#NHL Player

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 6  | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. PART FIVE HERE. 21,261 words

The Finale

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A/N: alright i'm not sure how well this flows, and its got a lot of build up that could probably be cut out, but i've been working on this draft for a month so here it is! thank you all so much for reading it and I swear when I revisit writing about Matthew Rempe it will be better and less parts lol. ENJOY IF YOU CAN! -alt

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It had been a few days since Matt left, and we’d barely talked. His hoodie had become a fixture in my wardrobe—not because I was making some grand romantic statement, but because it was comfortable, and maybe also because it felt like a small piece of him was still here. Still, the silence between us gnawed at me.

I was at the coffee shop near campus, pretending to study while nursing a lukewarm chai latte, when Rachel, Jessie, and Mae appeared. I glanced up just as Rachel sat across from me, her expression far too smug for my liking.

“Hi?” I said, confused.

“Don’t ‘hi’ us,” Rachel replied. “We’re here for answers.”

Mae and Jessie sat down on either side of me, boxing me in. My stomach twisted.

“Answers about what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jessie said, her tone light but determined. “We’ve been piecing things together. The hoodie, the airport, the guy Rachel saw picking you up from class—you’ve got some kind of secret life going on, and we want to know why.”

“It’s not a secret life,” I said defensively.

Mae arched an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you told us anything about this mystery guy? If he’s important enough to have you walking around in his clothes, shouldn’t we know who he is?”

“It’s not like that,” I muttered, tugging at the hoodie’s sleeves.

“Y/N,” Rachel said, her voice softer now, “we’re your friends. We just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“That’s the thing,” Jessie added. “You’re clearly into this guy—or at least he’s important to you. Why don’t you trust us enough to tell us about him?”

“It’s not about trust!” I snapped, louder than I intended. Heads turned at nearby tables, and I lowered my voice, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “It’s just…complicated, okay?”

Mae exchanged a look with Rachel, who leaned forward. “Complicated how?”

“I don’t know!” I said, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t even know what’s happening with him right now. We haven’t really talked since he left, and I feel like I’m stuck in this weird in-between where I don’t know if I’m his friend or…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“Or something more?” Mae finished gently.

I dropped my gaze to my coffee, my fingers tightening around the cup. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Jessie sighed. “Y/N, we’re not trying to make you feel bad. But you’re obviously struggling with this, and we just want to help.”

“I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not just my thing to share. He’s…he’s private, and his life is really different from ours. I don’t even know if I should be talking about him.”

Rachel’s expression softened. “Okay, we get that. But, Y/N, you don’t have to deal with this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

The table fell silent for a moment, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Mae broke it with a small smile. “Well, for the record, we still think he’s lucky to have you, whatever he is to you.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Mae.”

They let the subject drop after that, but the weight of their concern lingered. As I packed up my things to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. They were only pushing because they cared, and here I was, keeping them in the dark.

I slipped out of the coffee shop, pulling Matt’s hoodie tighter around me as I headed home. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and for a moment, I thought it might be him. But when I checked, it was just a reminder for an assignment deadline.

With a sigh, I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

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That night, I lay in bed, staring at my phone. I’d stopped myself from texting Matt at least five times throughout the day, telling myself that if he wanted to talk, he would. But the silence was getting to me.

I sighed, rolling onto my side and pulling his hoodie tighter around me. Maybe he was just busy. The team’s schedule had been a mess ever since he left, and I knew they were dealing with rink issues, travel changes, and constant meetings. But still… it wasn’t like him to go this long without checking in.

Before I could overthink it any further, my phone vibrated.

Thursday, September 19, 2024 Today, 11:34pm

MATT: You up?

I blinked at the screen. Speak of the devil.

ME: Maybe. MATT: That’s a yes. ME: What’s up?

There was a long pause, and I could see the three little dots flicker on and off. Finally, his reply came through.

MATT: Just wanted to hear from you. It’s been a few days.

My stomach flipped at that.

ME: Yeah, I noticed. MATT: Sorry. It’s been nonstop since I got back.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I didn’t want to sound needy, but I also didn’t want to pretend like it hadn’t been bothering me.

ME: I get it. Just felt a little weird, that’s all. MATT: Yeah. Me too.

I frowned at the screen. Me too? What did that even mean?

ME: Weird how?

This time, the dots lingered for what felt like an eternity before disappearing. I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

But then—

MATT: I guess I got used to being there. Seeing you.

I swallowed, my pulse quickening.

ME: You were here for, like, two days. MATT: And?

I chewed my lip, trying to ignore the way my heart was beating way too fast.

ME: And… I guess I got used to it too.

The second I sent it, I wanted to throw my phone across the room. But before I could spiral too hard, his reply came in almost instantly.

MATT: So what are we gonna do about that, San Diego?

I stared at his message, my brain short-circuiting. What were we going to do about it?

I exhaled, shaking my head at myself. I wasn’t even sure what this was.

ME: I don’t know. You tell me.

A full minute passed. Then—

MATT: How do you feel about New York?

My breath caught. Was he serious?

ME: You mean, like, in general? Or…? MATT: No, I mean you. Coming here.

I sat up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Was he actually asking me to visit? After weeks of dancing around whatever was happening between us, was this it?

ME: You want me to come to New York? MATT: Yeah. I do. MATT: Unless that’s weird. Is that weird?

I laughed out loud, shaking my head.

ME: You’re the one inviting me. You tell me if it’s weird. MATT: Not weird. MATT: Kinda feels overdue, actually.

I inhaled sharply, warmth creeping up my neck. He wasn’t wrong.

ME: You realize I have a whole life here, right? I can’t just drop everything and fly across the country. MATT: I know. I’m just saying… think about it.

I flopped back onto my pillows, staring at the ceiling. New York.

The idea of seeing Matt again—seeing him there, in his world—sent a rush of nervous excitement through me.

I didn’t know what this was between us. But maybe it was time to find out.

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The idea of New York lingered in my mind for the next few days. No matter how much I tried to focus on school, on my friends, on anything else, it was always there—this nagging little thought that wouldn’t leave me alone. I hadn’t given Matt an answer yet. Part of me wasn’t sure why. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

Going to New York—seeing him again—felt like stepping over some kind of invisible line. And I wasn’t sure what happened once I did. Would we still be the same? Would it feel like those months of texting and late-night FaceTimes, or would it be different? And what if different wasn’t good? It was stupid. I wanted to see him. I just didn’t know if I was ready for everything that might come with it. I was mulling it over again when my phone rang.

Matt.

I hesitated for half a second before answering. “Hey.”

“You still thinking?” he asked, skipping the greeting entirely.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

A pause. Then—“I miss you.”

I froze, gripping my phone a little tighter. He said it so easily, like it was just a fact. And maybe it was. My heart flipped. “You saw me a week ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “You make things complicated, you know that?”

“I make things simple,” he countered. “You’re the one overthinking.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe.”

“So stop thinking,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Come to New York.”

I bit my lip. I could hear the distant hum of traffic behind him, the city moving at its usual breakneck pace. The sound sent a thrill through me. “I have school,” I reminded him, but it was a weak excuse.

“It’s one weekend.” I hesitated. “San Diego,” he said, softer now. “Just say yes.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I smiled. “Yes, Matt. I’ll come to New York.” He let out a triumphant yes on the other end, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll look at flights tonight and let you know—”

“Yeah… about that,” Matt interrupted, a little too casually.

I narrowed my eyes, immediately suspicious. “Matt.”

“So, I may have already booked one for you,” he admitted, completely unapologetic.

I sat up straighter. “You what?”

“Well, I assumed you’d say yes,” he said, as if that was a completely reasonable explanation. “And flights were getting expensive, so I just figured—”

“You figured?” I repeated, incredulous.

“Yes,” he said, shameless. “Don’t act like you weren’t gonna come anyway.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Annoyingly, he wasn’t wrong. Still, I wasn’t going to let him get away with this that easily. “What if I had said no?”

“You wouldn’t have,” he said confidently. “But worst case scenario, I guess I’d be spending a suspicious amount of time in San Diego until you changed your mind.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re coming to New York,” he said, smug. “So, really, everyone wins.”

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. “Send me the details.”

“Already did.”

I glanced down at my phone, and sure enough, there was an email confirmation sitting in my inbox. Unbelievable.

“This is insane,” I muttered, clicking it open.

“Correction: this is happening,” Matt countered. “And you’re gonna love it.”

I shook my head, fighting back the warmth blooming in my chest. “Guess I better start packing, then.”

“Guess so,” he said. Then, a beat later, “Told you you’d say yes.”

I hung up on him. His laughter was still ringing in my ears.

I clutched my phone in my hand, staring down at the screen. I could finally stop wearing this oversized hoodie in all this summer heat just to feel like he hadn’t had to disappear. He hadn’t forgotten about me, hadn’t left me behind in the whirlwind of his life in New York. I was going to him. A grin broke across my face before I could stop it, warmth rushing through my chest.

“Okay, what just happened?”

I looked up to see Rachel and Mae standing a few feet away, both watching me like I’d just grown a second head. They must’ve just left their last class of the day, but whatever they’d been talking about before was clearly forgotten now.

Mae crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Five minutes ago, you looked like you were about to fight God. Now you look like you just won the lottery.”

Rachel tilted her head. “Did mystery guy finally text you back?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to reel in my expression. “Maybe.”

Mae scoffed. “Oh, come on.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You know, you’re really bad at being secretive.”

I sighed, pressing my phone to my chest. “It’s—he just… invited me to visit.”

Both of their eyebrows shot up.

“And?” Rachel prompted.

I hesitated for half a second before exhaling. “And I’m going.”

Mae’s jaw dropped. “Oh, now this is getting interesting.”

Rachel pointed at me. “So, let me get this straight. You won’t tell us who he is, but you will fly across the country to see him?”

I winced. “That… sounds bad when you say it like that.”

Mae just shook her head. “Girl, at this point, I don’t even care who he is—I just want to know what he is to you.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but for all the excitement bubbling up inside me, I still didn’t know how to. What was he to me? A friend. A secret. A boy who had somehow become a part of my life in ways I never saw coming. And now, I was about to find out what happened next.

"He's…" I started, then hesitated. My fingers tightened around my phone as I searched for the right words, the right way to explain something I barely understood myself. Rachel and Mae both stared at me expectantly, waiting. Finally, I exhaled. "Matt." Silence.

Mae’s eyes narrowed. "Matt what?"

Rachel’s expression flickered with realization first. "Matt—" She cut herself off, her jaw dropping slightly. "No way."

Mae glanced between us. "Wait, what? What am I missing?"

Rachel turned to her, then back to me, then exhaled like she was trying to put together a puzzle that suddenly made way too much sense. "Is he—?" I didn’t confirm or deny it. I just lifted my coffee cup to my lips, taking a slow sip like that would somehow make me invisible.

Mae let out a dramatic groan. "Oh, come on! What is happening? Someone explain!"

Rachel ignored her, still studying me with wide eyes. "You’ve been talking to him this whole time?"

I swallowed hard, then gave the tiniest nod. "Yeah."

Mae threw her hands in the air. "Okay, clearly, I am not connecting the dots fast enough here, but you are going to explain everything to us before you get on that plane."

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the secret I’d been carrying start to lift—just a little. Because for the first time since this all started, I wasn’t keeping Matt completely to myself anymore.

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By the time we got back to my apartment, I was exhausted from all the questioning. But I knew they weren’t going to let this go, and honestly, a part of me didn’t want them to. Keeping this secret had been weighing on me more than I realized. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the couch as Rachel and Mae sat across from me, expectant.

“Alright,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Let me just…explain everything.”

Rachel crossed her arms. “Please do.”

Mae just nodded, eyes locked onto me like I was about to drop the most scandalous drama of the decade.

I took a deep breath. “So… it started with a wrong number.”

I went back to the beginning—the first text, the months of back-and-forth banter, the anonymous friendship that somehow became something real. I told them about finding out who he was, the New York trip, how we kept talking after that, and how he showed up here, right outside my class. They listened intently, not interrupting, not even exchanging their usual knowing glances. They let me tell it all—how I didn’t know what any of this meant, how confusing it was, how Matt had practically forced me to admit we weren’t just ‘texting buddies’ anymore. When I finally finished, Mae let out a long breath.

“So… you’re telling me,” she said, slowly, “that this entire time, you’ve been talking to, FaceTiming, and literally hanging out with a guy who—on a completely unrelated note—just so happens to be a professional hockey player in the NHL?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning?”

I groaned. “It’s not like that! I didn’t hide it on purpose—I just…” I hesitated. “I guess I didn’t know how to explain it. And I didn’t want it to turn into a thing.”

Rachel scoffed. “Y/N, it is a thing.”

Mae tilted her head. “Okay, but you call him Matt?”

I frowned. “Yeah…?”

Rachel let out a dramatic gasp, smacking Mae’s arm. “Oh my God, she calls him Matt.”

Mae turned to me. “You don’t call him Rempe?”

I blinked at them. “Why would I call him Rempe?”

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “Because everyone calls him Rempe. Fans, commentators, teammates—literally everyone.”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “Well… I call him Manhattan mostly.”

Rachel threw up her hands. “That’s even worse!”

I buried my face in my hands. “Why does it matter?”

“Because,” Mae groaned, “nicknames mean things.”

Rachel pointed at me. “And that means he lets you call him something no one else does.”

I stayed quiet, stomach twisting uncomfortably because… well, I didn’t really have an argument against that.

Rachel sighed. “So… you’re really going to New York?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Mae studied me for a long moment, then finally said, “And you’re okay with whatever happens?”

I swallowed, not quite sure of the answer myself. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I want to find out.”

Rachel and Mae exchanged one final glance before Rachel sighed dramatically. “Alright. But if you don’t tell us everything when you get back, we’re breaking into your apartment and demanding answers.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Deal.”

Mae sat back. “And if he screws this up, we’ll personally fly to New York to fight him.”

I snorted. “I’ll let him know.”

Mae’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at it, silent for a second before looking up at me.

“So, are you all good to repeat all of that for Jessie?”

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Are you serious?”

Rachel snickered, peering over Mae’s shoulder. “She’s already on her way.”

I sat up, staring at them in disbelief. “You texted her while I was explaining everything?”

Mae shrugged. “I figured she’d want to be included. And she was the first one to put the pieces together, remember?”

I let out a long breath, glancing at the door like I could somehow stop Jessie from getting here with sheer willpower. “Unbelievable.”

Rachel grinned. “You better start warming up, because you’re about to do this all over again.”

I shook my head, but despite my frustration, I couldn’t help but smile a little. Because for the first time in days, things felt right again.

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The next couple of days passed in a blur. Between finishing up assignments, dodging more questions from Mae and Rachel, and figuring out how to pack for unpredictable New York weather, I barely had time to sit still. But the moment I stepped into the airport, the reality of what I was doing finally hit me. I was flying across the country. To see him.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I made my way to security. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d been to New York, but this was different. This wasn’t a school trip. There was no group itinerary, no teachers guiding us from point A to point B. It was just me, boarding a plane to see Matt. I pulled out my phone as I stood in line, tapping out a message.

