink in chalk on the cement slab. They never finished the other half of the rink.

Today, they have to go get some wood and tools to make the rink into a 3D structure so the pucks don’t go flying into the woods when they shoot them. Trevor and Cole are the ones who are supposed to go to the store– Jack has decided to stay behind and wait for Quinn and Luke if they show up while the other boys are at the store.

A convenient excuse, even though the goons are planning to show up today. Trevor expects the brothers to try and weasel their way out of working on the rink, claiming that they’re too tired from travel or they need more time to unpack. The thing is, the boys are flying into Charlotte and renting a car for the summer so that there will be two at the house, so they’re only driving for like an hour compared to Trevor’s eleven. They have no right to be complaining, but they will likely enact a vote and outweigh Cole and Trevor because if the Hughes are anything, it’s lazy and loyal to each others’ laziness.

They’re very driven, but only when they choose to work. When it comes to hockey, they’ll work all day. When it comes to creating the hockey rink or putting together equipment, they would much rather watch. Jim spoiled them that way– he was always the builder of the family and the boys were left to go do whatever they wanted as long as they weren’t annoying their father.

Trevor and Cole put off the trip as long as they can, hoping that maybe the Hughes brothers will show up early and they can force them to go to the store before they can even get out of the car.

When the clock hits two, Trevor decides that the waiting is useless. They could’ve done so much during the day instead of sitting around waiting, but no. He was lucky enough to sit around and do nothing all day and watch stupid daytime TV with Cole while Jack read his texts with his brothers out loud.

The hardware store would be heaven compared to this.

He leaves without Cole at first, driving slowly down the driveway until he sees Cole’s figure run out of the house and after the car. Trevor can imagine what he’s saying as he yells after the vehicle– something about not being left with Jack in case the other Hugheses show up, something about how Trevor is a dick.

They follow the one road on the mountain up to the strip where all the stores are. The hardware store is just a few doors down from the grocery store, so they park in the same parking lot.

Cole and Trevor walk side by side, Cole’s eyes on his phone as they walk while Trevor takes in the brick walkway beneath them. Names are etched on some of the bricks– Jude Doyle, Frederick Lawson, Ansley Hood… Grandma. Trevor has seen stuff like this before, but there’s something different about these names being etched on the bricks of this small town. Everyone probably knew these people, or knew someone who knew them, when they died. It’s so personal.

When they reach the hardware store, Trevor holds the door open for a man leaving. They give each other a curt nod, just a passing glance. Trevor sees absolutely no recognition in his eyes and comments on it. Cole doesn’t care, and says so. Trevor punches his shoulder.

“Welcome in,” the elderly woman at the counter greets. “What are you boys looking for?”

“Hi,” Cole replies, a charming smile on his face. “Could you point me towards the power tools? I can find my way from there.”

The woman smiles and points toward the back of the store. “They’re on the left, sweetie.” She turns to Trevor. “And what about you?”

“We’ll be needing some plywood,” Trevor says. “We’re building a little roller rink.”

“Oh, how fun!” The lady, named Vera if her nametag has any truth to it, claps her hands. “How much do you need, dear?”

“How much have you got?” Trevor asks.

Vera waves her hand. “I don’t know. I’ll call Earl, he’ll send you off with what you need.” She turns and takes a breath before shouting the man’s name. Trevor’s heard that shout before– his grandmother used to do the same thing with his grandfather.

The balding, age-spotted man appears at the door to the back of the shop. “I done told ya I have my hearing aids in, woman,” Earl grumbles to his wife, fond and mean and familiar in the way that only a couple who has been married for fifty years can be.

Vera smacks Earl’s arm as he ambles by her. Earl pulls his arm away and puts another foot between them.

“What do you need, young man?” Earl asks.

“Lots of wood,” Trevor says. “A couple of sheets of plywood and some 2x4s, maybe?”

“Boy, you do not think I have all’a that laying around.” Earl fixes Trevor with a stink-eye.

“Don’t you tell him that!” Vera chimes in. “I know you’ve got plenty of wood out back because you bought all of it and never finished our damn basement.”

“I’m going to finish it!”

“Earl, you’ve been saying that for thirty years, you ain’t never finishing the basement.”

Trevor wants to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. He wants to laugh at this domestic argument and how unreal it is that it’s unfolding in front of him. Instead, he clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he interrupts gently. “I don’t know if I want thirty year old wood for this. We’ll be hitting pucks off the boards all day and I’d like to keep the pucks inside the rink, please.”

“You’re a hockey boy?” Earl questions with a raised brow. When Trevor nods, he lets out a grunt. Trevor can’t tell what that means. Nonetheless, he waves Trevor to follow him into the back.

Trevor squeezes past Vera– she pinches his butt, he thinks– and catches a glimpse of her knitting under the counter when he walks by. She’s knitting something green. It’s too bundled up for him to tell what it is, though. Maybe he’ll ask later.

When he enters the back room, Earl gestures around. “Take your pick of the wood and make a pile over there–” he points to the corner– “and you can drive around back and we can put the wood in your truck there.”

“Oh, I didn’t drive a truck down,” Trevor says before he can help it. Earl makes a face. “But my friend and I can carry the piles ourselves to the car, don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Earl gripes, shuffling away to sit at a bench with a circular saw and a half finished product on the table.

Trevor sifts through the wood, all neatly arranged into piles of similar sizes– but labeled completely wrong. Trevor thinks that Earl might’ve refused to follow Vera’s labels when she first put them up in the shop, but realized that they’re more helpful than harmful. He’s just petty enough of an old man to ignore the labels, but follow the categorization.

Trevor ends up with a pile of ten sheets of plywood– four that are as long as lunch tables, and six that are just squares. Those will go behind the goals, while the long ones will go around the sides of the slab. He picks up a couple of 2x4s, just in case he needs them, and throws them on the pile with a clatter.

“I’m going to go grab my buddy,” Trevor says to Earl.

Earl grunts, but doesn’t budge. He also doesn’t look up from his station.

Cole is chatting up Vera when Trevor rejoins them. He’s leaning over the edge of the counter, asking about Vera’s knitting and her grandchildren. He’s got a bag of goodies next to him– powertools and nails, Trevor assumes.

“Coley, come help me,” Trevor interrupts.

“No manners, this guy,” Cole says to Vera, scoffing and pointing his thumb at Trevor with a shake of his head.

“Well, don’t keep the bear waiting,” Vera replies. Trevor watches her pinch Cole’s ass as he passes, but Cole just laughs and bats her hand away.

Fucking annoying. Always so good with the grandparents.

“The bear?” Trevor asks once Vera is out of earshot. “Is that me?”

Cole smirks. “We’ve got nicknames.”

Earl looks up when they reenter the back. He lets out a laugh, just a short bark. “This is your friend who’s going to help you carry all that wood?”

As the smirk falls off Cole’s face, Trevor picks it up.

“I can carry some wood,” Cole insists. “Probably all of it. I’m stronger than Z is, anyway.”

Earl’s gaze slides over to Trevor. “Z,” he repeats. “I hope you don’t stick with that one.”

Trevor laughs. “You sound like–” he cuts himself off. He never did learn her name, anyway. What’s it to this old man, who he sounds like?

Cole picks up on it though. “Like who, Z?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

Trevor glares at him.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who I sound like and I don’t want to hear your smug little bickering,” Earl admonishes. “Get your wood and get outta my shop.”

Trevor laughs in Cole’s face, then pushes him over towards the pile of wood. “Go on, strong man.”

Cole makes like he’s going to throw a punch at Trevor– Trevor doesn’t flinch, because he hasn’t fallen for that since their first stint on the US team– and puffs up his chest before deciding to pick up the long pieces of wood.

“Compensating for something?” Trevor asks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Cole replies cheerfully, turning on his heel and swinging the wood around with him, hoping to hit Trevor in the stomach. Trevor jumps away.

He picks up the rest of the wood and follows Cole out of the shop, bidding Earl a quiet farewell.

Earl grunts.

Trevor nods to himself, not surprised by the response. Vera is much more sad to see them go, gushing over how strong they are and telling them to come back soon.

“What’s your nickname?” Trevor asks suddenly, as they load the wood into the back of the car.

Cole grins, crooked and smug. “Sweetie.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not. I’m a real hit with the ladies.”

“Yeah, you’re a real fucking hit with the married seventy year olds,” Trevor scoffs. “Don’t fucking talk to me, dude.”

Cole laughs, tossing his head back. He looks over Trevor’s shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your girl?”

Trevor spins around. “Where?” He asks, looking to his left and right.

When Cole starts cackling behind him, Trevor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, dude.”

“Bear, you wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Cole pats Trevor on the chest before rounding the car, settling in the passenger seat.

“Fucking passenger princess,” Trevor seethes.

“You wish you were me.”

“I fucking don’t.”

“The more fucks you say, the more fucks you give.”

“Fuck off.”

They drive back to the house in silence, Trevor’s knuckles white as he deliberates driving off the mountain and taking Cole with him. There are pros, certainly, the top one being that Cole would no longer be part of this vacation. The cons, unfortunately, outweigh the pros: without Cole, Trevor would be alone with the Hughes brothers all summer, except for the occasional visiting savior.

Quinn and Luke have arrived by the time the duo returns to the mountain house. They brought with them another SUV, this one only slightly bigger than Trevor’s vehicle. It’s got a third row of seats, but it’s cramped– they’ll definitely have to take both cars down to Charlotte when they go to practice. Because of the limited trunk space in Quinn’s rental car, Trevor’s car will likely end up being the gear car.

Which is lucky, because who wouldn’t want to spend three hours total in the car with smelly gear while the other car gets to have fun and smell nice?

On second thought, the time alone might be good for Trevor. He loves his friends, he really does, but it’s hard to be around them for so long. He’s lucky that they’re all on different teams, that they keep up when they can, and that it’s not constant. Jack can’t escape his brothers, especially not Luke, but Trevor can escape all three of them.

He spends the evening building the outdoor rink, mostly alone. Quinn helps a little bit, mostly chalking up the lines on the remaining half of the slab. He holds the wood for Trevor while he screws some nails into the pieces to keep them in place. They work mostly in silence, as they often do. Trevor is itching to talk with Quinn, see how he is, but he knows that Quinn is a man of few words. He also knows that Quinn is quick to say that Trevor talks too much. They’re at the point in their relationship where Trevor lets Quinn dictate how much they speak.

Luke tries to cook dinner, he does. Trevor can’t fault him for trying. Jack had to jump in to save them from burnt steaks and soggy vegetables, and even if he can’t salvage everything, he does a pretty good job. Luke apologizes and does the dishes. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the couch during the movie they picked out, and Quinn wakes Luke like a good big brother and shoos him to bed.

It’s more calm than the lake house, Trevor thinks. They’re not really doing anything differently, are they? And yet, here they are, sitting together in calm silence. They’re drinking bottled beer and laughing over the same jokes they’ve heard a million times, reminiscing about summers past and what they’ll do this summer. Quinn wishes for a lake. Jack tells him they’ll find one.

Trevor goes to bed when the movie ends, frogs croaking past his bedroom window in the depths of the night.

