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theemporium · 7 months ago

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[14.5k] ethan edwards was prepared for his rookie year in the nhl. he just wasn't prepared for a rat infestation, an unlikely roommate and to fall in love too. (smutty scenes mostly implied)

aka a fic based in the future when ethan finally joins the devils so don’t take anything remotely seriously!

happy birthday @httplando!! enjoy the belated birthday fic🤠gonna go mute you now before you spam my phone with voice notes of you giggling over ethan xoxo

SEPTEMBER

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He had long come to terms with the fact he was in the National Hockey League. It still felt surreal but the reality had long sunk in since the day he was drafted. This was his goal. This was his dream. And he had made it.

And he knew it would be different from hockey in any other league he had played. He knew it would be faster, harder, more demanding than college hockey. He knew that he would be pushing his body to levels he had never experienced. He knew he was mentally going to go through some of the toughest months of his life as he settled into the big leagues. He knew he was taking the sport he loved to a whole new level and he was prepared for that.

He was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t prepared to fall in love with you.

More than that, he wasn’t prepared to fall in love and not fucking realise it. Especially when you were his fucking roommate.

Though, when he thought about it, the signs from the universe directing you onto his life path was there long before his first game as a New Jersey Devil.

“Have you signed for a place yet?” Luke had asked him during the summer, somewhere in the days between wakeboarding and sunbathing and enjoying the freedom of his last stress-free summer before he entered the professional league.

“I’ve got a few potential options but it’s fine,” Ethan had replied, dozing off on the sunlounger with his eyes closed beneath his sunglasses. “I’ve got time before training camp starts. There’s no rush.”

And honestly? It was his own stupid ignorance that led to the karma of his current situation.

“We do apologise, Mr Edwards, but there is nothing we can do. The building manager won’t be able to fix the problems before your move in date and we have no available lots to accommodate you until the problems are solved.”

Ethan tried to let the woman’s soothing voice calm him, but it was hard to find any peace in the words she was saying. “So, I’m homeless?”

“Once again, we do apologise for the inconvenience but the apartment is completely inhabitable.”

Because of fucking course he would find himself scrambling for last minute accommodation in Jersey, days before he was meant to meet his new team and start settling in to his rookie year. The universe couldn’t be too nice to him, not in the year he knew was going to be one of the roughest of his life.

So, he did what any sane person would do and had a total breakdown on the phone to his mother. And then he called Luke, feeling somewhat spiteful that the boy jinxed his luck earlier that summer. The least he could do is help him out now.

After Luke had spent the first five minutes laughing because, in his words, “who the fuck has a rat infested apartment in Jersey?”

“Can you help me or not?” Ethan sighed, fingers pressed against his temples in hopes it would ease the ache that had been lingering behind his eyes since he first picked up the phone from the estate agent that morning.

“I mean, I’m sure Nico or one of the other guys wouldn’t mind taking you in. Jack stayed with—” Luke started but a distressed noise from Ethan cut him short.

“Yeah but Jack was, like, eighteen. I’m meant to be a fucking college graduate,” Ethan grumbled, his cheeks burning. “What impression would that set for the guys on the team?”

Luke paused. “You’re absolutely reading far too much into this.”

Ethan scoffed. “I think my reaction is justified.”

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled under his breath before sighing. “I have a friend that was looking for a roommate, actually. You could always stay with them until your place is sorted. The apartment isn’t too far from the rink.”

“Someone on the team?”

“No, someone else.”

Ethan blinked. “You have friends outside of hockey? Outside of me?”

“Yes, Ethan, I have other friends. You aren’t my only friend.”

“You think you know people and they stab you in the back,” Ethan sighed, far too dramatically (in Luke’s opinion).

“Look, do you want the place or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan quickly spoke up. “That would be perfect. Send me your friend’s number.”

Now, when Luke had told Ethan that he had a friend—a non-hockey friend, at that—that was looking for a roommate, he wasn’t exactly sure what or who was expecting. He didn’t like to make assumptions on people when he knew little to nothing about them. It didn’t feel polite.

But he feels like he’s pretty fucking justified in feeling duped by the youngest Hughes brother when he finds out his new roommate isn’t a guy at all.

In Ethan’s opinion, that feels like pretty fucking important information to reveal before he shows up at your door with his car down below packed up with bags and boxes down in the carpark.

Because now, he looks like a fucking idiot when you open the door and he is left standing there, frozen and mouth open like a fish whilst every English word is thrown out of his head.

“You must be Ethan,” you said eventually, because Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to speak after a painful thirty seconds. “Luke’s friend?”

“Uh yeah,” he cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his reaction with blushing cheeks. “Thank you so much, by the way. You’re really doing me a huge favour.”

“Luke said you were desperate.”

Ethan wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. Not really.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he tried to laugh off, though your face remained mostly unimpressed. “So—”

“Your room is the one on the left. Your bathroom is right next door. Three cupboards have been emptied for you in the kitchen and you have the top shelves in the fridge,” you stated, so matter-of-factly that Ethan could only blink in response. “Any questions?”

“No?”

“Great,” and with that, you wandered further into the apartment, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway dumbfounded.

…

OCTOBER

It didn’t take long for Ethan to realise you had some walls around you, and small talk was certainly not the way to get past them.

It was a shift to the roommates he was used to, fresh out of college and having spent the better part of the last four years staying with some of his closest friends and teammates. But it wasn’t totally unwelcome on his part. It was kind of nice to have a space that wasn’t so…hockey.

And it helped that he had his own space.

September passed in the blink of an eye and soon training camp became the real deal. It felt surreal to think he was really in the NHL now, that he was a professional hockey player, that this was his job and his livelihood now.

But it also felt fucking great.

The schedule of an NHL player was no joke and it was certainly not something Luke exaggerated—despite what Ethan assumed during the summer. It was intense and tiring and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else.

Except maybe his ice cold, standoffish roommate.

As the regular season began, Ethan had come to a few conclusions.

One: you were not a morning person, especially before having any form of caffeine. That was something he learnt the hard way.

Early morning practices were nothing new to Ethan. He wasn’t exactly an early bird, but his body had trained itself to familiarise itself with the early mornings after years and years of playing hockey. It was the norm for him, to be awake as the sun started peeking through the horizon and the rest of the world was about to wake up.

He wouldn’t call himself chipper, not really. He was just as energetic as he normally is.

You seemed to disagree.

“Morning, stranger!” Ethan greeted you as you shuffled into the kitchen, with a boyish grin on his face and a spatula in hand.

You didn’t even glance at him as you shuffled towards the fridge.

“Not a morning person, got it,” Ethan nodded, biting back his smile as you turned to glare at him.

“It’s half six in the morning,” you grumbled. “Why are you so loud?”

“My mum says it’s a part of my charm.”

You didn’t look very amused in response.

The following mornings seemed to fit the same routine. Even on the days he didn’t have practice or meetings, Ethan would find himself waking up early and starting his day around the same time you would be up for work. He would be chatty, you would look like you wanted to gauge his eyes out. It was oddly comforting.

Somewhere in the middle of the second week of this fixed routine, he began to feel confident enough in watching your routine to know exactly what you needed the second you walked out your room.

“Good morning!”

You blinked, staring at the steaming mug he was currently offering you. It took you a few seconds to process the sight before you realised you hadn’t spoken.

“What’s this?” You questioned, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Coffee. Made exactly the way you like it.” Ethan stayed confidently, his grin widening as you took a sip and let out an appreciative hum.

“Thanks,” was all you said before shuffling around the kitchen to continue with the rest of his routine.

On the days he was in Jersey, there was always a coffee cup waiting for you every morning.

Two: you were always cold. Always. No matter what the temperature was outside.

In all honesty, Ethan didn’t get it at all. From what he had gathered in his conversations with you and what Luke told him, you had spent a fair chunk of your life in New Jersey so, if he was being honest, he thought you would have been somewhat used to the colder temperatures.

