#nkh bookstore

[senditcolton]

A DAY LATE BUT OH MY GOD!! WHY ARE Y'ALL NOT REBLOGGING THIS MASTERPIECE?? (that's on me as well) DON'T TELL ME Y'ALL FORGOT ABOUT THE JOY THAT IS TYSON JOST!! I WILL BE SCREAMING ABOUT IT FOR THE NEXT YEAR PROBABLY!!

(speaking of screaming here it is, in-depth)

Let’s goooooo!!! I was excited when I heard Little Women inspired and now that it’s from YOU C!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

(also love the name Delaney – just one of my favorites)

Of course Tyson is the only person to think her ex is a douche

“the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand” *John Mulaney voice* NOW WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT.

“such a kind gesture of friendship” this was the first of many times I was banging my head against my pillows. DELANY PLS

Yes you will have to kiss each other and it will be MAGICAL

The fact that they’ve both equated their feelings to being kids with crushes is so sweet

Tyson being soooo nervous to meet her dad!

“he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list” I HOPE SO TOO TYSON

Tyson and Delaney are so cute already and their not even ~really~ together yet!

The way Delany’s family remind Tyson of his and how seamlessly they fit together 🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍

“Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant” IT’S NOT! (head in pillows x2)

Babe, you’re comparing him to your sisters significant others. That should be a siiiiigggggnnnn

“She was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship” (head in pillows x3)

“he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee” uh-huh sure Tyson, that’s definitely the only reason you’re staying in bed. Has nothing to do with your dream girl nestled against you.

Tyson being so good with all the kids is peak Josty in my mind

The way he is so happy at seeing her so relaxed MY HEART!

THIS EXCHANGE WITH OLIVIA HAD ME MELTING!!! The way she can see right through both Tyson and Delaney?? One of the first to be like ‘you two love each other, duh’. MY HEART!!!

“he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her” (head in pillows x4)

TYSON’S DUMB LITTLE SMILE WHEN HE LOOKS AT HER!

Well, of course you’ve never noticed Delaney, that’s like rom-com 101

“she made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities” (head in pillows x5)

“Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had – maybe in a way that even her family never had” THAT MEANS SOMETHING!!!

THIS ENTIRE DATE!! OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER IT IS SO PERFECT!

AND THEN TYSON HAD TO OPEN HIS MOUTH AND (accidentally) RUIN IT

“she really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor” (head in pillows x6)

NOOO HE LOVES YOU!!! IT IS REAL!! GOD DAMMIT!!!

“Which is all I’ve wanted since we met”!?!??!?!?!

GOD SHE IS SUCH AN IDIOT! (AFFECTIONATE)

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that… like there was no one else around” DEAN I COULD KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH FOR THIS COMMENT THANK YOU

She was his Cape Cod!?!?!?!??!

“You said not to say it unless I meant it. I mean it” MELTED. PUDDLE. RIGHT NOW.

“I really, really would like to kiss you first” WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT?!

THIS FIC WAS MAGICAL!! I could so clearly feel the Little Women energy in every sentence. Delaney and her family, how close they all were, like AH MY HEART!! You nailed every single trope you chose i am over the moon so yeah overall =

Playing Pretend - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC (f)

Summary: When Delaney Taylor needs a date to her family reunion, Tyson Jost volunteers his services. As they navigate their fake relationship, the line between what’s real and what isn’t begins to blur.

Word Count: 9.8k

Author's Note: Happy birthday, @senditcolton! Surprise, I was your Little Women anon 🤓🥳 I had a blast creating this and infusing the March family into the characters - I hope you enjoy! S/O to @wyattjohnston for helping to beta and to @smileysvech & @jostystyles for the extra details because I'm insane. 🖤 The birthday bingo prompts I selected were: Fake dating / Drunk confession / Argument Scene / She's oblivious / Free Space (Inspired by... Little Women)

Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use. NHL Masterlist

A buzz on the coffee table alerted Delaney Taylor’s attention away from the television. Beside her, the gentle hum of a Theragun sounded over the low volume of an Avalanche game. She was at Tyson’s house, having accepted his invite to hang out and get takeout on his night off. They’d met through friends, and after finding a mutual interest in The Lagoons and bad reality TV, their friendship naturally veered off to form a branch and blossom on its own.