4:90 – HONEY

It’s a Thursday, so Honey gets to sleep in until nine. Sleeping in until nine means that she really wakes up at eight, because she just can’t sleep in late after working at the bookstore for five years now. She sits on her couch on Thursday mornings and reads. She does the crossword in the Litchton Local, the newspaper that comes out weekly on Wednesdays.

There’s an immeasurable stillness in the mountains.

Honey noticed it the first time she came up to this house as a child. Everything moves, like the bugs outside and the leaves on the trees, but everything is so still. Like it’s being held in place by something bigger. She knows the feeling well, but it’s comforting here.

At home, it was uniforms and piano lessons after school. She loves piano, even still, but there was something so crushing about the weight of her perfect posture on that bench when there was all the pressure of beauty breathing down her neck.

Home, Honey thinks again, and laughs.

In the mountains, all of the beauty of the world is there and present and taking up space– but it’s not forced. It’s not the idealized version of everything. It just is.

And everything is so green, especially on a rainy day like this. Honey thinks there’s something sacred about the greenness of the mountains, but it’s the melancholic side of divine that leaves you waiting for another whisper or breath in the wind that never comes.

She used to have a piano that she could play in the mornings. She toted it to the antique store down the road when she made the mountain home hers. Sometimes, she wonders why she did that and regrets it, staring at the dents on the floor where its legs used to stand.

But then she remembers that she’s thinking about the past again and she shakes herself out of it. Five years later, but it’s hard to forget all of the things you grew up knowing.

Honey picks Bea up on the way to work, relishing in the girl’s consistent lateness because it allows her the chance to catch up with her friend. They see each other every day, yes, but the bookstore isn’t suited for some topics.

Such as Bea’s current woes:

“I’ve run out of dating app men,” she complains.

Honey bites back a smile. “Did you run out, or did you just swipe left on all of them?” She asks knowingly.

Bea cuts her eyes at Honey. “All the ones I swiped left on are ugly,” she says. “I can promise you that.”

“Is anyone good-looking in Litchton, Bea?”

Bea’s silence speaks for itself.

Honey laughs, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze from the rolled-down windows of her car.

“If I had known you were dragging me to the Ugly Capital of the World, I wouldn’t have come with you,” Bea announces, like it matters. She’s a liar. She wouldn’t have let Honey leave their hometown without her, no matter where she was going.

“You couldn’t turn it down, you had to come,” Honey replies. “Especially since they asked you to be Mayor.”

Bea gasps, affronted. She stares at Honey, her jaw hanging open. “Are you mad at me? Be honest.” She pouts, her voice whiny.

“Oh my God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, well, stop being a cunt, please,” Bea sasses. If Honey were more annoyed, she’d reach out and slap Bea’s arm for the attitude. “We have to go to work and I need to put all my focus into pretending to like you.”

“Yeah, because it’s so hard to like me,” Honey says. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, monotone and grating.

“Yeah, it is, you suck.” Bea flips her hair over her shoulder, digging through her bag to find her Walmart lip gloss. She smears the cherry flavored gloss over her lips and puckers up, batting her eyelashes at Honey exaggeratedly. “Gimme a kiss.”

“No.” Honey pulls up to The Reading Nook and parks on the street in front of the building, parallel parking with the practiced ease of someone who’s been dealing with nothing but parallel parking (except in the grocery store and church parking lots) for the last five years.

“Ugh, one day you’ll kiss me,” Bea mutters, staring forlornly out the window.

Honey rolls her eyes. “Bea, we’ve already kissed. You weren’t that good and I didn’t like your lip gloss then, either.”

Bea cringes. “That was like ten years ago, Hon. Things have changed since then. Number one, I’m not in middle school. Number two, I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve had sex since then. Number three, you know it wouldn’t mean anything. I want you to try my lip gloss so bad, come on.”

Honey stares. Bea’s got a stupid smile on her face, teasing and annoying. They hold each other’s eyes for too long before Honey speaks.

“You’re insufferable, did you know that?”

Bea nods. “You are so easy to work up.”

Bea and Honey exit the car at the same time and enter the store through the front, the bell jingling behind them. Ada greets them from behind the counter, teasing Bea for being late again and threatening to cut her pay. She never will, never. Bea is too good with the kids, too happy to talk to mothers, and just dry enough to understand the miserly old man that walks through the door looking for a new World War I book.

In the back, Ada has a bowl of biscuits and jam that Honey reheats and eats over the counter before she starts her day.

She’s supposed to reshelve some books from their Borrow Before You Buy section, the part of the store that acts as the town’s public library. It’s a small task. The pile of books that were returned yesterday is less than a hundred. A good portion of the books are little kid chapter books, the kind you could finish in an hour as an adult because the font is so big and there are full-page pictures twice a chapter.

Bea has to read to the kids at noon– some of the mothers bring snacks, like the end of a youth soccer game. It’s like a potluck lunch and the kids love Bea. Most weeks, it’s just her, but since it’s summer, she’s starting to bring in guest readers. Honey refuses to do it every time. Well, that’s not true– she acts as guest reader once a summer, right before school starts. It’s her one moment of the year.

As she’s restocking the books, Honey hears the bell twinkle with each new customer that walks in. She’s grown used to the noise over the years, so it doesn’t draw her eye anymore.

What does draw her eye, however, is the blunt tap on her shoulder. When she turns around, Bea is blinking innocently at her– no doubt the offending hand in this scenario– with Trevor by her side.

“I was just talking to Trevor here, Honey,” Bea says. “And he was wondering if we had any books that a man his age might like. I thought maybe you should talk to him.”

Honey glares at Bea, purposefully obvious about it so that Trevor sees. What does she know about book recommendations for a man in his twenties? He probably wants some shit sports biography, or worse– he’s embracing his inner old man and he’s ready to venture into the world of World War I non-fiction. Either way, book recommendations are Bea’s thing, not Honey’s. She just stocks the books, builds the shelves, and bonds with the old ladies who come in on Tuesdays.

Bea shrugs with a coy little smile– Honey wishes she could slap it off of her face– and disappears behind the stacks. Honey can tell that she’s still listening from a few feet away, always nosy and overly interested in Honey’s exploits. If she can’t indulge in her own, she’s happy to butt in on Honey’s.

“Trevor,” Honey says, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t wear a bra today. She doesn’t trust him not to look. She also doesn’t trust her nipples not to peak in the cold air.

“Is Honey your real name?” Trevor asks.

She balks at him. “What is it with you and my name?”

Honey expects Trevor to back down, to act timid and normal and earnest like he did at the fruit stand on Monday. She expects him to apologize, yet again, for another inadvertent mistake that Trevor seemed unable to avoid. It’s because he doesn’t think– he just says the words as they come to mind, hoping that the sentence comes out fully formed and making sense.

And yet, he doesn’t.

“Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come,” is what Trevor answers.

Honey gathers her wit quickly, scrambling to find a response to Trevor’s bold statement. She wants something clever, something to turn him down, something to tell him that he’s a cocky prick for saying such a thing while she’s at work, but she comes up with none of the above. Instead, she settles for: “It’s a nickname.”

A smirk tugs at Trevor’s lips and Honey wants to reach out and strangle him. He’s smirking because he thinks he bested her– bested her– and that he’s got the upper hand.

“What kind of book are you looking for, Trevor?” Honey changes the subject, trying to get back on task. She turns, continues restocking the Borrow Before You Buy shelves.

“I’m not sure, Honey,” he replies, really milking his use of her name. “What kind of books do you think I’d like?”

She glances at him, looks him up and down. She tamps down a smile and says in a curt, monotone voice. “Guides on how to make the best of your business trip.”

Trevor laughs at that, more of a shake of his shoulders than a real laugh. “You’re funny, Honey.”

Honey raises her eyebrows and waits for him to continue.

“Hey, that rhymed. Maybe a book of poetry? I need to study my craft if I’m going to be waxing poems about you.”

He’s bold, she thinks. He’s really bold, much more sure of himself than he was on Monday. He’s much more confident, a sharp 180º from where he was the other day.

“Why don’t you keep your waxes to yourself?” Honey asks.

“How can I?”

She turns to him, planting a hand on her hip. “Don’t you have something to do today other than bother me at my bookstore? You don’t even know me. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to get a book. I’m not trying to bother you, I’m just trying to make conversation.” Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets and has the decency to look ashamed, even if it’s just for a split second and just to see if Honey will crumble. She knows his type. She’s seen them before.

“You’re flirting with me,” Honey accuses. “Not making conversation.” She puts air quotes around the last two words.

Trevor smiles. “You caught me,” he says simply, no shame evident in his voice. The smile stays on his lips as he and Honey look at each other. He raises his eyebrows and she takes it as a challenge.

“I’m not interested, Trevor.”

“I could show you a good time, Honey.”

“In Litchton?”

“Don’t you hear how good it sounds when I say your name? It’s like we’ve been hooking up for ages and I’ve got a special little name for you.”

“A name that everyone else uses.”

“It’s special to me.”

“How about a self-help book?”

Trevor clutches at his chest, jaw dropping in fake-misery. “You think I need help?”

“If you’re not going to buy a book, then you need to leave me alone.” Honey places the last book in her stack on the shelf and looks at Trevor expectantly. The silence sits between them, suspended for a moment.

“Do you have any books about space?” He asks.

Honey notices that his voice is softer, a little more genuine. She examines his features, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She waits for the joke about not wanting space from her, needing her in his orbit, or whatever. It doesn’t come. She scans his figure one last time, realizing that her brow is furrowed and she’s chewing on the inside of her bottom lip as she does so. She smoothens her expression, hoping Trevor didn’t pick up on her calculating stare.

“How do you feel about creative nonfiction?” Honey asks.

Trevor scrunches his nose.

“Memoirs, personal histories, stuff like that,” Honey supplies. She softens her voice to match his tone. She almost feels a little shy. “We only have one book about space that I’ve read and it’s creative nonfiction, but it’s really good.” Quieter, then: “I liked it.”

Trevor nods, a little hesitant. This is the Trevor she met on Monday. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” Honey leads him to the nonfiction section, to the rows of books whose authors bear a last name that starts with ‘D.’ She runs her fingers along the titles of the books at the height of her chest while scanning the upper shelves. “It’s there,” she says, pointing to the row just out of her reach. “It’s by ‘Dean.’” She looks down, around her on the floor. “Where’s my step ladder…?”

“I can reach it,” Trevor says, stepping forward. He places a hand on the small of Honey’s back and reaches up, fingers hesitating as he searches for the right book. When he finds the spine bearing Dean’s name, he bounces up on his tiptoes for just a second to slide the book from its position on the shelf.

Honey has never been more aware of a hand in her life. His touch is light, just a passing glance really, but it weighs on her. It’s like she’s standing in quicksand and she waited too long to try and get out.

He’s so close to her when he stands flat on his feet again. He’s got the book in one hand and his other still rests on Honey’s back.

She steps away.

His eyes follow her, but instead of saying anything, he just flips the book over in his hand. He reads the back cover and as he does so, Honey puts more space between them. She takes a breath, trying to stay quiet, and grounds herself.

“Is it really any good?” Trevor asks. “Do I have to buy it?”

“Yes, and, um.” Honey throws a look over her shoulder. She lost track of Bea while she and Trevor went to find this book. Fuck, her nosey best friend could be anywhere. “You can borrow it. We just usually give people a week or so to bring it back, and if you don’t, we track you down.”