But walking into the apartment after afternoon practice to find you bundled on the couch like you were in a blizzard told Ethan that assumption was far from the truth.

“Did the heating break?” was the first thing he asked when he saw you, a wave of concern washing over him as he dumped his bags at the door and made his way to the thermostat.

“No,” you murmured from somewhere in the pile of blankets. “S’just cold.”

Ethan paused, reading the thermostat before turning back to you with an amused expression on his face. “It’s kinda warm for Jersey in October today.”

There was a bit of rustling before your head popped up from amongst the blankets, your eyes narrowed in accusation. “Not all of us are professional athletes sweating their asses off for two hours.”

“In an ice rink,” he added with a grin.

Your glare hardened.

“Do you want a hot water bottle?”

You paused for a few moments before nodding with a sheepish expression. “Please.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh before he made his way into the kitchen, kettle filled and turned on before he went to hunt down the hot water bottle he was pretty sure his mother had packed away somewhere in his stuff when he moved away from Michigan.

He returned a few minutes later, lightly nudging the pile of blankets until your face popped up again and your eyes softened at the hot water bottle. He couldn’t help but giggle at the way you quickly snatched it from him, murmuring your thanks as it disappeared under the blankets.

“Any time,” Ethan said, and he meant it.

Three: you really didn’t open up to strangers. Or roommates. Or anyone, really.

He wasn’t exactly sure how Luke Hughes of all people managed to wiggle his way into a friendship with you, but it was an anomaly that had been wracking his brain for the last few weeks.

It was a week or so before Halloween and he was laying on the couch, his brows furrowed together as he tried to scroll through the internet for an idea of what he could wear to the Halloween party one of the boys were hosting.

“Why do you look constipated?”

His head snapped up, finding you standing at the end of the couch. You had two smoothies in your hand, the bag you take to your classes still on your shoulder and your shoes still on. He briefly glanced at the time, frowning a little when he realised he had been sitting there for the better part of two hours before he turned back to you.

“Trying to figure out a last minute Halloween costume,” he told you, eyebrows raised in surprise as you handed him one of the smoothies. He smiled as he took it, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp before you settled down on the other side of the couch. “I wanted to do something with Seamus and Luke but Seamus said he had his sorted and Luke said he was doing a joint costume with someone else.”

“Oh yeah, me,” you answered casually and Ethan tried to hide his shock.

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah?” You responded, giving him an odd look. “Luke always invites me to these things. He’s also hopeless with costumes.”

“I didn’t realise you and Luke were so…close,” he said vaguely, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised what his words sounded like. “Not that it’s any of my business—”

“You’re right, it’s not.” You shrugged, taking a long sip from your smoothie before continuing. “But he’s one of my closest friends.”

Ethan nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at your words. “How did you two meet?”

“The strip club.”

Ethan blanched.

“Geez, you’re more gullible than Luke,” you commented, the hint of a smile on your lips. “You ask a lot of questions, Edwards.”

“I’m a nosy person,” he answered honestly with a shrug. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because there isn’t much to it.”

And, in your defence, he knew you didn’t owe him any answers. But he was curious and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how close you and Luke were—close enough for you to willingly accept one of Luke’s friends as your roommate for an indefinite amount of time.

And, at the crux of it, he didn’t understand how Luke was able to get through to you when he couldn’t.

Ethan was never one to brag but he was a magnet for people. It helped him thrive in hockey, always willing to be that guy on the team that people feel like they could always talk to. It helped him thrive at university, being a social butterfly that could always make a friend in any situation.

It usually helped.

So yeah, maybe Ethan was a little stumped why you didn’t seem to want to be his friend, not in the way you were with Luke and some of the other guys on the team. It seemed like being your roommate added a wall he didn’t know how to break down.

And when the Halloween party happened, it felt like seeing a whole new person when you were chatting and laughing with Luke.

You looked more at ease as you stood next to him, happily sipping on whatever drink he had gotten for you from the kitchen. You seemed more relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you laughed at whatever joke Curtis had made at Luke’s expense.

It fuelled a fire for Ethan, one he hadn’t realised had been started before that night. But he didn’t just want to be your roommate anymore, he didn’t like having that wall between you.

He wanted to be your friend too.

…

NOVEMBER

Three months into the NHL told Ethan that it was really no joke.

He was expecting the more intense training and physical playing. He was expecting his body to feel more tired, more hungry, more sore. He was expecting the ruthless journalists and vocal fans and tougher coaches.

He wasn’t expecting the mental toll of realising that hockey was all he had in his life.

It was stupid to complain about, considering it was his dream and all, but it was true. Hockey was his whole world right now. He woke up thinking about hockey, he went to the rink thinking about hockey, he made his dinner thinking about hockey, and then he went to sleep thinking about hockey.

Nine times out of ten, he dreamt about hockey too.

It was different to the hockey he knew growing up, or the hockey he experienced in Michigan. Because at least in Michigan, there were classes or parties or concerts or something to take his mind off hockey.

But it wasn’t the same in New Jersey.

There were hangouts with Luke and Seamus, or team bonding sessions organised by Nico. There were drinks at the bar after a good game to celebrate, or a particularly bad one they needed cheering up after. There were fun trips around cities he had never properly explored when they were away on roadies.

But it was all still linked to hockey.

And he guessed he wasn’t great at hiding his conundrum when Nico skated up beside him near the end of practice, throwing out the offer to grab a coffee and chat after they finished their debrief with the coaching staff.

For what it was worth, Nico didn’t think he sounded stupid when he explained himself. If anything, the captain was quite understanding.

“I had it when I first moved,” he had confessed as they sat in some urban coffee shop in a part of the city Ethan hadn’t properly explored before. But Nico swore up and down it had the best coffee to offer. “I was young and I was here for hockey so I thought my whole life had to be hockey.”

“What changed?” Ethan asked, hands wrapped around the big mug his latte was in like it would give him something to do, something to focus on rather than the restless itch under his skin.

“The older guys,” Nico said with a knowing smile. “The ones that learnt how to balance life and hockey. The ones with wives and families and friends outside of the team.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed together. “You think I should go get married?”

“Not right away,” Nico laughed, shaking his head. “But I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in the rookie year nonsense and everything. And you should be enjoying that, for sure. But there’s more to life than hockey, which is quite hard to believe right now. But it’s true, whether it’s a wife—or husband—and family or a hobby or a group of friends you can be a different Ethan with.”

Ethan nodded, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. “Hobbies?”

“Yeah, something different to hockey,” Nico explained. “Something that doesn’t require you to give up too much time and take your focus away from hockey, but instead be a respite from everything. Like cooking!”

He blinked. “Cooking?”

“You cook right now because you have to and you follow the diet plan the trainers give you. But you can find enjoyment in cooking because you want to,” Nico assured him, leaning back in his chair with a sure expression. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

As it turns out, the worst that could happen is that Ethan is a fucking horrible cook.

He tried to hold back his coughs, waving the tea towel aimlessly under the beeping fire alarm before he raced to the windows in hopes they would help get rid of the smoke. Or at least get the alarm to stop.

The one meal outside of his diet plan and he almost burned the apartment complex down trying to cook it.

Go figure.

He had collapsed on the couch an hour later, two pizza boxes lying on the table in front of him as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door lock turning but did freeze when he heard you cough a little.

“Fuck, why does it smell like a shitty barbeque in here?”

Ethan turned to you, a sheepish expression on his face as he lifted one of the pizza boxes as a peace offering. “Does pizza count as a ‘sorry for almost burning the place down’ gift?”

You eyed the pizza box and then his face before you took the seat next to him. “Normally I would say no but you look like you had a pretty rough time, so I’ll accept it this time.”

“Geez, thanks,” Ethan snorted.

“What were you even trying to cook anyways?” You questioned, taking a silence of margarita pizza and taking a large bite. You resisted the urge to let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m glad whatever it was. I couldn’t be bothered cooking today.”

“Rough shift?” Ethan asked.

