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goldfades · 1 month ago

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𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆 ─ LH⁴³

TRACK 8 ─── FLORIDA!!!

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | after a fight with your longtime boyfriend, you escape to florida and find unexpected solace in luke, igniting a passionate connection amidst sun-soaked adventures. as your relationship deepens, the shadow of your past complicates everything, leading to a confrontation that forces you both to confront your true feelings

─ word count | 6k

─ warnings | NSFW (with a lot of plot) under the cut! read at your own discretion, p in v, praise, nothing too crazy. a lot of fluff, infidelity, pretty fluffy but angsty toward the end. no happy ending... sorry not sorry

You hadn't meant to come to Florida. Not really. It was one of those spontaneous, half-baked decisions that seemed brilliant in the middle of the night but questionable in the cold light of day.

Still, here you were, standing in the middle of the sand, the wind tugging at your hair as the sound of the waves crashed against the shore. After that fight—your mind flits back to your boyfriend's voice, the sharpness of his words still lingering—you needed an escape. Something far away, where no one knew you, where the ache in your chest could fade, even if just for a little while.

You hadn’t expected to find solace in someone else.

Yet, when you first saw that curly head of hair, lounging by the pool, sunglasses on; the weight of the world seemingly resting on his shoulders, something about him made you pause. He looked just as lost, just as far away from his life as you felt from yours.

You hadn’t planned on talking to him.

But then, he caught you staring. You tried to look away quickly, embarrassed, but it was too late—he smiled, that kind of easy, lazy grin that made your heart skip a beat.

It was supposed to be a vacation. A break from everything.

But now, as you sit across from Luke, sipping cocktails and laughing like you’ve known each other for years, you wonder if this wasn’t exactly what you needed.

Forget about the fight. Forget about him. For now, there’s just you, Luke, and the sun setting over the ocean.

Luke liked the idea of you.

It was refreshing, really. You had no idea who he was. Not in the way people usually did, anyway. You weren’t fawning over his hockey career or asking for photos to post online. You didn’t ask for autographs or drop little hints that you knew all about his stats. No, you just saw him—the guy sitting by the pool with the messy curls and tired eyes. The guy who seemed to be looking for an escape, just like you.

In fact, when he first mentioned hockey, you shrugged like it was just another random hobby, something people did on the weekends. You weren’t even a big fan of sports, which he found kind of funny, considering how much his life revolved around the game. Well—his entire life was hockey.

He didn’t mind. Actually, he liked it. It was a reminder that he was more than just a name on a jersey or a face plastered across sports highlights. With you, there were no expectations, no weight of his career pressing down on him. He didn’t have to be Luke Hughes, Devils defenseman. He could just be Luke from Michigan.

And for you, that was all he needed to be.

You weren’t sure how you ended up spending most of your days with him, but it felt natural—like falling into step with someone who’d been walking beside you all along. The conversation was easy, flowing from one topic to the next, never forced. Sometimes, you talked about your lives in vague terms, both of you dancing around the details of what brought you here, to this moment. He mentioned the pressures of his career, the endless grind, the expectations from fans, coaches, and teammates. You told him about the fight with your boyfriend, how things had felt off for months now, how you’d been trying to hold it together but didn’t know if you could anymore.

“I get it,” Luke said one afternoon, his voice quiet as you both stared out at the ocean, the waves crashing rhythmically in the distance. “Sometimes, you just need to get away from everything.”

You nodded, grateful for the understanding in his tone. It wasn’t pity, and it wasn’t judgment. Just an acknowledgment that life could be heavy, that sometimes it was too much to carry alone.

The days blurred together in the best way. Mornings were spent walking along the beach, the sand cool beneath your feet, the sun slowly warming the sky. Sometimes, you and Luke would rent bikes and ride along the coastline, the wind whipping through your hair as you laughed and raced each other. Evenings were for cocktails by the pool or quiet dinners in small, tucked-away restaurants, where the glow of candlelight made everything feel a little more intimate.

And in between, there were the little moments—the shared glances, the casual touches, the way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a drink, lingering just a second too long. It was slow, almost unspoken, but you could feel the shift between you, like a tide quietly rising. The air around you seemed heavier when you were close, charged with something neither of you were quite ready to name.

One night, after a particularly long day in the sun, you found yourselves back at his hotel room. It wasn’t planned, just a natural progression after dinner. The soft glow of the room’s lighting reflected off the windows, casting shadows across the floor as you both collapsed onto the couch. Luke stretched out beside you, his arm thrown casually behind your shoulders, and you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his skin through his yellow Michigan t-shirt.

“Do you ever wish things were simpler?” you asked quietly, your gaze fixed on the soft flicker of the TV in front of you. Some show was playing, but neither of you were really watching.

Luke tilted his head down, looking at you with a soft smile. “Every day,” he said, his voice low. “Especially now.”

You didn’t need to ask what he meant. You knew. The weight of expectations, the pressure to always be ‘on,’ it was exhausting. And for you, the constant strain of a relationship that seemed to be fraying at the edges had taken its toll. There was a comfort in the fact that, for both of you, this—whatever this was—felt uncomplicated.

“You make it easier,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Luke’s hand slid down to yours, his fingers brushing over your knuckles, slow and gentle. “You too,” he said softly. “I haven’t felt this…normal in a long time.”

There it was again. That unspoken something hanging between you. The electricity that seemed to buzz in the air whenever you were near him. You could feel it now, stronger than ever, as his thumb traced idle circles against the back of your hand.

Your heart pounded, louder than the sound of the TV, louder than the faint hum of the air conditioning. You could feel the tension between you building, thick and undeniable. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stared, your breath catching in your throat as the space between you felt like it was shrinking by the second.

“I think I need this,” you whispered, not sure if you were talking about the moment, the escape, or maybe just Luke himself.

His gaze flicked down to your lips, hesitating for a split second before he leaned in. The touch of his lips was soft at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But then, it deepened, a spark igniting between the two of you that made your heart race.