Saturday, September 28, 2024 Today, 8:19am

ME: I’m here. Getting through security now.

His reply came almost instantly.

MATT: Told you you’d make it. ME: I could still turn around, you know. MATT: You could. But you won’t.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. He was right. I wasn’t backing out now.

A few minutes later, I was through security and sitting at my gate, bouncing my knee as I scrolled absently through my phone. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. Would things feel the same in person this time? Would it be different now that there were no excuses, no random coincidences keeping us apart?

My phone buzzed again.

MATT: Safe flight, San Diego.

I smiled.

ME: See you soon, Manhattan.

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The flight was smooth, but my nerves were anything but. I spent most of it staring out the window, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. There was no denying that things felt different now. Before, there had always been this barrier—distance, schedules, bad timing. But now? Now, I was flying straight to him. No more excuses. When the plane finally touched down at JFK, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I pulled out my phone as I taxied to the gate.

Thursday, September 28, 2024 Today, 1:48pm

ME: Landed.

The dots appeared immediately.

MATT: Told you you wouldn’t turn around. ME: Still time to make a run for it. MATT: I’d just track you down.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. He wasn’t wrong. Grabbing my carry-on, I made my way through the airport, my heart hammering with every step. The closer I got to baggage claim, the more real this became. I scanned the crowd as I walked, not entirely sure what I was looking for.

And then I saw him.

Matt was leaning casually against a pillar, baseball cap pulled low, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. But even with the hat, even in the crowd, he stood out. The moment his eyes found mine, his face split into a grin.

“San Diego,” he called, pushing off the pillar and making his way toward me. I barely had time to react before he pulled me into a hug—warm, solid, and way too easy. “You actually came,” he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie for a second before I pulled back slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Matt looked down at me, something unreadable in his expression before he smirked. “You hungry? Because I already have a plan.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?”

He nodded. “Obviously. I couldn’t risk you coming all this way and having a bad first meal in New York.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Alright, Manhattan. Lead the way.”

And just like that, I was here. In New York. With him. Matt took my bag without asking, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Then, with a tilt of his head, he led me toward the exit.

"Hope you’re ready for the full New York experience," he said as we stepped out into the warm night air.

I scoffed. "Please. I survived a weekend here before, remember?"

He shot me a look. "Yeah, but that was before you had me as your tour guide."

Before I could argue, he reached for my hand, fingers closing around mine as he weaved us through the crowd. My brain short-circuited for half a second, but I didn’t pull away. It wasn’t like we hadn’t touched before—he’d hugged me, pulled me into his side, even held my hand briefly when we’d made our escape to his rental car back in San Diego. But this? This felt different. Like maybe he didn’t have to hold my hand. Maybe he just wanted to. The second we stepped to the curb, a black SUV pulled up smoothly in front of us.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you—?"

"Yeah, yeah," Matt said, already opening the door for me. "Before you make fun of me, it’s just easier this way. Trust me, trying to get a cab around here is a nightmare, and I don’t think you’re ready for me to put you on the subway yet."

My stomach flipped, and I slid into the car before he could see the way my face burned at the idea. Pull it together. Matt took off his hat, hood, and sunglasses combo that he'd been using as what I assume is a disguise. Once we were both inside and moving, I turned to him. "So, what’s this all-important first meal you planned?"

He grinned. "I figured we’d go for the most elite, high-end dining experience this city has to offer."

I narrowed my eyes. "Matt…"

He leaned back against the seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Dollar slice, obviously."

I stared at him. "You flew me across the country to get gas station-level pizza?"

"Absolutely not," he said, feigning offense. "This is New York. Even the bad pizza is good. And if you’re gonna be here, you have to experience it properly."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if it’s gross, I get to hold this over your head forever."

Matt just smirked. "Deal."

The ride was short, and soon enough, we were standing on the sidewalk outside a tiny pizza place, the smell of melted cheese and garlic hitting me immediately. The neon sign in the window flickered slightly, casting a warm glow on the pavement.

"Moment of truth," Matt said, handing me a paper plate with a massive, greasy slice on it.

I took a bite, my skepticism instantly melting away as the perfect combination of cheese, sauce, and crispy crust hit my taste buds.

Matt watched me expectantly. "Well?"

I chewed, swallowed, then sighed. "Annoyingly, that’s really good."

He laughed. "Told you." We ate on the sidewalk, leaning against the brick wall of the building as people passed by. It should’ve felt chaotic—cars honking, the distant wail of a siren, the hum of city life all around us—but somehow, standing there with Matt, it felt… easy.

"You’re not regretting this yet, are you?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

I glanced at him, the neon lights reflecting in his eyes.

"No," I admitted. "Not even a little."

His smile was softer this time, less teasing. "Good."

And just like that, New York didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. After we finished our slices, Matt crumpled up his napkin and tossed it into a nearby trash can with a lazy overhand shot. It bounced off the rim, and I snorted as it fell to the ground.

"Smooth," I teased.

"Okay, rude," he muttered, scooping it up and actually throwing it away this time. "I didn’t come here to be bullied."

I licked a bit of sauce off my thumb. "That’s literally half our friendship, Manhattan."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, nudging my shoulder lightly with his. "Come on, we’ve got more important things to do."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

"You’ll see."

I let him lead the way, the energy of the city buzzing all around us. We walked for a few blocks, falling into an easy rhythm, and I realized just how much I’d missed this—the banter, the laughter, the way being around Matt made everything feel a little lighter. Eventually, we reached what looked like a tiny convenience store tucked between two larger buildings. Its old, peeling awning barely hung on, and there was a faded chalkboard sign outside that read: Best dessert in NYC. Don’t argue.

I eyed Matt suspiciously. "First gas station pizza, now this?"

He grinned. "Trust me."

I followed him inside, where the overwhelming scent of sugar and fried dough immediately filled my nose. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at—bins of fresh pastries lined the counter, and behind the register, a man was rolling dough by hand.

"You ever had a zeppole before?" Matt asked, already pulling out his wallet.

I shook my head. "Can’t say I have."

Matt just smirked. "Then prepare to have your life changed."

A few minutes later, we were back on the street, each holding a paper bag filled with warm, powdered sugar-covered dough balls. I popped one into my mouth, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head.

"Okay," I said after a moment. "This? This was a solid choice."

Matt beamed like he’d won something. "Knew you’d come around."

We wandered the streets as we ate, neither of us in any rush to get anywhere. The city had an energy to it that was impossible to ignore—bright lights, bustling sidewalks, the ever-present hum of life happening all around us.

Eventually, we made our way toward the waterfront, the skyline stretching out in front of us in all its glowing, chaotic beauty. Matt leaned against the railing, looking out at the view, and I couldn’t help but study him for a second—the way the wind ruffled his hair, the way the lights reflected in his eyes.

"So," he said after a moment, "do I get to know how long you’re staying?"

I hesitated, then sighed. "I mean, I don’t have a set plan or anything. Just… a few days, I guess?"

He made a face. "That’s it?"

I shrugged. "I do have a life back home, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Then, a little quieter, "Just wish it was longer."

My stomach did an annoying little flip at that, but I ignored it, nudging him with my elbow. "Guess you’ll just have to make the most of it then, huh?"

Matt turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he smiled.

"Guess so."

As we stood by the railing, the city lights shimmering across the water, I felt Matt shift beside me. His shoulder brushed against mine, easy and familiar, and for a moment, it felt like we were in our own little world. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement—a group of guys sitting on a bench a little ways back, one of them holding up his phone.

My stomach dropped.

“Matt,” I muttered, forcing myself to keep my voice even.

“Hm?”

I subtly tilted my head in the direction of the group. “Don’t make it obvious, but I think those guys just took a picture of you.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Awesome.”

I saw his fingers twitch like he wanted to reach up and adjust his cap, maybe pull it lower over his face, but the damage was already done. The guy with the phone was grinning now, nudging his friends, showing them whatever was on his screen.

“Okay,” I said quietly, thinking fast. “We should probably go before this turns into a whole thing.”

Matt nodded once. “Yeah. Let’s move.”

We turned away from the railing, walking at a normal pace, but I could feel my pulse speeding up. I didn’t dare look back, but I could hear them talking now—low, excited murmurs. As we neared the street, Matt exhaled sharply. “I’m so sick of this,” he muttered under his breath.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, I just reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

His fingers tightened around mine instantly, like it was second nature.

"Come on," I said, tugging him forward. "Find a place we can duck into for a bit."

Matt didn’t let go of my hand the entire way there.

I led him down a quieter side street, my mind racing. The last thing I wanted was for some blurry, grainy photo of him to end up online with a caption that would send the internet into a spiral.

We turned a corner, and I spotted a small bookstore-café tucked between two buildings. Without hesitating, I pulled Matt toward it.

"In here," I said, pushing the door open. A little bell jingled overhead.

Matt followed me inside, the warmth of his hand still wrapped around mine. The place was quiet, mostly empty, except for a barista behind the counter and an older man flipping through a newspaper by the window. The scent of coffee and old books filled the air, and for the first time since I’d spotted those guys, I felt my shoulders relax.

"Nice choice," Matt murmured as we stepped further inside.

I glanced up at him. "You okay?"

His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled. "Yeah. Just… annoyed."

I nodded. I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t fair—how he couldn’t just exist in public without someone trying to capture it.

He let go of my hand for the first time since we’d left the pier and ran a hand down his face. "You think they’ll post it?"

I bit my lip. "Probably. But maybe it'll just be a random, low-quality picture with no context. Like, ‘Oh look, I saw Matt Rempe in New York.’ It might not be a big deal."

He sighed. "Yeah. Maybe."

I nudged him lightly. "Want me to distract you? We are in a bookstore."

That got a small smile out of him. "What, you gonna make me pick out a novel?"

"Obviously." I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the shelves. "Come on, Manhattan. Let's find out if you have any taste."

His grin widened just a little. "Oh, this should be good."

For the next half hour, we wandered the store, poking fun at each other’s choices, flipping through random pages, and forgetting—for a little while—about the outside world. And when we finally left, stepping back out into the cool night air, Matt’s shoulders weren’t as tense, and neither of us checked over our shoulders.

Instead, he just bumped his arm against mine and said, "Thanks, San Diego."

And I smiled, because for once, I knew exactly what he meant.

As we stepped out of the bookstore, a sleek black SUV was already pulling up to the curb. Matt must have called it while we were inside. The driver barely looked up as we climbed in, and I buckled my seatbelt, glancing over at him.

"So," I said slowly. "How much do I owe you for the hotel?"

Matt turned his head toward me, one eyebrow lifting in amusement. "Hotel?" he repeated.

"Yeah?" I frowned. "Where you’re putting me up for the weekend?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Come on, you think I’d put you up in some shithole?" He leaned back against the seat, stretching his legs out. "I’ve got three bedrooms, San Diego. You’re staying with me."

I blinked. "Oh."

That should have been obvious, shouldn’t it? But it wasn’t like we’d talked about it. I just assumed he’d set me up somewhere else because that’s what made sense. I mean, sure, we talked all the time, and yeah, I was here to see him, but staying at his place felt… significant.

"You good with that?" he asked after a beat, watching me carefully.

"Yeah, of course," I said quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Just… wasn’t expecting it."

He smirked. "What, nervous to share a roof with me?"

I rolled my eyes. "You are like, six foot seven. If I wake up to you looming over me in the dark, I will scream."

Matt barked out a laugh. "Noted. I’ll keep my looming to a minimum."

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help but smile as I stared out the window. The streets of New York blurred past, the city lights glowing in the distance. This whole trip was already feeling surreal, and it had barely even started.

And now, I was staying with Matt.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my stomach flipped at the thought.

The car ride was mostly quiet after that, filled with the sounds of the city outside and the occasional glance Matt shot my way. I could tell he was trying to gauge whether I was actually fine with staying at his place.

I was. Probably.

Okay, maybe I was overthinking it, but who could blame me? It was one thing to text and call and FaceTime, to spend hours talking without the reality of physical proximity. It was another to step directly into his world—his city, his home.

The SUV pulled up outside a modern-looking apartment building in a quieter part of the city, the kind of place that had a doorman and security like that was just a normal thing people needed.

I raised an eyebrow. “This is you?”

Matt grinned as he slid out of the car. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but somehow, this was… nicer? It was one thing to know he was a professional athlete, but stepping into his space made it real in a whole new way.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the entrance.

I followed him into the lobby, which smelled like expensive cologne and fresh flowers. The doorman greeted Matt by name, and I tried to ignore the way that made something twist in my chest. He belonged here. This was his world. A short elevator ride later, we stepped into his apartment, and—yeah, okay. I definitely hadn’t been prepared for this. The place was massive, especially by New York standards. Open floor plan, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. It was modern but still felt lived in—a couple of jackets tossed over the back of a chair, a hockey stick propped against the wall, a half-empty water bottle on the counter.

“Well,” Matt said, setting my bag down by the couch. “Welcome to Casa de Rempe.”

I let out a low whistle, turning in a slow circle. “This is insane.”

He laughed. “I like to think of it as ‘comfortable.’”

“Right. Comfortable. Because most people’s apartments look like they belong in a magazine.”

Matt just smirked, walking toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I can order something, unless you wanna go out?”

I hesitated. “You sure it’s safe to go out?”

He turned, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “What, worried about getting mobbed by my adoring fans?”

I shot him a look. “I just mean… there were already people taking pictures earlier.”

Matt’s smirk faded slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That might happen.”

I swallowed. This was the part I had tried not to think about too much. It was one thing to know he was kind of a big deal. It was another to feel eyes on us in public, to know that someone might post a blurry photo online with a thousand different theories attached.

“Hey,” Matt said softly, pushing off the counter and coming closer. “If you don’t wanna deal with all that, we can just stay in. No pressure.”

I hesitated for a second, then shook my head. “No, I wanna go. If you’re up for it.”

His smile returned, slow and easy. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

And just like that, my stomach flipped again—because of course he had a plan. And the way he was looking at me made it feel a lot like a date.

Matt didn’t tell me where we were going, just that I should “trust him.” Which, given the fact that we’d barely spent any time together in person, probably should’ve made me nervous. But it didn’t.

Instead, I let him guide me back down to the waiting SUV, his hand briefly resting on my lower back as we stepped inside.

“Alright, Manhattan,” I said, settling into the seat. “Where exactly are we headed?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re really milking this whole mysterious thing, huh?”

He shrugged. “If I tell you now, you’ll have too much time to overthink it.”

I crossed my arms, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. The drive was quick—maybe ten, fifteen minutes—before we pulled up in front of what looked like a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant tucked between two larger buildings. The kind of place that didn’t need flashy signs or advertisements because the people who knew about it knew about it. Matt thanked the driver and climbed out, coming around to open my door before I could do it myself. Again.

I stepped out, glancing around. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is this place?”

“One of my favorites,” he said, grinning. “Super low-key, no one’s gonna bother us, and they’ve got the best food in the city.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold claim.”

He just smirked, stepping aside to hold the door open for me. “Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit and cozy, the kind of place that felt like a secret. A few people were scattered at different tables, but no one even looked up as we were led to a booth near the back.

Matt waited for me to slide into one side before taking the other, and almost immediately, the waiter greeted him like an old friend.