“Bitchy manager was on tonight,” you added with a grumble.

“Fucking Jerry,” Ethan tsked, shaking his head.

You turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m delaying. There’s a difference,” Ethan corrected.

You hummed. “Okay, so why are you delaying?”

Ethan shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza box open on the coffee table in front of him. “S’stupid, no big deal. Promise.”

You were silent for a few moments before you spoke. “Is this the point where I take the bait and beg for you to tell me why you’re upset?”

He snorted, but it at least wrangled a smile out of him. “I’m not stressed. Just…overwhelmed.”

“With hockey?” You asked, but there was no malice or teasing in your voice. Just curiosity.

“I know this is what I wanted but it’s just…so much. I’ve never had hockey be everything in my life, there was always something else. And now I feel like I’m drowning and no matter how much I keep kicking, I’m no closer to the surface. And the older guys seem so put together and I was trying to take their advice but it isn’t really working out and—” Ethan paused, his cheeks flushing a light pink colour when he realised he had begun rambling. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you replied and he was almost shocked to see the sincerity on your face. “It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed. It’s a big jump. It would be weirder if you weren’t more stressed.”

He swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you began, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table as you turned your body on the couch until you were facing him. “Your life will never be normal again. You’ve been shoved into the spotlight and you will continue to be there forever. That’s overwhelming as fuck. And you’re trying to catch up with a bunch of guys who have been here for years, who have had seasons to figure out who they are and who they want to be. It was always going to be an uphill battle.”

Something in his chest warmed at your understanding.

“Guess I have a lot to look forward to then, huh?” He tried joking because it felt easier than trying to say the words that were getting stuck in the back of his throat.

“I get it,” you explained with a small nod. “Not at the same level, but I get it. Every day I wake up and I know I’m working towards the thing I want to do for the rest of my life but, fuck, some days are just harder than others. I feel like I’m sacrificing so much of my ‘best years’ doing this and sometimes I just…wonder if it’s worth it.”

“That’s intense,” Ethan murmured with his lips turned downwards.

You gave him a sad smile. “Life can be overwhelming in a lot of ways. It’s just about finding things that help us…destress, I guess.”

“Which is hard to do when you’re a rookie in the NHL who doesn’t know who the fuck he is anymore or a student spending every free moment working her ass off in a shitty job with a shitty manager to pay for college,” Ethan added with a sorrowful smile of his own.

“Bingo,” you snorted.

“So,” Ethan sighed as he settled back against the couch. “What’s our game plan?”

You raised your brows. “Game plan?”

“Yeah, what are we gonna do to destress? We can help each other,” Ethan stated like it was obvious. “Like a ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ situation.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not scratching your back.”

Ethan tilted his head, a grin on his lips. “So I’m assuming massages are off the table too?”

His laugh echoed through the apartment as you threw a pillow at his face.

If Ethan was being completely honest, he didn’t think finding a destressing hobby would be so…stressful.

He had tried asking a few other guys on the team for inspiration and advice. It hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped. Though, at least he knew a handful of weird facts about the boys he played with, so it wasn’t completely useless. Team bonding and all that jazz.

But the hobby-searching was starting to reach a point where he thought about it more than hockey.

He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him. So many of the guys on the team had shared the hobbies they had outside of hockey to help relax. He even spoke to some of the UMich boys that had joined the NHL before him for some advice too. But nothing really clicked, nothing shut his brain off.

Golfing was too time-consuming to enjoy during the regular season. The mediocre attempt at knitting resulted in a massive knotted ball of yarn being chucked into the bin. He tried reading but got bored after the first few chapters. And it felt a bit pathetic and mind-numbing (the bad kind) when he found himself watching the third episode in a row of some trashy reality TV show that had been playing.

Nothing was giving him that relief and that step away from the busy, hectic schedule an NHL player brought.

“You got a new potential hobby for us?”

Ethan lifted his head to see you closing the front door behind you, bundled in about five layers of clothing you were slowly deshedding before you made your way over to him. He watched as your eyes went to the mess on the coffee table, your lips pressed together to hold back your laugh.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, tilting your head like it would help you figure out the little project he had been working on since you left for your class a few hours ago.

“It’s meant to be a model plane,” Ethan sighed, a tad too dramatic before he turned to you with a pout on his face. “Johnny said it was easy. He used to do them when he was, like, ten years old. I think he is lying to me.”

You snorted. “Or maybe he followed the instructions.”

Ethan frowned. “There’s instructions?”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughs as you settled on the couch beside him. There was a hint of deja vu to that day a few weeks ago—the day Ethan likes to believe the start of your buddying friendship began.

“You’ll find something,” you reassured him, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“I think some of the guys are just messing with me with some of the hobbies they suggest,” Ethan confessed. “Curtis does not seem like a knitter at all.”

You laughed. “Yeah no, he was definitely messing with you.”

“Knew it,” Ethan grumbled before shrugging. “Seamus thinks I’m just being dramatic.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” you retorted.

He shot you a look but you didn’t seem too bothered by his glare.

“He thinks I just need to get laid,” Ethan murmured, his eyes settling back on the lump on the coffee table that was supposed to resemble a plane.

“So why don’t you?”

Ethan blinked as he turned back to you. “Why don’t I, what?”

“Why don’t you just go get laid?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you were properly facing him. “Are you a virgin?”

Ethan startled. “What? No. No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Then I can’t imagine it would be too difficult for you to find someone.”

“Thanks?” Ethan frowned a little before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, s’just a little much right now. I don’t really wanna go and sleep with anyone. And I’m a little too busy to properly start something with someone, you know? It wouldn’t be fair on them if I was…flaky.”

“What if we slept together?”

Ethan let out a choked noise of surprise.

You gave him an odd look. “What?”

“Us? Sleep together? Like sex?” Ethan blurted out, his voice a little more high pitched than usual.

“Well, I don’t mean just having a sleepover,” you answered with a shrug.

His brows furrowed together. “Would it not be…weird?”

“No, why would it be?” You retorted, sounding so sure of yourself. “I’m busy, you’re busy. I guess you’re attractive and if you find me attractive too, I don’t see what the issue is. It’s convenient for us both.”

His eyes narrowed. “You guess I’m attractive?”

“This is not the time for your ego,” you huffed, though he could see your lips twitching upwards.

“No no, this is the perfect time for my ego,” Ethan started, his back straightening as he sat up in his seat.

“Are you in or not?”

His eyes dropped down to your lips for a few moments before returning to your eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m in.”

…

DECEMBER

As it would turn out, it was far from weird. It was actually pretty fucking great.

The awkward tension Ethan expected to rise from the first time you two slept together didn’t actually happen. The next day, everything was back to normal and, if it weren’t for the hickeys dotted over his torso, he would have assumed he dreamt the whole thing up.

It was surprisingly refreshing. The buddying friendship between you and Ethan continued to grow as the days passed, just like he wanted, there was just also the added bonus that sometimes the two of you fucked to let off some steam.

And as much as it pained him to say, Seamus was right. He just needed to get laid. He just needed to go back to something he knew he would always be good at, that didn’t take up too much space in his brain and felt as natural as breathing to him.

He just needed to feel someone else’s body pressed up against him, whispered moans of his name doing more to help shut up that voice in the back of his head far better than the crowds of fans screaming and chanting his name.

He was really missing out for all these with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

“Ethan.”

“Hm?”

“We can’t.”

“I think we can,” he murmured against your neck, his smile pressed against your skin as he placed a line of chaste kisses just below your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered close as his large hand splayed against your stomach, fingers brushing over your heated skin as he settled on the bed behind you. “You’re gonna miss your bus,” you managed to mutter out, a little breathless as you felt him rolling his hips against your ass.

“They won’t leave without me,” he assured you as he tugged you further back into him. Your panties had been kicked off somewhere under the sheets, not that either of you cared enough to give it a second thought. It just made it easier for Ethan to slip his hand between your legs, to listen to the choked noise of surprise you let out when his finger pressed on your clit.

