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lowaltitude · 23 days ago

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Dial Tone 4 | 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. 3.4k words

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The reality of everything started to settle in. I’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, from surprise to anger to cautious reconciliation, that I hadn’t fully considered what came next.

Sooner or later, I’d have to tell Matt my name. My real name.

The thought sent a ripple of unease through me. Would it change things between us? Up until now, our friendship—our whatever-this-was—had existed in this weird, nickname-protected bubble. “Manhattan” and “San Diego” were fun, safe, and detached from the weight of real identities. Stripping that away felt… vulnerable.

What if things got awkward? What if he thought less of me somehow? What if putting a name to who I was made everything feel too serious?

I chewed on my lip, glancing at my phone. I stared at the screen for what felt like forever, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, I typed a single word and hit send.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 9:55AM ME: Y/N.

The message sent, and I felt my pulse quicken. Before I could overthink it, I followed up with another.

ME: Y/N Y/L/N.

I stared at the messages, anxiety bubbling up in my chest. Would he say anything? Would it even matter to him?

A few seconds passed, then my phone buzzed.

MATT: Well, Y/N Y/L/N… it’s nice to finally meet you. 😊

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, staring at his response. It was simple—lighthearted, even—but it melted away some of the tension I’d been carrying since I pressed send.

ME: You don’t think it’s weird? MATT: What? Knowing your name? Definitely not. ME: It changes everything, doesn’t it? MATT: Only in the best way.

His words made me pause. I hadn’t expected him to say that, and the knot of worry in my chest started to loosen.

MATT: I don’t know what you thought would happen, but it’s not like I suddenly see you differently. MATT: You’re still San Diego to me. Just now I can call you Y/N and actually picture you saying, “Hi, Matt.”

I laughed softly, earning a curious glance from my seatmate. I turned back to my phone.

ME: I’ll have you know I say “Hi, Manhattan” with way more charm.

His reply was instant.

MATT: Prove it.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

The bus pulled into the airport terminal, the cityscape shrinking behind us as we piled off to grab our bags. The reality of leaving New York hit me all over again. As much as I’d needed this trip to end, the thought of putting an ocean of distance between us now felt strange.

As I waited for my bag to come off the bus, my phone buzzed again.

MATT: Hey, Y/N. MATT: I mean it. I’m glad you told me.

Something about seeing my name next to his words gave me a strange, fluttery feeling.

ME: I’m glad I did too. MATT: So, now that I finally know your name, does this mean I don’t have to call you San Diego anymore? ME: I mean, you could stop… but wouldn’t that ruin the fun? MATT: You make a good point. Besides, I’ve gotten kind of attached to it.

I smiled at his response, shifting my bag on my shoulder as we filed into the terminal.

ME: So I’m still San Diego, huh? MATT: Always.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. After all this, it still felt surreal—like I’d been holding my breath for weeks, and now that the truth was out, I wasn’t sure what to do next. But Matt’s steady, easy replies reminded me why I trusted him in the first place.

ME: for the record, you’re still Manhattan. MATT: I’d be offended if I wasn’t.

I laughed softly to myself, earning a curious glance from my friend as we stopped at the check-in line.

ME: You’re taking this all surprisingly well, you know. MATT: What can I say? I’m full of surprises. 😉 ME: You are a lot more chill than I expected for someone with your reputation. MATT: Oh? What were you expecting? A cocky NHL player? ME: Something like that.

I could practically hear his laugh through the phone when his reply came.

MATT: Guess I’ll have to work on being less humble.

The group started moving forward, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. But even as I focused on getting through security, I couldn’t stop the small, steady smile on my face.

For the first time since I’d landed in New York, I felt like I wasn’t just trying to keep up with the chaos. Instead, I was leaving with something new—something unexpected, but maybe exactly what I needed.

As we settled into the airport lounge, I scrolled absentmindedly through my phone, rereading Matt’s last message and trying not to smile too much. My friend plopped down beside me with a sigh, setting her carry-on bag at her feet. She didn’t say anything at first, but then she turned to me with a pointed look, her arms crossed.

“Okay, girl, what has been happening?” she said, her tone dripping with exasperation. “Your phone has sent you into about 30 different mood swings this weekend, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you giggling at texts for however long. Spill.”