“You’ve got a usual, don’t you?” I teased once the waiter had walked away.

Matt leaned back, grinning. “What can I say? I’m a man of habit.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you do out of habit?”

His smirk twitched slightly, and for a second, I thought he might say something cocky, something to make me roll my eyes. But instead, he studied me for a moment before saying, “I always call you San Diego, even when I could’ve started to call you by your name a long time ago, Y/N.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just felt… safer, I guess. Like if I kept things how they were, I wouldn’t have to think too much about how I actually—” He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly. “Anyway. What about you? Any weird habits?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated, feeling my face warm slightly. “Uh… I may or may not have been wearing your hoodie since you left.”

Matt’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, before his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh yeah?”

I immediately regretted saying anything. “Forget I said that.”

“Nope, not happening,” he said, leaning forward. “That’s actually adorable. You miss me, San Diego?”

I scoffed, grabbing a menu and holding it up like a shield. “I miss having an extra hoodie, that’s all.”

Matt chuckled, but before he could say anything else, the waiter returned with our drinks.

And as much as I tried to play it off, I could still feel Matt’s eyes on me, like he was trying to figure me out.

Like maybe he had been thinking about what came next—just as much as I had.

The food was, unsurprisingly, incredible. Matt’s “usual” turned out to be a plate of pasta that looked so good I couldn’t help but steal a bite. He pretended to be scandalized.

“Bold move, San Diego,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Stealing food from me on the first night.”

“First night?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Confident, aren’t we?”

He smirked, leaning back in the booth. “Just saying. You’ve got three days here. Plenty of time to make it up to me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

The conversation flowed easily after that, light and effortless, and for a little while, I forgot about everything else—about the flashes of cameras at the airport, about the overwhelming chaos of being here. It was just Matt and me, like it had been all those months on the phone, only better.

When the check came, Matt snatched it up before I could even pretend to reach for my wallet.

“Seriously?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re just going to pay without even pretending to let me split it?”

“You can get the next one,” he said, standing and offering me his hand to help me out of the booth.

“Next one, huh?” I teased, taking his hand.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Next one.”

I looked up at him, caught in the weight of his gaze for a moment longer than I meant to be, before stepping back and letting go of his hand. Outside, the city felt alive in a way that was overwhelming but exciting. The sidewalks were crowded with people, and the lights from the surrounding buildings cast a warm glow over everything.

We started walking, Matt sticking close enough that our arms occasionally brushed. “So,” I said, glancing at him. “What’s next on this very mysterious agenda of yours?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Again with the secrets,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re really leaning into this whole man-of-mystery thing, huh?”

He grinned. “You like it.”

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.

We walked for a while longer, the streets becoming quieter and less crowded, until we reached a small park tucked between two buildings. There was a fountain in the center, its water shimmering under the streetlights, and a few benches scattered around.

Matt led me to one of the benches and sat down, gesturing for me to do the same. The park was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of voices from joggers passing by. We wandered without much of a destination, falling into step beside each other. We sat in the quiet of the park, the air crisp but not unbearable. The pond ahead shimmered faintly under the faint glow of streetlights, and I tried to focus on the scene instead of the way Matt’s knee kept brushing mine every time he shifted.

“I still can’t believe you actually flew across the country,” he said after a moment, his voice carrying a note of disbelief.

“Well,” I said lightly, “I figured I owed it to you after months of dodging FaceTimes when my hair looked bad.”

He smirked. “First of all, your hair’s never looked bad. Second, you don’t owe me anything. If anything, I’m the one who owes you for putting up with my nonsense.”

I tilted my head. “You really think I’d fly out here for someone who didn’t matter to me?”

That shut him up for a second, his gaze flicking toward me like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.

“You make it sound simple,” he said eventually, his voice quieter.

“It is,” I said with a shrug, kicking at a stray leaf near my foot. “You’re complicated, yeah, but you’re worth it. And for the record, Matt? You’ve never been nonsense to me.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. His hand brushed mine, and I froze, half expecting him to pull away. Instead, his fingers lightly hooked around mine, hesitant but steady.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” he murmured, so softly I barely heard him.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, though my voice was shakier than I wanted it to be.

He chuckled at that, the sound warming the chilly night air. “Okay, San Diego. Here’s something. I really didn’t think this whole…thing would go past texting. And then I met you, and you’ve got this way of making everything feel…different. Better.”

I turned to face him fully, his words catching me off guard in a way nothing else ever had. He looked back at me, his blue eyes bright even in the low light.

“I don’t think you know just how much you’ve changed things for me,” he said, his voice so steady it made my chest tighten.

I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I squeezed his hand lightly, the weight of his words settling in the best way possible.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint click of a camera shutter, and I stiffened instinctively.

“What?” Matt asked, immediately alert.

I nodded toward the direction of the sound, keeping my voice low. “I think someone’s taking pictures.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he turned, scanning the area until his gaze landed on a figure standing farther back, half-hidden behind a tree.

“Let’s go,” he said softly but firmly, rising from the bench and tugging me gently with him.

We walked quickly but not so fast it would draw attention, his hand never leaving mine as he led me back toward the park’s edge where the car was waiting. Once we were inside and the driver pulled away, I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Does that happen a lot?”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “It’s why I don’t usually…do things like this. But I’m not going to let it ruin tonight.”

I looked at him, seeing the resolve in his expression, and felt the knot in my stomach loosen just a bit.

“You’re pretty good at this whole crisis management thing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He smirked. “Part of the job. But also, I kind of have someone worth protecting now.”

I rolled my eyes, though the warmth spreading through my chest betrayed me. “Let’s just hope they got my good side.”

Matt laughed at that, the sound melting the lingering tension.

“Your good side?” he repeated, teasing. “San Diego, every side of you is good.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that broke across my face, even as I rolled my eyes again. Maybe the night wasn’t going exactly as planned, but sitting here next to Matt, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I swung gently on the stool at Matt’s kitchen island, my feet just barely brushing the floor. The airy, modern kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Matt rummaging around in his freezer.

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” he called over his shoulder.

I laughed. “You already fed me enough for three people. Ice cream is about all I can handle right now.”

He straightened, holding up a pint of cookie dough ice cream in one hand and rocky road in the other. “Your choice, San Diego.”

I tilted my head, pretending to deliberate. “Tough call, but cookie dough wins. Obviously.”

He chuckled and tossed the rocky road back into the freezer, grabbing two spoons before joining me at the island. He slid the pint across the counter toward me and handed me a spoon.

“Do you always keep multiple flavors on standby?” I asked, scooping out a bite.

“You never know what kind of mood you’ll be in,” he replied, sitting across from me and digging in. “It’s a strategic choice.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Manhattan. You’re just that thoughtful.”

He smirked but didn’t argue, instead taking another bite of ice cream.

For a few moments, we just sat there, the quiet hum of the city beyond the windows filling the space. It felt easy—like this wasn’t the first time we’d sat together like this, sharing something as simple as a pint of ice cream.

“So,” he said after a while, breaking the silence, “how does it feel being back in New York?”

I paused, considering the question. “Honestly? Kind of surreal. It’s weird seeing the city again after everything…but I guess it’s good weird. Like coming full circle.”

“Full circle, huh?” he echoed, watching me thoughtfully. “That’s one way to put it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You have a different way?”

He leaned back slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’d call it something else.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, but his eyes held mine, warm and steady. “Like the beginning of something.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly glanced down at the ice cream, focusing on the pint as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Big words for a guy who just won’t admit this is a date,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

But Matt heard me, his laugh low and teasing. “Who said I wouldn’t admit it?”

I looked up sharply, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, so this is a date?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you think?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, I felt a flush creeping up my neck. I glanced away, shaking my head.

“Smooth, Manhattan,” I muttered, earning another laugh from him.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he teased, and I groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

“Just eat your ice cream.” He was still grinning when he took another bite, and I couldn’t help but smile too.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The soft morning light filtered through the guest room blinds, pulling me from a restless sleep. I rubbed my eyes, still half-dreaming as I sat up and glanced around the unfamiliar but undeniably nice room. Matt’s house. Right. I stretched and shuffled out of bed, padding down the hallway in my socks. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge as I wandered into the kitchen.

“Matt?” I called, my voice still hoarse from sleep. No answer.

I glanced around, expecting him to pop up from behind a corner or maybe appear on his phone in the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. The place was spotless, with no sign of breakfast or any activity that morning. Frowning, I grabbed my phone from the counter and sent him a quick text.

Friday, September 30, 2024 Today, 8:31am

ME: Where are you? Your house is way too quiet.

I leaned against the counter, waiting for a reply. It didn’t take long before my phone buzzed in my hand.

MATT: Gym. Didn’t want to wake you.

I smiled faintly, imagining him out lifting weights or running drills like the overachiever he was.

ME: Very considerate of you. Also rude. I’m lost in this cavern of a house. MATT: Cavern? Dramatic much? The coffee’s already made. Cupboard to the right of the sink.

I glanced at the cupboard he mentioned and, sure enough, found mugs neatly arranged inside.

ME: Oh, so you think coffee’s going to solve all my problems? MATT: It solves 95% of mine. The other 5% is you.

I froze, staring at his text, the warmth rising to my cheeks unbidden. I quickly shook it off, focusing on pouring myself a cup of coffee instead.

ME: You’re insufferable. MATT: You’re smiling.

Okay, he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit that. I set my phone down and leaned on the counter, sipping my coffee and trying not to imagine Matt at the gym, sweaty and smug.

Before I could think too much about it, another text popped up.

MATT: I’ll be back soon. Don’t burn my house down. ME: No promises.

Smiling to myself, I wandered back toward the guest room, coffee in hand. Even in the quiet, empty house, I couldn’t shake the sense of ease I felt being here. It was a strange kind of comfort—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Matt walked into the house just as I was sprawled across the guest room bed, deeply invested in an episode of Total Drama Island. The drama on the screen was hitting its peak, and I was yelling at the TV like my opinions could somehow change the outcome. The sound of the front door opening barely registered. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps coming down the hall that I glanced up. Matt appeared in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower and curling slightly at the ends. His face was still a little flushed, either from his workout or the heat of the water, and a towel hung loosely over his shoulder. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that looked so comfortable I almost envied them.

“Total Drama Island?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he leaned against the doorframe. “Really, San Diego?”

“Don’t knock it,” I said, sitting up slightly but not bothering to mute the show. “This is peak television. You’re just not sophisticated enough to understand.”

He laughed, the sound easy and warm. “You’re watching cartoon characters backstab each other on an island, and you’re calling me unsophisticated?”

“Exactly,” I shot back, grinning. “At least one of us has taste.”

He shook his head, stepping further into the room and crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what to do with you sometimes.”

“Admit I’m right?” I offered, taking a sip of my coffee from earlier, now lukewarm.

“Not gonna happen,” he said, smirking. His eyes flicked to the TV for a moment. “Wait, isn’t this the episode where—”

“Don’t spoil it!” I interrupted, sitting up fully now. “I don’t need your running commentary, Manhattan. Go find something else to do if you’re going to disrespect the art.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But I need to know—are you staying here all day, or are we doing something that doesn’t involve animated drama?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Depends. What’s your offer?”

He grinned, slinging the towel off his shoulder and tossing it toward the doorway. “I was thinking breakfast, but now I’m reconsidering. Maybe I should just leave you here to marinate in your terrible opinions.”

“Your loss,” I teased, gesturing to the TV. “This is gold.”

“You’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head again, though the smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

“And yet, here you are,” I said, smirking.

He didn’t respond, just gave me a long look before turning toward the door. “Be ready in fifteen,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not letting you skip out on eating.”

“Fifteen minutes?” I called after him. “What is this, boot camp?”

“You’ll survive,” he said, disappearing down the hall.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. As much as I wanted to keep watching Total Drama Island, I wasn’t about to pass up whatever Matt had planned—especially if it involved breakfast.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Fifteen minutes later, I had pulled myself together—well, mostly. I threw on a pair of denim shorts, a loose t-shirt, and my sneakers, still feeling half-asleep but ready to take on whatever Matt had planned. When I walked into the kitchen, he was already waiting, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He looked entirely too awake for someone who had just come back from the gym. His hair had dried a little more, sticking up in a few places, but it only added to his annoyingly effortless charm.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, eyeing my outfit as he sipped his coffee.

“Don’t push it, Manhattan,” I shot back, grabbing my own mug from earlier and grimacing when I realized it was still lukewarm.

“Ready?” he asked, ignoring my glare as he set his coffee down.

“Where are we even going?” I asked, following him as he grabbed his keys and headed toward the door.

“Trust me,” he said, smirking over his shoulder.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say,” I muttered, but I followed him out to the car anyway.

He drove us to a little diner tucked away in a quiet part of town, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless you were looking for it. The parking lot was half-full, and the smell of bacon and syrup hit me the moment we stepped inside.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I said as we slid into a booth near the back.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replied, picking up a menu.

“Clearly,” I said, pretending to study the menu even though I already knew I was getting pancakes.

The waitress came by, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, and took our orders. Matt got a massive breakfast platter—eggs, bacon, toast, the works—and I stuck to my pancakes and coffee.

“So,” he said once she’d left, leaning back against the booth and looking at me with that easy grin. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the local, Manhattan.”

He chuckled, setting his coffee down. “Yeah, but this is technically your trip. I figured I’d let you call the shots.”

I thought about it for a moment, swirling the last of the syrup on my plate with a piece of pancake. “I want to do more touristy stuff. You know, the stuff people make fun of but secretly love.”

“Touristy stuff?” he repeated, feigning dismay. “You do know New York’s more than Times Square, right?”

“Yes, Matt,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t need to take selfies with Elmo, thanks. But like, the real iconic stuff—Central Park, Rockefeller Center. Maybe the Met?”

“The Met, huh? You wanna get all cultured?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” he said, smirking. “I’ll just make sure to bring my monocle.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “But seriously, if we’re doing more city stuff, I’m putting my foot down about one thing.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And what’s that?”

“You’re not wearing that ridiculous hat-sunglasses-hoodie combo again,” I said firmly, pointing my fork at him for emphasis. “You looked like you were auditioning for an undercover spy movie.”

He laughed, loud and unrestrained, drawing a glance from the couple at the next table. “In my defense, I didn’t hear you complaining when it worked.”

“It didn’t work,” I shot back. “We were spotted in, like, two seconds.”

“Fine,” he conceded, holding up his hands. “I’ll leave the disguise at home. But if we get mobbed, you’re dealing with it.”

“Deal,” I said, smirking as I pushed my plate aside.

The waitress came by to collect our dishes, and Matt paid the check despite my half-hearted protests.

“Alright, San Diego,” he said as we walked back to the car. “You’ve got yourself a tour guide. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when your feet are killing you by the end of the day.”

I shot him a sidelong glance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’ll be begging to sit down first.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

He grinned, unlocking the car. “You’re on.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I stood in front of an enormous painting, tilting my head slightly as I tried to make sense of it. A blend of colors swept across the canvas in bold, jagged strokes. Abstract. Chaotic. Beautiful. Matt, however, was slouched on the bench a few feet behind me, arms crossed and a clear look of boredom plastered across his face.