“That’s not how it works,” you murmured, letting out a whine when he stilled his hand between your legs, focusing on marking the spot at the base of your neck that made your arch against him. “You’re gonna miss the bus and the team will be annoyed and you’re gonna—”

“Shhhh,” Ethan mumbled against your skin. “Too much talking.”

“Ethan.”

He let out a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder where he pressed a soft kiss there before lifting his head to shoot you a look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured with a snort. “It’s a seven day roadie. You’ll survive.”

“Maybe I’m really stressed about it,” he shot back. “Maybe a quickie before I leave would help me destress.”

You shook your head in amusement. “You’d be a lot less stressed if you weren’t thirty minutes late already.”

Ethan’s head snapped over to the clock on your bedside table. “Shit.”

“Told you so!” You called out as he scrambled his way towards the bathroom for the quickest shower of his life.

“Shut up!”

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?” Ethan questioned, leaning down to lace up his skates with the efficiency of a man who had spent the better part of his life in ice skates. He didn’t notice the shit-eating grin on Luke’s face until he sat back up and found the boy staring at him. “What?”

“Well, either the rats from your old apartment have found your new place and decided to take revenge or there’s a different reason for the marks on your back,” Luke retorted with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Marks are an understatement,” Seamus snorted, sitting on the stall on the other side of Ethan. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being stuck between the two of them. “Your back is mauled, dude. Who did you sleep with, a werewolf?”

“No,” Ethan scoffed, his cheeks burning red. “Don’t be jealous you can’t get the same reaction out of a girl.”

“So there’s a girl?” Luke chimed in, like the little nosey shit he was.

“Maybe,” Ethan answered vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a casual thing. Nothing serious.”

“Glad you finally took my advice,” Seamus grinned.

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked.

To be fair, you and Ethan never discussed the logistics of your situation beyond the actual sex part. He enjoyed the little bubble the two of you shared in your apartment. It was like the two of you forgot there were other people, that the signs would be there for people to pick up on. And he wasn’t exactly sure if it was something you would want people to know, even Luke.

He tried to bargain with himself that it wasn’t serious so there was no need for Luke or the other boys to know. You two were just scratching an itch for each other, that’s it. You were still friends at the end of the day, he didn’t want to ruin that because other people thought there was something more serious.

Ethan shrugged. “Uh, you don’t know her.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “So surely it doesn’t matter if we know her name or not.”

“It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything,” Ethan retorted, squirming a little under Luke’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Coach wants us out in five minutes.”

“Subtlety is not your forte, Edwards,” Luke snorted in response.

The roadie ends up being a complete shit show.

Three games and they lost every single one of them. Three games and the loss just got worse with each game, with the final game being an embarrassing 5-1 loss. And all the boys were upset and annoyed about the results, but Ethan felt like he was going to lose his mind.

His suit felt uncomfortable and itchy against his body, like some foreign layer he desperately wanted to shed. His skin felt taut and stretched across his bones, the urge to claw at his skin so overwhelming that he forced himself to focus on picking the skin around his nails instead because it was less likely to get him odd looks from the other boys.

He had ignored Luke and Seamus’ attempts at pep-talks in the locker room, both boys seeming determined to try and reassure him the loss was not his fault—like it would stop the fumbled plays playing on a loop in his head. He watched Nico climb onto the bus, eyeing the empty seat next to him but he wasn’t in the mood to be babysat by his captain. He put his bag on the chair next to him and put his headphones on, pretending he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on him.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when they finally arrived back in New Jersey, but he didn’t care to know. He didn’t give anyone a chance to pull him back for a chat. He grabbed his bags and bolted to his car, wanting nothing more than to get out of his suit and just mope in his bed until practice in a few days.

Ethan wasn’t expecting for you to still be awake.

He jumped when he spotted you on the couch, the TV still on but on mute as it played some random sitcom he couldn’t quite remember the name of. His eyes wandered over your figure, huddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs and a Devils branded hoodie he didn’t quite know whether it was one of your own or one of his. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” you spoke up, breaking the weird, tense silence that seemed to be suffocating the apartment since he walked in.

“We left just after the game,” he replied, his voice a little raspy considering it was the first time he had spoken since the end of the game. “Boys wanted to get home.”

You nodded. “M’glad you’re back. The place is pretty quiet without you.”

It was lighthearted. It was an opening for him to plaster on a smile and pretend he was okay. It was a chance for him to escape the same awkward conversations he avoided from his teammates.

But he was tired—the bone deep kind—and he didn’t have it in himself to keep pretending. Not in front of you.

“I’m not sure I’m feeling very talkative right now,” he admitted, swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the one that had been lingering since he stepped on the bus with all his disappointed teammates.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you reassured him as you patted the spot on the couch beside you. “We can just sit in absolute silence if you want.”

“I’m not sure I want that either,” he confessed as his body slumped against the couch, melting into the fabric as he tried to ignore the constant buzzing voices in his head. “Just wanna forget the last week, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you hummed in agreement. “The refs were biassed dicks anyways. It wasn’t fair.”

He turned his head to look at you, his surprise clearly expressed on his face. “You watched?”

“I did,” you gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a pretty sight. I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t make a noise complaint against me when they put Luke in the box.”

And despite himself, he couldn’t help but snort. “They had it out for him and Jack.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Dicks.”

His lips twitched upwards. “Dicks indeed.”

Ethan let his head fall back against the back of the couch, let the exhaustion settle in as his eyes fluttered shut and, for the first time in the last week, let himself have some semblance of relaxation even if his brain was still on overdrive.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” you started and his body instantly tensed up at your words. And maybe you would feel his body lock up, considering his thigh was pressed against yours and the couch wasn’t all that big either. “But I am here if you want to talk. Have someone who’s not on the team to listen to you.”

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Just feel like I let them down.”

“You didn’t,” your voice soft but sincere. “And I bet the boys would agree.”

“I just…” he let out a sigh, keeping his eyes closed because it somehow made the next few sentences easier to say out loud. “I know no one likes losing. I would be a pretty bad professional athlete if I liked losing. But, I don’t know, it just…sucks more now.”

“Because the stakes are higher?”

“Because there’s more people seeing my mistakes,” he murmured, his words short and sharp. “This is all unreal. Being able to live out my dream and play in the NHL. But every time I make a mistake, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke or I have been moved down or I get dropped and that’s the end of my career.”

There was a short pause.

“I’m scared it’s all gonna be for nothing.”

He wasn’t sure what response he expected. Truthfully, he had no intentions of ever telling you any of this. Or anyone for that matter. He had no intentions of ever saying the words out loud, letting them fester and swirl around in the back of his mind when he was left with his thoughts alone for too long.

And yet, he had just blurted them out to you.

Maybe he was more tired than he realised.

“Why did you keep playing hockey?”

Ethan frowned a little, his eyes blinking back open as he turned to look at you again. “What?”

“Why did you keep playing hockey?” You asked again, something swirling in your eyes but he couldn’t quite work out what. “It’s one thing to be a fan. You’re Canadian so I guess you kinda have to be. And I assume your parents put you into lessons. But why did you keep up with it? Why did you keep playing?”

“Because I love the sport,” he answered without any hesitation.

“Exactly, you love the sport,” you repeated with a soft smile on your lips. “It’s why you stayed. It’s why you play the next game even if you lost the last one. It’s why it’s your dream, why you kept working towards the NHL. And even after the shit show of the roadie, it’s why you will go out and play the next game.”

Ethan stayed silent but he didn’t move his eyes away from yours.

“It’s normal to have doubts. It’s normal to second guess yourself and assume the worst and let yourself spiral,” you continued. “It’s your rookie year. It isn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t easy for Luke, for Seamus, for any of the boys. But you love the sport and the sport loved you back. Even on the bad days.”

“That was poetic,” he murmured, his voice a little raspy and thick with emotion.