The kiss was electric—something you hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. It stirred something inside you that had long been dormant, like flicking a switch you’d forgotten even existed. Your stomach flipped in that way your friends always talked about, but you hadn’t believed in until this moment. Every nerve in your body lit up, a warmth spreading through you, hotter than the sun beating down on you earlier that day.

You leaned in closer, your hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid to let go. Luke’s hand cradled the back of your head, pulling you into him, his other hand resting on your waist, sending jolts of heat through your skin.

It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—slow and deliberate, but filled with a kind of intensity that made you forget where you were, forget the world outside. All that mattered was the moment, the feeling of him so close, and the way your body seemed to come alive under his touch.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d been craving this—the feeling of being wanted, of being seen in a way that your relationship back home had long since stopped providing. The thought of your boyfriend flickered briefly in the back of your mind, but you pushed it away, buried it beneath the growing need, the pull you felt toward Luke in this moment.

His lips left yours for just a second, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You okay?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his, and the intensity there made you shiver despite the heat. You nodded, your voice caught somewhere in your throat, too overwhelmed by everything—the kiss, the rush of adrenaline, the way your heart hammered against your chest—to say anything coherent. But it didn’t matter. Luke’s thumb traced the edge of your jaw, his gaze locked on yours like he could read every unspoken thought in your mind.

He leaned in again, kissing you softer this time, slower. And that’s when it hit you—how different this felt. How different he felt. You couldn’t remember the last time your boyfriend kissed you like this, like you were the only person in the world. Like he didn’t want to let you go.

But Luke didn’t know. He didn’t know that you were still tethered to someone else. That your life back home wasn’t just messy—it was complicated, hanging on by a thread that you weren’t sure you had the strength to cut just yet.

For now, though, you let yourself get lost in it. Lost in Luke, in the warmth of his lips and the feel of his hands on you, in the way he made you forget everything else. Just for a little while. Just for now.

That was how most of your days were spent, now. You were completely lost in Luke.

Every morning started the same: you’d wake up to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, your body still tangled in the warmth of his sheets. Luke was always there beside you, his arm casually draped over your waist or his legs intertwined with yours. It felt easy, waking up with him, like the two of you had done this a thousand times before.

There was a kind of comfort in the quiet moments between sleep and wakefulness, the way you’d lie there for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside his room feeling distant and irrelevant.

But it wasn’t just the mornings. The entire day seemed to revolve around Luke. Whether it was lounging by the pool, the two of you exchanging lazy smiles and playful banter, or taking spontaneous drives along the coast with the windows down and the salty breeze in your hair. Everything felt easy with him.

You talked for hours—about his love for hockey, the relentless schedule that had worn him down, and the expectations that weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never once mentioned his fame, never flaunted who he was. He didn’t have to. In these moments, Luke wasn’t the NHL player, the up-and-coming star, Jack and Quinn Hughes' little brother; he was just a guy who wanted to escape the noise, to find something that felt real. That was real.

And you were that escape for him, just like he was for you.

Your days were sun-soaked, spent laughing and talking about nothing and everything, with the kind of connection that felt rare, almost surreal. You explored the small coastal towns, eating seafood at hole-in-the-wall diners and watching the sunset dip below the horizon from hidden stretches of beach.

There was something intimate about the way he looked at you during those sunsets, his arm slung over your shoulders as you both watched the sky turn shades of pink and orange. It was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, like it was just the two of you in this bubble, suspended in time.

But the nights—those were different.

At night, things shifted. When the sun dipped below the horizon, there was an urgency in the way Luke would pull you close, his lips finding yours in the darkness. The heat between you grew, the stolen glances during the day giving way to something deeper, something neither of you could deny. The connection you shared became more than just a distraction from your problems. It became a lifeline, something you both clung to, even though you knew it couldn’t last forever.

But you didn’t think about that. Not in the heat of his touch, not when his hands were on your skin, making you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in so long. Each night felt like a new beginning, like a fresh chance to forget everything outside this small slice of paradise you’d carved out for yourselves.

You found yourself falling deeper into Luke. The way he laughed, how his smile always reached his eyes, how effortlessly he made you feel like you were the only person that mattered. He wasn’t just a fleeting escape anymore. He was becoming your reality, a reality that was infinitely better than the one waiting for you back home.

Home.

The word weighed heavier on you with each passing day. You hadn’t told Luke about your boyfriend, hadn’t mentioned the fight or the messy relationship you were running from. And with every kiss, every shared moment, the guilt gnawed at the back of your mind. But it was easy to push it aside when you were with him. So easy to pretend like you weren’t still tethered to someone else.

With Luke, everything felt perfect. It was an illusion, you knew that. This vacation couldn’t last forever, and at some point, you would have to face the reality you’d left behind. But for now—for as long as you could—you let yourself get lost in Luke. You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be enough.

───

Luke placed the cherry in your mouth, his fingers brushing against your lips, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You giggled, feeling the tension simmer between you two as you leaned back against the couch, your body sinking into the cushions. But the playful smile that curled on your lips couldn't hide the heat building beneath the surface.

His eyes lingered on your mouth as you bit down on the cherry, and something shifted in the air. The teasing, carefree vibe from earlier dissolved into something much heavier, more charged. Luke’s gaze was intense now, watching you in a way that made your heart race, your skin flush with a warmth that had nothing to do with the Florida heat.

You swallowed, the taste of the cherry lingering on your tongue, but the moment felt too thick, too heavy to laugh off. Luke’s hand rested on the cushion beside your thigh, so close that you could feel the warmth of him, but still not close enough. His body leaned forward just a little, his lips quirking up in that same lazy grin that had caught your attention by the pool days ago, but his eyes were darker now—filled with something you both had been ignoring for too long.

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of it settle in your chest, your breathing shallow as your mind raced. This was different. This wasn’t just lighthearted flirting anymore. There was something undeniable between the two of you, something you both wanted but had danced around, pretending it wasn’t real. But now, with Luke leaning closer, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your leg, it was impossible to ignore.

"Want another?" His voice was low, almost a murmur, but there was a playful edge to it, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he reached for another cherry, twirling it between his fingers.