“Okay,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet reverence of the museum. “Explain it to me again. Why are we pretending that smear of paint means anything?”

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s art, Manhattan. It’s not supposed to ‘mean’ anything. You’re supposed to feel something when you look at it.”

“Well, I’m definitely feeling something,” he muttered, shifting on the bench. “It’s mostly confusion and regret for not steering us toward pizza instead.”

I rolled my eyes, walking over to him. “You’re such a baby. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” he echoed, gesturing around us. “We’ve been here for two hours. My legs are about to give out, my brain’s fried from trying to pretend I know what I’m looking at, and I’m pretty sure I just walked past a sculpture of a…melted clock? What is that?”

I stifled a laugh, crossing my arms. “That’s Salvador Dalí. It’s surrealism. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“Surrealism,” he repeated, deadpan. “Right. Totally makes sense.”

Shaking my head, I sat beside him on the bench, watching as he leaned his head back and let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible,” I said, smiling despite myself.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “And yet, here you are, willingly subjecting me to this torture.”

“You’re the one who said you’d be my tour guide,” I shot back. “If you’re gonna complain this much, we can just leave.”

“Oh no,” he said quickly, sitting up straight. “We’re staying. You’re clearly having the time of your life, and I’m not about to ruin your cultural awakening or whatever.”

“Cultural awakening?” I repeated, laughing. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“Me? Dramatic?” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Never.”

I shook my head, standing up and holding a hand out to him. “Come on. One more gallery, and then I’ll let you pick the next stop.”

He hesitated for a second before taking my hand, his grip warm and steady. “You mean it? Like, actually my pick?”

“Sure,” I said, pulling him to his feet. “But if you say pizza, I’m making you try pineapple on it.”

His face twisted in mock horror as he followed me toward the next room. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

I laughed, glancing back at him. “Maybe a little.”

Despite his complaints, I caught the faintest smile on his face as he trailed behind me, like he didn’t mind the torture all that much. After another half hour of wandering through yet another wing filled with priceless paintings and sculptures, Matt looked like he was on the verge of staging a dramatic collapse. He leaned heavily against a column in the middle of the room, shooting me a long-suffering look.

“Okay, San Diego, I can’t feel my legs anymore,” he declared. “Are you seriously not done yet?”

I suppressed a grin, scanning the room before glancing back at him. “Fine. I’m done. For now.”

His face lit up with mock relief, and he straightened, stretching his arms over his head. “Thank God. You’re a menace to my sanity.”

“Oh, stop. You survived,” I teased, linking my arm through his and steering him toward the exit. “Now it’s your turn. What’s next on our big New York adventure?”

Matt paused, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. “Well, I was thinking…maybe some pizza. Without pineapple,” he added quickly, shooting me a warning look.

I rolled my eyes. “I feel like you’re avoiding giving me a real answer.”

“Fine,” he said, smirking. “How about this: I’ll surprise you.”

“A surprise?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Should I be worried?”

“Definitely,” he replied, his tone completely serious.

By the time we stepped outside, the afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. Matt flagged down a cab with ease, holding the door open for me before sliding in after. As the cab pulled away from the curb, I turned to him. “Are you gonna at least give me a hint?”

He shook his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Nope.”

“Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one,” he repeated, leaning back in his seat with a smug grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Whatever he was planning, I had a feeling it was going to be worth the wait.About twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a small, tucked-away ice cream parlor with a hand-painted sign that read Eddie’s Sweet Spot. It was the kind of place that looked like it had been around for decades, its charm untouched by the fast pace of the city around it.

“Ice cream?” I asked, glancing at him as we stepped out of the cab.

“You’ve had a long day of culture and sophistication,” he said, holding the door open for me. “Figured you could use a reward.”

I stepped inside, instantly hit with the sweet smell of waffle cones and sugar. The place was cozy and inviting, with pastel-colored walls and old-fashioned booths.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?” I teased, nudging him lightly.

“What can I say? I’m a man of refined taste,” he shot back, already scanning the menu.

After some playful debate over flavors—Matt insisted on trying to convince me that plain vanilla was underrated—we finally made our choices and grabbed a booth near the window.

As I dug into my cone, I couldn’t help but notice the way Matt’s expression softened as he watched me, like he was quietly taking in the moment.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just…you look happy. It’s nice.”

I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze, and I quickly looked down at my ice cream, trying to fight the grin threatening to take over my face.

“Don’t get used to it,” I said lightly, though my voice betrayed the flutter of my heart.

He laughed, leaning back in the booth. “Too late.”

For the first time since arriving in New York, I felt completely at ease, the city’s chaos fading into the background as we sat there, sharing stolen moments and sugary sweetness.

After finishing our ice cream, we stepped back out onto the street, the evening air cooler now as dusk started to settle over the city. I tossed my napkin into a nearby trash can and turned to Matt, who was casually leaning against the brick wall of the parlor, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“What now?” I asked, glancing up and down the street.

“Well,” he said, pushing off the wall, “I was gonna take you to see the skyline, but I think we’d both just fall asleep on the way there.”

I laughed. “Wow, way to sell your romantic plans, Manhattan.”

“I’m nothing if not honest,” he replied, grinning. “But seriously, what do you want to do? We could head back, or…” He trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

I thought for a moment, glancing around at the glowing streetlights and the soft hum of the city that never really quieted. “What about a walk? Just around here. No plans, no cabs, just…see where we end up?”

Matt raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, San Diego. Lead the way.”

We started down the block, the rhythm of the city around us blending with our footsteps. For once, it felt like the pace of New York wasn’t racing ahead of me, like I could actually breathe it in and let it settle.

As we walked, Matt kept pointing out little details I would’ve missed—a quirky graffiti mural on a side street, a bakery that smelled so good I almost made us detour, the way the Empire State Building lit up faintly in the distance.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone light but curious, “what do you think of New York so far?”

“I think it’s overwhelming and loud and chaotic,” I admitted. “But it’s also…beautiful. In a weird way.”

He smirked. “Weirdly beautiful. I’ll take that.”

We crossed a small park, the trees lit by string lights that swayed gently in the breeze. The atmosphere felt quieter here, almost intimate.

“What about you?” I asked, glancing at him. “Do you like living here?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. I mean, it’s great for what I do, obviously. But I think I miss having space. You know, being able to drive five minutes and end up somewhere quiet.”

“Like the beach?” I teased.

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. “Although, I don’t think I’d survive long in California. I’m not laid-back enough for it.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t trade the chaos of Manhattan for sunny skies and year-round flip-flop weather?”

He laughed. “Not a chance. I’d miss the energy here. And the pizza.”

“Ah, so it’s about the food,” I said, shaking my head.

“Always,” he replied, grinning.

We walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet comfortable between us. Eventually, we found ourselves back near where we started, the streetlights glowing a little brighter now as night fully settled in.

“I guess we’ve officially wandered in a big circle,” I said, glancing around.

“Efficient,” he quipped.

I smiled, turning to face him. “Thanks for tonight. I know it wasn’t the fanciest or anything, but…I had fun.”

“Fun’s underrated,” he said, his voice softer now. “And you’re welcome.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the buzz of the city around us fading into the background. His eyes met mine, and there was something in his gaze that made my breath hitch, something quiet and steady that felt like gravity pulling me in.

“Alright,” he said, breaking the moment with a small smile. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing up.”

I laughed, shaking off the nerves that had crept in. “You’re probably right. Lead the way, Manhattan.”

As we walked back toward his car, I couldn’t help but glance over at him, wondering if he felt it too—this quiet shift, this sense that we were standing at the edge of something neither of us could quite name yet.

When we got back to Matt’s place, I kicked off my shoes in the entryway, sighing as I stretched my arms over my head. “That walk was exactly what I needed,” I said, glancing over at him. “Thanks for being my tour guide.”

Matt smirked, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it onto the back of the couch. “Don’t thank me yet. My tours usually come with a fee.”

“Oh, do they?” I teased, arching a brow. “What’s the charge?”

“Undecided,” he said with a wink, heading toward the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and followed him, leaning against the counter as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “So,” I started, trying to sound casual, “what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

He paused for a second, like he was debating how to answer. “Well,” he said slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle, “I’ve got a game.”

I blinked. “Wait, a game? Like, an actual hockey game?”

“That is what I do for a living, San Diego,” he said, his grin widening.

“I know that!” I said, throwing my hands up. “But I didn’t think—I mean, you didn’t say anything about it before.”

“I didn’t think it’d matter,” he said, leaning back against the counter. “I figured you wouldn’t want to spend your time here sitting in a freezing cold arena.”

I stared at him. “Matt, are you kidding me? Of course I want to see you play! I’ve never been to an NHL game before!”

His expression softened, and he tilted his head slightly. “You sure? It’s not exactly…touristy.”

“Please,” I said, crossing my arms. “I sat through a three-hour art exhibit with you. I think I can handle a couple hours of hockey.”

“Fair point,” he said, laughing. “Alright, then. I’ll get you a ticket.”

“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sitting in the nosebleeds. I want the good seats. Right on the glass.”

“Demanding,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m serious!” I shot back, grinning.

“Relax, San Diego,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ve got you covered. Just don’t start banging on the glass and making a scene, alright?”

“No promises,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, brushing it off. But inside, I couldn’t stop smiling. The thought of seeing him out there on the ice, doing what he loved, sent a weird mix of excitement and nerves buzzing through me.

“So,” I said, leaning back against the counter. “What time’s the game?”

“Puck drops at seven,” he said. “We’ll have to leave around five-thirty.”

I nodded, already mentally planning what I’d wear.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” he said, watching me with an amused expression.

“Obviously,” I replied. “This is a big deal, Matt. You’re a big deal.”

His ears turned a little red, and he looked down at the water bottle in his hand. “It’s just a game,” he said, shrugging.

“Sure it is,” I said, smiling knowingly. He shook his head, clearly trying to downplay it, but I could tell he was secretly pleased.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The morning light filtered through the blinds in Matt’s guest room, but I’d been up for a while, unable to shake the excitement for the game later. I’d only brought my usual clothes with me, but it felt wrong not to wear something that supported his team. And I knew Matt had to have Rangers gear somewhere. So, naturally, I decided to snoop. I tiptoed into his room, figuring I could quietly dig through his closet without waking him. He was sprawled out on his bed, the sheets half kicked off and his hair a mess, still dead to the world. For a professional athlete, he sure looked ridiculously peaceful—like a golden retriever napping in the sun.

I opened the closet as silently as I could and started rifling through the hanging clothes. Jackets, button-ups, plain T-shirts—where was the good stuff? I found a Rangers hoodie shoved toward the back and pulled it down, but then I saw a plain navy shirt with the team’s logo on the front. Perfect. I reached for it—and knocked a hanger off the rack. It hit the floor with a loud clatter, and I froze.

“San Diego,” came a groggy voice from the bed.

I slowly turned around to see Matt, propped up on one elbow, squinting at me through half-open eyes. His hair stuck up in every direction, and he looked like he’d just woken from a two-week coma.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“I, uh…” I held up the Rangers shirt like it was evidence at a trial. “I needed something to wear for the game.”

He blinked, then flopped back onto the pillows with a groan. “You woke me up for that?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up!” I protested, clutching the shirt defensively. “I was being quiet!”

“You’re rummaging through my closet like a raccoon in a dumpster,” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,” I said, glancing at my phone.

He groaned again. “Too early.”

“Too early? You’re an athlete. Aren’t you supposed to be a morning person?”

“I’m an athlete on my day off,” he grumbled, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. “Just take the shirt and leave me alone.”

I hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry,” I said, unable to hide my grin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, voice muffled, “too late now.”

I laughed and gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Fine, go back to sleep, grumpy.”

He peeked at me from under his arm, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, San Diego.”

I felt my face heat up but quickly stood and backed toward the door, holding up the shirt like a trophy. “I’m borrowing this, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I was scrolling aimlessly on my phone, curled up on Matt’s couch in my pyjamas, when I heard the soft creak of a door opening. Glancing up, I froze. Matt shuffled out of his room, half-asleep, with a blanket draped over his shoulders like some kind of makeshift cape. His hair was sticking up in every possible direction, and he was shirtless—completely shirtless—wearing only a pair of black boxers.

My face instantly felt like it was on fire, and I quickly looked back down at my phone, though I wasn’t actually reading anything. Why does he look like that?

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and rough, still thick with sleep.

“Uh, morning,” I managed, trying to sound normal. My eyes flickered up for just a second, but that was a mistake. His chest—broad and unfairly toned—was right there. And his boxers sat low on his hips, the blanket doing a terrible job of covering anything. I ducked my head again, praying he didn’t notice how flustered I was.

He yawned as he approached, then flopped down right beside me on the couch. The blanket shifted as he sprawled out, and I had to fight the urge to bolt to the other side of the room.

“Can’t get back to sleep,” he grumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face into the crook of his arm.

“Oh,” I said, barely above a whisper, gripping my phone tightly like it might somehow ground me. “That’s…uh, that’s too bad.”

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes closed as he adjusted the blanket. “This couch is more comfortable than my bed right now.”

I glanced at him, only to find his face half-pressed into the cushion. The sight of him all wrapped up in the blanket, looking so soft and vulnerable, did something strange to my chest. My heart tugged before I could stop it.

Without really thinking, I hesitated, then reached out and ran my fingers through his hair gently. It was still messy and slightly damp from his shower before bed, but soft under my touch.

He didn’t say anything. He just let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

“Better?” I asked softly, my fingers still weaving through his hair.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, barely coherent. Within moments, I felt his breathing even out, his head now resting on the arm of the couch, and I realized he’d fallen asleep.

I glanced down at him, his face so peaceful and calm, and couldn’t help but smile. My heart was still racing, but I didn’t dare move. For now, I just stayed there, my hand gently tangled in his hair, trying to figure out how this had somehow become my morning. I stayed there, my hand resting in Matt’s hair, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his breathing. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. My phone sat forgotten on the couch next to me.

It felt strangely intimate, sitting like this, watching him sleep. His face was so soft, so different from the confident, slightly cocky Matt I was used to seeing. Here, he just looked��human. I thought back to the last few days—the whirlwind of being in New York, the strange tension between us, and how everything seemed to feel more real the longer I stayed here. It wasn’t like our usual dynamic over texts and FaceTime. Being here, seeing him like this, was something I hadn’t fully prepared for. He shifted slightly, turning his head so that his cheek pressed against the couch cushion, his hair falling over his forehead. The blanket slipped off his shoulder, and my eyes betrayed me again, darting to the curve of his collarbone and the strong lines of his chest. God, this is unfair. I tried to focus on something—anything—else, glancing out the window at the sunny New York morning. A couple of hours ago, I was sitting here trying to figure out what I’d wear to the game, and now I was stuck in a moment I wasn’t sure how to handle.

Matt stirred again, groaning softly as his arm draped over his eyes. “What time is it?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

I glanced at my phone. “Almost ten.”

“Too early,” he muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, his voice muffled.

“You literally have a hockey game today,” I teased, trying to sound more casual than I felt.

He groaned louder this time, shifting just enough to peek at me from under his arm. His hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep, met mine, and I felt my breath catch.