“I was great at English in school,” you retorted with a grin. “You’re allowed to feel scared. And you’re allowed to be upset after you lose. But you’re a part of the team, nobody is putting the loss on your shoulders and you shouldn’t either. It’s your weight to bear together.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nico message you?”

You snorted, and something about the sound made his chest tighten. In a good way, though.

“No, but considering how fast you got here, I would be wary that he will probably show up tomorrow morning to take you for a coffee check up,” you murmured. “Or he will corner you in the locker room.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For listening and stuff.”

You flashed him a smile as you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s what friends are for.”

It was almost ironic that Ethan had spent the last few months working towards the title of your friend, only to feel almost disappointed when you said it.

Nico had been the one to organise the New Years Party.

All the boys from the team were there. There were other Devils employees from the marketing, media and training teams. There were friends and friends-of-friends. There were people he had never met before.

But it was a party and the buzz of the new year was humming through them all, and somewhere amongst it all, someone had suggested a game of truth or dare.

Ethan thinks it was Curtis, who was just drunk and nosy and a bit bored.

“Right, Baby Hughes, you gotta pick!”

Luke let out a groan, slumping into the person next to him—a chuckling John Marino who seemed amused by the glint in Curtis’ eyes—before nodding. “I feel targeted.”

Curtis grinned. “Never.”

“You’ve asked me every single time,” Luke grumbled under his breath, cheeks tinted pink and warm. “Surely this is against the rules. Right, Cap?”

Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Do not drag me into this!”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So much for looking out for your boys.”

“Pick someone else before he starts getting whiny,” Jack called out, grinning widely as he dodged Luke’s elbow to his side. “I don’t wanna hear him bitching on the way back home.”

“Fine, fine,” Curtis snorted, eyes scanning over the busy room before his eyes paused on Ethan. “Alright, Edwards, rookie’s turn. Truth or dare.”

Ethan straightened a little, something determined in his eyes. “Truth,” he answered with a grin. “I’ve been warned of your dares.”

“Smart,” Jesper coughed under his breath.

“Truth, he says,” Curtis mused as he sat back in his seat, contemplative and cunning before he spoke again.

“Play nice,” Nico teased.

“Cap’s orders,” Curtis hummed before he spoke. “Alright then, rookie, fess up. Which teammate is your least favourite? Name and shame.”

Ethan blinked. “This feels like a trap.”

“Oh, it certainly is,” Ondrej snorted.

“Don’t take him seriously,” Luke spoke up, leaning his head back to catch Ethan’s gaze. “He did the same to me and Simon. And Seamus last year. It’s his thing.”

Ethan raised his brows. “Is there a right answer?”

“Hey, no cheating!” Curtis called out.

“Maybe my answer is you,” Ethan called back teasingly.

“Oh, pretty boy has some fire,” the older man laughed, happily and drunkenly but it seemed enough to satisfy him before Nico was rounding everyone around for the midnight countdown.

The funny thing was that Ethan always knew that hockey was a team sport and every team he had ever played on—from the peewee team he played on as a kid to the boys he played with in UMich—every single one of them felt like a family, a place where he belonged and a team he loved both on and off ice.

The Devils had been another one of those teams—his newest family. It had been terrifying, a lingering thought in the back of his head since he had been drafted. Every team he played for before were teams he would move on from, stepping stones in his dreams. But the NHL was at the top and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He didn’t want to feel left out from his new family.

The Devils family had welcomed him with open arms.

He truly couldn’t complain. He felt a connection with these boys on and off the ice, he felt like the newest member in this patchwork family that was really cared for. Even now, as the seconds ticked down to midnight, there was warmth and camaraderie in the air as they welcomed the new year.

And yet, it was the most devastating loneliness he had ever felt in his life.

Because the clock struck twelve and the cheers echoed through the house and yet, his eyes were searching in the crowd of people. Searching for the one person he wanted by his side. Searching for the first person he has ever had the urge to kiss into the new year.

Because Ethan Edwards spent breaking in the new year wishing he was beside you.

…

JANUARY

New Years opened his eyes in ways that he hadn’t really considered before.

Unfortunately, eye opening nights are a bit difficult to focus on when you’re a professional athlete in the NHL hitting January in your rookie year. Because they were only half way through the regular season in one of the most physically and mentally intense years of his life, and he was a bit too fucking tired to have emotional epiphanies.

Which was fine if it weren’t for the fact he was currently in the middle of drills and his brain was definitely not focused on hockey.

“Edwards!”

Ethan blinked, his body moving before his brain could properly catch up. He had never been more grateful for the military-routine of drills he had been doing for as long as he had been skating.

His muscles were screaming by the time the boys were starting to head back into the locker room, laughing and shoving each other and discussing strategies for the game against the Sabres the following day. But he lingered behind, stick twisting in his hand as he tapped a few pucks closer to the net.

He had tried not to stare at the person lingering on the ice behind him, watching him, observing him.

He managed five shots before the person spoke up.

“You should lower your right hand a little,” Jack called out, lingering at the blue line. “It will help with the shot.”

His next shot hit the back corner perfectly.

Ethan straightened his back, nodding a little before glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Jack responded, taking it as his cue to skate closer towards him. “You good? You should be getting some rest before the game tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just…wanted some extra practice on my shots,” Ethan said, shrugging his shoulders. “It needs some work.”

Jack nodded. “You’re having a good year.”

“Could be better,” Ethan retorted before he could stop himself. It was meant to be lighthearted, playful even. Instead, it came out a little self-deprecating and he winced at himself.

“It gets better,” Jack assured him, his expression a little softer. “The rookie year is always the worst, the media attention and expectations and everything. But it gets better when you find yourself, find your footing.”

“I know,” he murmured because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Nobody really talked about Jack’s rookie year. Not in much detail, not beyond a few comments here and there he had heard over the years in the lakehouse.

He was more than grateful that his own rookie year wasn’t anything like Jack’s.

“Enjoy it,” Jack continued, a kind expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to work out why Jack was given the ‘A’ on his jersey. “I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the critics get to you too much. They just wanna put pressure on you, make you squirm.”

And oh.

Because now Ethan was standing there, staring back at Jack like a hopeless idiot, realising he and the rest of the boys probably assumed his mood had been related to hockey. To the articles written about him. To the most likely and very reasonable explanation.

Not the fact Ethan was pretty sure he liked his friends-with-benefits roommate in a not very friends-with-benefits way.

His cheeks burned at the realisation.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded helplessly, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. “No, you’re right. I…I’ll try to really enjoy it. Not get in my own head too much.”

“Good,” Jack smiled back at him, all sweet and genuine and making him feel like a bit of a dick. “I’m here if you ever need a chat, you know? And I’m better at giving advice than Luke.”

Ethan snorted. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

The issue was that despite his eye-opening realisation, Ethan Edwards quickly realised he was a bit of a coward when it came to expressing his feelings.

Or, for that matter, confronting them.

It was odd for Ethan, if he was being completely honest with himself. Because he was usually good with these kinds of things. He knew when it was a ‘no strings attached’ situation, when to remove himself from any feelings that would compliment the matter. And he knew when it was serious, when the feelings were reciprocated, when there was something more than physical between him and the other person.

But that awareness was thrown out the window when it came to you.

It was like he had a little voice in his head, desperately trying to yell out how he felt about you until Ethan reached his breaking point and did something he couldn’t take back.

So, he did what any reasonable person did and locked that little voice away, pushed it to the back of his mind where it couldn’t bother him. And then he continued living his life like he couldn’t hear the rattling box in the background of every waking moment.

It was easy with hockey. Despite his little blip at the start of the month, he managed to prevent the annoying voice affecting his game on the ice. He stayed focused and concentrated and attentive. He managed to complete his drills and find the passes and shoot some goals so none of his teammates would catch on to his lacking grasp on his feelings.

But at home? With you? He clearly wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan paused, body frozen as his brain wracked through a million different thoughts before he turned to look where you were sitting on the couch.

“Uh yeah,” he managed to blurt out, a slightly strained laugh following. “Why?”