I blinked at her, caught off guard. “What? Nothing’s happening.”

“Don’t even try it,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve been glued to your phone since we landed, and I know that dopey little smile you get when you’re texting someone. It’s not just random, so don’t even pretend it’s about homework or whatever.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but her stare told me I wasn’t getting out of this. Sighing, I tucked my phone into my pocket and leaned back in my seat. “Fine. But just—promise you won’t freak out, okay?”

“Why would I freak out?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” I hesitated, picking at the edge of my sleeve. “There’s this guy I’ve been talking to. For a while, actually.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward like she was ready to pounce on every word. “Oh my god. Keep going. Who is he? Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know him,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “We met online a few months ago. He’s…different. In a good way. Really sweet, really funny. Athletic- Big fighter. We just…clicked, I guess.”

She stared at me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wait. Is this why you’ve been weird about your phone this whole time? Are you like—are you falling for him?”

“What? No!” I said, a little too loudly, earning a couple of glances from the people around us. “It’s not like that. We’re just—friends. Close friends.”

She smirked, not buying it for a second. “Right. Sure. And you’re giggling at his texts because…friendship.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You like him,” she teased, nudging my shoulder. “And it’s okay! I mean, if he’s as great as you’re making him sound, I say go for it.”

I hesitated, the weight of everything I wasn’t telling her pressing down on me. “It’s complicated,” I admitted finally. “There’s…a lot about his life that I didn’t know until recently. It’s been a little overwhelming, but he’s trying to make things right.”

“Overwhelming how?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Just—stuff I wasn’t expecting,” I said vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t push for more. “But I really do trust him. And I think…I think we’re figuring it out.”

Her smile softened, and she reached out to squeeze my hand. “If he’s making you happy, that’s what matters. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too, okay?”

I nodded, grateful that she wasn’t prying any further. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

“Of course,” she said, sitting back in her chair. After a beat, though, her smirk returned. “So, do I get to see a picture of this mystery guy, or are you gonna keep me in suspense?”

“Not a chance,” I said, laughing despite myself.

“Ugh, fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “But just so you know, I’m rooting for you two.”

I smiled at her, my chest feeling a little lighter. Even if I couldn’t share the full truth, having someone in my corner still meant something.

The flight boarded without incident, and soon enough, we were cruising at altitude. I leaned against the window, watching clouds drift by like slow-moving waves. My friend was deeply engrossed in her e-reader, leaving me some space to think.

Despite our talk in the airport lounge, my mind was still tangled with everything that had happened this weekend. Meeting Matt—well, technically not meeting him—had turned my world sideways. For months, he’d been a name, a face, a voice on my phone. And now, knowing the full truth about who he was…it made everything feel real in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

I kept my phone in my bag this time, deciding to let the weight of the weekend settle in silence. I couldn’t shake the strange mix of anticipation and hesitation coursing through me. Everything between Matt and me had shifted, and while I didn’t regret it, I wasn’t entirely sure what came next.

Leaning back in my seat, I watched the clouds stretch endlessly outside the window, their stillness contrasting with my swirling thoughts. My friend eventually glanced over, nudging me gently.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She looked at me like she didn’t quite believe it but let it go, her attention returning to her e-reader.

The rest of the flight passed in a blur, and before I knew it, we were landing back in San Diego. As the wheels touched down and the cabin filled with the familiar sounds of people gathering their things, I finally pulled out my phone.

ME: Landed safely.

His reply came almost instantly.

MATT: Glad you didn’t get stuck. How was the flight? ME: Fine so far. My friend’s still giving me side-eye because I wouldn’t show her your picture. MATT: Why not? I’m very photogenic.

I laughed quietly, shaking my head.

ME: Because she’d figure out who you are in about 0.2 seconds, genius. MATT: Fair point. Can’t have you blowing my cover. MATT: (Also, now I’m wondering what you told her about me.) ME: Just that we’ve been friends for a while. Nothing too crazy. MATT: You didn’t tell her how charming I am? I’m offended. ME: Obviously not. I don’t want her stealing you. MATT: Oh, so I’m yours now?

I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks warmed slightly at his teasing.