“You’re too awake for this early,” he said, his voice low and raspy, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

I rolled my eyes, determined to play it cool. “I don’t think ten a.m. counts as early. What time do you usually wake up?”

“Depends,” he said, turning to face me fully now, propping his head up on his hand. “On game days, usually earlier. Guess I needed extra sleep today.” His eyes flicked to my hand, which was still resting near his head.

I pulled it back quickly, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Sorry,” I said, looking away.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It felt nice.”

I blinked, unsure of what to say, and instead busied myself by grabbing my phone. “You, uh, want breakfast or something? I can make—”

“You cook now?” he interrupted, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll have you know I’m very capable in the kitchen.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” I shot back. “But fine, you can fend for yourself. Hope you like cold cereal.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “You’re in charge of breakfast, then. Surprise me.”

I stood up, trying to shake off the fluttery feeling in my chest. “Okay, but don’t complain if it’s burnt.”

As I moved toward the kitchen, I heard him chuckle again. “I’ll take my chances, San Diego.”

And just like that, the morning shifted, the weight of the moment easing into something lighter, something that felt more like us. But as I pulled ingredients from the fridge, I couldn’t help but feel like something between us had changed.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I stood in front of the mirror in Matt’s guest room, adjusting the Rangers hoodie I’d borrowed from his closet again. The oversized fit practically swallowed me whole, but it was ridiculously soft, and the bold "73" on the back made my stomach do an unexpected flip. His number. It felt oddly personal to wear something so tied to him, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it off.

Grabbing my phone, I headed into the living room. “Matt, we really need to go!” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady.

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open made me turn. He stepped out, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, dressed head-to-toe in his Rangers tracksuit. His hair was still damp from his shower, the light catching on it in a way that made me stare just a second too long.

But it was his expression that caught me off guard. He froze mid-step, his eyes landing squarely on the hoodie I was wearing.

“You’re wearing that?” he asked, a grin breaking across his face. His cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink as he looked at me, his usual confidence faltering for a moment.

“Well, yeah,” I said, feigning nonchalance as I tugged at the sleeves. “It’s the only Rangers gear I could find in your closet, and I figured I’d look the part.”

He let out a soft laugh, his smile growing wider. “San Diego, you’ve never looked better.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the heat rising to my face. “Oh, shut up, Manhattan.”

“No, seriously,” he said, stepping closer, his grin taking on a slightly shy edge. “You’re rocking it. I mean…wow. That’s my number.”

“I’m aware,” I teased, pointing at the bold "73" on the back. “Unless you’ve been hiding some secret identity as number 12 or something.”

He laughed, a real, warm sound that made my heart skip. “Nope, just 73. And, uh…you look amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Okay, stop,” I said, though I couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He smirked, his usual playfulness returning. “Get used to it. You’re gonna get a lot of attention wearing that at MSG.”

“Speaking of,” I said, grabbing my bag, “shouldn’t we get going?”

“Right,” he said, shaking himself slightly. “Let’s do this.”

We headed down to the car, and the drive to Madison Square Garden was filled with the usual banter that always managed to ease my nerves.

When we arrived, the chaos I’d expected was nowhere to be seen. Instead of the bustling crowds I’d imagined, Matt pulled into a private parking area and led me toward a discreet side entrance.

“We’re going through the player entry?” I asked, glancing around at the quiet corridor.

“Yeah,” he said, holding the door open for me. “The game isn’t for hours, so it’s pretty quiet. Plus, it’s easier this way—less chance of someone recognizing me and blowing up our whole day.”

“Ah, yes,” I said, nodding sagely. “Can’t have anyone figuring out that number 73 brought his friend to work today.”

“Friend, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at me.

“Don’t start,” I warned, though I couldn’t help but grin.

He chuckled, leading me further into the maze of hallways. As we walked, he glanced over at me again, his eyes lingering on the hoodie.

“Seriously,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You in that—it’s…yeah. I like it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nudged him with my elbow, hoping my flustered expression wasn’t too obvious.

We eventually reached a lounge area where a few other players were scattered, some stretching or scrolling on their phones. Matt waved to a couple of them, but he didn’t stop, his focus staying on me as he led me to a quieter corner.

“Okay,” he said, dropping his duffle bag onto a chair. “You’re officially here. How’s it feel?”

“Honestly?” I said, looking around. “Kind of surreal. And also like I’m about to get kicked out for being in a restricted area.”

Matt laughed, shaking his head. “You’re with me. No one’s kicking you out.”

“Good to know,” I said, settling into a seat. “But, uh, do I just…hang out here?”

“For now, yeah,” he said, sitting down next to me. “You’re good, San Diego. Just relax. And maybe save some of that sass for later—I’ll need it after the game.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. Being here, in his world, felt like stepping into something new and unpredictable—but with him by my side, it didn’t feel so scary.

We were sitting in the lounge when I noticed a group of guys heading our way. They looked like they were part of Matt’s team—tall, athletic, the kind of guys who carried themselves with that unmistakable swagger. I could feel their eyes on us, and I shifted slightly in my seat, glancing at Matt for reassurance.

He didn’t notice. He was leaning back, scrolling through his phone, entirely oblivious to the approaching ambush.

“Yo, Rempe!” one of them called, his voice carrying easily across the room.

Matt’s head snapped up, and the relaxed grin on his face froze when he realized they were headed straight for us.

“Who’s your little friend?” another guy asked, smirking as they all came to a stop in front of us.

Matt looked like he’d just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He fumbled for words, his usually smooth demeanor completely thrown off.

“Uh…guys, this is, um…” He glanced at me, clearly flustered. “This is Y/N.”

I gave them a small wave, my cheeks burning.

One of the guys raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Matt’s awkwardness. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m Will.” He stuck out a hand, which I shook, trying not to shrink under the sudden attention.

“She your—” Will started to ask, but another guy cut him off.

“She’s rocking your number, man,” he said, gesturing at the hoodie I was wearing. “That’s serious business.”

“It’s just a hoodie,” Matt said quickly, his voice a little higher than usual.

The guys burst into laughter, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“You are so bad at this,” one of them said, shaking his head.

“Shut up, K’Andre,” Matt muttered, his face turning red.

Before I could say anything, a couple of women joined the group, their curious gazes flicking between me and Matt.

“Oh, hey,” one of them said, smiling warmly at me. “I’m Emily. You must be Matt’s…” She trailed off, waiting for clarification.

“Friend,” I said quickly, cutting off the speculation.

“Yeah,” Matt added, nodding a little too vigorously. “Friend. She’s my friend.”

Emily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she reached out to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Don’t mind these guys—they’re incapable of acting normal.”

“Hey!” one of the guys protested, but she ignored him.

Another woman, who introduced herself as Sarah, stepped forward with a kind smile. “It’s nice to see Matt bring someone around. He doesn’t usually, you know, socialize outside of hockey.”

“Yeah, Rempe’s basically a hermit,” Will chimed in. “This is big news.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Matt said, standing up and glaring at them. “Leave her alone.”

“We’re just saying hi,” K’Andre said, grinning. “No need to get all defensive.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “It’s fine, really. I appreciate the warm welcome.”

Emily and Sarah exchanged a glance before Sarah said, “Well, if you need a break from all the testosterone, come find us. We’ll be around.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at them as they walked off, pulling their significant others with them.

Once they were gone, Matt let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I asked, still laughing a little. “They’re nice.”

“Yeah, but they’re also…a lot,” he said, sinking back into his seat.

“I can handle it,” I assured him, grinning. “Though you really need to work on your introductions. That was painful.”

He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know. I panicked. They just…they don’t usually see me with anyone outside of hockey. And then you’re here, and it’s you, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

I reached over and patted his arm, trying not to smile too much. “Relax, Manhattan. I survived.”

He looked up at me, his expression softening. “Yeah, well, thanks for not running for the hills.”

“Not yet, anyway,” I teased, earning a small, grateful smile from him.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Warmups were already in full swing by the time I found myself standing near the edge of the rink with a small group of women who had introduced themselves earlier. Emily and Sarah were among them, and they’d been nothing but welcoming since I’d arrived.

The sound of skates cutting across the ice filled the air as the Rangers warmed up, their movements fluid and practiced. I spotted Matt almost immediately, his tall frame unmistakable as he glided across the ice, taking practice shots at the net. He looked completely in his element, his usual awkwardness replaced with confidence and ease.

“So,” Emily said, nudging me slightly with her elbow. “What’s it like being the new mystery girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Mystery girl?”

Sarah laughed. “You’ve been here less than a day, and you’re already a hot topic. Matt never brings anyone around, so naturally, everyone’s curious.”

I glanced at the ice, watching Matt shoot a puck that hit the top corner of the net with a sharp clang. “It’s not really like that,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. “We’re just friends.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Friends who wear his number and make him blush like a teenager?”

“I—” I started, but Sarah cut in, smiling.

“Don’t let her tease you,” she said. “But seriously, he looks happy. Like, ridiculously happy. It’s nice to see.”

I looked back at the ice, my gaze landing on Matt again. He skated over to grab another puck, his movements quick and precise. “He’s been really great to me,” I admitted softly.

“Have you been to a lot of games?” Emily asked, changing the subject slightly.

I shook my head. “This is my first. I’m still figuring out what icing means.”

Both Emily and Sarah laughed at that. “Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “Half of us didn’t know anything about hockey before we got dragged into this world. You pick it up fast.”

As we chatted, I noticed a few of the players skating by and glancing our way. One of them—Will, if I remembered correctly—waved, and I waved back awkwardly.

“He’s definitely trying to figure out what’s going on with you and Matt,” Emily said with a grin.

“Let him wonder,” I said, smirking a little.

“You fit in well here,” Sarah said suddenly, her tone warm.

I looked at her, surprised. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” she said, nodding. “It’s not always easy being part of this world, but you’re doing great.”

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Emily leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “But seriously, if you ever need advice or just someone to talk to about all this, we’ve got your back.”

“Deal,” I said, feeling a little more at ease.

Just then, Matt skated by, his eyes flicking over to where we stood. He did a double take when he saw me talking with Emily and Sarah, his expression a mix of surprise and what looked like mild panic.

“He’s looking at you,” Sarah said, smirking.

“Not just looking,” Emily added. “He’s practically staring.”

I shook my head, laughing. “He’s probably wondering what I’m telling you about him.”

“Well, now we have to mess with him,” Sarah said, grinning wickedly.

“Absolutely,” Emily agreed.

I rolled my eyes playfully, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips as I caught Matt sneaking another glance my way. Whatever this was, it felt good—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

As warmups wound down, the players slowly began trickling off the ice and heading back to the locker rooms. Emily and Sarah turned back to me, their smiles still warm and welcoming.

“So, are you sitting in the WAG suite tonight?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms as the cool air from the rink nipped at us.

“The WAG suite?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Emily laughed. “Yeah, it’s this private room they have reserved during games. You get a great view, snacks, drinks, and, most importantly, no chance of freezing your butt off in the stands.”

“That sounds… amazing,” I admitted, but then added, “But, honestly, I think I’d rather sit in the regular seats. You know, get the full experience.”

Emily tilted her head at me, amused. “The full experience? You mean sitting in the crowd, potentially surrounded by beer-chugging superfans and cold enough to wish you’d worn a parka?”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin. “I also plan on embarrassing Matt as much as possible. It’s only fair after he dragged me here.”

Sarah laughed. “I respect that. But seriously, if you change your mind, the WAG suite’s always an option. You’d be warm, and Matt wouldn’t have to worry about anyone accidentally spilling nachos on you.”

I pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe if I get too cold. But for now, I think I’ll stick to the seats. I kinda want to see how crazy the fans get.”

Emily reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “Here, let me give you my number, just in case. If you need directions to the suite or just want to escape the chaos, text me.”

I handed her my phone, watching as she quickly entered her contact information. “Thanks,” I said, feeling genuinely grateful for her thoughtfulness.

“No problem,” Emily replied, slipping her phone back into her bag. “And if Matt gives you grief about embarrassing him, just remind him he’s the one who invited you.”

“Trust me, I will,” I said, smiling.

Sarah glanced toward the exit where the other WAGs were starting to make their way toward the suite. “We’re heading up now, but let us know if you change your mind.”

“I will,” I promised, waving as they left.

Turning my attention back to the rink, I could feel a giddy sort of excitement bubbling in my chest. The stands were starting to fill, and the hum of energy in the arena was unmistakable. This was Matt’s world, and I was more than ready to experience it—nachos, cold air, and all.

As the arena continued to fill, I made my way down to my seat near the glass. The chill in the air was sharp, but the energy of the crowd warmed me. It was electric—fans were already decked out in Rangers jerseys, waving signs, and chanting. I glanced down at my own jersey, the big bold "73" on the back making me grin. Matt had insisted I wear it, and I could almost picture his blush when he saw me in it earlier.

I finally found my seat, right next to the penalty box, and chuckled to myself. Of course, Matt had set this up.

“He’s planning ahead,” I muttered, shaking my head. If he thought I wouldn’t tease him about ending up in the sin bin tonight, he had another thing coming.

The music blared as the teams started making their way onto the ice for introductions. The crowd erupted, and I leaned forward, the cold from the glass seeping through my palms as I pressed them against it.

When the Rangers took the ice, I immediately spotted Matt. He skated out confidently, his stick tapping against the boards as the crowd roared. His gaze swept across the arena, and when his eyes landed on me, I swear his shoulders relaxed. He grinned and gave a quick tap of his stick on the ice before skating off to join the team huddle.

I waved at him, smirking. “Yeah, don’t mess up now,” I murmured, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me but wishing he could.

As the game began, I found myself completely engrossed. The action was fast-paced, and the sound of skates slicing the ice and sticks clashing was thrilling. But true to Matt’s own prediction, it wasn’t long before I saw him headed toward his first 2 minute penalty.

The crowd’s boos echoed through the arena as Matt skated toward the penalty box, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement. I watched as he sat down, leaning back in the seat like he owned the place.

He caught my eye immediately and smirked, shrugging as if to say, What can you do? Then he mouthed, “Wrong call.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the replay on the jumbotron. The footage clearly showed him hooking an opposing player’s stick just enough to trip him up. The crowd groaned in unison, clearly unimpressed, but I grinned.

When the camera cut back to the live feed of the penalty box, there he was, lounging in his seat like this was part of his game plan all along. His gaze flicked up to the screen, then back to me. Realizing I had his full attention, I decided to lean into the moment.

I widened my eyes like an over-the-top fangirl, grabbed my phone, and angled it toward myself and the penalty box behind me. I waved dramatically, pulling a face of pure excitement as if I were a diehard fan spotting my favorite player.

Matt’s smirk widened when he realized what I was doing. He rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

I pressed my phone’s camera shutter repeatedly, flipping through the photos as I giggled to myself. The live feed still had him on screen, and as I glanced back, I saw him shaking his head but clearly fighting a laugh.

I waved again, this time pointing at the jersey I was wearing—the one with his number—and mouthing, “Big fan!”

He pressed his glove to his forehead in mock exasperation, then leaned forward slightly to hide his face, “You’re impossible.”