“You’ve just seemed off the last few weeks,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like, tense and stuff.”

“S’just hockey stuff,” Ethan murmured with a stiff smile, the lie tasting bitter and acidic on his tongue. “The boys have just been talking about how playoffs are sneaking up on us and I just…guess I’ve been a little in my own head about it.”

You nodded in understanding. “You need days to chill out, you know? Take your mind off hockey.”

Ethan raised his brows. “You got any suggestions, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you retorted with a knowing smile. “I do. I know exactly what you need to get out of your head.”

“You know, when you crawled onto my lap, I was expecting a very different outcome,” Ethan murmured, struggling not to move his lips too much as he focused on the concentrating expression on your face.

“Need to get your head out of the gutter, Edwards,” you teased, biting back your smile as you continued to sweep the brush across his face, careful to avoid his eyebrows while you were at it. “Facemasks are soothing and relaxing. Plus, your skin probably needs it after all the travelling you do.”

“Excuse you,” his nose scrunched. “I have a skincare routine.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Luke told me that you ripped into Seamus after he used your fancy moisturiser.”

“It’s expensive,” he murmured in defence before the rest of your words caught up on him. “You talk about me to Luke?”

“Mostly to bitch,” you said with a lighthearted, teasing smile.

Yet, something in his chest tightened at the idea regardless.

“As long as you’re talking about me,” he shot back, something victorious washing over him at the way you laughed.

You leaned back a little, still sat on his lap with his hands on your waist to keep you balanced. You snorted at the mask covering his face before grinning. “Now, we have to keep these on for twenty minutes. And try not to move your face too much.”

Ethan ignored your words, pouting in response. “So if I asked you to make out—”

“I would tell you to fat chance,” you finished with a grin. “But I’ll admit the pink headband is really working for you.”

Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, once against ignoring the pointed look you shot him. “Enough for a kiss?”

“Enough for an episode of Pretty Little Liars,” you shot back at him, your smile widening at the sound of his groan but it still didn’t stop him from tugging you close before you could sit on the other side of the couch. “Or at least finish the one we started last night before—”

“I rocked your world?”

“Started drooling on my shoulder,” you corrected.

“That was after I made you come twice,” Ethan piped up, lightly pinching your side until you squirmed further onto his lap. “They cancel each other out.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” you snorted, eyes gleaming as you pressed play on the remote before he could come up with a witty comeback.

And, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a distant voice screaming at him to say something. Telling him this was the perfect opportunity to say something to you. To just admit how he was feeling and end the pathetic pining he had been experiencing for the last few weeks.

But the mere idea of losing this—losing you—kept his mouth shut as he finally turned his attention to the tv and pretended like his stomach didn’t twist at his own cowardice.

…

FEBRUARY

Before he knew it, they were hitting February and all the buzz in the hockey world was around All Stars.

Ethan hadn’t been too concerned about it or the discussions leading up to the reveal on which team members would be heading out for the event. His mind had been preoccupied on the season, on playoffs approaching, on you. In all honesty, All Stars hadn’t even crossed his mind until the team was being rounded up into the locker room for the announcement.

It was not too much of a surprise that Luke had been selected for the Devils (most people expected it to be one of the Hughes brothers).

However, it was a shock to hear his own name follow.

“Looks like the fans want to see more of the pretty boy,” Curtis called out, joking and teasing and, yet, it still made his cheeks burn as the boys all slapped him on the back.

“Baby’s first All Stars,” Timo cooed jokingly, reaching out to pinch his cheek but Ethan was quick to slap his hand away.

“It’s Luke’s first too,” he defended weakly, a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“At least he is losing one of his virginities,” Seamus coughed under his breath, letting out a high-pitched yelp when the younger Hughes reached to smack him across the back of his head.

“I hope you get a horrible sunburn in Mexico,” Luke retorted with a deadpan expression.

Seamus snorted. “Don’t get bitchy because your ticket is non-refundable.”

Luke reached out to slap him again but he had already run off towards the showers, laughing and shoving some of the other boys into Luke’s path to help with his escape.

Ethan shook his head in amusement.

“Enjoy it,” another voice spoke up and he turned to find Nico standing beside his stall, a kind and genuine smile on his face as he patted his shoulder. “It’s fun. Promise.”

“More fun than chilling on a beach somewhere?” Ethan retorted with a knowing smile.

“It’s up there,” Nico grinned.

“But if Michael Buble offers you anything, say no,” Jack spoke up from the other side of the locker room. “Trust me.”

“How does it feel to be with all the big boys?”

“You saying I’m not a big boy?”

“You know exactly what I meant, perv.”

It was true. Ethan knew exactly what you meant. But he could almost imagine the way you rolled your eyes when you spoke, your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows furrowed and it sent a pang of something aching through him.

It was almost too pathetic to comprehend.

All Stars was insane. Truly, absolutely, positively insane. It was one thing to watch it from the comfort of his own couch. It was a whole other thing to be a part of it. And he knew he shouldn’t be starstruck, not really. He had spent the better part of the last few months playing against some of these guys.

But being in a not-as-competitive setting with the likes of Sidney Crosby and Nathan MacKinnon was a surreal experience he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around since he arrived.

And yet, here he was, all smiley and giddy and excited over the fact you had called him. The fact that you missed him enough, that you were thinking about him enough to call him whilst he was away.

“I stand by my question,” Ethan replied, shuffling further back into the plush pillows of his hotel bed as he held his phone to his ear. “Do you not think I’m a big boy?”

“I’m not going to talk up your dick size for the sake of your ego, Edwards.”

Ethan snorted despite himself. “Worth a shot. Could have made it really hot.”

“I refuse to have phone sex with you when Luke is probably in the room.”

“He’s not here,” Ethan said quickly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Well, he’s gone out to grab us some snacks from the store around the corner but—”

“Exactly.” His stomach dipped a little as your laugh echoed through the phone. “Now, tell me everything.”

For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to facetime you to see your face or if that was pushing it too far.

“What do you want to know?” He retorted, his eyes closing shut as he tried to imagine the expression on your face as you thought.

“I don’t know! The important stuff! Like if Sidney Crosby is as hot in real life?”

Ethan blinked. “That’s your big question? If he’s as hot as he is on screen?”

Your reply came with no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wow, so we can’t talk about my dick, which has been inside of you by the way, but we can talk about whether or not Sidney Crosby is hot.” There was a pause before he sighed. “Yeah, he is. Maybe even hotter.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“So you don’t even miss me? Not even a little bit?” Ethan questioned, trying to sound playful and lighthearted, hoping the small slivers of insecurity weren’t being translated through the phone.

“Don’t start pouting on me, Edwards. Of course I miss you.” Your voice was softer, more sincere. Or at least he was deluding himself into thinking as much. “Found a show for us to watch when you’re back. It looked good but I didn’t want to start it alone.”

It was embarrassing how big his smile was. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed before gasping. “Oh god, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe what happened at work the other night.”

Ethan huffed. “Don’t tell me it was—”

“Yup! And you’ll never guess what she did—”

It hit Ethan in the chest when he was lying on the foreign bed in a non-descriptive hotel room, phone pressed against his ear as you rambled away. It hit him just how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed you. That it was beyond the physical attraction, that it was much deeper than a silly little crush.

It hit him how much he wanted this forever.

But he knew better to do it on the phone. He knew it had to be said face-to-face. He knew he needed you in front of him when he uttered the words. He knew he needed to be looking in your eyes when he blurted his feelings out.

So, he promised himself.

He promised himself he would do it when he headed back to New Jersey. He promised himself he would do it when he saw you. He promised himself he was just going to deal with it head on and not run away like he had been doing for the last month or two.

He promised he was not going to be a coward anymore.

It was embarrassing how quickly he threw his own promise out of the window.

Ethan was fucking exhausted by the time their plane laned back in New Jersey. It was barely even eight in the evening and he was ready to slump face first onto his bed and not get up for a few days—even if he knew they had practice the following afternoon.