The phone buzzed again, prompting Delaney to lean forward and grab it upon seeing a text from her sister. 

“Fuck,” she said, “Alyssa just texted asking for a final count for my family get together in July.”

“And that’s a bad thing… why? You love your family,” Tyson said, confused. He set down his Theragun on the ottoman, reaching for his water bottle. A car dealership commercial flashed on the screen.

Across from him on the couch, Delaney sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m poor, in a mass amount of debt, and working at a Kohl’s instead of at the Met like I was supposed to by this time,” she said, counting each sin on her fingers. Lifting a fourth, she added, “Oh yeah, and I’m single.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. They don’t care about that.”

“Maybe not, but I’m only 26 and they make me feel so pressured to get married, start having babies,” she sighed. “My older sister, Alyssa? Happily married with three kids. Violet? In a long-term, happy relationship. And Rachel—she’s not even married but she still has a baby who is basically the light of everyone’s life. Even both of my little sisters have ‘made it’ more than me. I’m just a grad school dropout who broke up with the boyfriend that everyone loved. They spent all of Christmas asking me if we were going to get back together.”

“Yeah, well, did you tell them that Mark was a fucking douche?” Tyson asked, to which Delaney snorted in amusement. You’re the only other person who seems to think so. He let the moment settle before adding, “Delaney, you don’t have to check all of the same boxes as your sisters. You’re literally the smartest person I know.”

“Dropping out of grad school does crazy things for your self confidence,” she said, heart heavy with defeat. It was over halfway through the semester, but saying it out loud never got easier. Delaney wondered what her former classmates were studying, if they missed her absence. 

At the end of the fall semester, she’d been crushed to make the decision to pull out of her classes for the spring. Between work, schoolwork, and trying to balance the rest of her little free time between having a social life and having a healthy sleep schedule. her stress levels skyrocketed at the same rate as her student loan payment. It was a painful, but necessary, goodbye. Though she knew she made the right decision, she still felt sad and disappointed when her mind drifted, doing her best to quiet the what ifs that ran through her mind.

Delaney forced herself to focus her thoughts back to the present. “I just… I can’t stand to be a disappointment anymore. I already failed at being a grad student. I don’t want to have to fail at finding a boyfriend, too.”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

He blurted it out so quickly that Delaney stared at him for a moment before the confusion seeped in. “What?” 

“I mean,” he said after a gulp of water, a slight tinge coating his cheeks, “I’ll come with you. Pretend to be your boyfriend. That way at least there’s one area they can’t rip on you for.”

“Tyson, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, ignoring the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand. She didn’t have time to unpack that yet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice was confident, like he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but gentle, like he’d back down if she really vetoed the offer a second time.

Delaney considered. She felt guilty at the thought of subjecting him to her entire family, making him put on the doting boyfriend act without anything in it for him. That was just how he was, though; generous, giving, willing to do anything for his friends. It really was such a kind gesture of friendship, it almost made her heart ache.

On the other hand, it would save her a headache—she couldn’t deny how much she dreaded the hopeful look in her dad’s eyes when he asked if she was seeing someone—and she did think Tyson would get along with her family. And who wouldn’t want Buffalo’s cutest resident to be her arm candy?

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you need to promise to tell me if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” Tyson said with a grin, holding out his hand. Delaney accepted, shaking it; she ignored the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. “What’s our story, then, babe?”

Heat instantly rose in her cheeks at the pet name. “Okay, rule number one, don’t overdo it with the nicknames. It’ll be too obvious.”

“So no snookums? Honey pie? Sugar plum?”

“No, no, and double no.”

“Aww man,” he pouted. “I was even gonna let you call me ‘cupcake.’”