I beamed, holding up my phone to pretend to take one last selfie, just as he leaned back in his seat, fully resigned to his fate.

When his penalty was finally over, he skated back onto the ice with a quick glance over his shoulder at me. The moment felt like ours alone, tucked into the chaos of the game and the roaring crowd.

As the game continued, I looked down at the selfies I’d taken and couldn’t stop smiling. He might not live this down anytime soon, but something told me he wouldn’t really mind.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The rest of the game unfolded with an intensity that had the crowd on their feet more often than not. The Rangers pulled ahead with a goal in the second period, and the arena erupted in cheers. I was still riding the high of my penalty-box antics, but now I was just trying to focus on the action—though admittedly, my eyes followed Matt more than the puck.

Every time he made a play, I couldn’t help but cheer a little louder than anyone else around me. When he made a big hit along the boards, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Let's go!” loud enough that a few people in nearby seats turned to look at me with amused smiles.

As the clock ticked down on the third period, the Rangers were up by two goals, and the energy in the building was electric. The final buzzer sounded, sealing the win, and I jumped to my feet with the rest of the crowd, clapping and shouting as the team gathered to celebrate on the ice.

I watched Matt skate in line for the post-game handshakes with the other team, his helmet off and a grin plastered across his face. When he glanced toward the seats near the penalty box, I caught his eye and gave him a subtle thumbs-up.

He nodded, still grinning, before disappearing down the tunnel with his teammates.

The crowd began to thin out, and I lingered for a moment, scrolling through my photos from the night—especially the ones I’d taken of him in the penalty box. Just as I was about to head toward the exit, I got a text.

MATT: You coming down, or are you too busy being a fan?

I snorted, shaking my head, and quickly typed back:

ME: What’s in it for me? MATT: I won’t make you sit next to the penalty box next time. ME: Tempting, but I actually had a great view. ;) MATT: Okay, fine. I’ll buy you dinner. Now hurry up before I change my mind.

I smiled, slipping my phone into my pocket and making my way to the area where family and guests were allowed post-game. After flashing the pass Matt had arranged for me, I was let through into the waiting area outside the locker rooms.

The hallway buzzed with activity—players walking out, greeting their families, and chatting with fans. I spotted a few familiar faces from earlier, the wives and girlfriends I’d met, and they waved at me warmly.

It wasn’t long before Matt appeared, still in his gear but now minus the skates, his hair damp from the shower he’d undoubtedly taken in record time. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and his grin widened when he spotted me.

“Hey,” he said, walking over with an ease that made it look like he hadn’t just played a grueling game.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, trying not to let my smile get too big.

“You enjoy the game?” he asked, dropping his bag to the floor.

“Loved it. Especially the part where you spent two minutes in time-out,” I teased, crossing my arms.

He groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Figures,” he said, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Absolutely,” I said, glancing down at the jersey I was still wearing. “But you better not make me walk around town like this. People are going to think I’m a stalker or something.”

Matt laughed, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder again. “I think people will figure out who you’re with pretty quickly.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against my lower back as he led me toward the exit.

The night felt alive as we stepped out into the cool air, the city still buzzing with post-game energy. I didn’t know where we were headed, but with Matt walking beside me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

We stepped out into the night, the city lights casting a glow on everything around us. The streets were alive with people, some still wearing Rangers gear, likely heading home after the game. Matt walked close beside me, his hand brushing mine every now and then as we weaved through the crowd.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a while, glancing up at him.

He smirked, his eyes warm and teasing. “You’ll see.”

I arched an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Something about the way he looked at me in that moment—confident, yet slightly nervous—made my stomach do a little flip.

We turned a corner, leaving the busier streets behind, and found ourselves in a quieter part of the city. The sounds of honking cars and chatter faded into the background, replaced by the occasional hum of a passing cab.

Matt slowed his steps, glancing around before stopping in front of a small, cozy-looking diner with big windows that glowed softly in the dark. “I figured you might be hungry after all that yelling you did,” he said, opening the door for me.

I laughed. “Yelling? You mean cheering for you?”

“Is that what you were doing?” he shot back, grinning as I stepped inside.

The diner was nearly empty, just a couple of patrons scattered across the booths. The smell of fresh coffee and warm food filled the air, and it immediately felt like one of those places that stayed the same no matter how much the city changed around it.

We slid into a booth near the back, and Matt set his bag down on the seat beside him. He leaned back, looking completely at ease, and I couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed here than he did at the rink. Less intense, more relaxed.

When the server came by, we ordered milkshakes—chocolate for me, vanilla for him—and a plate of fries to share.

As soon as she walked away, Matt’s gaze shifted back to me. His smile softened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to figure something out.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his stare.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Just…you looked like you were having fun tonight. I liked seeing that.”

His words caught me off guard, and I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. “Well, you did give me a lot to cheer for. That goal in the second period was impressive.”

“Thanks,” he said, his grin turning a little shy. “I was hoping you’d see that.”

We fell into easy conversation after that, talking about the game, the fans, the way he’d handled the penalty box situation. He made fun of how I’d acted like a crazed fan, and I teased him about the dramatic way he shrugged in the box.

Our milkshakes arrived, along with the fries, and we shared them like we’d been doing this for years.

At one point, I reached for a fry at the same time he did, our fingers brushing against each other. Neither of us pulled back immediately, and when I finally did, I glanced up to find him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“What is it?” I asked softly.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words, before finally saying, “I’ve never really done this before.”

“Done what?”

“This.” He gestured between us. “Brought someone into…all of it. My life, the game, everything.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Matt, I—”

“I’m not saying that to freak you out,” he added quickly. “I just…I don’t know. I wanted you to know that this means something to me. You mean something to me.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. My heart felt like it was pounding loud enough for the whole diner to hear.

“You mean something to me, too,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched mine, and the small smile that broke across his face after that made me feel like I’d just scored a goal of my own.

We sat there for a little while longer, talking and laughing until the fries were gone and the milkshakes were just empty glasses.

When we finally stepped back out into the night, the city was quieter, the streets mostly empty now. As we drove back to his place, he reached over and took my hand in his.

I glanced up at him, surprised, but he didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze forward, his thumb brushing lightly against mine.

It wasn’t until we were almost at his building that he finally said, “You don’t have to wear my number to embarrass me at the next game, you know.”

I laughed, squeezing his hand. “Oh, I will. Just wait and see, Manhattan.”

His laugh joined mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

The elevator doors slid closed, and the soft hum of the ascent filled the space. Matt leaned against the side wall, his hands casually in his pockets, but his eyes flicked over to me, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked, his voice light but teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “You mean the bedroom two doors away from yours? Of course. My, my, what a gentleman.”

He chuckled, stepping out of the elevator as we reached his floor. We made our way down the quiet hallway, and when we got to the door of the guest room, he turned to face me, giving a little bow with a flourish of his hand.

“Your suite, madam,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Why, thank you, sir,” I replied, slipping into the playful tone he’d started. “It was a pleasant evening.”

But as I reached for the doorknob, his tone shifted ever so slightly. “I guess… goodnight,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

I froze, my hand on the door, the weight of his words sinking in. My flight. My chest tightened as the realization hit me—I was leaving tomorrow.

“Oh… yeah,” I said, my voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Goodnight, Matt.”

He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and for the first time all night, the usual ease between us felt slightly frayed. He took a step back, lingering in the hallway for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, but instead, he just nodded.

“Goodnight,” he said again, and then he turned and walked toward his room, his shoulders a little lower than they’d been earlier.

I watched him go, the door to his room clicking shut behind him. My fingers lingered on the doorknob, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn it just yet. Instead, I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, my heart feeling heavier than it had any right to.

Why did it feel like saying goodnight was harder than it should’ve been? And why, as I stood there in the quiet hallway, did I feel like I’d already started missing him?

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting soft streaks across the guest room walls. I sat cross-legged on the bed, my packed bag resting beside me, and my phone clutched in my hands. I’d been staring at the screen for a while now, scrolling aimlessly but not really seeing anything. The pit in my stomach had been growing since I’d woken up.

I glanced up when I heard a soft knock on the open door. Matt was standing there, his hair damp from a shower, little drops of water still clinging to the ends. He was in a simple gray T-shirt and sweats, his usual effortless look that somehow made my chest ache more than it should.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he stepped into the room. His eyes flicked to my bag. “You… all ready to go?”

I nodded, though it felt like my head weighed a ton. “Yeah,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Just waiting for the car.”

He shifted on his feet, his hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Right,” he said, looking down for a moment. Then, he stepped closer, his presence filling the room in that way only Matt could. “You sure you’ve got everything? You didn’t leave your charger or… I don’t know, that Rangers shirt or something?”

I let out a soft laugh at that, trying to lighten the mood. “I triple-checked. Pretty sure I’m not stealing any more of your stuff.”

“Good,” he said, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean, not that I’d mind if you did.”

The air between us felt heavier than it had last night, the kind of weight that came when you both knew something was ending, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from me. “You don’t have to go.”

I blinked at him, my chest tightening. “Matt…”

“No, I know,” he said quickly, cutting me off before I could say anything else. “I know you have school and everything. I’m not saying you should stay. I just…” He hesitated, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s been nice having you here, that’s all.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my sweatpants. “It’s been nice being here,” I admitted, my voice quieter. “Really nice.”

We sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside.

“When’s your car supposed to get here?” he asked eventually, his voice low.

“Twenty minutes,” I said.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly before he glanced at me again. “Think we could make the most of it?”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. “I think we can try.”

Matt smiled faintly at my response, though there was still that hint of sadness in his eyes. He shifted closer, reaching out to tug gently at the sleeve of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie, the one I hadn’t stopped living in since I’d arrived in New York.

“Guess this is officially yours now,” he said softly.

I looked down at the oversized fabric, a bittersweet laugh escaping me. “Think it already was.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed on mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the car coming, the flight, the reality of going back to San Diego. There was just Matt, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me like he didn’t want me to go anywhere.

“I’m gonna miss you, San Diego,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t start,” I said, my own voice wavering as I tried to keep it light. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re… you’re kind of my favorite person, you know that?”

My throat tightened, and I didn’t know what to say. The weight of his words, the raw sincerity in them, hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” I said finally, my voice barely audible.

Matt reached out, his hand brushing mine where it rested on the bed. His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady, and I felt myself relax just a little, even as my heart ached.

“You’ll come back, right?” he asked after a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I’ll come back.”

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking up into the smallest of smiles. “Because I’m holding you to that.”

The sound of my phone buzzing broke the moment, and I glanced down to see the notification from the car service. My ride was here.

Matt saw it too, and his hand lingered on mine for just a second longer before he pulled away, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “Guess I should walk you down,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I stood. My legs felt heavier than they should, like every step toward the door was another step toward something I didn’t want to face.

Matt followed me out into the hallway, quiet as we made our way to the elevator. When we stepped inside, the silence between us stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was just heavy, full of all the things we weren’t saying.

When we reached the lobby, Matt walked me to the waiting car, his hands in his pockets and his head down just enough that I couldn’t see his expression.

I turned to him once I reached the car, biting my lip. “Thanks for everything, Manhattan. Really.”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine. “Anytime.” he said, his voice soft but steady. Before I could think too much about it, I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, holding on tighter than I meant to. He hugged me back, his arms solid and warm around me, and for a moment, I didn’t want to let go.

But eventually, I had to.

I stepped back, giving him a small smile as I climbed into the car. He stood there on the curb, watching as the driver pulled away, and when I glanced back, he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, until I turned the corner and he was out of sight. I leaned back in the seat, my chest tight and my heart full, already counting down the days until I could come back.

The car had been stuck in traffic for a few minutes, the muffled sounds of honking and engines filling the air. I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes to shut it all out for a moment. I wasn’t ready to leave.

And then I heard the door open.

I jolted upright, my heart racing. “What the—”

Matt.

He was standing there, sweaty and out of breath, a sheen on his flushed face as if he’d just sprinted a marathon. He leaned against the open door, chest heaving, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“Matt? What the hell are you doing?” I asked, blinking in disbelief.

He held up a hand, trying to catch his breath. “I—I have to tell you something,” he started, words tumbling out between gasps. “Before you go. Because if I don’t, I swear I’m gonna regret it—and honestly, I think the girls might actually beat the shit out of me at the next game if I don’t.”

“What?” I stammered, still completely thrown.

“But it’s not just about that,” he rambled, gesturing wildly. “I just— I think I have to say it. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it messes things up because I don’t know how else to… Ugh.” He groaned and dragged a hand down his face, looking so exasperated with himself.

“Matt—”

“Basically, Y/N,” he cut me off, locking his eyes with mine, “I have a crush on you.”

I froze, staring at him, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

“I know it’s probably weird. We’re like best friends, and you’re leaving, and we’ll barely get to see each other, but I can’t just pretend like it’s not there anymore. And it’s been driving me nuts because I don’t want to mess this up or make things awkward or—”

“Matt.”

“—or make you feel pressured because that’s the last thing I’d want, and—”

“Matt.”

“What?”

I stared at him for a second before a small laugh escaped me, shaking my head in disbelief. “I already know.”

He blinked, looking completely thrown. “What?”

“It’s kind of obvious,” I said, still laughing softly. “You’ve been wearing your feelings on your sleeve for weeks. You are not as subtle as you think sometimes.”

His jaw dropped, his cheeks going redder—though I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or embarrassment. “Okay, rude,” he muttered.

“I mean, you literally chased down a car to tell me,” I teased, my heart fluttering even as I tried to keep the moment light.

“Well, yeah, because I—” I didn’t let him finish.

I leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, my face burning as I pulled back and whispered, “I guess I have a crush on you too, Matthew.”

He stared at me, his wide brown eyes searching mine, his breath catching as if he didn’t know what to do with the words I’d just said.

And then, in one swift movement, he cupped my face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.

The world disappeared. The noise, the city, the traffic—all of it melted away. It was just Matt and the warm press of his lips, the way his thumb brushed gently against my cheek, the way everything about him felt so… right.

When we finally broke apart, he stayed close, his forehead resting against mine, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

I laughed softly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Guess we’re even, then.”

The driver cleared his throat, and we both startled as the car started moving again. Matt chuckled, shuffling back slightly but keeping his hand in mine.

“San Diego,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “You better come back soon.”

“I will,” I promised, squeezing his hand.

And for the first time since this whole whirlwind of a trip had started, I felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and just as I was settling back into my seat, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

Matt was getting out of the car.

“What now?” I muttered, leaning toward the open window.

He bent down, resting his forearms on the window frame, his face close enough that I could see the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. “Call me as soon as you land, please?” he said, his voice softer than usual.

I laughed, shaking my head at him. “Matt, I’ll probably text you when the light turns green.”

His lips curved into a crooked smile, his gaze lingering for a moment like he didn’t want to let me go. “Still. Just… call me, okay?”

“Okay,” I promised, trying not to let the sudden tightness in my chest show.

He stepped back onto the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched the car begin to move again. I twisted in my seat, catching one last glimpse of him standing there before I sighed and turned back around. And then, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen, a grin breaking out across my face when I saw his name. Rolling my eyes fondly, I answered, “So, when are you coming to San Diego?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by his soft laugh. “I guess that depends. You free next weekend?”