But it was the principle of it all.

It was the mere exhaustion of it all.

And you took one look at him before you opened your arms, inviting him to join you on the couch. Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to feel too bad about the groan you let out as he slumped himself on top of you.

“Make sure they had good music at my funeral,” he grumbled, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You hummed, your hands moving on instinct to run your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel about Barbie Girl?”

“Love it,” he murmured, a soft groan leaving his lips as your nails scratched along his scalp. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Edwards,” you whispered, soft and almost breathless. He wondered for a moment if he was leaning too heavily on your chest and winding you. “I never knew you talked in your sleep.”

Ethan froze.

“Luke sent me some interesting videos,” you continued and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “You should really watch who you have sleepovers with.”

Ethan clenched his eyes shut, trying to nuzzle himself further into your neck. “M’gonna kill him.”

“It was just one video,” you assured him, lightly tugging his hair until he lifted his head to look at you. “Cute that you were so jealous over me liking Sidney that you started to sleep talking about it.”

His cheeks heated up. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You beamed back at him. “Uh huh, sure.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at you. “This is emotional blackmail.”

“Aw, don’t let me stop you from doing it again,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement as his cheeks burned redder. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was jealous you got to hang around him all week?”

Ethan paused before he spoke. “Yes.”

You nodded. “Then, I was deeply jealous and envious that you got to hang around Sidney Crosby, the hottest guy in the league—”

“Oh my god,” Ethan groaned as he braced his hands on either side of you, prepared to push himself off you and the couch and sulk in his room. But before he could get far, you were winding your arms and legs around him and pulling him back down. “Nuh uh, let me go. You can go cuddle with Sidney since you think he’s so hot.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you mused, choosing to be nice and not comment on the way he completely nuzzled himself back into your arms, eyes falling shut and relaxation taking over his body for the first time in a week.

“You’re a bully,” he retorted, words muffled from the way his cheek was pressed against your shoulder.

“You like it,” you retorted, keeping the banter going but it made Ethan’s head spin.

Because he did. He did like it. He liked you. He liked coming back home to you and he liked lying on the couch with you. He liked kissing you and he liked the noises you made for him when he touched you.

He liked you more than he cared to admit.

He liked you too much to lose you.

He liked what the two of you had. He liked it too much to risk losing it all over unreciprocated feelings. Feelings could change—his feelings could change. There was no need to ruin a good thing.

He had hockey to focus on. He had the team to focus on. He had playoffs to focus on.

Now was not the time to change everything, superstitions or not.

…

MARCH

March Madness was no joke.

It was pure fucking chaos and no previous league or championship he had ever played for could rival just how hectic the whole thing was. The Devils were having a good season. A great fucking season if they were being honest. And they were so, so, so fucking close to clinching that playoff spot.

But fuck if the other teams weren’t making it real fucking difficult for them.

Ethan knew that things were going to get rougher, tougher, harder when the playoff desperation started to settle in, when the end of the regular season was on the horizon and teams were starting to get dirty to extend their season.

He just underestimated how desperate they were willing to get.

It was easy to see why Nico Hishcier was so beloved by the team, by the fans, by the boys. To see why he was chosen as captain because he was nothing but supportive and determined and encouraging. He wasn’t letting them get too comfortable, he was keeping the boys working towards playing their best.

But he was also the damn proudest of them all.

It almost made the hits against the boards worth it.

Almost being the operative word seeing as he felt like his whole body was bruised as they came off a game against the Rangers.

“Fuck,” Ethan hissed as he all but waddled into the locker room, helmet in hand and skateguards on. “I think I’m bruised in places I didn’t know you could be bruised.”

Seamus snorted. “Fucking tell me about it.”

“The hit during the second period looked rough,” Luke spoke up from the stall beside him. “You sure you’re good?”

“Medical checked me over during the intermission,” Ethan assured him with a faint smile. “Just gonna be sore for the next few days.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed. “No strenuous activities then?”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Oh please,” Seamus mused, giving Luke a nudge with his elbow. “He’s a pillow princess.”

“Fuck off both of you,” Ethan snorted, already starting to peel his jersey off.

It wasn’t until he was almost dressed where he finally grabbed his phone out of his bag, turning it back on to see a flurry of notifications to take over his screen. His brows furrowed together in surprise as he skimmed over them.

“Is that a certain roommate?” Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder like the nosy shit he was but Ethan had already chucked his phone back in his bag.

“Nah, it’s just Patricia,” Ethan shrugged.

Luke blinked. “Who the fuck is Patricia?”

Ethan shot him an odd look. “Patricia, the woman from the estate agency you recommended to me.”

Luke gave him a pensive look. “Why is she blowing up your phone?”

Ethan shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As it would turn out, Patricia was contacting him because the apartment he originally signed on for at the start of the year seemed to have sorted the rat infestation problem.

She was cheery in her voicemail she left for him, like it was the best possible news Ethan could have ever received. And maybe it would have been a few months ago, back in September. Even a good few weeks into October, Ethan would have been over the fucking moon to hear his old apartment was available again.

Yet, as he listened to the voicemail now, he couldn’t help but let a sense of dread wash over him.

It was stupid in a way because he knew from the start his situation wasn’t permanent. He knew it was always a short-term solution to a short-term problem. He knew the arrangement between you both wouldn’t last forever—both as roommates and friends with benefits.

There was always a timer on it, but Ethan let himself get lost in the familiarity of it all that the upcoming ending hit him like an unexpected slap in the face.

If he was a sensible and good guy, he would have called Patricia back. He would have told her he was just as happy to hear the update on the previously rat infested apartment. He would have told her he was happy to move in as soon as he can, to have his own place in New Jersey to call his home and his home alone. He would have told her to send over all the paperwork as soon as she can.

But Ethan wasn’t sensible nor was he all that good because he never called her back.

Instead, he chose to pretend as though he hadn’t seen the calls or the voicemails or the messages. He told himself he was focusing on clinching a playoff spot. He told himself he was just prioritising the important stuff and, for as long as he had a roof over his head, the other apartment wasn’t a priority.

Ethan chose not to acknowledge the fact that ignoring and running away from any possible problem was becoming a bit of an odd habit for him over the last few months.

As it would turn out, people failed to warn Ethan that March Madness seemed to extend into a player’s personal life.

He couldn’t quite work out the exact moment everything changed but he noticed the switch two weeks into March. And he was fucking baffled. And almost embarrassed that it took him so long to catch on to your sudden cold behaviour.

If you were giving him the cold shoulder, Ethan would have assumed he had done something to piss you off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, the two of you had your fair share of petty roommate disagreements over the months where one of you would give the other silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour or so before you sat down and talked it out.

Ethan would have preferred if he was just given the silent treatment from you.

Instead, he got…whatever the hell you were doing now.

For a few days, Ethan considered that he was just being dramatic. That maybe it was something at work or in one of your classes. That eventually you’d come to him with whatever was bothering you and he would listen and this weird tension between the two of you would disappear.

He lost hope in that theory after a week.

You were talking to him, almost as normal, but there was a tinge to it. A shift. Almost like a step back. It felt like the early months as roommates, when your answers were shorter more often than not, when you treated each other as acquaintances with a mutual friend.

It felt fucking wrong.

And then there was the physical aspect.

It wasn’t like the two of you were on each other at every possible moment together. It wasn’t even about the sex. It was the way you pulled away from him like his touch burned you, like it was odd for him to casually nudge your hip with his own as he walked past you in the kitchen. It was the way you seemed to avoid sitting too close to him on the couch.

It was the way it felt like the two of you were reverting back to the awkward, polite strangers you were back in September.

He hated it but he didn’t know how to get it back when you seemed so adamant to keep him at arm’s length.

It was disorienting as fuck.

It was wrong.

It was everything he feared for.

It was almost-definitely-possibly worse than you rejecting him.

And Ethan felt like he was fucking spiralling with the realisation that he may have lost you and he wasn’t exactly sure how.