Delaney rolled her eyes before returning to his original question. “I think our story is the same, for consistency’s sake: We met through friends.”

“Our first date was putt putt and dinner,” he supplied, nodding along. “Kissed you outside your apartment after the second.”

Again, warmth melted over Delaney’s face at the mention of kissing; she felt like a teenager getting teased for having a crush on a boy in her class. And then she realized that she would, in fact, probably have to kiss him on the trip, if they were really hoping to make it believable.

Judging by the way Tyson’s face turned a shade of crimson, she assumed he’d come to the same realization she had.

Maybe they were in for more than they anticipated.

Six weeks later, after creating an entire relationship backstory and studying Delaney’s family tree, Tyson was on a plane to Boston, Bose headphones snugly over his ears. How I Met Your Mother was playing on his iPhone, propped up on the tray table in front of him. Seated beside him was Delaney, lost in her Kindle. Her elbow rested against him on the armrest, her long braid tucked between their arms.

When they landed, Tyson knocked his knee against hers with a grin. A strange flare of nerves and excitement radiated in his chest for a moment, then was gone again. 

“C’mon babe, I’ll get your bag for you,” he said. Delaney chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eye.

He followed her to the rental car booth, waiting patiently while she sorted out the paperwork for a red Toyota Camry for the hour-long drive to Cape Cod. She nominated him road trip DJ, a title he wore with honor, and the two chatted comfortably as she made her way down the MA-3 South.

Nerves began to flutter again when the GPS had them exiting the highway and indicated he only had about eight more minutes to prepare for his new role as Delaney Taylor’s boyfriend. If she could tell, she didn’t say anything, and he did his best to hide it. He could handle being surrounded by reporters with cameras and phones shoved in his face, peppering him with the same questions about his career and his future; if he could handle that, he thought, he could handle meeting his pretend girlfriend’s family. 

Soon enough, they were pulling into the driveway of a large white house, and not thirty seconds after Delaney put the car in park, a small blonde head was running down the front porch steps to greet his new girlfriend. Tyson smiled as he watched Delaney throw the door open and scoop the little girl into her arms before spinning her around in a hug.

Olivia. Delaney’s seven-year-old niece—and favorite one.

“I mean, of course I love all of my nieces and nephews,” she’d explained, “but Olivia and I are soul bonded.” “Liv,” she said gently after setting her down, “there’s someone I want you to meet.” When two wide, inquisitive eyes peered up at him, Tyson instantly understood why she was Delaney’s favorite. He crouched down to meet her gaze as Delaney introduced him. “Olivia, this is Tyson.”

Olivia eyed him and he smiled, waving. She studied him thoughtfully, then said, “Hi. Are you Aunt Delaney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that okay?”

The little girl looked over to her aunt. “Do you like him?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked over to Tyson’s, an amused smile on her face. Heat lingered in his cheeks after her gaze returned to meet Olivia’s. “Yes, I like him.”

“Like-like him?”

“Yep.” Tyson felt a flutter in his chest, like he was a kid on a playground finding out his crush like-liked him too. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Olivia turned back to Tyson, observing him keenly for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Tyson laughed again, relief unexpectedly washing through him at her instant approval. “Thank you. I’m really so honored to get Princess Olivia’s blessing.”

The other introductions were easier—Alyssa and Ben (Olivia’s parents), Rachel (Delaney’s sister) and her eight month old daughter, Isla. Tyson smiled warmly at everyone, feeling almost instantly at home amongst the easy way they welcomed him in. Inside the house was the rest of the family: Delaney’s sister Violet, her girlfriend Preethi, Hailey and Noah (Olivia’s older siblings), and Delaney’s dad.

Though he knew it didn’t matter much if he actually made a good impression, as he’d likely never see her family again, Delaney’s father was the person Tyson was most nervous to meet; he knew firsthand what growing up in a single-parent home was like and how close the bond can become with the remaining parent. Based on everything he’d heard about Delaney’s relationship with her father, he knew it was an important impression to nail.