You shook your head, biting your lip as you looked at him through hooded eyes. "I think you know what I want."

Luke’s grin widened, but it was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. His hand shifted, and before you could even process it, his fingers were tracing the edge of your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, wiping away a drop of juice from the cherry. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn’t control.

“Do I?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was a challenge in his tone, one that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne lingering in the air between you. “Maybe you should tell me.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as his fingers lingered on your face, tracing the line of your jaw down to your neck, sending sparks through your skin. Your mind was spinning, torn between the guilt that flickered in the back of your mind and the overwhelming need that had taken over your body.

Your lips parted, but no words came out, just a soft breath as Luke closed the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first, barely a kiss, just a tease that made you ache for more. You could feel the restraint in him, the way he was holding back, but the heat between you two was undeniable.

You tilted your head up, pressing into him just a little, and that was all it took.

Luke’s lips crashed into yours with a hunger that made your pulse race, his hand sliding up your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss was messy, desperate, full of need that neither of you could deny any longer. Your body reacted instinctively, leaning into him, your hands gripping his shirt as you tugged him down against you, wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His weight pressed against you, pinning you to the couch as his hands roamed your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist, your hips, igniting a fire in your core that you hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. The world outside didn’t exist anymore. There was no fight, no boyfriend, no past—just Luke and the way he made you feel, like you were the only person in the world.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, your neck, sucking softly on the sensitive skin just below your ear, and you gasped, arching into him. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, trying not to move too fast, but you didn’t care anymore. You wanted him, needed him, more than you’d ever realized.

"Luke..." you whispered, breathless, your fingers tightening in his curly locks as he sucked lightly on your neck. Your mind was spinning, lost in the feeling of him, lost in the heat between you two.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he looked down at you. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Yes.” There was no hesitation in your voice now, no doubt. You wanted this. You wanted him.

Luke’s eyes darkened with desire, and before you could say another word, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like he was drowning and you were the air he needed to breathe.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips still connected. Luke's hands explored every curve of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers gripped your hips, then traced your sides, pausing at your waist as if memorizing every inch of you. His touch was both gentle and hungry, like he couldn’t get enough of you, but was savoring every moment, every sensation.

Your heart was pounding, so fast you thought he might hear it, but the only sound filling the room was your ragged breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your lips moving against his. His weight on top of you, the heat of his body, the way his lips trailed along your neck and down to your collarbone—it was intoxicating, pulling you further into the moment.

“God, I need you so bad,” Luke murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse and filled with a rawness that sent a thrill through you.

He kissed his way down your neck, his lips warm and soft, while his hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands moved higher, his touch igniting something deep inside you. You felt the tension coiling, building in your stomach, an ache that only he could soothe. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back to your mouth, kissing him harder, your body responding instinctively to the desire coursing through you.

Luke groaned, his grip tightening as he pressed his hips against yours, and you gasped, your body reacting instantly to the friction, to the way his body fit so perfectly against yours. It was dizzying, the way your mind spun, your thoughts consumed by nothing but him.

“I want you, please,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could even think, your voice thick with need. You hadn’t planned on saying it, hadn’t thought you’d feel this much, but the way Luke made you feel, the way his body moved against yours, it was undeniable.

Luke stilled for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath. His eyes searched yours, dark and intense, like he was trying to read every thought in your head, to make sure you meant it. “You sure?” he asked, his voice low, the question a mix of concern and desire.

You nodded, your legs tightening around him, pulling him impossibly closer. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

Luke’s lips crashed against yours again, and this time, there was no holding back. His hands moved with purpose, tugging at your shirt, his fingers skimming across your skin as he pulled it over your head and tossed it aside. His lips followed, kissing down your chest, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. You gasped, your body arching into him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you pulled him closer, needing more, needing all of him.

The heat between you two was unbearable, the tension that had been simmering for days finally boiling over. There was no room for second thoughts, no space for anything but the overwhelming desire that consumed both of you.

Luke’s hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, driving you wild with every touch. You couldn’t get enough of him, the way he felt against you, the way he kissed you like he was afraid this moment might slip away if he let go for even a second. And you kissed him back with the same urgency, your bodies moving in sync, every touch, every kiss pulling you further and further into each other.

Luke pulled away for a second, glancing to make sure you were alright. You gave him a small nod, breathless, pleading with him to hurry up. He slowly pulled down his pants, revealing his bulge. You were practically drooling at the mere sight, your head falling back.

You felt his hands graze your underwear, feeling the warmth underneath. His breath hitched at the feeling, his jaw slacking slightly.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled before moving your underwear to the side. You heard his heavy breathing, and you opened your eyes to meet his eyes as you nodded again.

“Please,” you sighed.

Luke led his tip to your aching pussy, groaning at the warm feeling despite not even being inside of you yet. He slowly pushed in, a relieved sigh leaving both of you. The world outside felt like it had faded into nothing, and all that remained was this—this moment, this heat, this connection between you and Luke.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke cried out as his head fell back. “Feels so good, baby,” he praised. He slowly bottomed you out, and you swore you could feel him all the way up to your throat,

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as you moaned, letting your eyes flutter shut in pure pleasure. As he began thrusting in and out of you, you swore you were seeing stars.

As he continued slamming into you, with more force and effort, all you could think about was him; the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. It wasn't just sex, it was more—and you hoped he felt it, too.

The quick creaking of the couch and your moans were the only thing that could be heard in room. Luke leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours before pushing his lips against yours. One of his hands slid up your body, thinly wrapping around your neck as he began snapping his hips against yours.

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned into the kiss as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. “Shit, you feel so good.”

You felt the familiar knot in your lower stomach begin to form, causing your head fall back into the couch. “Oh, Luke, 'm so close,”

Luke's other hand found your clit, rubbing it harshly as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his climax. A few more deep slams into your cunt, and the two of you came with a shaking force.

And you realized it was more than just a distraction now, more than just an escape. Luke had become something you hadn’t expected—something real, something you craved, something that made you forget about everything else.