[weirdowithluv]

Jack Hughes

I actually don't know what I did here

[firechilde]

He’s thrilled to be there….really!

[hughes86-43]

he’s so pretty 😭

[sakuraiy]

[birdiewriteslit]

“you read my favorite book?” with quinn! maybe he went on a long roadie and brought some of her books with him and she was looking for them and when he came back he has all of them

“reader”

quinn hughes x f!reader

birdie’s 300 celly

suggestive at the end

You heard the sound of the door to the apartment opening, and you sprang out of the bed, practically throwing your phone as you hurried to greet your boyfriend.

Quinn had just set his stuff down and kicked the door shut behind him when you threw yourself into his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he said, chuckling as you buried your face into his neck.

“Hi, Quinn.” You breathed in his scent, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around you after being apart for such a long roadie.

Over his shoulder, you noticed something sitting on top of his duffel bag. “Are those my books?” you asked.

Quinn pulled away from you, hands still on your hips as he looked down at the floor. “Oh yeah, they are,” he said sheepishly, looking back at you with a smile.

“I’ve been looking for those. I knew I wasn’t going crazy. Why’d you take them?”

Quinn shrugged. “I knew I’d be bored, plus they reminded me of you,” he said, squeezing your hips.

You glanced down at the top of the pile, reading the title before your eyes shot back up to his. “You read my favorite book?”

“Of course I did. It was a little boring, but I think your tastes might be a little different than mine.” He winked, grinning down at you.

You pushed his chest away from yours with your hand, rolling your eyes. “It was not boring. You just don’t want to admit that you like Jane Austen.”

“I don’t like Jane Austen,” he denied, following you as you walked toward the bedroom, skillfully evading his hands as they tried to grab hold of you.

“Liars don’t get head,” you said simply, darting into the room before he could grab onto your waist.

“That’s so not fair,” Quinn pouted. “I’ve waited so long for you.”

“Okay, Mr. Darcy,” you snorted, finally allowing him to touch you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

You felt him smiling as he admitted, “Fine, it wasn’t boring.”

“I told you so.”

He lifted his head, kissing on your neck. “Can you give me head now?”

You rolled your eyes once more, pulling his arms off of you. “I guess, but only because I missed you.”

Quinn grinned. “That’s good enough for me.”

[hoe4hockey]

NSFW A-Z for Tyler Seguin

Warnings - smut, and mentions of smut. DNI if you are a minor.

Cooked this up after a lengthy, in depth discussion with my best friend ❤️

A - Aftercare

Forever the gentleman, Tyler is always wanting to make sure you are comfortable and looked after. Regardless of whether it was a particularly rough session or just a quickie.

Grabbing a warm wash cloth for you or running a bath. He believes aftercare is an essential part of having sex.

B - Body Part (Their/Yours)

His favourite body part of his is his arms. They are big, strong and he puts in the work to get them that way. The fact that they are covered in sentimental tattoos is pretty cool to him too.

His favourite body part of yours is your neck. You stares at it and commits every edge and line to memory. Once he watched you a little too closely while you swallowed and got hard.

C - Cum

Will take any and all opportunities to come inside you. Thinks that it is the highest form of trust. The way he sees it any joe blow from the street could come on your face or your stomach but you let “him” come inside you. That means something to him.

D - Dirty Secret

Would love to watch his best friend Jamie fuck you. See’s how the two of you interact at a team barbecue and thinks about how good he would treat you and how he’d love to watch him man handle you. Thinks about how he also wouldn’t turn down a kiss from his captain.

E - Experience

Tyler has been around the block… and then another 3 blocks. He isn’t shy about the people he has been with and thinks that all the people he has been with and the experiences he’s had has just moulded him into what he is and what he can do to you today.

F - Favourite Position

Love love loves reverse cowgirl. Loves watching you writhe and arch your back while your arse bounces in his face.

G - Goofy

Is always trying to lighten the mood and that doesn’t stop in the bedroom. Cracks jokes or names a sex position a funny name that has the both of you in fits of laughter.

H - Hair

Well maintained, won’t be completely clean shaven but will trim everything every couple of weeks.

I - Intimacy

Does like to keep things goofy and light hearted but craves intimacy. Loves fucking into you deep and slow and watching the face you make, the noises you make and how you moan his name. He’s loves knowing that you are his and that he can get all of these things from you.

J - Jerk off

He’s tired, he’s jerking it. He’s energetic, he’s jerking it. He’s hungry, he’s jerking it. He’s bored you can trust and believe he’s jerking it. Especially when you are away from each other and he can’t just pick you up and drag you to the nearest bed or surface.

K - Kink

Massive daddy kink. Moans and almost cries the first time you said it. Use’s it against you in public to try and embarrass you. “Come on baby, listen to daddy.” Your face heating up immediately. “You guys are gross.” - Wyatt

L - Location(Favourite places to do it)

Will literally fuck you anywhere and everywhere. Has no shame and has no problem in someone seeing. Has fucked you in multiple public bathrooms and walls around Dallas.

M - Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

He’s pretty much always ready and rearing to go but seeing you struggle to do something and you come over to him with a pout on your face is going to make him quite literally weak in the knees. Which he has no problem with because he was already planning on making his way down there anyway.

N - No(Draw a line In the sand)

If both parties are consenting and willing literally nothing is off the table. Will communicate all boundaries and give quite literally anything a go.

O - Oral

Loves watching you struggle to fit him all in his mouth, loves watching the tears stream down your face and saliva collecting at the sides of your mouth and running down your jaw.

Also loves watching you struggle to stay still while he goes down on you, reciting what feels like literal spells whiles he’s down there making you see stars. He’s come up for air once and seen the bruises his hands have left from having to hold you so tight.

P - Pace

Prioritises you and what you want can and will fuck you slow and deep but will also jack rabbit into you so hard and fast you’ve definitely hit your head on the bed frame.

Q - Quickie

1000% ready and willing. You could be anywhere and he is pulling you into a room to fuck you silly or a secluded part of the event to slip his fingers under your skirt.

R - Risk

Loves it, craves it even. Loves you and loves how much you trust him to put yourself into situations like this with him. Not that he needed the confidence boost but it definitely gives him one.

S- Stamina

Can and has gone from sun up to sun down, the cardio training he does helping him both on and off the ice.

T - Toys

Doesn’t think you need toys per se but does have restraints and cuffs to spice things up a bit. Bought you a clone-a-Willy for Christmas once and laughed so hard as you opened it in from of both of your families.

U - Unfair(How much they like to tease)

Doesn’t like to tease too much because he wouldn’t like it if it was done to him. But if he knows you are needy and wanting him extra bad will put his hand even further up your thigh than normal and his hand a lot lower on your back.

V- Volume (how loud they are or/what noise they make)

Moans and groans loudly and unapologetically. Isn’t ashamed to let you and anyone who might be around how good you make him feel.

W - Wildcard (random head cannon)

Wants to have a threesome for his birthday… him, you and another girl of your choosing. That’s it, that’s the head cannon.

X - X-ray

A bit above average length but thick. Coke can thick in fact.

Y - Yearning(how high is there sex drive)

Very high sex drive, if he can have sex he will be.

Z - ZZZ(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has never fallen asleep while having sex but he has rolled of you and when you looked back minutes later to as him something was cuddled into his pillow and snoring softly.

[lukesvangelista]

KJ RUN DOWN

for my lovely friend @cupidbedsy (and anyone else who wants to know more about kj)!

- born october 18, 2002 (22)

- grew up in port moody, british columbia

- he is half finnish! his mom was born in finland, but moved to canada at a really young age. his middle name is kalevi, which translates to “ancestor of the finns.”

- grew up a canucks fan, but cites johnny gaudreau as his inspiration → "i was obviously a canucks fan, but there was one playoff series where i was just loving it because johnny was dominating, and they beat the canucks. i was like, 'man, this guy’s unreal.’.”

- “gaudreau was small in comparison to most nhl players. generously, he was listed at 5 feet 9, 165 pounds. johnson, who is 6-0, 180, grew up as the smallest player on the ice before he turned 14 and shot up “about three inches a year” over four years.”

- “before those growth spurts, johnson firmly believed he'd be gaudreau’s size. it created a chip on his shoulder and fueled his drive.”

- "johnny was obviously a great player, but kent had a real connection to john because he was really small," jay johnson said. "he was, by far, the smallest kid on his teams. he was good when he was little, so he made the bantam aaa team when he was only 90 pounds, when the average kid might’ve been 120 or 130, and some way bigger. so, he had that connection to johnny. he just loved how he played hockey, and he told me at some point, ‘if johnny gaudreau can do it, i can do it, too.’ "

- “you know how it is with small guys,” kent johnson said. “it”s like, ‘can they do it in the playoffs?’ obviously, i hated hearing that, and i loved seeing johnny prove those guys wrong. so, i would study his game a lot. there’s some little things i do now that i feel like i got first from watching him.”

- he played junior hockey for the trail smoke eaters of the bchl. in the 2018-2019 season, he scored 20 goals and had a total of 26 points in 57 games. in the 2019-2020 season, he won the brett hull trophy as the league’s leading scorer with 41 goals and 60 assists in 52 games!

- he was named bchl first-team all-star, bchl most sportsmanlike player, bchl mvp, and canadian junior hockey league forward of the year!

- played college hockey at the university of michigan for the 2020-2021 and 2021-2022 seasons

- drafted 5th overall by the columbus blue jackets in 2021

- scored the golden goal for canada in the wjc gold medal game to beat finland

- signed an entry-level contract with the blue jackets on april 8, 2022

- as of december 9, 2024, he has 14 points (8 goals, 6 assists) in 13 games played during the 2024-2025 season

- he is on pace for 94 points this season

[kanaaiysoublood]

Matthew Tkachuk and his best friend !

[nicohersheys]

NICO HISCHIER | 07.01.2024

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 99% texts. established relationships? the most basic plot idea everrrr bc I watched The Idea Of You before watching a playoffs match. PART 1. 3.5k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I had just gotten home and sprawled out on my apartment's couch, letting Netflix autoplay something random after finishing Brooklyn Nine-Nine again. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024Today, 3:16 PM UNKNOWN: Alley said she tried to call you, text me when you're on the way to the rink.

My phone buzzed again.

Today, 3:42 PM UNKNOWN: Steph?

Today, 4:01 PM UNKNOWN: Are you on your way or not?

I glanced at my phone, seeing another message from the unknown number. Smirking slightly, typing a quick response.

ME: Not Steph, good luck finding your girlfriend.

I tossed my phone aside and settled deeper into the couch, trying to distract myself from the uninspired short story I had been working on. Hours passed, and I still hadn’t made any progress. The story was just another tall tale that could easily end with "and then I woke up," and at this rate, it might.

My phone buzzed again, and I groaned before reaching for it.

Today, 12:19 AM UNKNOWN: Gross. I was looking for my sister.

I sighed, feeling slightly amused.

ME: Okay? Hope you found her. UNKNOWN: I'm sorry to have bothered you, I realise the area code is wrong.

With nothing better to do, I found myself replying, curiosity piqued.

ME: 212, Manhattan. Nice area, rich boy charm. UNKNOWN: Not really rich, or much charm. But boy, yes. 619, where's that? ME: San Diego.

A pause. I put my phone down, trying to focus back on my assignment, but the ping of a new message distracted me.

UNKNOWN: I'm guessing you're just as bored as I am right now. ME: Definitely bored, that is correct. UNKNOWN: So San Diego, what’s keeping you awake that’s so boring? ME: Nothing much, Manhattan. Just assignments. But it’s only 12:30 here, isn’t it 3 AM in NY? UNKNOWN: That would be correct. ME: Then what’s keeping YOU awake? UNKNOWN: Won my hockey game, went to celebrate, and now I’m just sitting here.

I chuckled, intrigued by the late-night conversation.

ME: Hockey? Do you play for a college team or just for fun?

There was a long pause, a stark contrast to the quick replies earlier.

MANHATTAN: Yeah, I do college hockey. ME: Nice, what position? I don’t know LOTS about hockey or anything, but I'm friends with some guys on the SDSU team. MANHATTAN: Haha, right wing. But really, I just rough people up 💪 ME: Oh cool! (no clue what a right wing does) MANHATTAN: Then what position does your boyfriend play?

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift.

ME: I never said that word. MANHATTAN: And I'm just checking. You are a girl, right? I’m not about to hit on a 50-year-old man.

I laughed, surprised by his forwardness.

ME: You’re about to hit on me? Are you meant to tell me that? MANHATTAN: Probably not, but I had a few drinks a bit ago so I can blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. ME: Yes, I am a girl. MANHATTAN: Wonderful, now that I know you're not trying to lure me into your mother's basement so you can use my skin as your new rug, can I get your name?

I smirked, enjoying the playful tone.

ME: Whoa, never said anything about NOT making a new rug. I kind of like the whole Manhattan & San Diego anonymous thing we have happening. MANHATTAN: Hmm, I guess so. A secret identity might not be the best move though. ME: Are you sure you want to risk it? Might say something regrettable since it’s 4 AM for you now. MANHATTAN: But it's only 1 AM for you, so it’s a risk I’ll take ;)

I smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

ME: Exactly how many strangers do you text like this? MANHATTAN: If I say only 1 will that make you feel special? ME: So you just go around contacting random numbers in hopes they’re girls your age so you can try to knock their socks off? MANHATTAN: You catch on fast, San Diego.

I rubbed my eyes, getting off the couch, typing as I walked through my small apartment. I passed my roommate’s bedroom, noticing her snoring with her phone still looping the last TikTok she’d been watching.

As I reached my room, I took off my hoodie and left my phone on my bed, watching for the next message.

ME: So, tell me about your hockey match. MANHATTAN: Well… I actually got ejected so I didn’t do much. ME: Ahh, a ruffian. MANHATTAN: All I did was elbow a guy! ME: In the face? MANHATTAN: No comment. ME: While going really fast on knife shoes? MANHATTAN: I said no comment, San Diego 😠😠 But yes. I may have a little notoriety for… enforcing. ME: How many fights does college hockey have? Oh wow. MANHATTAN: I think that's enough of my sports career. Tell me about you. ME: About me? MANHATTAN: I want to know about you. I mean it, tell me something.

I hesitated, then smiled.

ME: Um, I can't think of anything… I just got into bed. MANHATTAN: Then you should go, San Diego, get some rest. Nice chatting with you (and I'll text you later in the day if that's alright). ME: Bye, Manhattan 👋 (and I wouldn't be opposed).

I placed my phone on the nightstand, my thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection as I drifted off to sleep.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I woke up to a new text message, my groggy eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024today 10:32am MANHATTAN: Morning, San Diego! Did you sleep well?

I smiled at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to actually text me again, but here he was.

ME: Morning! I did, thanks 😊 How about you? Finally got some sleep after your 4 am texting spree? MANHATTAN: Eventually, yeah. Slept in a bit, but now I’m back at it. MANHATTAN: Classes and all that. ME: Fun times… What’s your major? MANHATTAN: Business. It’s alright, but hockey’s the real passion. You? ME: English, hence my very exciting letter-writing assignment 🙄 MANHATTAN: Ah, right. The one you’re totally not procrastinating on. ME: Exactly! I’m just waiting for inspiration to hit. MANHATTAN: Maybe I can help with that.