ME: Don’t push it, Manhattan.

The chat went quiet after that, and I rested my head back against the seat, letting my thoughts wander.

As strange as this weekend had been, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had changed something between us—for the better. Knowing who he really was hadn’t pushed me away. If anything, it had made me more curious about the person behind the nickname, the person who’d become such a big part of my life without me even realising it.

And maybe…just maybe, that was worth holding onto.

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Two months passed in a blur, but Matt and I never lost touch. If anything, our conversations became more frequent. The texts ranged from playful teasing to long, thoughtful exchanges that stretched late into the night.

The dynamic between us felt natural, easy—but there was an undercurrent of something new now. A spark of anticipation I couldn’t quite ignore, like we were both waiting for something to happen.

One night, as I sat cross-legged on my bed, scrolling through TikTok to procrastinate on my homework, my phone buzzed.

Tuesday, July 9, 2024 Today, 4:17PM MATT: Big game tonight. Send me some good luck vibes or I’ll blame you if we lose.

I smirked, typing back.

ME: Wow, no pressure or anything. Good luck, though. Knock ‘em dead, #73. MATT: You really do your homework, huh? ME: You’ve only mentioned your jersey number, like, a thousand times. Hard to forget. MATT: Good. Means you’re paying attention. MATT: Seriously, though. This one’s big. ME: You’ll crush it. You always do.

There was a pause before his next text came through.

MATT: You have way too much faith in me, San Diego. ME: Somebody’s gotta keep you humble. MATT: That’s rich, coming from the person who called me a “big fighter” to her friend on a bus.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at the memory.

ME: You’re never letting that go, are you? MATT: Never. It’s iconic.

I grinned, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed:

ME: Let me know how the game goes.

After the game, he did. It became a pattern—him updating me after games, sometimes venting about a loss or celebrating a win, always with his signature blend of humor and charm.

One night, as I lounged on my couch watching Netflix, he FaceTimed me out of the blue.

“Wow, bold,” I said as I answered, holding my phone up so he could see my raised brow.

“You’re the one who said to call if I needed to rant,” he shot back, flopping onto what looked like his hotel bed.

“Rough night?”

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “We lost in overtime. It sucked.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “Overtime losses are brutal.”

“See? This is why I call you. You get it.”

I laughed. “What, none of your teammates understand your pain?”

“They’re not nearly as nice to me as you are,” he teased, flashing a grin that made my stomach do a little flip.

“You should tell them to start a support group for overpaid, overhyped athletes,” I quipped, earning a mock gasp.

“Wow, okay. Remind me why I called you again?”

“You like the abuse.”

He laughed, and the sound was so warm and familiar that I couldn’t help but smile.

We talked for another half hour, the conversation meandering from hockey to his favorite restaurants in New York to a ridiculous story about his teammate locking himself out of their bus. By the time we hung up, I felt lighter, like I’d just spent an evening with an old friend.

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A few weeks later, the inevitable topic came up.

Wednesday, August 7, 2024 Today, 10;54AM MATT: You know, it’s kind of wild we’ve never actually met in person. ME: Yeah, well, blame geography. MATT: Or your stubborn refusal to visit New York. ME: My refusal? Pretty sure you’re the one who hasn’t set foot in California. MATT: Fair point. But guess what? ME: What? MATT: I might be able to change that.

I sat up a little straighter, my heart skipping.

ME: Oh? MATT: Ducks game in Anaheim next month. Thinking about extending the trip and finally seeing what all the hype is about. ME: The hype about what? California or me? MATT: Yes.

I laughed, my cheeks warming.

ME: Well, if you do, let me know. MATT: You’ll actually make time for me?

Matt and I continued our nightly texts and FaceTimes, our conversations slipping into an easy rhythm that made it hard to believe we’d never actually met in person. It felt like we’d known each other for years, but there was always this unspoken awareness hovering between us—something deeper, something waiting to shift.

One night, after a particularly exhausting day, I flopped onto my bed and propped my phone against a pillow. I was mid-scroll through Instagram when his FaceTime request came through.

“Hello, stranger,” I said, answering as I smoothed my hair self-consciously.

“Stranger? Don’t act like you haven’t been blowing up my phone all day,” Matt replied, his grin softening the mock accusation.