“Track me down?” Trevor asks, chuckling.

“Yeah.” Honey nods. “Small town. Everybody knows everybody, or knows somebody who knows everybody.”

“Stalking me, Honey?” Trevor teases.

“We’ve met twice, and both times it was because you came up to me. If anyone is the stalker here, it’s you.”

Trevor turns the book over in his hand again, looking down to avoid Honey’s gaze. “Leaving Orbit, huh?” He bites his lip and takes in the sight of Honey in front of him. He taps the book with his other hand. “I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

“I know it’s good. I read it.”

“Baby, if you knew good, you’d be all over me.”

Honey scoffs. “Alright, fun’s over. Get out of here, Trevor.” She shoos him away, practically pushing him out of the shop. She sticks her tongue out at him through the glass after closing the door behind him. She watches him laugh, run his hands through his hair, and turn away.

‘Zegras’ is written in bold letters across his back, the number 11 in the center of his t-shirt. The detail catches Honey’s eye as she watches him walk away, down the street towards a car with a New York license plate that looks far too perfect and expensive to belong in Litchton. She bites the inside of her lip again, pondering. If anyone asks, she doesn’t care, but Trevor’s different than anyone she’s ever met. She wonders why.

But no, she doesn’t care.

Bea does.

“He plays hockey,” Bea announces, revealing herself. “He’s good, too. NHL. He was a top ten pick when he was drafted.”

Honey just nods. Twice. That’s all she needs. They’re small movements and she’s still chewing on her lip.

“What did he get?”

Honey clears her throat. “Just the, uh, Dean book about space.”

Honey can practically hear the face Bea makes behind her back. “You think he’ll enjoy that?” Bea asks. “It’s really personal.”

“It was the only book I could think of,” Honey replies with a shrug. She finally turns around to face Bea. “You’ve got to stop spying on me. I know you listened to our whole conversation.”

Bea pouts and stomps her foot, the sound echoing along the stacks around them. “How could I not?” She demands. “‘Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come?’ Honey, girl. Be serious.”

“Bea, you know I’m not looking for that right now.”

“You’re never fucking looking for that,” Bea hisses, pinching Honey’s wrist until she flinches away. “It’s falling into your lap and you’re pushing it out the door! What’s wrong with you?”

Honey glares at her with a tilted head.

Bea relents. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” she threatens. “You can’t be a spinstery old maid forever, Honeybear. They’re only here for the summer. Maybe you should embrace it.”

“He’ll be gone within the week.”

Bea sighs. “Whatever you say.”

5:90 – TREVOR

“We need to throw a party,” Trevor says over breakfast.

“Why?” Luke asks, voice scratchy from lack of use. He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair, further messing up his already messy curls. He’s not wearing a shirt– none of them are– and Trevor is astounded by how pale Luke is.

“We need to get you outside more,” Trevor mumbles, then clears his throat and continues speaking. “It’s like a housewarming thing.”

Unimpressed, Cole rolls his eyes. “Who do you want to invite?” He asks.

Trevor pauses, side-eying his friend. “Nobody,” he deflects.

Quinn snorts, the spoon he’s using for his cereal clinking against the side of his bowl. “Not much of a party.”

“He wants to invite the girl that he met the other day,” Jack says, butting into the conversation.

Luke frowns. “What girl?”

“Some townie that he met at the fruit stand when we went to the grocery store,” Jack explains. “He doesn’t know her name.”

“Her name is Honey, actually,” Trevor interrupts.

The table stills. Each of the boys’ eyes turn towards Trevor and he suddenly feels like an ant under a child’s magnifying glass, boiling under the glare.

Cole pushes up an invisible pair of glasses and raises a finger, pursing his lips. “Actually,” he mocks, then drops the tone. “How do you know her name, Z?”

Trevor shrugs noncommittally. “I ran into her when I went into town yesterday.”

“Oh, when you were supposed to pick up laundry detergent and you came back with a book instead?” Cole asks. “That makes sense, much more sense than what Luke said.”

Trevor blanches. “What did Luke say?”

Jack snickers.

Trevor turns to Luke. “What did you say?”

Quinn smiles and hides his face, taking a large mouthful of his cereal to leave Luke hanging if he asked for help.

Luke flushes. “I mean, you know… that maybe you confused the two.”

“How the fuck would I confuse laundry detergent with a book?” Trevor snaps. “They’re two completely different things, fuckface.”

Luke throws his hands up in surrender. “We were just thinking of reasons why you might’ve come back without the one thing we needed.”

Trevor looks around the table. “You guys are such assholes.”

“Bro, you’re the one that forgot laundry detergent because you were too busy chatting up some chick,” Jack defends the group. “Now we can’t even do our laundry.”

“If it’s so fucking important to you, go get the detergent yourself!”

A smile breaks out on Jack’s face. “Maybe I will,” he says, his voice shit-eating. “I might need to grab a book for myself, too.”

Trevor’s anger increases tenfold, for no fucking reason. “The fuck you do,” he snaps. “You don’t even know how to read.”

Jack’s face twists, his emotions finally aligning with Trevor’s own. “Fuck you, dude. You know I can read, I just don’t like to.”

Trevor scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I just want to have a party,” he mutters, stabbing at his eggs with his fork.

The boys fall into silence, finishing their breakfasts. Trevor pouts, frustrated that the boys weren’t immediately on board with his idea for a party.

If they were in Michigan, the Hughes brothers would have the front door of the house unlocked past 10pm. The people they know from the golf course, from the lake, from the pickleball courts would all be pouring through the doorway and into the party. Everyone knows that on Saturday nights, the Hughes brothers invite people over and they have a big bonfire. Apparently, that only applies in Michigan.

Trevor leaves the breakfast table first, to jeers from the other boys about being pouty and bitchy for not getting his way. Trevor knows that he’s going to invite Honey and her friend– Bee? Bea? B?– over tomorrow night no matter what the goons say. There’s not much to do in Litchton, he knows that, so he doesn’t want to leave the girls out. Otherwise, they might just sit at home all night. Trevor can’t have that.

Obviously, that’s his only motive. He would never have any other reason to invite Honey and Bea over to the house at night. Never.

Maybe one other reason.

But that’s irrelevant.

He spends the morning outside, using the extra wood from Earl to build a fire pit in the half-circle clearing near the edge of the forest. When they were younger, Trevor’s sister might’ve thought this area was where the fairies lived, and maybe she would have built them a house. He wonders briefly if Honey was the same way when she was a child, when she was growing up in rural Litchton with nothing else to do but imagine.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know if Honey grew up here. She seems so intimately integrated into the town that she has to be from here, has to have grown up here. She must know all the town secrets and all the town gossip and fuck, Trevor wants to know all of that and more.

He can’t explain the feeling he has about Honey. He’s just… drawn to her. It doesn’t make sense– he doesn’t know her. He’s barely met her. She did not exist in his life a week ago and yet, she’s popping up in his thoughts like they’ve known each other for years. Like they’ve been inseparable for years. When he thinks about it, he decides that Honey is like one of the girls he would have met in elementary school in Bedford. Honey is one of the girls that he would have grown up with, one of the neighbor girls from down the street with whom he rode his bike on hot summer days.

She’s got a hometown charm feel to her. Trevor has to see her again.

He finishes building the wooden part of the fire pit before realizing how stupid it was to build the pit out of wood. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head, though, because it’s an excuse to go see her, to invite her to his party. He can go to the hardware store on the way, pick up some stone and gravel to line the wood, protect it from catching flame. He can pick up some firewood from the grocery store for their first fire and pick up the laundry detergent he forgot yesterday. Jack won’t be so annoying then.

Trevor doesn’t bother telling the boys where he’s going– he just gets in the car and drives away.

It takes all of fifteen minutes to make his way to the bookstore. It’s still early, so he doesn’t even know if it’s open yet. Trevor and the boys are so used to waking up early for hockey that they’ve been up for about two hours and the whole day is still ahead of them.

When Trevor pulls at the front door of The Reading Nook, it doesn’t swing open the way it did yesterday. He knows the doors are easy on their hinges, considering how easily Honey slammed the door behind him yesterday, but today, the wood is barely budging. He knocks on the door, loud.

Honey’s friend’s head peeks out from behind a stack, confusion written all over her expression. Trevor waves at her, gesturing at the door. She laughs, then approaches the door. She points down at the ‘Closed’ sign hanging near the handle.

Trevor tilts his head, unimpressed. “I have to talk to you,” he says through the glass.

Bea unlocks the door and opens it with a snorted laugh. “What’s up, Trevor? Honey’s not here yet.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Bea steps aside and lets him into the store. “You want her.”

Trevor sputters at her honesty. “I don’t know her.”

“You want her,” Bea repeats with a nod and a knowing smile. “And you want to know how to get her.”

“Well, yes,” Trevor says. “But also, no. I wanted to invite you– both, you both– to a party tomorrow night.”

Bea smiles. She crosses her arms over her chest. “You want my best friend and all I get is some measly party? Come on, Trevor. What’s in it for me?”

Trevor thinks for a minute. “What do you want?”

Bea laughs. She pokes her tongue into her cheek and looks expectantly at Trevor.

“Whoa,” Trevor says, taking a step back. “That’s really… forward, but–”

“I don’t want you, Trevor,” Bea scoffs. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “So self-centered, Honey was right about that. But, I’ll help you get her and I’ll make sure we make it to your party if you give me what I do want.”

Trevor hums, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

Bea smiles, devilish and conniving. “The dating pool up here is pretty dry, and I hear you’ve got a few friends.”

Trevor nods.

Bea blinks at him. “Do you have any pictures of these friends? I would’ve looked you up, but Honey and I swore off Instagram years ago.”

That makes sense. That’s why he couldn’t find Honey when he looked her up last night– not that he had much to go off of. Still, “Honey Litchton NC” didn’t reveal many results.

Trevor fumbles with his phone, showing her a picture of the group from last summer. He watches her fingers pinch and zoom in on the picture, on each individual. She keeps her expression neutral, a poker face that impresses Trevor. She hums, thoughts racing behind her eyes too quick for Trevor to understand them.

“We’ll come to your party,” Bea says simply, handing the phone back to Trevor. She snatches it back at the last second. “Wait,” she says, and clicks around for a second.

Trevor waits, then she hands the phone back. On the screen is a contact page for ‘Bea McLean.’

“It’s pronounced like McLane,” Bea tells Trevor. “Since you’re so obsessed with names.”

“Okay,” Trevor cuts her off with a sarcastic nod.

Bea laughs. “Don’t get sassy with me, I have all the power here.”

“Yeah, but I have your number,” Trevor flaunts.

“I could just block you, easily,” Bea points out. “Then where would you be?”

Wisely, Trevor bites his tongue. After a deep breath, he asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Now get out, Honey’s supposed to get here soon and I don’t want her seeing you. She’s annoyingly on time. She’ll know we’re in cahoots.” Bea, much like her best friend did yesterday, pushes Trevor to the door and shoves him through it. She slams it behind him, flipping the sign so it says ‘Open’ instead, and waving Trevor off with a blown kiss.

she’s a flirt, Trevor thinks. those guys will not survive her for a second.