“Mr. Taylor,” he said, extending his hand for a firm handshake. He was surprised at the way his voice trembled slightly, though he did his best to hide his nerves with a smile. “Really great to meet you.”

“Call me Dean,” he said with a wide, genuine smile. It put Tyson at ease, even as he registered how much larger Dean’s hands were than his own.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Tyson was happy with how the first meeting was going. He was impressed with himself, though he couldn’t deny that it was Dean’s easygoing, warm nature that really made it seamless. As a single father of four girls, Tyson wondered how many people had come through the door with the intention of dating one of his daughters—how many people had Dean had this exact interaction with? He wondered what Mark’s was like. He wondered how he measured up.

Tyson told himself it was just his competitive nature, but he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list. 

After introductions, Tyson and Delaney brought their bags in and settled into the third bedroom on the left, their home for the week. Once the door closed, Delaney turned and asked, “How’re you doing out there?”

Tyson laughed, unzipping his bag to hang up a few of his shirts in the wardrobe. “Are you kidding? Your family is great, Delaney. I think we might have to get married. I want to come here every summer.”

“Relax, cowboy. You haven’t even had a single meal with them yet,” laughed Delaney. She was grateful her face was hidden as she knelt to pull her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Heat burned in her cheeks even as a grin spread across her face. Then, eager to change the subject, she added, “You passed Olivia’s inspection.”

“Dude, I think I fell in love with her. Those eyes!?”

Snorting, Delaney nodded as she walked toward the bathroom to set her bag on the counter. “She does have beautiful eyes.”

She thought she heard him say something like, “Must run in the family,” and she opted to wash her hands in the sink in order to will away the burn on her cheeks before returning to the bedroom to finish unpacking.

They returned downstairs a little while later, having unpacked and changed out of travel clothes to something more beach-friendly. Though it was nearing the end of the day and the sun was beginning to go down, the kids were not ready to give up swimming and making sandcastles for the day. Delaney gestured for Tyson to make himself comfortable when they sat down in the chairs on the deck. A few others trickled out, giving Delaney the opportunity to sit and catch up with a smaller group at a time; she spoke with Rachel about Isla’s new daycare, asked Violet about her anatomy final, and told Preethi about the latest book she read. She was grateful that no one seemed to be interested in asking about her future career plans; for now, it seemed, everyone was content with her handsome, charming boyfriend.

Rachel’s eyes flicked over to Tyson, who was smiling as he took in the conversation. He didn’t have much to say or contribute, but he seemed perfectly happy just listening. It made Delaney’s heart twist a little bit at the thought.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” asked Rachel. Delaney cast an appreciative glance over at her sister, grateful that she was making an effort to include him.

“Me? Oh, I’m doing great,” he said with a grin after a sip of his Labatt. “You guys kind of remind me of my mom, sister, and cousins when they’re all together.”

“Wait, that’s really sweet,” Preethi cooed. 

“Okay, you’ve heard us yapping,” Violet said after agreeing with a nod. “Tell us about this infamous Tyson—who I’m still pretty pissed that I only just learned about your existence.” 

Delaney offered her sister a sheepish grin and a shrug as Tyson recited the story they’d concocted about their relationship, peppering in details about their first date and their transition from friends to more. Violet seemed skeptical at first, but she seemed to warm up when he shared that he’d harbored a crush on Delaney for months before he asked her out—somehow, that was enough to explain the lack of talk about him.

“We wanted to keep things light in the beginning,” she peppered in. “Just in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t want to make things weird with the rest of our friends.”

Tyson nodded, going along with her ad-libbing and taking it a step further by reaching his hand over to hold hers on the armrest of her Adirondack. His thumb stroked her knuckles, a quiet and subtle gesture of affection that sent warmth flooding to Delaney’s heart. “Fortunately, it worked out and we still have friends.”

It wasn’t long after that Rachel went inside to put Isla to sleep and Violet and Preethi left to pick up Chinese takeout for dinner, leaving Tyson and Delaney alone. The other kids had gone inside to shower, which left their view of the beach unmarred as the sun went down, oranges and purples dancing across the surface of the water. Warmth splayed over her legs, the cool breeze making an otherwise warm evening quite pleasant.