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, intrigued.

ME: Oh yeah? You’re a secret writing genius, Mr. Hockey? MANHATTAN: Hardly. But I’m good at roughing up boring ideas. Give me a shot. What’s the assignment again? ME: I have to write a long letter. Could be to anyone about anything… It's supposed to show off my writing skills. MANHATTAN: How about a letter to a stranger? Like some random person you met by mistake… 👀

I laughed, seeing where he was going with this.

ME: Sounds like something I’d do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. MANHATTAN: If you need material, I can keep sending you nonsense texts. You know, for inspiration. ME: Careful, I might just put all your deepest, darkest secrets into my assignment. MANHATTAN: Bold of you to assume I have any secrets, San Diego. ME: Everyone has secrets, Manhattan.

There was a pause before he responded, the three little dots appearing and disappearing a few times. I wondered what he was thinking or if I’d said something to make him hesitate.

MANHATTAN: Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out 😉 ME: Smooth. Real smooth. MANHATTAN: It’s part of my so-called charm. So, what’s your day looking like? ME: Not much, honestly. Maybe I’ll hit the library, try to get some work done. MANHATTAN: Or you could do something fun instead. Life’s too short to spend all day in the library. ME: Fun? What do you suggest? MANHATTAN: Well, if you were in Manhattan, I’d say we go skating. But since you’re all the way over there… What do people even do for fun in San Diego? ME: I could go to the beach… but it’s not really the best weather for it today. MANHATTAN: Rainy? ME: Just cloudy, kind of chilly. The ocean looks a bit gloomy when it’s like this. MANHATTAN: Gloomy beaches, sounds like a whole vibe. Maybe that’s your inspiration. A letter to the ocean or something. ME: You really think a letter to the ocean will get me a passing grade? MANHATTAN: If you write it well enough, why not? Make it all deep and meaningful. Professors eat that stuff up. ME: Haha, I’ll think about it. Anyway, what about you? Any big plans? MANHATTAN: Just practice later, then probably hanging out with the team. Nothing too exciting. ME: Sounds like a solid day. Try not to get ejected this time. MANHATTAN: No promises. Gotta keep my reputation, you know? ME: Right, the tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: But I’m a softie at heart, San Diego. Don’t let the hockey fool you. ME: Noted. Maybe I’ll write that in my letter. “To the boy who’s tough on the ice but soft underneath…” MANHATTAN: Now you’re getting it. Make me sound mysterious. ME: Mysterious, huh? I’ll see what I can do.

I was grinning now, the banter flowing easily between us. There was something about this random stranger that made me feel lighter, like maybe today wasn’t going to be so dull after all.

ME: Alright, I should actually get ready if I’m going to do anything productive today. But thanks for the distraction, Manhattan. MANHATTAN: Anytime, San Diego. I’ll text you later? ME: Looking forward to it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I was curled up on my couch, a mug of tea warming my hands as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. The past month had flown by, and my unexpected friendship with 'Manhattan' had become a regular part of my routine. We’d been texting nearly every day, sharing snippets of our lives, random thoughts, and plenty of playful banter. But lately, something had shifted—his messages had taken on a more flirty tone, and, honestly, I didn’t mind it.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled when his contact name popped up on the screen.

Friday, April 12, 2024today 8:45pm MANHATTAN: What’s up, San Diego? Missing me yet?

I couldn’t help but grin at his words. He’d been dropping little hints like this more and more, and each time, it sent a little thrill through me.

ME: Why would I miss you? We just talked this morning 😏 MANHATTAN: I don’t know, you tell me. Maybe you’re secretly counting down the hours until you hear from me again. ME: Oh, totally. I’m just sitting here pining away. MANHATTAN: Knew it. You can’t resist my charm. ME: Your ego is something else, you know that? MANHATTAN: Only because you feed it. Anyway, what’s the plan for tonight? Any hot dates?

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the question, even though I knew he was probably just teasing.

ME: Just me, myself, and I tonight. Super exciting. MANHATTAN: That’s a shame. If I were in San Diego, I’d take you out somewhere nice. ME: Oh yeah? Where would you take me, Mr. Big City? MANHATTAN: Somewhere with a view, good food, and even better company. ME: Wow, smooth talker. Do you use this line on all the girls? MANHATTAN: Only the ones who accidentally text me back 😉

I laughed, shaking my head at his response.

ME: Lucky me, I guess. MANHATTAN: I think I’m the lucky one here.

I paused, reading the message again, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. There it was again—that flirty edge that had been creeping into his texts lately. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

ME: Is that so? MANHATTAN: Definitely. How many girls are cool enough to joke about turning me into a rug and then end up being someone I actually want to talk to every day? ME: Fair point. I’m one of a kind. MANHATTAN: That you are. So, since I’m not there to take you out, what are you doing to entertain yourself? ME: I’m just relaxing, maybe watching a movie later. Nothing too crazy. MANHATTAN: Sounds cozy. I’d offer to keep you company, but I’m not sure you’re ready to handle my charming self in person. ME: Oh, I’m sure I could handle you just fine. MANHATTAN: Careful, San Diego. I might take that as a challenge.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves at his boldness. This was definitely new territory, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying it.

ME: Maybe I want you to.

There was a pause, and I watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, wondering what was going through his mind. My heart raced in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. Then, my phone buzzed again—not with a message, but with a photo.

I opened it and stared at the image for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips. He was standing in what looked like a hallway, wearing a worn white T-shirt and a Yankees baseball cap. His hair was a little long, curling out from under the cap, and he had a faint mustache that gave him a laid-back, almost mischievous look. His smile was subtle but warm, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect either.

MANHATTAN: Figured it’s only fair you see who you’re talking to.

I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. He was more than I’d imagined—there was something so genuine and relaxed about him, and that easy confidence I’d sensed in our conversations was clearly just a part of who he was.

ME: Not bad, Manhattan. Not bad at all. MANHATTAN: Glad you approve. Now, your turn?

I felt a rush of nerves as I realized he was asking for a photo in return. This felt like a big step—more real than anything we’d done before. But there was also something exciting about it, about finally showing him who I was after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then snapped a quick selfie, trying to capture something that felt natural but not too staged. I hesitated only for a second before hitting send, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

ME: Alright, but don’t judge too harshly.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I sent the photo. I could practically feel my pulse in my ears as I watched the screen, waiting for his response. It didn’t take long.

MANHATTAN: Wow.

I bit my lip, a small smile creeping onto my face. Just one word, but it was enough to make my stomach flip.

ME: "Wow" good, or "wow" bad? MANHATTAN: Definitely good. You’re beautiful, San Diego. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. There was something different about receiving a compliment from someone who’d only known me through words until now—someone who hadn’t seen my face but still wanted to know more about me.

ME: You’re just saying that. MANHATTAN: I’m really not. I mean it. I didn’t expect this whole wrong-number thing to turn into something like this, but I’m glad it did. ME: Me too. It’s been… nice, talking to you. Getting to know you. MANHATTAN: More than nice, if you ask me. But now that I’ve seen you, I kind of want to see more of you.

My heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of him wanting more, even though we’d only known each other through these messages, made something flutter inside me.

ME: More of me? How so? MANHATTAN: Not in a creepy way, I promise. Just… more of your thoughts, your stories. I like hearing about your day, what you’re up to. I guess I’m just curious about you. ME: You’re making me blush over here. MANHATTAN: Good. You’ve been doing that to me since day one.

I felt my face heat up even more, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how this random guy from Manhattan, who I’d never even met, could make me feel this way.

ME: Well, if you’re really that curious, ask away. What do you want to know? MANHATTAN: That sounds perfect. What’s your favorite book? ME: That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child! How would you feel if I asked you your favorite hockey team? MANHATTAN: New York Rangers. Easy. Number 1 😉 ME: Alright, I'll take your word for it. MANHATTAN: So, tell me something else. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?

I laughed softly to myself, feeling that familiar warmth from our conversation. The idea of us just getting to know each other like this, little by little, was comforting. It felt safe and exciting all at once.

ME: I’ve always wanted to travel more. There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen a tiny part of it. MANHATTAN: Where’s the first place you’d go? ME: Italy, I think. The food, the history, the art—I want to experience all of it. MANHATTAN: That sounds incredible. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, too. ME: Maybe one day we’ll both get there. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to keep texting about it. MANHATTAN: I’m more than okay with that, San Diego. Talking to you is the best part of my day. ME: Same here, Manhattan.

As I set my phone down, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. There was no rush, no pressure—just a growing connection with someone who was quickly becoming more than just a stranger on the other end of a text. And for now, that was more than enough.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

It had been almost a month since the night I saw Manhattan’s face for the first time, and our conversations had only gotten better since then. We talked almost every day, sharing little details about our lives, random thoughts, and sometimes just silence on the other end of the line when we were both too tired to text much. I was surprised by how close I’d grown to him, even without meeting in person.

One afternoon, I got an email from one of my professors that sent my heart racing. My university was offering a select group of students a fully-funded, three-day trip to New York City to attend a special literary conference. The idea was to network, attend workshops, and get a taste of the publishing world in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. And somehow, I’d been chosen.

As soon as I read the email, my mind went straight to Manhattan. The idea of being in the same city as him, even if I wasn’t planning on meeting up, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But as much as I wanted to share the news with him, a different thought crossed my mind—a surprise. What if I didn’t tell him? What if I showed up in his city and surprised him with the news?

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. He’d been so open and sweet in our conversations, and I wanted to do something special. It felt like the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, in a good way.

That evening, when I grabbed my phone to text him, I felt a little mischievous. I decided to keep the New York trip to myself for now.

Tuesday, May 2, 2024today 8:45pm ME: Hey, how’s your day going? MANHATTAN: Not bad, just finished practice. How about you? ME: Same old, same old. Classes, assignments, you know the drill. MANHATTAN: Ah, the glamorous life of a student. Anything exciting on the horizon?

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to spill the beans.

ME: Nothing too crazy. Just trying to survive this semester. MANHATTAN: You’ve got this. I believe in you, San Diego. ME: Thanks, Manhattan. I appreciate that. MANHATTAN: Anytime. So, what’s on your mind? ME: Honestly, just thinking about how much I’d love to get away for a bit. You know, escape the routine. MANHATTAN: I hear you. If you ever find yourself in need of a change of scenery, you know where to find me 😉

I smiled to myself, knowing that in just a few weeks, I would be much closer to him than he realized.

ME: I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: Good. I’d be happy to play tour guide if you ever made it to the Big Apple. ME: I’ll have to remember that. You seem like you’d be a pretty good tour guide. MANHATTAN: Oh, I am. You’d be in excellent hands.

I chuckled, the idea of actually seeing him in person lingering in the back of my mind. But for now, I decided to keep the surprise to myself.

ME: I’ll bet. Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. MANHATTAN: I hope so. It would be fun.

A sense of anticipation buzzed through me. The thought of being in New York, in his city, and surprising him with my presence was exciting. It was something to look forward to, something just for me, and maybe for him too—when the time was right.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[horoscope1078]

Can you do Jack Hughes please? 🙏

Jack 😊

Sun in Taurus. Jack has a strong, steady presence. As a Taurus, he likely values stability and enjoys the finer things in life. He’s practical, determined, and probably has a love for nature and comfort.

With his Moon in Aquarius, Jack is likely innovative and values his independence. He probably has a unique emotional perspective and a strong sense of friendship and community.

Mercury in Gemini gives Jack quick wit and excellent communication skills. He likely thinks fast and enjoys learning, making him adaptable both on and off the ice.

Venus in Aries. Jack’s Venus placement suggests he’s passionate in relationships and isn’t afraid to take the lead. He might be spontaneous and adventurous in love.

With Mars in Sagittarius (retrograde), Jack probably has a strong drive for exploration and freedom. He may sometimes feel like his energy is scattered but ultimately channels it into his ambitions.

Jupiter in Gemini. Jupiter here enhances his curiosity and ability to connect with others. He likely thrives on social interactions and learning new things, which may also help him in team dynamics.

Saturn in Gemini. This placement suggests Jack takes his responsibilities seriously but may also struggle with indecision at times. He likely values clear communication and may work hard to develop his skills.

Uranus in Aquarius. Jack is probably quite forward-thinking and original. He may embrace change and innovation, both in his personal life and career.

With Neptune in Aquarius, Jack may have a strong intuition and creative vision. He might also be drawn to humanitarian efforts or causes.

Pluto in Sagittarius. This placement suggests a deep desire for transformation and growth, particularly through experiences that broaden his horizons, like travel or education.

North Node in Cancer. Jack’s life path involves nurturing and emotional connections. He may need to focus on developing his softer side and forming deeper bonds with others.

Lilith in Aquarius. This indicates a strong sense of individuality and rebellion against norms. Jack likely embraces his uniqueness and may challenge traditional expectations.

Chiron in Sagittarius. Chiron here suggests that Jack might experience wounds related to beliefs or philosophy, but he has the potential to heal and grow through his experiences.

Jack Hughes has a mix of grounded determination and creative energy. He often experiences inner tension between his goals and emotions, which can lead to mood swings. His serious side pushes him to work hard, but he also has a rebellious streak and a strong desire for independence. Jack is a warm communicator with a knack for building positive relationships and attracting good fortune. His emotional sensitivity fuels his creativity and depth, though he sometimes struggles with escapism. His sharp communication style shows his passion, and he balances practicality with imagination well.

[aewasp]

Between both WIPs, I'm way better off than I am now!

you are personally and directly hit by a bus¹ and isekai-ed, via resurrection, into the body of the main character your most recent WIP

reblog and tell me: on a scale of 1–10, how screwed are you right now?

¹ this is, transparently, a plot device, so if you are about to tell me "joke's on you, I never leave my fifteenth floor apartment!" then you may rest assured it will have tremendous comedic value when the bus is launched into the sky and crashes through your apartment wall to flatten you anyway

[kensatou]

i watch baseball for the side quests

update: i think you should look at the reblogs for more important baseball hijinks

[inc-immigrationnewscanada]

Shawn Simpson, Ottawa's beloved hockey voice, Passes Away at 56

The Ottawa sports community is mourning the sudden and sorrowful loss of Shawn Simpson, affectionately known as “Simmer,” who died at the age of 56. Simpson was a cherished former NHL player, executive, and a prominent broadcaster at TSN 1200, leaving behind a legacy that touched the hearts of many in Ottawa and beyond. A Voice That Resonated with FansFrom Ice to Airwaves: A Storied CareerAn…

[sporclechezchunklets]

New quiz, for a new hockey season (and a new team)! They've played a regular-season game, they scored some goals in it (and people assisted on those goals), and so Utah Hockey Club now have all-time top scorers.

There was some debate this summer, given the circumstances, over whether Utah Hockey Club counts as a continuation of Jets 1.0/Coyotes or whether they are a new outfit entirely. The answer officially is the latter, although of course individual fans are free to interpret things the way they wish! In any case, my Sporcle hockey quizzes will follow the official line -- among other things, it makes the updating easier.