He doesn’t know which boy she has her eye on, but it doesn’t matter. Quinn’s too quiet for her, Luke is too awkward, Jack is too cocky, and Cole is too… short.

Trevor snorts at the insult, laughing to himself. He heads to the grocery store, where he parked, and purchases two gallon bottles of laundry detergent and a Sharpie. He writes “JACK” on one and puts them both in the trunk of the car. Then, he walks to the hardware store.

“Bear!” Vera greets from behind the counter, joints creaking as she moves from her chair behind the counter to give Trevor a hug.

“Oh, Vera, you don’t have to come all the way over here,” Trevor says awkwardly, but hugs the woman back nonetheless.

“Of course I did!” Vera exclaims. “You look so handsome, young man.”

Trevor blushes, shying away from Vera’s examining fingers. She squints at the logo on his chest, one of his shirts from Anaheim.

“I live in Anaheim,” Trevor explains to the woman, catching her hands in his and holding them securely in front of her body before letting go. “Do you have any stone that I could secure a fire pit with?”

“Yes, baby!” Vera claps and leads him to a section of the store that’s, somehow, even more peculiar than Earl’s workshop. There’s bags of gravel, sure, but it looks like fish food compared to some of the other bags and miscellaneous stones on the shelves. “Pick whatever you’d like. I’ll give you a discount for being so darn cute.”

Trevor chuckles. “I bet you give that to all your customers,” he teases.

“I had a local girl put it in the computer for me after we met you and Sweetie on Wednesday,” Vera teases back, batting her eyelashes. Her cheeks are red with blush, too much blush. “His discount is a little more because I see you’ve changed the body God gave you.”

Trevor follows her eyes to his tattoos. He rubs his opposite hand over them sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.” He tries to smile charmingly. “Maybe I should’ve sent him to do the shopping today, since you like Sweetie so much.” He throws a wink into the mix to punctuate his sentence.

Vera laughs, a twinkling sound.

“Plus, it’d be cheaper for me,” Trevor says, like it’s a scandalous secret.

“I know that’s right!” Vera claps again, waves a hand at Trevor like she’s slapping her knee. She walks off, back to the counter, leaving Trevor to shop for his stones.

He shops through the stones for about half an hour, choosing his favorites. He settles on a midsize gray stone, one that he can stack and seal with cement. He buys the quick drying cement as well, and carries it all to his car. Vera carries the quick dry cement and giggles when Trevor easily shifts the stones in his grasp when she complains about the bucket being too heavy for an old lady. He picks up the bucket and shifts the stones again, knowing he can carry more than this if he needed to. He swears he hears Vera sigh dreamily behind him as he packs the car up.

Like he said, what’s flirting with a few old ladies?

When he bids her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, Trevor makes eye contact with Honey in the bookstore window. He grins at her and winks to her for good measure. He thanks Vera for her help while he escorts her back to the store, just for the sake of Honey seeing how selfless he can be. He’s not self-centered, no matter what she told Bea.

Vera insists that Trevor and “his band of boys” join her and Earl at church that Sunday morning, pledging to introduce them to the other members of the community. Trevor agrees, thinking that being on Vera’s good side might get him even closer to Honey.

Trevor drives back to his home for the summer to find that the boys are playing in the rink he built.

Come to think of it, he’s making a lot of improvements to this property, and the only one who has actually helped is Quinn.

Not self-centered at all.

He deserves a party.

“We’re having a party,” Trevor calls out, carrying his stones toward the fire pit. He dumps his supplies on the ground. “And I invited two girls.” He wipes the dirt and dust from his fingers. “Someone else needs to finish this fire pit because I’m tired of building your shit. C’mon, Quinn.”

He leads the way inside, to grab a beer from the fridge, and Quinn follows after kicking off his skates, eager to avoid the work. The other brothers and Cole are left dumbfounded on the concrete. Jack makes eye contact with the cement mix first, and he smiles.

They always did love a little project, and maybe they can hide a drawing of a dick in the cement for the owners to find at the end of the summer.

6:90 – HONEY

“Where are we going?” Honey asks.

Bea has barely crossed over the threshold of Honey’s home before the question falls from her lips. Bea’s been cagey about it all day– just explaining that “we have plans” and that “you’ll enjoy them.” Honey loves her, sure, but this is absurd. She feels like she’s being kidnapped.

“More like when are we going,” Bea corrects. “Let’s get you an outfit.”

Honey stumbles back, Bea pushing her out of the way. She closes the door behind her friend, following Bea as she stomps up the stairs to Honey’s bedroom. Bea knows Honey’s place as well as she knows her own, a little townhouse off of the main street in town. Honey’s lucky to live a little farther from city center, closer to the magic of the mountains.

“What kind of plans do we have, at least?” Honey presses. She looks at Bea’s outfit– a jean skirt that falls like an old Poodle skirt and a white bandeau top. It’s sort of see-through– Honey can see the shadow and outline of Bea’s nipples through the skimpy top. “I don’t want to dress like you,” Honey says.

Bea scoffs and turns to Honey. “My plan tonight is to get laid, your plan tonight is to accompany me while I evaluate my prey.”

Honey pretends to gag. “I hate when you say that.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone to flirt with,” Bea says.

“So, where are we going tonight? Statesville? Winston?” Honey asks again, hoping Bea will relent since she now knows the purpose of their adventure.

“Dude, I’m not telling you,” Bea laughs.

She reaches Honey’s closet and throws the curtain open. She strolls into the closet, looking through Honey’s clothes.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Honey asks, looking down at her athletic shorts and little tank top.

Bea turns around and surveys Honey. “The shirt is fine.” She returns to her task. “Nice tits.”

Honey looks down. It’s a revealing top and she’s not wearing a bra, because it’s a Saturday and she didn’t know they had plans until Bea told her this afternoon. “Maybe not, then.”

Bea glares at Honey out of her peripheral. “But that’s your favorite tank.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get hit on if I wear this shirt.”

“You’re going to get hit on anyway. Keep the shirt.”

“No, I won’t, because my bitch face will keep most of the guys away.”

“Most of the guys. Which is the whole thing. Those ones will come to me.”

“Ew, you’re going to have a threesome tonight?”

“A threesome?” Bea spins around. “God, no! One at a time for me, thanks. I’m just going to fuck the other ones.”

“Other than who?” Honey asks. “I’m not fucking anyone tonight.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Whatever.” She digs through the closet, finding a long-buried white tennis skirt, the back pleats of the skirt puffy. Honey would never wear something like that, but Bea would– it’s probably Bea’s skirt in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” Honey states.

Bea wrestles her into it– seriously. She tackles Honey onto the bed and literally redresses her, the absurdity of the situation so bizarre that it completely bypasses both girls’ minds. Honey fights Bea the whole time, but Bea comes out on top. She gets her way, Honey wears the skirt, but she’s not happy about it.

“Do I, at least, get to drive?” Honey asks.

“Oh, I was going to force you,” Bea laughs. “You don’t expect me to drive you home, do you? I’ll be… indisposed.”

Honey scowls the rest of the time they spend getting ready– Bea does Honey’s hair and forces Honey to put on some light makeup, just a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and some lipgloss.

The only problem with Bea and Honey’s relationship is that Bea likes to go out, likes to meet people, likes to have a wild time, whereas Honey prefers to stay in. She’d rather watch a documentary or read a book or be present in nature than packed into a club dancefloor like a sardine in a larger can. Not that that matters to Bea.

By the time they get in the car, Bea is jumping off the walls trying to keep her secret destination to herself. Honey keeps trying to push, hoping for the right moment, but Bea won’t reveal her plans. All she does is direct Honey to the main road and type away at her phone, sending text after text to an unknown recipient, an unknown recipient that Honey is sure they’ll be meeting up with later.

They drive further into the mountains, to Honey’s surprise. They don’t head towards Winston or Statesville. They drive up, farther from town, farther from their neighbors. Near the top of the mountain, the houses are miles apart.

Perfect for a party.

Perfect for a party… thrown by boys in their twenties.

It clicks in Honey’s mind as Bea tells her to turn into the hidden driveway along the curve. “You’re not,” Honey says.

Bea laughs. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on. I thought for sure you would’ve clocked me when we turned left instead of right.”

“Bea,” Honey scolds, her voice sharp. They’re on the driveway now, safe from the curves of the road, and Honey stops the car. She turns to her best friend. “You can’t be serious.”

For all of her audacity, Bea manages to understand the gravity of the situation at hand. It finally clicks in her head, why Honey isn’t happy with her plans, and why she’s even unhappier that she was dragged out here without knowing what she was walking into. She can’t just drop Bea off and leave– she would be abandoning her best friend in a house of strange boys all evening. Bea might be outgoing, but she hasn’t been hurt like Honey.

“It’s not going to be like that,” Bea reassures Honey gently, grabbing Honey’s hand with both of hers. “I promise, they’re not like that.”

“You don’t know them, Bea,” Honey explains.

“You don’t either,” Bea points out. “And this time, we’re together. The second they do something– I mean it, the second– we’ll leave. I’ll go with you. Fuckery be damned.”

Honey grimaces, rolling her shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension. She takes a deep breath, then squints at Bea. “Are you really going to fuck all of them?” She asks.

Bea grins, knowing that she’s convinced Honey to at least try and hang out with the boys. She’s smug, getting her way once again. She winks at Honey, coy. “Just the ones you don’t want,” she simpers, giggling. “You get your pick of the litter.”

“I don’t want to fuck any of them. I don’t know how many times we have to go over this.”

“So, you don’t want Trevor? ‘Cuz I was thinking–”

“Don’t fuck Trevor,” Honey groans.

“Why not?” Bea teases.

“You’re better than that, Buzzy,” Honey scoffs with a shake of her head. “He’s weird and a flirt and annoying.”

“I’m weird,” Bea says. “And a flirt. And annoying.” She puckers her lips and blows kisses at Honey as she shifts the car into drive and begins to creep down the driveway again. “Maybe it’s a match made in heaven, me and Trevor.”

“You don’t want him,” Honey growls, her voice short.

Bea shrugs and faces forward in her seat, her hands tapping her thighs. Whether it’s from nerves or excitement, Honey can’t tell. If she had to guess, though, it would be excitement. Bea is the least anxious person that Honey knows, the kind of person who can talk to anyone or anything no matter the situation.

While they might be athletes, they’ve never met anyone like Bea. Honey never has, not since she met her best friend all those years ago. They’re fucked– and she’s irresistible.

Honey and Bea pull up to the house and park under the cover, right next to the front door. This house was a point of contention when it was being built the first year Honey moved to Litchton. It was her first introduction to the gossip of the founding ladies. Scarlett and Gillian had felt particularly perturbed by the building– a five bed, four bathroom house complete with a hot tub and a game room and two stories of wraparound porches.

And it’s all made of the same wood, the same stain, the same ugly pattern. Honey cringes when she thinks about the number of trees that were cut down to make this house match. She’d think the same thing if it was made entirely out of the same stone.

Bea knocks on the door as Honey wipes her sweat from her palms. It takes a minute, but then Honey hears the scrambling of feet and the shouting between one man and his group of buddies, who are just giggling as they do what they can to cut him off from the door. Honey can see it through the thin windows bordering the door, how they rush up the stairs and down the hall. She can also see how they’re holding Trevor back as much as they can.