“Oh my god,” you cried out, letting the orgasm ripple out of you, gripping his biceps. “Oh, fuck.”

Luke didn't move—he stayed inside of you, letting the orgasm slowly subside. His forehead rested gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath, the heat of the moment slowly giving way to something softer. Luke’s familiar, boyish smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a mixture of satisfaction and a hint of shyness now that the intensity had faded. It made you laugh, a small, breathless sound that broke the silence.

You opened your eyes and met his, finding that same playful sparkle in his gaze, though there was something more in them now, too—something deeper, warmer. His expression made your heart swell in your chest, a strange sense of peace washing over you in the aftermath.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you teased, brushing a strand of his curls away from his forehead, your fingers lingering in his hair.

Luke grinned wider, his breath still uneven as he shifted slightly to pull you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he didn’t want to let go. “Just... appreciating the moment,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. His thumb brushed over your arm in lazy circles, his touch gentle now, almost reverent.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, the warmth of his body, the way he looked at you like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It felt easy, natural, like you’d known him for far longer than a few days. The weight of the world, the stress of your life back home, all of it seemed so distant now, as if this place, this moment, existed outside of reality.

“I think I like Florida,” you said with a chuckle, snuggling into his chest as his arms tightened around you. “Even if it was an accident.”

Luke laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “If it brings you here, I’d call it a happy accident.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but it wasn’t the same kind of heat from earlier. This was something different—a flutter of something that felt suspiciously close to contentment, maybe even happiness. The kind of feeling you hadn’t expected to find in someone else, especially after everything with your boyfriend.

But as Luke held you, his heart beating steadily against yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you had found something real in this unexpected escape. Something that went beyond just a temporary distraction.

And the thought both thrilled and terrified you.

Luke tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours again, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of unspoken things hanging between you. He didn’t say anything, though, just smiled that crooked, boyish smile of his before kissing you softly, like he was sealing a promise neither of you were quite ready to say aloud.

Whatever this was, whatever it was turning into, you didn’t want to think about it too much. Not yet. For now, it was enough to be here with him, to share this space, this connection.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice gentle but full of meaning.

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat as you nestled closer to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You rested your head against Luke’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin against yours. For a while, there was nothing but the quiet rhythm of your hearts, beating in time with one another. It was peaceful, comfortable, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But even as you lay there, wrapped up in Luke’s arms, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered doubts. You couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts completely, the flicker of guilt that had been lurking ever since you met him. You hadn’t told him everything. Not yet.

There was still him. Your boyfriend. The one you had come to Florida to forget.

The thought of your boyfriend felt distant now, like a shadow of another life, but it was still there—lingering. You and Luke hadn’t defined anything, hadn’t talked about what this was or what it could become. But the fact that you hadn’t told Luke you were still technically with someone… it weighed on you, even if you wanted to pretend it didn’t. Especially now, as he held you close, whispering promises you weren’t sure you deserved.

Luke ran his fingers lightly through your hair, his voice a soft murmur as he spoke, “You’re quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed, feeling the tension creep back into your body. For a second, you considered telling him the truth—about your boyfriend, about the fight, about why you’d really come to Florida. But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see through it.

“Just… thinking,” you said softly, lifting your gaze to meet his. “About how lucky I am to have found you here.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Luke smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek in that gentle way of his, and the knot of guilt twisted tighter in your chest. You hadn’t meant for things to get this complicated. But now that they had, you knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

And when it did, you weren’t sure what would be left between you and Luke.

───

“You had a fucking boyfriend, are you kidding me right now?” Luke's words were harsh as he threw your phone on the hotel bed, his expression nothing short of pissed.

You flinched at the sound of the phone hitting the mattress, the tension in the room thickening. He paced in front of you, hands tugging at his hair as if trying to physically keep himself from exploding. You stood there, arms crossed defensively, your heart racing with frustration of your own.

“It wasn’t like that,” you shot back, your voice rising in defiance. “We were on a break, Luke! It wasn’t serious anymore—he and I were practically over.”

“Practically over?” Luke echoed, his laugh bitter and incredulous. He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes blazing with disbelief. “So, what? You just decided to hop on a plane and find someone else while you weren’t technically broken up? You should’ve told me. You lied to me!”

“I didn’t lie!” You snapped, your own anger boiling over. “I never said I was single, I just didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter. He doesn’t matter! He’s out of my life!”

Luke took a step toward you, his expression hardening. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. If it didn’t matter, you would’ve told me. You’re trying to act like you did nothing wrong, but keeping something like this? That’s the same as lying.”

Your chest tightened, heat rushing through your body as your defenses kicked in. “Don’t twist this on me, Luke. You’re acting like I cheated on you when we weren’t even anything official. We were on a break, for god’s sake. I was done with him.”

“But you didn’t tell me!” Luke’s voice cracked with frustration, his hands gesturing wildly as if trying to make sense of the situation. “You let me think there was nothing holding you back. That it was just us. That we… that this was real!”

You clenched your fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. “It is real! I never wanted to hurt you, Luke. I came here to get away from that mess, not to drag it with me. I didn’t expect to meet you, to… to feel this way.”

Luke shook his head, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his hands gripping the back of his neck. “But you let me fall for you,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “And all the while, you were still tied to him. How do I know you’re even telling the truth now?”

You felt a wave of frustration crash over you, your temper flaring up again. “Don’t act like I’m the only one here who’s screwed up! You’ve been hiding things too, haven’t you? You didn’t even tell me who you really are—that you’re this big shot hockey player. You kept that from me too!”

Luke’s eyes flashed with something like hurt, but the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it. I didn’t hide something that could hurt you. I didn’t lie about someone else being in my life!”

You let out a frustrated breath, taking a step back, feeling cornered. “Fine! Maybe I messed up. But don’t act like I’m the only one who made mistakes here, Luke. You didn’t tell me everything either.”

Luke’s gaze locked onto yours, both of you standing there, chests heaving with the weight of the argument. Neither of you willing to back down. Neither of you ready to admit defeat.