“Excuse me,” I shot back, raising a brow. “You’re the one who texted me six times about whether it was socially acceptable to eat ice cream for dinner.”

“And you never answered,” he said with a smirk. “I had to make the executive decision myself. Cookies and cream, if you’re wondering.”

“Bold choice.” I laughed, settling more comfortably against my pillows. “You’re such an athlete.”

“Don’t tell my nutritionist,” he quipped, then hesitated, his grin fading just slightly. “So, uh…big news.”

I tilted my head. “Oh? What’s up?”

“After the, uh, game in Anaheim, I have 2 weeks off” he said casually, though I could tell from the way he shifted that it wasn’t as casual as he was trying to make it seem.

“Oh, cool,” I replied, waiting to see where he was going with this.

“Yeah, and…I might stick around a couple of days after.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, check out the area. Grab coffee or something.”

My lips twitched. “Check out the area, huh?”

“Yeah.” His tone was light, but his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty. “I hear San Diego’s nice this time of year.”

“San Diego’s nice every time of year,” I teased.

“Well, then maybe you should show me around. Unless you’re too busy or something,” he added quickly, like he was trying to give me an out.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, pretending to mull it over. “I mean, you’re kind of a big deal. I wouldn’t want to blow your cover.”

He chuckled. “You’re not getting out of this that easily, Y/N. I’m serious. Let’s hang out.”

“Fine,” I relented with an exaggerated sigh. “But you’ll have to wear one of those cliché disguises. You know, baseball hat, oversized sunglasses, maybe a fake mustache.”

“A fake mustache?” he repeated, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying, Manhattan,” I said, smirking, “it’s either that or I’m going to start charging for all the selfies you’ll get asked for.”

“Wow, you’re really looking out for me,” he replied dryly.

“Always,” I said, matching his tone.

There was a brief pause, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “So, it’s a plan then?”

“Guess it is.”

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Over the next few days, Matt dropped increasingly unsubtle hints about his "extended trip."

Wednesday, August 21, 2024 Today, 1:40PM MATT: What’s the best coffee spot in San Diego? Asking for a friend. ME: For a friend, huh? MATT: Yep. Definitely not for me. ME: Nice try. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one. I’ve got a spot in mind. MATT: Should I be nervous? ME: Absolutely.

The closer we got to the date, the more I caught myself overthinking. He hadn’t called it a date, which was probably for the best. After all, we’d built this incredible friendship, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin it with unrealistic expectations.

But still, the idea of seeing him—of finally meeting him in person—made my heart race in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

The night before the game, he texted me.

Thursday, September 5, 2024 Today, 2:18PM MATT: Game day tomorrow. Nervous? ME: Are you? MATT: Always. But I’ve got good luck on my side. ME: Oh yeah? What’s your secret? MATT: You, obviously.

I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping.

ME: Smooth. MATT: You like it. ME: Maybe. MATT: Just make sure you’re free the day after. No backing out now. ME: Who said I’m backing out? MATT: Just covering my bases.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head.

The next evening, I watched his game from my couch, my nerves hitting harder than I expected. I hadn’t told anyone—not even my best friend—about Matt’s trip, and now it felt like this huge secret I was carrying.

He scored a goal in the second period, and I actually cheered out loud, startling my roommate.

“What’s with you?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Uh, nothing,” I said, my face heating up.

When the game ended in a win, I half-expected him to text me right away, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until almost midnight that my phone buzzed.

MATT: So, you still up? ME: Maybe. MATT: Coffee tomorrow? ME: Sure. MATT: Finally.

The next morning, I arrived at the coffee shop earlier than I needed to, nerves making it impossible to stay still. I checked my reflection in my phone camera for the hundredth time, then pretended to scroll through Instagram to keep my hands busy.

When the door finally opened and I saw Matt walk in, my breath caught. He was taller than I’d imagined, his broad frame filling the doorway, but the easy grin on his face was exactly the same.

“Hey, San Diego,” he said, stopping in front of me.

And for the first time in months, I felt like we were exactly where we were supposed to be. My voice steady despite the way my heart raced. “Hey, Manhattan.”

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to be continued... hehehe

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