The brunet from the first day opens the door with a charming smile. “Hi,” he greets. “Can I help you?”

“Jack, you motherfucker–”

Honey bites back a laugh as Trevor curses and struggles, still in the grasp of the shorter boy from the first day and one of the newcomers– another brunet, a taller one. She looks at him carefully– the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, partially hidden under a baseball cap, the curve of his eyebrows, and the slope of his lips give him away. He must be one of Jack’s brothers.

“We were invited to come over tonight,” Bea replies.

No matter how many times she hears it, Honey is always impressed by the way Bea turns on her charm and makes the people around her melt. It worked on her, too, when they first became friends all those years ago, and then less and less when Bea moved into Honey’s place when they first came to Litchton together and shared a bed for almost a year before Bea found her own townhouse. Then, her charm just got annoying, like a younger sibling who tags along with you everywhere because Mom said they had to.

It’s better for them when Bea and Honey have their time apart. Honey, especially, needs her time alone.

Jack’s eyes finally find Honey behind Bea and he grins. “That’s right,” he says, tapping his forehead like he just remembered. Honey can tell that all he’s doing is messing with Trevor, though. “The party! You must be the girls that Z invited. Hi, Honey.”

“Hi, Jack,” Honey replies, short and sweet. She turns on her customer service voice just for this. She finds Cole next to Trevor and smiles when her eyes slide over the imprisoned boy, as passive as she can be. “Hi, Cole.”

“Hey, Honey,” Cole says with an easy smile. Honey wants to snort and laugh– he’s got a smile that could get him into or out of anything. She wonders briefly if he’s childish and impish, still, even in their adult age, just because he’s got the smile to match.

Jack steps aside and lets the girls enter the house. He closes the door behind them and Honey has a sneaking suspicion that if she turned to glance at him, he’d be staring at one of their backsides. She doesn’t look. It’s not worth the joke that she could make if she caught him.

Bea nudges Honey and points up.

Honey tilts her head, and– “A chandelier made of moose antlers. Wow,” she marvels. She makes a face at Bea, then continues. “That’s really… something.”

“Isn’t it sick?” Cole asks, finally dropping Trevor’s arm and joining the girls where they stand. He spreads his arms out from his sides and spins in a slow circle. When he makes a full turn, he looks at both girls and wiggles his eyebrows. “Want a tour?”

The girls agree and Cole takes them throughout the house, leaving the other boys behind. From their pounding feet, Honey figures they’re headed downstairs, while Cole takes them upstairs. He shows them the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the common areas, the hallways, the outlet in his room that doesn’t work, and much more. They go back downstairs and get the same treatment– Cole even opens the fridge and helps himself to a beverage before offering anything to the girls. They see the kitchen, the living room, the den, the dining room and patio. Cole shows them the wraparound porch and its chairs. Honey takes in the view– it’s just as good as the one from her living room.

Finally, finally, they make their way down to the basement. It’s a smaller room, minimized by a covered porch and larger patio with a hot tub. The basement is clearly the man cave, the game room, or whatever you want to call it. There’s a pool table, a large TV, a ping pong table, a foosball table… everything a boy could want.

As evidenced by the two boys sitting on the couches near the pool table, while the other two wield sticks and study the position of the balls on the table.

Honey finds Trevor on the couch with Jack. His eyes found her first as she walked down the stairs and he hasn’t stopped staring. Neither has she, to be fair.

“Pool,” Bea notices. She looks at Honey and Honey shakes her head. Bea nods. “Honey and I are next,” she announces anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks with a little laugh. “Are you any good?”

“I’m okay,” Bea says. She pauses, lets a smirk on her face grow as she looks over to Honey. “Honey’s worse.”

The boys turn to Honey. “Are you?” Trevor asks.

“I wager she could still beat you, Z,” says the only boy that Honey had not seen when they arrived at the house earlier. He’s got dark hair, but it’s also hidden under a backwards cap. The only difference between him and his brothers, assuming he is one of the brothers that Trevor mentioned on Monday, is that he’s smaller, more sullen. The telltale sign is that his comment is offhanded, delivered with the calm venom of an older brother who knows exactly where to bite. He doesn’t even look at Trevor as he lines up his shot and sinks the ball.

Honey likes him immediately.

When she looks over, she notices that Bea likes him too. Her lips are pursed in thought, only the minutest pout on her mouth. There’s a tiny smile pulling at her cheek and her eyes are twinkling under the bright lights, but they would be hazardous in a club.

It’s a game they’ve played before. Bea sucks at pool– she always has, but… when you suck at pool, either the person you’re playing with will laugh at you or they’ll try to give you tips. The night usually ends with Bea sinking the 8 ball with a little bit of help from her gentleman caller and a celebratory, “thank you” kiss.

Honey, however, loves pool. She wasn’t always great at pool, but found that, like almost everything, the more she practiced, the better she became. When Bea’s celebratory kisses turned into rushed hookups in the Winston-Salem dive bar bathrooms, Honey got her fair share of tips and tricks from the other men around. Usually, she would try to shack up with the alcoholic middle aged men who had nothing better to do than sip on their beer and play pool after dinner with their wives. It was rare that they flirted with Honey and she liked it that way.

The game goes like this: Bea finds a group of men that puff up their chest at the idea of beating a woman at pool, she “lets them win” against her (as if she would’ve won in the first place), and then it’s Honey’s turn. Honey, of course, feints a few shots and lets the men get comfortable before coming from behind and beating them. Usually, her win results in two drinks for her and her friend.

Today, the drinks won’t be her bargaining chip.

“What would you wager?” Honey asks the boy who last spoke. “If it were a real bet.”

His stormy eyes look her up and down while Jack’s brother, the tall one, paces around the table to find his best shot. “Money, normally,” he drawls. “But I’d rather not lose my money betting on you if you’re worse than her.” He nods to Bea, who takes the chance to blatantly look him up and down.

“How about this,” Bea proposes, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’ll play the winner of this game and then we’ll see if Honey can beat Trevor. If I win, I get whatever I want, obviously. If Honey wins…”

Honey meets Bea’s eyes. She nods, knowing that Bea is thinking back to the night when they visited ECU their junior year of high school and witnessed a rugby party in the flesh. It’s their usual punishment when their outings feature a house party and a pool table.

“...Trevor has to do a Zulu Run,” Bea finishes.

Honey finds Trevor again and smiles, overexaggerated and sickly sweet.

“What’s a Zulu Run?” Trevor asks, looking to the other boys and finding nothing but confusion. On the girls’ faces, he just sees plotted mayhem.

“It’s fun, don’t worry,” Honey reassures him. “You only have to do it if you lose. Which, I mean, if I’m worse than Bea, then you should be fine.”

Honey sits on the loveseat across from Trevor and Jack, while Bea sits down next to Jack. Her knee presses against his, subtly, just enough that you can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just a lack of room on the couch and Honey presses her hand to her lips to hide a smile.

“So you’re Jack,” Bea says, interrupting the conversation that he and Trevor had been in when the girls walked down the stairs.

Honey watches as Bea makes her eyes look wide and soft, very flirtatious and fairy-like. She’s got the perfect complexion for it– the light dusting of freckles over her skin, the ounce of baby fat still left in her cheeks and all the right places along her body, her expression just the right amount of interested but not desperate.

For a brief moment, Honey wishes she was more like Bea.

“You’ve heard of me?” Jack asks with a little smirk.

Bea scoffs and waves him off. “Don’t flatter yourself. Honey didn’t even tell me your name.”

Jack’s bright eyes turn to Honey. “Oh, yeah?” He tilts his chin up in challenge. “What is it with you and names? You wouldn’t tell Trevor yours, you haven’t properly introduced me to…”

“Bea,” Bea supplies.

Honey shakes her head fondly at her best friend’s eagerness. Honey bites her tongue to keep her comments at bay, and instead plasters a tight smile on her face. “I didn’t realize I would be seeing you all again,” Honey says, forcing politeness into her voice. “And I’m not the one who’s weird about names.”

Jack and Trevor share a look. Jack hides a snort poorly.

“What?” Honey asks, her eyebrows raised and her mouth in a straight, unimpressed line.

Jack smirks and Trevor shakes his head. Jack speaks anyway. “I don’t know how you would have avoided us,” Jack says. “Considering.”

“Considering…?” Bea asks, leaning around Jack to look at Trevor. Honey catches Trevor’s panicked glance and can guess what Jack’s alluding to. She jumps in, hoping to switch the subject.

“Nothing to consider,” Honey and Trevor say at the same time. Trevor sounds rushed, Honey sounds indifferent. Both of their jaws drop and they stare at each other, Honey affronted and Trevor surprised.

Cole, who had been sitting on the stool-saddles near the pool table, steps over the back of the couch and weasels his way between Trevor and Jack. “Creepy,” he says. “You’re like the twins from the Shining.”

Trevor cringes. “You know, I don’t think we are.”

Honey just hums, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She clears her throat and turns back to Jack. “So those are your brothers?” She nods over to the pool table, where the shorter boy is lining up the 8-ball with the corner pocket. “Trevor said you had family coming.”

Honey doesn’t miss the smirk and blush on Trevor’s face when she says his name, even as he dips his head and takes a gulp of his beer to cover it up.

Jack smiles, a genuine smile. It’s easy to tell the difference with him, when he’s really smiling or if he’s smiling because he thinks he’s supposed to.

“Yeah, the goons.” Jack looks over his shoulder and grins as his taller brother loses his game of pool. “C’mon, Rusty, you brought that pool stick all this way and your game still sucks?”

The taller boy glares at Jack and sulks, re-racking his stick. He walks over and stands awkwardly behind the couch, but flicks Jack on the back of the head and Honey giggles before she can help it.

She looks down at her lap after letting out the little laugh and misses the way Trevor’s eyes light up and train on her.

“Luke, you fucker,” Jack swears, flinching at the impact of Luke’s flick. Jack frowns, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubs the back of his head. “He’s my little brother.”

“Little brother,” Honey repeats. “And you’re just going to let him flick you like that?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Honey. Obviously I’m not going to let him get away with it.” He reaches around and half-asses a punch to Luke’s dick, just hard enough that it expels an “oof” from the younger boy and he doubles over a little bit.

The other boy interrupts. “Quit it,” he says. He glares at his brothers, then his eyes fix on Bea. “Your turn.”

Bea stands and smiles, a smug little smirk reserved for her conspiratory looks with Honey that signifies that she’s getting what she wanted. She joins the man by the rack of sticks and clasps her hands behind her back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Which stick should I use?”

Jack looks a little put out by the loss of Bea at his side, and casts a glare toward his other brother. “And that’s Quinn,” he says curtly. “Pool master, or whatever.”

“So he’s the best in the house?” Honey asks.

“We’ll tally scores at the end of the summer,” Luke jumps in as Quinn says, “Absolutely.”

Jack scowls. “You just think that because you’re older. Remember, Quinn: first is the worst. Second is the best.”

Trevor snorts and takes another sip of his beer.

He’s unnaturally quiet, Honey thinks. Trying to be cool in front of his friends, maybe.

“I take it you’re the second child,” Honey says. “That makes sense.”