“You know what?” Luke finally said, his voice cold as he broke the silence. “If you’re gonna keep defending yourself, then maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re not what I thought we were.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, your breath catching in your throat. You stared at him, the fire in your chest warring with the sudden ache you felt deep inside.

“Luke—”

“No.” He cut you off, his expression hardening once again. “I need time to think. Alone.”

With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your mind spinning with everything left unsaid.

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youflowerr-youfeast · 2 months ago

Text

Lavender Haze (NH13) - Chapter One.

a/n: Ok, HERE WE GOOO! Full context - this chapter is a bit heavy, especially for the first one, but it's important to the plot, I swear!!! So I apologise for sad boi hour, but it hold on until the end bc it gets cute! I am low key so nervous to share this because I haven't written in some time, but I am taking a note from our main girl of this story and being brave! lmaoo

** Content warning: death, grief. **

5.1K words

Sofia.

May 3rd.

To everyone else, it was just another day—24 hours that would come and go like any other. People would wake up, go to work, return home, and never think twice about it. But for her, it was different.

May 3rd should have been Sofia’s 23rd birthday. A day she would have once celebrated with joy. But now, it carried a lot more weight than that. It was the anniversary of her brother's death—six years since she last saw him.

As a child, her birthday had been almost her favourite day of the year, filled with excitement so intense she could barely sleep the night before. Her parents used to gently tease her for being a bundle of energy, forever telling her to calm down and go to bed. Back then, her birthday was just that—pure, unbridled joy, untouched by grief.

Her seventeenth birthday was supposed to be simple, but it was the one that changed everything. It was meant to just be a small gathering with close friends and family. But what she was truly excited about was Max, her older brother, coming home from college. She hadn’t seen him in almost six months, and with her senior year taking up most of her time, their calls had become rare. The thought of having him there, even for just a day, meant more to her than anything else.

The night began with her best friends arriving, filling the house with laughter and lighthearted gossip about high school crushes and menial drama. But as the evening wore on, she couldn’t stop glancing at her phone. Max still hadn’t shown up.

Each time she checked the time, frustration gnawed at her. Maybe he was just running late, or maybe—though she hated the thought—he’d forgotten. She tried to focus on the party, but the longer he was absent, the harder it became to push down the nagging feeling she felt in her heart and stomach.

It was when her aunt stepped into the living room, her expression so sombre that the laughter instantly faded. In that moment, she felt it in her chest—something was terribly, horribly wrong.

She sprang to her feet and hurried toward her aunt, who gently led her out of the room, away from the curious stares and whispers of her friends.

“Sweetheart… it’s—it’s Max…” her aunt began, her voice trembling, but she was abruptly interrupted by the sound of her mother’s sobs echoing down the hall from the kitchen. That sound—raw and broken—made the truth hit her like a punch to the chest. Her aunt’s voice trembled, the weight of what she had to say too heavy to bear. “He was on his way here and…” She paused, the words almost too painful to speak. “There was an accident, sweetheart. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit his car.” She looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “The ambulance… it didn’t make it in time.”

The walls had closed in around her that day, suffocating her with the weight of those words. He wasn’t late. He hadn’t forgotten. God, how she had wished he’d simply forgotten. But Max wasn’t coming home. He wasn’t ever coming home. The sound of her mother’s sobs had shattered her last shred of hope. He was gone, and with him, a piece of her heart had been ripped away, leaving her hollow.

Even now, six years later, the same crushing weight settled on her chest. She sat alone in her apartment, nursing her third glass of red wine, her eyes fixed blankly on the clock—just as she had that night, waiting for someone who would never arrive. May 3rd, once a day of joy and celebration, had become a shadow that hung over her, heavy and inescapable.

The wine swirled lazily in her glass as she sat in the stillness of her living room, weighed down by the pull of her memories. Each tick of the clock on the wall seemed to echo louder in the quiet, stretching the silence until it felt unbearable. With a heavy sigh, she stood and drifted toward the shelves that held her collection of records—a hobby she’d shared with Max as a teenager.

She ran her fingers absentmindedly over the spines, not caring which album she chose. It didn’t matter. She just needed sound—anything to drown out the relentless swirl of thoughts in her mind. Picking a random vinyl, she placed it on the turntable, letting the familiar soft crackle of the needle fill the empty space. It was a small comfort, but it was enough for now.

As the first notes hummed softly through the room, she wandered into the kitchen, reaching for the half-empty bottle of red on the counter. With a quiet sigh, she poured herself another glass, watching the dark liquid swirl. “Happy birthday, Fia,” she muttered weakly, raising the glass to her lips for a long, slow sip. The words felt hollow, as if they belonged to someone else.

Her phone had buzzed a few times earlier, well-meaning messages from friends asking her to come out for drinks, to celebrate like she used to. But she had ignored them. She always did on this day. The thought of being around anyone else, of pretending everything was normal, felt impossible.

Instead, she let the solitude wrap around her, the soft music filling the hollow space as she took another slow sip of wine. For a while, it was enough—a fragile barrier between her thoughts and the weight of the day.

But as the minutes ticked by, the silence was gradually interrupted. A muffled sound, distant at first, began creeping through the walls. Voices. Laughter. It started as a low hum, barely noticeable, but it grew louder, more persistent, until it was impossible to ignore.

She shifted on the couch, trying to block it out. Turning the volume up on the record player, she closed her eyes and leaned back, focusing on the music. But the voices, the laughter—deep and rowdy—broke through, louder now.

She set down her glass and sighed, brushing a hand through her hair as frustration started to creep in. It’s just a bit of noise, she told herself. You can handle it.

Pushing herself up, she wandered over to the window, hoping a change of view might distract her. She stared out at the dim cityscape of New Jersey, the streets below offering very little in the way of easing her irritation from the lively gathering happening on the other side of her wall.