And just when Ethan craved normalcy in his life, Luke started acting weird too.

The youngest Hughes brother shut down any attempts to hang out outside of practice or training. He didn’t seem as talkative or chatty with Ethan the way he usually was, leaving most of their conversations to surround hockey or strategies or upcoming games.

Fuck, even Seamus was weirded out by Luke’s sudden change in behaviour.

It didn’t take long for the other boys in the team to notice the growing tension between the two boys. Jack kept shooting his brother weird looks. Nico seemed concerned. Even Curtis looked a bit awkward and unsure at what to say. Him, Luke and Seamus had been such a trio since Ethan joined the Devils at the start of the season.

Now it seemed like Luke tolerated him at best.

But Ethan knew Luke. He knew the way the boy would get when he was upset. He knew the way the boy tended to shut down a bit, knew that he needed the space to be moody and brood a little (the outcome of being the youngest child) before he was ready to forgive and forget and move on.

However, Luke Hughes seemed more than happy to carry out whatever grudge he was holding—even if it was affecting their game on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?”

Luke didn’t even bother turning to look at him, reaching to pull his practice jersey over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Luke,” Ethan growled, angry and frustrated and done with whatever bitchy mood he was still in. “I was open. You saw that I was open and you fucking ignored me. What if we were in a game? What if that cost us a goal?”

“It’s just a practice,” Luke shot back, deadpan and unamused. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ethan laughed, bitter and irritated. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Luke. I don’t know what your problem with me is but it’s fucking ridiculous if you’re willing to sacrifice the team for it.”

Seamus took a step towards them. “Okay, maybe we just need—”

“No,” Ethan snapped, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through him. “No, if he has a problem with me then I want him to fucking say it instead of keeping it some secret like—some coward!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Luke snapped back at him. “You know all about secrets, Edwards.”

His brows furrowed together. “Stop fucking talking in riddles, Hughes.”

“Oh Jesus,” Seamus grumbled under his breath.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luke hissed.

“No, I don’t!” Ethan gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about!”

“And I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore!” Luke bit back, enough hurt and anger in his voice that it left Ethan—and the rest of the locker room—silent. “I thought you were one of my closest friends. I thought you were a good guy. Clearly you’ve changed.”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“Okay, everyone out!” Nico clapped his hands together, snapping Luke and Ethan out of their little moment as the captain began shepherding the rest of the team out.

“Aw, come on, it was just getting good!” Curtis whined but sighed as he followed the rest of the boys out of the locker room, all in various degrees of undress as they left Ethan and Luke alone.

Ethan watched them all go before he turned back to Luke, a look of hurt and pure confusion on his face.

“I helped you out,” Luke rasped, swallowing harshly. His voice was softer, a little raw too. Like the fight had left him and all that was left was disappointment. “You needed a place to stay and I convinced her to let you stay, vouched that you were a good guy, that you weren’t a fucking douche, and you had to go and fucking play her like that.”

Ethan blinked. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Ethan,” Luke muttered, his name full of frustration. “I know about the two of you. I’ve known for a while, I’m not fucking stupid.”

His heart sped up a little, despite himself. “What does our…agreement have to do with you?”

Luke shot him a look of disbelief. “Because she’s my friend! Because you’ve strung her along for months and now you don’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving!”

Ethan blinked again. “I—what?”

“You’re moving back to your own place and you—why do you look so confused?”

“Because I am confused!” Ethan squeaked out.

Luke slowly blinked. “So…you’re not taking Patricia up on her offer and moving out?”

“No!” Ethan replied, still looking confused. “Why would you think I am?”

“Because she keeps calling and emailing you!” Luke shot back.

“And I haven’t answered a single one!” Ethan retorted.

“Huh,” Luke murmured, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts. “Well, her emails suggest otherwise.”

Ethan tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Luke sighed, looking serious once again. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Ethan shifted in his spot. “What?”

“Are you serious about her?” Luke questioned.

Ethan frowned. “Who? Patricia?”

“I—no,” Luke sighed deeply. “Unless you’ve been sleeping with Patricia this whole time—”

“What? No, no!” Ethan spluttered out. “I have—wait, does she think I’m moving out?”

Luke looked a bit sheepish. “I think you need to go have that conversation with her.”

“Fuck,” Ethan breathed out, something quite like nausea twisting in his stomach. “And she….I’m not….I would never play her like that. It’s literally the opposite!”

Luke raised his brow. “The opposite?”

“I—fuck, I need to go,” Ethan muttered to himself under his breath, not even acknowledging the other boy as he began to yank his gear off.

“Woah, Ethan, you need to—”

“I need to fix this,” Ethan interrupted. “She can’t—I need to tell her.”

The last thing Luke—or any of the boys—saw was Ethan rushing out of the locker room, looking frazzled and flustered and panicked.

Ethan wished he could say he was calm and collected when he finally made it to your shared apartment but that would be a fucking lie.

He was a mess when he arrived. Despite driving back, he was still breathless and panting as he forgoed the elevator, choosing to take the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached your floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed, his keys were the only thing in his possession as he raced towards the door. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Nor did he care.

His only goal was to get to you.

It was embarrassing how badly his hands were shaking as he tried to shove the key into the lock, taking more attempts than he cared to admit before he managed to open the door. He didn’t even care about your neighbours as he began calling out your name, praying to every god he could think of that you were home.

He could have collapsed from relief when you wandered out of your room, a mixed look of concern and confusion on your face when you spotted him standing in the living room.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan tried to find the words to answer you. He tried to wrack his brain for a response to your question, a coherent sentence to calm the clear uneasiness in your voice. And yet, all he could do was stare at you and think one single thought that was leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.

“I’m in love with you!”

You blinked in response.

“Like, so painfully in love with you that I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone. But it is. And I do. And I can’t keep it to myself anymore because I think I am genuinely going insane,” Ethan continued.

Your lips parted a little in surprise, but still no words left your mouth.

“And I should probably stop talking and embarrassing myself further because you’re not saying anything and I’m usually a lot better at these kinds of things,” Ethan blurted out. “But you’ve been pulling away the last few weeks and I can’t take it anymore because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I have to keep pretending I’m fine with everything when I’m not.”

His body was moving before he could stop himself. He was taking steps forward, closing the small distance between you two because Ethan couldn’t stop the pull you had on him—on his body, his mind, his whole fucking world.

“I’m in love with you. Like in a ‘I wanna come home to you every night and kiss you because we are dating’ kind of way, not a ‘we are roommates who made up this weird agreement’ way.” Ethan breathed out, his voice just above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “And I don’t expect you to say you feel the same way but I can’t keep it anymore and—”

He was cut off by you throwing yourself at him, arms winding around his neck and lips on his. He didn’t even care about the rest of his sentence, sinking into the kiss like a starved man eating for the first time. The relief of feeling your body pressed against his was almost as addicting as the adrenaline pumping through his veins when you let out a blissful sigh.

“M’not moving out,” he managed to mutter out between kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you tight against him. “Whatever you think—”

You pulled away a few inches, just enough to see his face. “Your laptop was open,” you murmured, something sheepish and guilty written across your face. “And the email came through from your estate agent about signing a new lease and I got in my own head about it. I thought you were going to leave and I wanted to protect myself from falling further and—”

“Falling further?” He repeated, a hopeful smile beginning to take over his face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your smile mirroring his. “Turns out sleeping with your roommate is a real catalyst for falling in love with him.”

“Lucky me,” Ethan murmured before leaning back in to kiss you. “And I’m not leaving until you want me to leave.”

“We’ve really gone through this relationship thing in a weird order, huh?” You mused, laughing a little when Ethan kept leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah but I think it’s worked out pretty well for us,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours.

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Nobody ever was, not really. He wasn’t fully prepared to fall in love either.

But with you in his arms and the Devils only points away from clinching a playoff spot, he thought his rookie year was going far better than anything he could have prepared for.

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