“That makes sense?” Jack asks, repeating her statement like he can’t believe she dared to say that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Honey looks over at Bea, who presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. Daring Honey.

Honey rolls her head back, stretching the muscles of her neck. “You…” She starts, trailing off because she’s not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding mean. She scratches her eyebrow and scrunches her nose. “You like attention,” she decides, trying to keep her voice as free of judgment as possible.

“Do I?” Jack asks, sounding unimpressed.

Honey shrugs. “You– I mean. Jack, you asked. You opened the door for us because you knew it would annoy Trevor, probably because you knew it would bother him that you were opening the door for m– us, instead of him. You flirt and smile when Bea sits next to you but you lean back and manspread when she gets up like you don’t want us to notice that you’re sitting without a girl at your side. You call your little brother a “fucker” and retaliate because you can, honestly escalating the situation from a flick to a punch to the dick. You act annoyed because your older brother is beating you at pool already this summer and it only just started, plus he took the girl from your side. It’s, uh… yeah. You like attention.”

Everyone but Jack starts to laugh.

“Stand up,” Cole says to Honey.

She does, her arms resting by her side awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she waits for him to do something.

Cole looks around the room and swears under his breath. “I didn’t think this through, one second,” he mutters, and disappears upstairs.

Honey continues to stand there. She pats her hands against her thighs and looks around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but especially not Bea. If she makes eye contact with Bea, she’s going to burst out laughing.

Trevor is still snickering, hiding his face in his shirt. Honey can still see the little crinkles by his eyes.

“She clocked you, man,” Quinn says with a shrug before pulling out a pool stick and standing it next to Bea. It comes up to the tip of her shoulder, Quinn’s chest. He nods in satisfaction and hands the stick over. Honey lets out a relieved breath of air at his approval, and then stifles a second when she watches Bea’s fingers brush over Quinn’s on the stick, her eyes lingering on his for just a second too long.

It’s too easy for her.

Cole comes bounding down the stairs with a plastic soccer trophy in his hand. “Found this when I was snooping,” he says, approaching Honey and holding it out. He stands directly in front of her, makes eye contact with her, and stares into her eyes. “Thank you,” he says with a sincere nod. “For taking Jack down a peg. He needed that. We all needed that.”

And he hands the trophy off to Honey with a handshake, like she’s graduating from high school and he’s the principal handing her a diploma. He takes the handshake and pulls her into a hug, the trophy crushed awkwardly between them.

When he pulls away, Cole puts both hands on Honey’s arms and stares into her eyes again. “If you’re going to do that again, please don’t do it to me.”

Quinn breaks the rack with a crack of his stick, standing at a slight angle, and Honey sits back down, cradling her trophy in her hands.

Cole engages Honey in conversation for a few minutes, with Luke jumping in here and there. Jack turns on the TV and pouts. As much as she tries not to notice it, Trevor just stays quiet and sips his beer and sneaks glances at Honey out of the corner of his eye.

Eventually, the conversation dies out and the group turns their attention to the television, which is streaming some hockey game that Honey doesn’t have an interest in. The boys are chitchatting away, throwing out names and positions and yelling at the TV when a call doesn’t go their way– Honey can’t tell who’s cheering for what team, but she can also tell that Jack and Luke don’t like the team in white… at all. Trevor seems to prefer them over the team in red. Cole doesn’t seem to care. He’s just laughing, still, at Jack. Jack just sulks, but he seems to cheer up once the team in red scores, late in the first period.

“You all really like hockey, huh?” Bea asks between turns. Quinn has sunken a ball almost every turn, but Bea has only sunken one. Honey grins at her, then glances at the pool table and back to Bea. Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey, playful and easy. If Quinn’s the kind of guy that Honey thinks he is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts teaching Bea some tricks to tighten up the game.

Cole laughs. “Yeah, I mean, I’d hope so.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, batting her eyelashes innocently, like she didn’t read all of Trevor’s Wikipedia page before coming here.

“We play,” Luke says with a shrug.

Honey and Bea lock eyes and Honey plays along with her game. She tilts her head and blinks, as if this is the first time she’s hearing it. “Are you any good?”

Quinn snorts and shakes his head as Bea leans over to line up a shot and Honey notices his hand on her waist when he points at a different ball, explaining that that would be the better shot for her. Bea sinks the recommended ball and jumps up with a cheer, smiling brightly at Quinn and standing just a little closer than she would if she wanted to be just friends.

“We’re alright,” Trevor says, the first words he’s said to Honey since she walked through the door. He stands. “Does anyone want another beer?”

The boys’ voices ring out in a chorus of yesses, whereas Honey stays mostly quiet. Bea agrees to another drink as well, which is when Trevor turns to Honey. “You’re sure you don’t want another drink? I’m already getting them for everyone.”

“I’m sure, but thank you,” Honey says.

“Why don’t you go and help him carry the drinks,” Bea suggests from her post next to Quinn.

Honey glares at her, but stands. She leaves her trophy on her seat, saving it. “Fine,” she replies, hoping the edge in her voice is only detectable to her best friend. She follows Trevor up the stairs to the kitchen, like an antisocial cat who has FOMO, but only when it comes to their owner. She crinkles her nose in disgust when she realizes that that’s how she looks, not that Trevor would notice or care. Actually, he would probably be elated if she compared herself to a cat following him around.

Trevor opens the fridge and sifts around, the bottles of beer clinking. The beer takes up most of the bottom shelf, unsurprisingly.

“Do you think you have enough?” Honey asks, unable to help herself when Trevor passes her a third bottle, each a different brand of beer, to carry.

“Q and J like Michelob, Luke is a Miller guy, Coley likes Budweiser, and I’m more of a Modelo drinker.” Trevor’s head is buried in the back of the fridge, rifling through a pack of Millers that seem to be running low. “We’ve had to go to the store three times since that first day because we keep running out of the one beer that someone wants.”

He retreats from the refrigerator and turns to Honey. He’s got two beers in his hand. He holds them up and asks, “Which one do you think Bea wants?”

Honey weighs her choices, but ultimately chooses the Michelob. Bea will use it as a jumping point for her conversation with Quinn– it’s a no-brainer. As annoying as Bea’s boy-craziness is, Honey is always going to be her wingwoman and helper when she can.

“Cool,” Trevor says and returns the other beer to the shelf. He turns back to Honey and takes two of the beers she was carrying, leaving her with just two, the Budweiser and the Modelo.

“I thought you were a Modelo drinker,” Honey says.

“I am,” Trevor replies, heading towards the stairs.

Honey follows. “Then why am I holding your beer?”

“Because I want you to hand it to me.”

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

When they return downstairs, they distribute the beer. Honey hands Cole his Budweiser and waits for Trevor to finish handing out the beers to the Hughes brothers and her friend. Bea has finally managed to get Quinn to do the work for her, with him leaning behind her and guiding her arms over the cue, pointing out where she should be looking and where to hit the ball. There are no other balls on the table except the 8 ball, which makes Honey chuckle. There’s no way Bea sunk all of hers– Quinn had to have “mistakenly” knocked a few in for her.

Trevor returns to the sitting area and Honey stands, offering him the Modelo in her hand. On purpose, she realizes, Trevor closes his hand over her own to take the beer from her and thanks her with a smile, his eyes far too kind to be harmless and friendly.

Honey shakes her head with a look, then frowns when Trevor plops his happy ass right down on the other side of her loveseat. She shakes her head again and chooses to watch the end of the pool game, sitting on one of the stool-saddles near the table. She claps when Bea finally sinks the 8 ball after her third whiff. The ball only sinks because Quinn leaned over Bea again and did it for her, working together to finish the game.

“I win!” Bea squeals in delight, jumping in celebration in front of Quinn.

He lets out a little chuckle, the most awkwardly and quietly endearing laugh that Honey has ever heard. “You won,” he agrees. “With my help.”

Bea tilts her chin up and smiles at Quinn, proud of herself. “So we both win,” she says. “That means we both get whatever we want.”

Honey bites her tongue and ducks her head, waiting for what’s coming next. She wants to turn around and look out the window, even though you can’t see anything in the dark mountainside now that the sun has set. The thing is, she also wants to see the boys’ reactions to what Bea is going to say next.

Quinn smiles, a little tiny smile. His focus is only on Bea, who has inched her way closer to him somehow. There’s not much more room between them. “Whatever you want,” he repeats. “What do you want, Bea?”

Honey watches Quinn’s face, but she’s torn. She also wants to watch Jack.

“You know that tour Cole took us on when Honey and I first got here?” Bea asks, reaching out and smoothing out the turned-up fabric of Quinn’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Quinn replies, a little confused.

Bea rests her hand on his arm, slowly making her way down so she can wrap her hand around his fingers. She watches herself do it, then looks up at Quinn through her lashes. “I don’t think I saw your bedroom,” she says. “Would you care to show me?”

Quinn’s lips part in surprise and Honey watches his eyes search Bea’s own for… insincerity, maybe?

At the same time, Jack chokes on a sip of his beer. Honey’s eyes fly to him and Cole pats his back as Jack coughs it out.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, clapping his hand against his chest and coughing one last time.

Bea smiles at him, oozing confidence and a little showmanship, as Quinn leads her to the stairs. He lets her climb them first and Honey giggles when Quinn sneaks a glance at Bea’s ass and visibly relaxes before hurrying to catch up with her and get his hands on her hips. Bea’s twinkling laughter grows softer and softer as she bounds up the stairs, her footfalls growing heavier as Quinn closes in on her.

“Well shit, Jack,” Cole says. “I guess you’re not the first to fall into bed with a girl this summer. The streak is finally over.”

“You don’t know that,” Jack says, pushing Cole’s hand off of his shoulder. He turns to face Honey, looking hopeful and a little desperate. “Wanna help me keep my streak up?”

A loud honking laugh escapes Honey. “Absolutely fucking not,” she replies, still laughing. She shakes her head at Jack, then notices the small, but mightily proud smile on Trevor’s lips.

Choosing not to focus on that smile, a smile that she’s inadvertently becoming very fond of because she’s never seen him smile at his friends the way Trevor is smiling at her, Honey hops up from her stool and starts to gather the balls from the pockets of the table. She racks them, then grabs her cue and waves Trevor over. “I believe we had a game to play.”

“You had a game to lose,” Trevor corrects, standing and approaching Honey. He grabs his own stick, the one Quinn abandoned on the edge of the table when Bea proposed her bedroom shenanigans.

“Hmm,” Honey voices, raising her eyebrows and exaggerating a grimace. “Consider me scared. Your break, Trevor.”

“When I win,” Trevor says. “I want to buy you dinner.” He lines up the cue ball and shoots, the colorful triangle of balls destroyed in a single swoop. One of the solids finds its way into a pocket and Trevor smirks.

“What a boring prize,” Honey muses. “But if you insist on those terms, then I agree.” She sticks out her hand to shake his. “And when I win…”

She leans down and eyes a line of three balls. The striped nine is farthest from the hole, but Honey wants to prove a point, so she angles her stick down at a steep slope and pushes– noticing Trevor’s mouth flattening into a line when her ball jumps over the other two and tips into the hole. She stands back up to her full height, tilting her head to the side. She cocks her hip and positions her hand against it, holding the cue up on her other side.