The sound of glass clinking and bursts of laughter cut through again, this time even louder, as if a whole crowd had gathered next door. She rubbed her temples, willing herself to stay calm. Maybe she could drown it out by creating some distance. She made her way into her bedroom, closing the door, climbing onto her bed, and switching on her TV to find a movie that she could fall asleep to. But even as the first few opening scenes of the film played the bass of their voices still managed to seep through.

She gritted her teeth, her patience wearing thinner with each passing minute. This wasn’t just a few people chatting—it sounded like a full-blown party. On any other day, she probably wouldn’t have cared that her new neighbour was making more noise than usual. The apartment had only recently been occupied, and she might have given them a free pass, maybe even a smile in passing. But not today.

A sharp surge of frustration coursed through her as she pushed herself up from the bed, the laughter and voices growing louder, more distinct. Male voices booming, dishes clattering, and then—what sounded like a cheer erupting from the group. Her pulse quickened, irritation mounting with each noise that shattered the fragile balance she had tried so hard to maintain.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was that it was happening today, of all days. The one day she needed peace. Instead, the chaos on the other side of the wall was stripping away any hope of that happening.

She clenched her jaw, her gaze falling on the half-finished glass of wine beside her. With a sharp breath, she grabbed it, downing the rest in one quick motion. Normally, she could brush off something like this—an inconvenience, a mild frustration—but not tonight. Not when every echo of their joy felt like a reminder that the world moved on without her, indifferent to her pain.

Without a second thought, she slipped on her slippers, snatched her keys from the counter, and marched toward the door, her resolve hardening with every step.

She could feel the heat rising in her chest, her fingers tightening around her keys as she approached her neighbour’s door tha sat beside her’s. For a brief second, she considered turning back, letting it go, retreating to her apartment to drown out the noise with more wine and menial distractions.

But no. Not tonight. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone with their noise as a backdrop to her upset any longer.

Her knuckles rapped sharply against the door, the sound much louder than she intended. She stood still, bracing herself for whoever would answer, already rehearsing the words she was going to say, though they came out hazy in her mind.

The noise on the other side suddenly quieted, the laughter fading, and she could hear footsteps approaching the door.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with tousled dark hair and the biggest brown eyes she’d ever seen. His smile was easy, warm, the kind that made deep dimples appear in his cheeks. He casually brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

“Hey…?” he said, his voice warm and relaxed, though a hint of confusion crept in as though he hadn’t anticipated the pretty stranger that lives beside him to be at his door. The lively noise from the apartment immediately spilled into the quiet hallway—laughter, the clink of glasses, and the hum of conversation—filling the space between them. The carefree energy behind him stood in stark contrast to the tension Sofia carried, the weight of her day pressing harder in the face of his effortless cheer.

For a moment, she froze, disarmed by the warmth in his expression. Her frustration, which had burned so brightly moments ago, flickered under the surface. His presence, his cheerfulness, felt like it belonged to a world she couldn’t touch right now—a world that had moved on without her.

She swallowed hard, her voice catching in her throat. “I just…” she began, her tone softer than she’d meant it to be. She cleared her throat, willing herself to sound firm, though the words felt clumsy. “I just came to ask… well, say… could you—” She stopped, nerves bubbling to the surface. “Could you keep it down? It’s… it’s really loud.”

His smile faltered, his expression shifting from confusion to realisation. He glanced over his shoulder at the noise pouring from the apartment before turning back to her, his brown eyes softening with genuine apology. Before he could respond, another figure appeared beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Well, who do we have here, Hisch?” the newcomer slurred, his voice thick with alcohol and a lazy grin spreading across his face. It was obvious he’d had more than a few drinks—his eyes unfocused and glassy with amusement. He didn’t bother hiding the mischief in his tone. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally gone and got yourself a girlfriend.”

Sofia’s pulse quickened, her discomfort surging as her stomach twisted at the casual comment. The heat she’d felt earlier was there, simmering just beneath the surface, but expressing it was harder than she’d imagined. She wasn’t used to confrontation, let alone dealing with someone like this, on this day of all days. She tried to steady her breathing, but her chest felt tight.

Her neighbour’s face tensed, his eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “No, that’s not—” he began, but the drunk friend barreled on, completely oblivious.

“You’ve been keeping this one under wraps, huh?” The guy grinned wider, swaying slightly on his feet. “Gotta say, didn’t expect you to keep such a pretty girl such a big secret. Impressive, man.”

The comment stung, and Sofia’s nerves cracked, her frustration now bubbling to the surface. She tried to hold back, but something in her snapped, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice shaking as she took a hesitant step forward, glaring at the man who still seemed too drunk to understand her fury. “I’m not his girlfriend, and I’m definitely not here to be part of some joke for you to laugh at.”

Her hands trembled as she spoke, the anger and grief she’d been bottling up all day spilling over despite her natural instinct to shrink back. “I came here because I wanted some quiet,” she added, her voice tight. “I’ve had the worst day, and the last thing I need is some idiot making disgusting comments.”

The smile on the tipsy man’s face faltered, his drunken bravado crumbling under the weight of her words. For a brief moment, he blinked, clearly caught off guard by the intensity of her outburst. As soon as the words left her mouth, Sofia felt her chest tighten, the anger giving way to something else. Tears pricked her eyes, and to her horror, she realised she was about to cry in front of two complete strangers. She quickly looked away, trying to hold it together, but it was too late.

Nico’s expression shifted, the earlier cheer draining from his face. “Hey… are you okay?” he asked softly, his tone filled with awkward concern. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Sofia instantly shrugged him off, her shoulders stiffening as she desperately tried to avoid meeting either man’s gaze. “Yeah, fine. It’s… it’s fine,” she mumbled, but her voice wavered, betraying the crack in her resolve. The words felt fragile, like they could shatter at any moment. “Have a good night,” she added, her voice barely holding steady, the tremor revealing just how close she was to breaking.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, retreating to her apartment and closing the door with a final click, sealing herself off from the world outside.

The moment the door shut behind her, the dam broke. Embarrassment and heartbreak rushed over her like a flood. She pressed her back against the door and slowly slid to the floor, her legs giving way as the tears began to fall. Quiet, uncontrollable sobs filled the stillness of her apartment, her grief pouring out in the silence where only she could hear it.

The next morning, Sofia dragged herself through the motions, the weight of the previous night still pressing heavily on her chest. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her head aching from a mix of wine and restless sleep. But today, she couldn’t hide away. Her students were waiting.

By the time she arrived at school, the familiar hum of chaos greeted her—the joyful chatter, the shuffle of tiny feet, and the laughter of children playing in their little worlds.

Sofia forced a smile, the one she had perfected over the years, and stepped into the classroom, her heart heavy but her face calm.

“Miss Sofia!” A small voice rang out, and before she had a chance to set her things down, Ellie—one of her students, bright-eyed and full of excitement—came barreling toward her, clutching a piece of paper in her tiny hands. “Look what I made!”

Sofia knelt down, bracing herself with a deep breath as the girl thrust the drawing into her hands. It was a crayon-drawn masterpiece—a vibrant garden of mismatched flowers, a few animals scattered across the page in bright blues and yellows, nothing to scale, but all the more cute.

“That’s beautiful, Ellie,” Sofia said softly, her voice a little hoarse from last night. “Tell me about it.”

The little girl beamed, her excitement uncontainable. “This is a bunny! And that’s a flower! And these are butterflies—they fly everywhere!”

Sofia nodded, her eyes following the child’s enthusiastic pointing. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I love the colours you used,” she added, gently tracing a finger over the bright streaks of crayon. “You did such a good job, El.”

The child’s pride swelled, and she practically bounced on her feet. “I wanted to give it to you, Miss Sofia!” she said, holding the drawing out toward her.

Sofia’s heart clenched at the gesture. She took the drawing and held it close to her chest, her throat tightening ever so slightly. “Thank you. I’ll put it right on my wall where everyone who visits me can see it,” she said, offering a smile, though her voice wobbled slightly.

Ellie beamed again and darted off to play, leaving Sofia kneeling there for a moment, staring down at the colourful picture. She tried to focus on the joy in the child’s drawing and the giggles radiating around her classroom, but her mind kept slipping back to last night—the confrontation, the embarrassment, her neighbour’s concerned voice asking if she was okay. It all hung in the air around her, no matter how hard she tried to shake it off.

The day dragged on. Sofia did her best to keep herself anchored in the moment, focused on her students. The children were lively as ever—building block towers, playing with toys, and eagerly running up to her with their little stories.

The lunch break finally arrived, and Sofia made her way to the staff room finding her usual seat and slowly picking at pieces of her lunch. Just as she was about to space out with the new book she’d been carrying around for a few days , the door swung open, and in strolled Amelia, her best friend and fellow teacher. Amelia, who taught sixth grade, was a bright spark of energy—bubbly, outspoken, and fiercely protective of Sofia.

“There you are!” Amelia beamed, dropping her lunch onto the table and plopping into the seat next to Sofia. “I’ve barely seen you all morning. You okay?”

Sofia forced a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed, immediately sensing the lie. She wasn’t one to let things slide. “Uh-huh. Tired or something else?”

Sofia sighed, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “Both, I guess.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Come on, spill. You don’t look like you’re just tired. You look like you got hit by a truck.”

Sofia winced at the choice of words, the memory of last night and her emotional outburst flashing in her mind, but she knew Amelia meant nothing by it - it was just coincidentally a poor choice of words.

“It’s nothing, really. I just… didn’t sleep well.”

Amelia’s sharp eyes softened a little, but she wasn’t convinced. “Sofia, I know you. You’re a terrible liar.”

Sofia glanced at her friend, tempted to shrug it off again, but she knew Amelia wouldn’t drop it. She sighed, her voice dropping. “It’s just… last night wasn’t great. My neighbour was having this loud party, and I kinda snapped at him.”

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. “You snapped? I mean, I’ve heard you raise your voice at a four-year-old trying to flush their snack down the toilet, but at your neighbour? What happened?”

Sofia grimaced, fiddling with the corner of the cover of her book. “It was just one of those nights, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and then like.. the anniversary of… Max.” She trailed off, not needing to explain further. Amelia had been with her through every hard anniversary.

Amelia’s expression softened completely. “Oh, Sof,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Sofia shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I could handle it on my own this year, but then I just… I don’t know. I went over there to tell them to keep it down, but everything came out wrong. His drunk friend made some stupid comment, and I kind of lost it.”

Amelia sat back, her arms crossed as she frowned thoughtfully. “Well, they deserved it then. What did your neighbour do?”

Sofia bit her lip in thought. “He wasn’t really the problem. He was nice, actually. Asked if I was okay and everything. But I still feel like an idiot for losing my temper.”

Amelia shook her head, leaning forward. “You have nothing to feel bad about. Seriously, you never snap. If it was me, I’m certain there would have been police on the scene.”

Despite herself, Sofia let out a small laugh, and Amelia smiled, clearly satisfied. “There it is! I knew I could get you to smile.” She nudged Sofia playfully. “But really, don’t beat yourself up. Everyone has days that people shouldn’t fuck with, Sof.”

Sofia nodded, feeling a little lighter just talking about it. “Thanks. I just… I wish I hadn’t made it so awkward.”

Amelia waved her hand dismissively. “Eh, awkward’s your thing. Own it.”

Sofia rolled her eyes, but the familiar teasing from Amelia felt comforting. As they settled into a more casual conversation, talking about their students and weekend plans, Sofia found herself relaxing. Finally, the weight of last night felt a little less heavy.

As the last child was picked up, she let out a long breath and tidied up the classroom in silence. The bright drawings on the wall, the scattered toys, and the crayon-streaked desks reminded her that, despite everything, she had to keep it together for these little ones. They needed her to be steady, even when she didn’t feel it herself.

When she finally left the school, the afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the streets. Sofia walked slowly, letting the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun ease the tension she had carried all day. With yesterday behind her, she felt a small sense of peace—another exhale after another year of holding it all in.

But as she reached her apartment door, she stopped short. Something was there.