“I’m really going to enjoy your Zulu Run, Trevor.”

Cole whistles lowly from the couch. “I need to find you another trophy, girl.”

Honey shoots him a wink.

They play on. Trevor takes it easy– plays the safe route. With each easy fall into the pocket, he fistpumps to celebrate. Honey can only imagine how insufferable he is at the bowling alley.

She shows him up, not even daring to let him pull ahead in their race and convince himself that he has a chance. She sinks the final black ball into the right-center pocket, bending herself all the way over the table to give him a good view of the girl who’s beating him. Her hips are high on the other side of the table, balancing up on her tip toes, facing the seating area. She doesn’t even look at the ball when she hits it, no, she’s looking up at Trevor with a tilted smile and mocking, bragging eyes.

His eyes evaluate her– eyes, to lips, to chest, to ass. To the boys, making sure they aren’t looking, aren’t gawking at the round globes of Honey’s ass that are presented before them. Back to her ass. Her ass.

Honey stands, slowly, making sure Trevor memorizes the curve of her waist when she does. Her eyes drop to his pants, a smirk growing in time with his bulge, and she rests her hands on the edge of the table. She pulls her shoulders back, broadening her chest.

It’s just a dominant stance. All Honey enjoys about this is the fact that his resolve and dignity crumble at the mere sight of a pretty girl bent before him. She likes knowing that he’s weak for her, but that she’ll never do anything about it.

She’s not looking for that.

“A Zulu Run,” Honey explains, clearing her throat to rid her voice of its sultry tinges. She shakes her hair back, over her shoulders. Trevor’s eyes darken at the sight of her throat. She smiles, but continues. “Is when you have to strip, sing a song, and streak around the house until the song is over.” She throws a glance over her shoulder at the other boys. “Usually your friends get to pick your song.”

Jack perks up at that. Honey turns and hops up on the ledge of the pool table, knowing that Trevor’s eyes have fallen to her behind. Jack looks at Honey with delight in his eyes, seeming to forgive her in an instant for psychoanalyzing him earlier in the night. His eyes slide to Trevor and the look in them seems more akin to yearning for vengeance.

“So, boys,” Honey drawls. “What’ll it be?”

They scramble over each other to reach her, shouting song suggestions as they fly into their head. Honey can’t hear anything they’re saying, so she laughs until they fall silent. Cole’s hand presses into the side of her thigh, she looks down at it in disgust, then back up at him. It falls to the edge of the table, noticeable space between her and the appendage.

“How about this,” Honey decides. She sneaks a glance at Trevor, gloating as she lets her eyes roam all over his body. She takes in his arms, his thighs under his shorts, the way his shirt falls over his shoulders. “Trevor looks pretty fit. Why don’t we all pick a song?” She winks at him. “Make him run for, oh, eleven minutes or so?”

A flicker of recognition passes through Trevor’s gaze, but it’s quickly replaced by disbelief. He doesn’t know how she would know– weren’t they subtle about it? She lets out a breath of a laugh at the look– no, Trevor, you weren’t subtle, she thinks. but it’s cute that you think you are.

She realizes what she was thinking in a split second and shakes herself out of it, snapping her face forward and crossing her legs knee-over-knee.

“But only his friends get to pick, so I guess I’m out.” Honey hops down from her perch and breaks through the boys, settling herself on the loveseat with her trophy, laying out to take up as much space as she could. She picks up the remote from the table and places her other hand behind her head, navigating to the Roku menu screen. “Do we have Spotify on this thing?”

Luke, Jack, and Cole each pick a song and Cole helps Honey connect to the outdoor speakers. He re-presents her with her trophy with a flourish and a bow, playful and lame. The boys push Trevor out to the patio with a whoop, pulling at his clothes even as Trevor fights them.

Honey follows at a distance and watches through the glass door. She looks away when Trevor sheds his underwear and waits for Luke’s countdown to end before looking back up. She doesn’t want to see it. That’s just too far. She gets an eyeful of his ass as he rounds the corner of the house, though.

As Trevor starts his third song, Cole’s cheesy Taylor Swift pick (“You can’t outrun my music now, bitch!”), Jack joins Honey at the door.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Honey tells him, rubbing over the skin on her arms.

Jack nods at her, shrugging easily. “I’ll walk you out.”

Honey leads him up the stairs, hearing Trevor’s whoops grow louder as he finishes the second verse of the song. She knows he catches them walking up the stairs because his singing falters for a moment. His steps speed up. So do Honey’s.

She walks briskly to the front door, bordering on a speedwalk, with Jack behind her. She swings her keys over her finger and wrenches the front door open. Jack catches it before it hits the wall.

“What about Bea?” He asks, calling after Honey and making her pause.

“She’ll find her way home,” Honey replies and steps off again. She has to get out of here before Trevor races up the stairs to stop her from being alone with Jack and she gets an eyeful of his– junk.

“Honey!” Jack calls again.

She lurches to a stop and cringes, turning to face the boy.

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to flirt with you anymore."

Honey takes a breath, walking back and reaching up to pat Jack's cheek, just forceful enough that it'll sting for a moment after she walks away. It's not quite a hit, but it's definitely not a love tap. "That doesn't hold the power that you think it does," she tells him with a nod and a close-lipped smile. She goes to leave, but Jack stops her by grabbing her hand.

"Trevor likes you, you know. He was quiet tonight, but he likes you. He's reading that book you gave him and everything," Jack says in earnest, his blues boring into Honey's own eyes.

Honey picks up on the unsaid words. He's trying, take it easy on him, he might be annoying but he's good, and he likes you. You should like him too, and all of that.

The edges of Honey's smile soften and she gently pulls her hand from Jack's. "It's nice to know he can read," she replies, deflecting. Whatever Trevor feels for her, not that he can really feel anything because he doesn't know her like that, doesn't matter. She's not looking for that right now. "Thanks for hosting us, Jack. I'm sorry for what I... said."

"It's okay." Jack shrugs. "Thanks for coming."

"Goodnight," Honey bids him, and starts to walk away.

"Come back," Jack says, and Honey whips around and finds him looking like the words surprised him when he heard himself speak. He clears his throat. "Friday. Um, it's— it's National Chocolate Ice Cream Day and National Donut Day." He scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Really... important holiday."

Honey can't do anything but laugh. "I'll bring the donuts."

She walks to her car and ignores the chirping of bullfrogs echoing in her ears as she drives down the mountain to her home, alone.

7:90 – TREVOR

Jack glares at Trevor when he walks down to the kitchen early the next morning. As Trevor rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn, Jack shifts under the frozen pack of peas that rests precariously on his shoulderblades. Trevor had barely touched him last night, he was just being dramatic. So he had a bit of soreness on his back from where Trevor pushed him against the wall and asked him what the hell he was doing, who cares? He went upstairs with Trevor’s girl. Alone.

“Bea’s taking you to church with her this morning for laying a finger on me,” Jack growls out when Trevor looks at him and laughs.

“No shit,” Trevor replies, snorting.

“It’s true,” comes the female voice from the couch. Bea leans forward, her tube top skewed and tilted enough to draw a wandering eye. Trevor rolls his. “You shouldn’t get violent, not on my watch.”

“You weren’t even with me last night, Bea,” Trevor says sweetly, tilting his head down to dismiss her. “You didn’t see me do shit. How can you prove it was me and not Luke?”

“Luke put a video of it on his private story, then showed me,” Bea snickers in the same tone. “So you’re taking me home and helping me choose my best church outfit to hide these hickeys, and then you’ll join me at the service. It’ll be good for your reputation in town.”

“I don’t really care about my reputation in town,” Trevor laughs.

“Honey cares about your reputation in town,” Bea clarifies, a tight, ‘there’s no room for discussion here’ smile on her face. She pointedly looks him up and down. “Little Bear.”

Trevor scowls at her condescending tone and use of the nickname. How dare she flaunt her inner circle-ness to Trevor.

“I was going to go to church anyway,” Trevor boasts. “Vera told me to bring all of the boys.”

“Well, you’re the only one resorting to violence–” Jack begins, seething, before Bea cuts him off.

“No, this is a good idea,” she says, waving her hand to quiet him. “We should all go to church.”

Jack scoffs. “I don’t think we need to go,” he says. “Sounds like you’ve got an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want the town to think y’all are reclusive party folk who have no interest in the happenings of Litchton,” Bea snaps. “You’d be surprised how quickly the old grannies will turn on you.”

“And you get to walk into church with five guys on your arm,” Jack says, still scowling. This time, his attention is focused on Bea, not the man who physically hurt him the night before.

“Said she wanted five guys, she ain’t talking ‘bout burgers,” Trevor deadpans, a disgusted look thrown Bea’s way.

She’s unperturbed by it, probably from many years of Honey– Honey.– throwing her similar looks. All Bea does is smile and reply, “My pussy already got murdered, Trev. I didn’t need five guys.”

“No way Quinn ‘murdered’ your pussy, Bea,” Jack jumps in, air quotes around the word. “The dude doesn’t fuck.”

Bea laughs. “I assure you, he fucks.”

“Yeah, I fuck,” Quinn agrees, descending the stairs. He veers to the couch first and drops a kiss on Bea’s head in greeting.

“Well, fuck your way to church,” Jack says. “Bea’s making everyone go with her.” Jack looks at Quinn expectantly, maybe waiting for pushback.

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anything else for us to do on a Sunday morning in this place. Everything is probably closed.”

“It’s true, everything is closed on Sundays except the grocery store and the gas station,” Bea says with a nod. “And the church, of course.”

Jack scowls and removes his pack of peas from his back. Trevor takes his opportunity to approach the fridge, conveniently behind Jack. “Why can’t we just stay here?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Trevor replies, trying to exude optimism now that he’s not the only boy being forced to attend church and wash themselves of their sins. He turns and purposefully claps his hand down on Jack’s shoulder, hard. Jack howls in pain. Trevor squeezes just to watch him tense up. “It’s our chance to become one with the community, Jacky.”

Bea smiles, voice dripping with cheerfulness. “Yeah, Jacky, it’ll be good for you. Why don’t you two head upstairs and change?” Her eyes fix on Quinn, whose shirt rides up as he grabs a glass from the upper shelves of the cabinets. “I want to chit-chat with Quinn for a second.”

Trevor and Jack make a face, but scramble towards the stairs. They push and shove each other all the way up– Trevor is particularly satisfied when Jack bumps into the wall and groans– then split off into their respective rooms. Trevor treats it like a race– whoever finishes changing first wins.

Jack is already back downstairs by the time Trevor returns. Cole is there, and Luke, and both of them seem to be dressed for the service too. None of the boys have the best church clothes, but it’s a small town with farmers. Surely not everyone will be in their Sunday best every Sunday. Quinn is noticeably missing, but Bea is standing by the door with a smile on her face. Her lips look a little more red than they did before Trevor went upstairs. He narrows his eyes at her.

“You, and you,” Bea says, pointing at Jack and Trevor. “Come with me. Trevor, grab your car keys. You’re driving.”

“What about Luke and Cole?” Trevor asks, picking up his keys from their spot on the hook next to the door and trailing behind Bea. Jack trails behind Trevor, still grumbling and pretending like his shoulders hurt for dramatic effect. Trevor ought to show him some real pain next time.