A small, neatly wrapped bundle of flowers rested against the door frame—delicate lavender, daisies, and soft white roses tied together with a simple ribbon. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she stood frozen, staring at the unexpected gift, her heart fluttering in surprise.

Slowly, she knelt down, her fingers brushing over the soft petals as she picked up the bouquet. The sweet, calming fragrance wrapped around her, and nestled between the blooms was a small card. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, neat handwriting filling the centre:

Sorry about last night. Hope today was a better day. – Nico (your really noisy, annoying neighbour) :)

Sofia’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling—part surprise, part embarrassment, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She stood there, holding the flowers in her hands, the soft petals brushing against her fingertips, and for the first time in a really long time she felt a flicker of something hopeful. She stared down at the card, reading and rereading the simple words.

Should she thank him?

The thought made her stomach twist with uncertainty. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to face him after the way she’d snapped the night before. The embarrassment from her outburst still stung, and the last thing she wanted was to come off as awkward or ungrateful. Yet, the thought of just letting it go—of not acknowledging the gesture—felt wrong. She glanced toward his door, a few steps down the hall, debating with herself. Her feet remained planted where they were, rooted by hesitation. What would she even say? Her mind raced with possible scenarios, each one more awkward than the last.

I could just leave a note, she thought, but that felt too impersonal, too ungrateful.

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the flowers again. The soft fragrance was comforting, and something about his thoughtfulness made her feel a little braver. Before she could overthink it any further, her feet moved on their own.

She walked up to his door, heart pounding louder with each step. The hallway suddenly felt too quiet, too tense. Standing in front of his door now, the bouquet still in her hands, Sofia raised her fist hesitantly, her knuckles hovering just above the wood. For a second, she almost turned back. But she pushed the thought aside, summoning her courage.

Before she could second-guess herself again, she knocked.

The knock had barely left Sofia’s knuckles when the door swung open. He stood there, looking slightly surprised but not at all unwelcoming. His hair was still damp, stray strands sticking up like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Dressed in a casual hoodie and athletic shorts, he had that unmistakable post-workout ease about him, his body relaxed yet energised.

“Oh,” he quipped in surprise, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “Hey.” His tone was warm, though clearly caught off guard, with a slight accent that Sofia hadn’t noticed before—soft and melodic, with just a hint of something European.

Sofia’s heart raced, her grip tightening on the flowers. She hadn’t fully prepared herself for this moment. His easy smile, paired with the casual way he leaned against the doorframe, only made her nerves buzz more.

“I, um…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to hold his gaze and speak a little louder. “I got your flowers.”

His expression softened instantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you were home. I knocked, but no one answered, so I just left them at the door.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of awkwardness creeping in. “I’d just got back from training and thought I’d drop them off before heading inside.”

“They’re really lovely, thank you, and totally unnecessary,” she replied, feeling her cheeks warm ever so slightly everytime her eyes met with his deep brown ones.

“No, they were necessary. I just felt really bad about last night. I wasn’t sure how else to say sorry.”

Sofia shifted on her feet, her cheeks flushing. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that… it was just a really bad day, and I didn’t handle it well.”

He shook his head, his eyes understanding. “You don’t have to apologise. We were way too loud, and I should’ve known better. You had every right to be upset.”

She let out a small sigh of relief, grateful that he wasn’t holding anything against her. “Still… I feel bad. I’m not usually like that.”

He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks showing as he shifted slightly with a shrug. “Everyone has their days. I get it. At least when I have a bad day I don’t have to deal with a party next door.”

Sofia laughed softly, the tension melting away as she caught his playful tone. “Yeah, not the best timing.”

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the flowers still resting in her arms—a tangible reminder of his thoughtful gesture.

“I’m glad you liked the flowers,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter. “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Sofia smiled softly, her heart a little lighter. “You didn’t need to do anything, but they are perfect. Thank you.”

Silence settled between them once more, and just as Sofia was about to murmur another thank you and retreat to the safety of her apartment, he shifted, his expression turning slightly hesitant.

“And… about last night,” he began, his tone careful. “I’m not trying to pry, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or just someone to hang out with to get your mind off things, I’m right next door.” He gave her a small, sincere smile. “I know I’m a stranger, but I like to think I’m a pretty good friend, too. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” He tilted his head playfully giving her another grin that made the indents on his cheeks pop.

Sofia couldn’t help but smile, a real one this time, though it was small and uncertain. His offer almost felt like a lifeline—a chance to lighten her load, if only for a little while. His easy demeanour, the warmth in his eyes, and that grin with the dimples—it all chipped away at the awkwardness she’d been feeling since last night.

“I appreciate that,” she said quietly, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the bouquet. “Really.”

She felt the urge to retreat, her instinct to protect herself kicking in, but something about his sincerity kept her standing there, as if maybe, just maybe, accepting the gesture wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Maybe… maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime,” she added, surprising herself with the words.

His smile widened, his eyes lighting up at her response. “Yeah? No pressure, of course… but I’m Nico, by the way,” he added, nodding toward the card she still held in her hand.

Sofia smiled, her nerves fluttering under the surface. “Sofia,” she replied, then quickly added, “My friends call me Sof, or Fia… you can call me either. Whatever you like,” she rambled, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she fumbled over her words.

Nico chuckled softly, his dimples deepening as he caught the fluster in her voice. “Sof or Fia, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sofia managed a small laugh, but her heart was still racing, her mind caught somewhere between wanting to retreat and not wanting the conversation to end. She felt the need to say something more, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Nico shifted slightly, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than expected. “Well, Sof or Fia… I guess I’ll see you around?”

She nodded, gripping the bouquet a little tighter. “Yeah. See you.”

But even as she turned to leave, she could feel his eyes still on her, a quiet energy hanging in the air between them, like there was something more neither of them was quite ready to say.

Before she reached her door, Nico’s voice called out again, soft and warm. “Hey… for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you knocked.”

Sofia paused, her hand hovering over her doorknob. She looked back, meeting his eyes, a spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time flickering in her chest.

“Me too,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

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