The three people climb into the car, Trevor behind the wheel and Bea in the passenger seat. Jack, once again, finds himself relegated to the backseat. He straps himself in and Trevor catches his murderous glare in the rearview mirror.

“Quinn’s going to drive them,” Bea explains. “They’ll meet us at the church.”

“Whipped,” Jack coughs out. He does a terrible job of masking the word.

Trevor rolls his eyes, just like Bea. She opens her mouth to say something, sass him, but thinks better of it.

They drive on in silence, the occasional sigh or grunt from Jack as he shifts in his seat. Trevor glares at him again in the mirror and Jack hits him with a fake smile before looking out the window to watch the trees whip by.

Bea directs them to the main strip of shops, then tells them to take a left onto one of the sidestreets near The Reading Nook. They pull up to a big brick house, separated down the middle by a massive staircase. Bea climbs the stairs and turns to the left again, unlocking and pushing her front door open.

She leads the boys into her living room, which is decorated exactly how Trevor expected it to be. The couch is white with pink pillows and a white shag rug beneath it. Her furniture is odd, thrifted and worn in. None of it matches, although Trevor suspects that her theme was “Barbie girl aesthetic.” It’s messy, and comfortable, and Trevor almost envies how she lives. His apartment in Anaheim is sparse– when you’re on the road so much and as busy with your job as Trevor is, you really only need a place to eat and sleep. His decorations reflect that.

Trevor sprawls out on the couch, leaving Jack standing awkwardly next to the coffee table. Bea disappears down the hall and enters her bedroom, her closet door creaking open.

“Jack, come here, will you?” Bea asks.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he starts down the hallway nonetheless.

Trevor snoops in his absence, Jack’s presence no longer a threat to his comfort. He drags himself off of the couch and stands, advancing towards the shelves of knickknacks on the wall near the television.

Bea has got a number of books on her shelves, overtaking two of the four rows. The other rows are sparse and far more interesting– there are picture frames spread along the rows, six frames that depict Bea’s life and what she loves.

Four of the pictures feature Honey. The other two are groups of people that Trevor assumes are Bea’s family, her extended family on each of her parents’ sides. He can ignore those easily, not caring about about Bea to scan each of her cousins’ faces. The pictures with Honey are a different story.

There’s a picture of the two when they were ten, or eleven, riding their bikes down an asphalt street lined with suburban houses. Bea’s bike is pink with streamers and flowers and a little basket. Honey’s is dark green and sporty, similar to Trevor’s own bicycle from childhood. Honey’s smile is wry, whereas Bea’s is glowing.

The second, from a birthday party. It’s Honey’s birthday and they’re four, from the looks of the lit candle on her cake. Honey’s smile is wide, much wider than the previous image. Her hair is messy and her tongue is stained green, probably from a lollipop or a Jolly Rancher. Her arms are wrapped around Bea’s neck and she’s pulled her friend close, their cheeks pressing together. Bea’s expression is a little different. Only one of her eyes is squeezed shut, the one closer to Honey. Her lips are pursed like a duck and her little fingers are raised in a peace sign.

Trevor chuckles. If his mom had been the one taking the picture, she would’ve said “What a ham” about the girls’ goofiness.

In the next picture, they’re older. They’re sixteen, probably. Bea’s wearing these short jean shorts and a bikini top and Honey wears a matching top under some long, gray sweatpants. She rolled the waistband up and her back is mostly to the camera, Bea lifted off the ground in a swooping hug. Bea’s legs are kicked up behind her like she’s experiencing a really good, Princess Diaries kind of kiss and her face is frozen in laughter. Honey’s is the same. Trevor’s heart clenches at the smile on her face and the way her hair blows out behind her.

Finally, there’s a selfie of the two of them in a handmade frame. It’s from a high angle and Trevor can’t tell if it’s a .5 picture or a regular one. Honey’s eyebrow is raised and she wears an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, goofy enough to tug at Trevor’s smile. Bea’s mouth is open and she has a hand pinching Honey’s chin, while the other is raised to take the picture. Behind them is the Welcome to Litchton sign that Trevor passes each time he goes into town.

Trevor’s eyes glide down to the handmade frame, the written message along the top and bottom borders.

“New Beginnings!” and smaller, in the corner, a more personalized message. Trevor thinks that she wrote the message in a thin Sharpie– it’s too pristine still, after years. “There’s no one I would rather have join me in Litchton than you. Thank you for always being the Bea to my Honey! Honeybea 4ever <3”.

Trevor reaches out and takes the frame in his hand, inspecting it. He turns it over. More script, also in a Sharpie: “2019”, it reads. He replaces the item, making sure it’s back in the exact right spot.

“Bea, hurry up!” Trevor calls, returning to the couch.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she replies, leading Jack out of her bedroom. She’s clasping a necklace as she walks, then holds out her wrist and a bracelet for Jack to clasp. “We can go now.”

They leave the apartment and climb back into the car, Jack beating Bea out for the passenger seat this time. He’s smug about it too, grinning to himself while he buckles up. Trevor opens the back door for Bea and helps her into the car with a guiding hand in hers. When Jack realizes that he fumbled the chance to look like a gentleman, his face returns to its scowl.

“If you’re not careful, your face will get stuck like that,” Trevor warns when he finally sits behind the wheel again. He shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking space.

Bea directs them to the church and Trevor pulls into the parking lot next to Quinn’s car, which is still running. They’ve got about five minutes before the service begins and Bea chastises the three boys for not going inside and reserving seats early.

“There’s only a few instances where the whole town goes out to do something,” Bea complains as they walk inside. “Church is one of them. We’re never going to find a spot for all six of us.”

“No Honey?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He expected her to join them, especially since the ‘whole town’ is here.

Bea casts Trevor a look and snickers into her palm. “You’re sweet, Trevor,” she says and Trevor rolls his eyes at her saccharine tone. “But Honey decided a long time ago that she had enough religion in her life growing up. She and God know where they stand.”

Trevor reaches the door to the church first and holds it open for the group, letting them file in. He’s grateful that they’re in the church now, because all of the other boys are either too respectful of the space and what it represents or too awkward in a silent building to make fun of Trevor for seeking out Honey. Or they don’t want to get on Bea’s bad side and act a fool in church and suffer her wrath.

They file into one of the back pews, Bea sandwiched between Quinn and Luke. Trevor sits on the other side, right at the aisle.

For an hour, he stays quiet and moves and speaks with the congregation. He counts the number of times that Cole tases Jack’s side, sticking his fingers between his ribs to cause him to flinch and make noise in the reverent area. He does this five times throughout the mass before Bea leans forward and threatens to cut his hands off herself.

For an hour, Trevor stares forward and lets his mind wander to Honey, and all the thoughts he has about her. She’s a mystery and she’s quiet like Quinn, but confident in a way that Quinn never achieved. She knows exactly who she is and won’t budge for anyone, won’t change herself or act in any special ways around certain people.

Trevor admires it– he’s spent his whole life performing for people, in a way. Hockey is his life and always has been, but sometimes it’s tiring to realize that all of his friends are people he met on ice. To think that he can be surrounded by his teammates and the fans in any arena and still feel lonely– it’s the kind of thing that leaves Trevor wondering if this career was a good idea.

In another world, he’s playing in a beer league in a town like this, with a girl like Honey on his arm.

The thought leaves him feeling heavy, weighed down. It ruminates in his mind, even after the service is over. It sours his mood completely and Trevor wishes he was back at the house so he could take a shower or something and stop the prickling feelings from taking over his skin.

In the parking lot, the group chats about nothing. Trevor doesn’t listen. Bea introduces the boys to come of the townsfolk and Trevor smiles and shakes the men’s hands, hugs the ladies or send a special look their way. Vera and Earl honk as they drive past the group, Vera blowing a kiss towards Trevor and Cole through the passenger window. Cole catches it and sticks it to his cheek, then sends one back. It makes Vera laugh.

Trevor tunes back into the conversation as the boys discuss plans for the upcoming week– Jack edges away from Trevor before he mentions that he invited Honey over that coming Friday and that Bea should come too.

“Well, you’ll rarely find a Honey without its Bea,” Bea teases. She claps. “Okay. I’ll see you guys then. Quinn, take me home?”

Quinn nods and puts his hand on the small of her back to direct her to the car. Bea pauses and waves Trevor over, shooing the other boys away. Quinn stays, his hand still on Bea’s body.

“There’s a fruit stand outside the grocery store on Mondays,” Bea says.

“I know, I’ve been,” Trevor interrupts.

Bea quiets him with a click of her tongue. She chooses her words carefully, her eyes hard. “Go tomorrow at, like, six,” she suggests, a faux-nonchalant shrug lifting her shoulders. “You might find something that you like there. I recommend buying the strawberries. They make a lovely gift, Trevor.”

Trevor frowns, confused. “I don’t like strawberries,” he replies.

Bea closes her eyes and processes his words for a moment, a tight smile on her lips. “They make a lovely gift, Trevor,” she repeats.

“Sick,” Trevor says, his voice hard. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “I’m not buying strawberries for you, Bea. I don’t know you enough to give you gifts.”

Bea stomps her foot. “Good fucking God, Trevor. Quinn, can you explain this shit to him?” She asks, then walks off to the car. She takes Quinn’s keys from his hand and gets behind the driver’s seat herself.

Quinn watches her walk away, then turns to Trevor. “She’s telling you that you’ll run into Honey, you fucking idiot, and that you should buy her strawberries.”

He leaves Trevor standing there, eyes wide.

Yeah, he’s definitely heading to the fruit stand tomorrow and buying strawberries.

He concocts his plan on the drive home, silent compared to the other three boys, that are laughing and flopping around the backseat with every turn in a game of Jell-O. They’re not wearing their seatbelts. When they get too loud, Trevor envisions ejecting them from the backseat, leaving them sailing down the mountain, falling through the air.

He holes himself up in his room to nap when they get home, too excited to see Honey to let the time pass organically. It’s like time travel, this way. Trevor will wake up and be two hours closer to seeing her, to getting another chance to win her over. This time, with a gift.

In the afternoon, he laces up his blades and skates with the boys. Quinn has come back by now, not spending much time at Bea’s apartment after church, according to Luke. They all skate and shoot for a couple of hours, playing a game of pickup with an extra player to sub in and out. When that ends, they run some drills. Luke and Quinn play defense, like always, with Trevor, Cole, and Jack recreating their legendary line from USNTDP. It works out perfectly, and each boy pushes himself like they’re playing a real game. It’s the brotherly competition that fuels them– and when the drills start to fall into disarray from hits and other penalties that would certainly be called out in a game, they head off to shower.

The night ends slowly, fizzling out compared to the way it ended the night before. The boys lounge in the game room, sprawling out on the couches and snacking and sipping their beer. Trevor isn’t made to perform another Zulu Run, no one picks up a pool cue, and they watch shitty TV movies on the Spanish channel instead of English. They make up the dialogue as they go and Trevor is the first to go to sleep. He makes it to midnight, but then he forces himself to go to bed.

He’s got a big day ahead of him… after 5 p.m., anyway.

–end–of–chapter–one–

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #hockey smut #hockey romance

133 notes · View notes