This, she thought, is pure happiness.

“Wow,” Tyson awed, “I mean, I believed you when you said it was beautiful, but this is… it’s insane.”

Delaney laughed, nudging his foot with hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly after a pause. “It really—I can’t say how much it means to me that you really came and did… all this. For me.”

Tyson smiled, the chocolate of his eyes warm as his hand reached over to give hers another squeeze. “For this view? I should be thanking you.”

Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant.

—

Dinner was simple, casual, and perfect, with everyone scattered around amongst the dining room table, kitchen bar, and coffee table in the living room. Delaney could feel her heart contract at the sight of it, her family, the sound of their voices and their laughter filling the room of her most favorite place on planet Earth. Every time she looked over at Tyson, he seemed to be laughing, that contagious, bright smile etched across his face. He flitted around, too; one moment, she’d see him at the table with Olivia, Noah, and Dean, the next, at the bar with Rachel, Alyssa, and Hailey.

She was surprised at the way in which he fit in with her family as if he’d been around for years, the way Ben and Preethi had. It was so natural; she was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship without missing a single beat. Not a single person, she mused, had any suspicion that it was all a sham.

It sure didn’t feel like a sham to her when he tugged his white t-shirt over his head, tossed it in his bag, and crawled into bed beside her later that night. Delaney did her best to keep from gaping, but she’d never even seen that many abs on a person, let alone the shape of his bicep and the tempting dip of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms.

“So how’d I do?” he asked, pulling her out of her head—the one that was imagining exactly where those lines ended beneath the cotton material. Heat flushed to her cheeks, realizing how blatantly she’d been staring, darting her eyes away.

Delaney plugged her phone in on the nightstand and regained her composure before turning to face him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Aw, thanks, buttercup,” he said, tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “I’m ready to play so much Marco Polo with Olivia tomorrow.”

“You better get some beauty sleep if you’re planning to be the entertainment for the day. The girl’s got stamina.”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

When Tyson woke, it took him a moment to register where he was. The blue paint on the walls, the wooden beams, the spinning fan overhead was all unfamiliar, but there was something sweetly scented that he recognized.

Delaney.

She was sleeping beside him, hair disheveled and falling out of her loose braid. Her breathing was steady, soft, so quiet Tyson could barely hear it. He smiled, watching her for a few moments, appreciating the quiet simplicity of the house’s aura and the effect it had on Delaney; she seemed so at home, so comfortable, like she could take off the armor and be unapologetically herself. He liked seeing that side of her, like it was a privilege to be able to witness her at her most authentic self. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Delaney shifted, causing a strand of hair to fall into her face. Tyson felt a tug in his heart when she nuzzled into his warmth, exhaling softly. 

He was her boyfriend now, and as much as he’d bonded with her family the night before, it was still early and he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee with the few people who had awoken. So, he gave himself a mental shrug and let her sink into the crook of his arm, savoring her warmth.

The subtle floral scent of her shampoo made its way into his nose, and the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled him back into a cat nap, morning sun warming the ocean-cool air. It was her stirring in his arms later, after the sun had risen higher in the sky, streaming light and buttery warmth through the window, that woke him again.

“You were snoring,” she said. Her freshly-awake voice was sleepy, softer than usual. “It was so cute.”

Tyson hummed a soft apology and his cheeks warmed, heat weaving its way through his body when he realized how much of her was pressed against him. He found himself both disappointed and grateful when she stretched and rose first, padding quietly into the bathroom. The bed beside him felt cold, empty, and it was only then that he realized how much he’d been relying on her body heat for warmth.

Breakfast was casual, everyone helping themselves to the assorted bagels, fruit, and yogurt in the fridge. Delaney’s leg brushed against his when he sat back down after a coffee refill, answering Noah’s earnest questions about how to become a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure how he did until he received a grateful look from Alyssa after he told Noah that he always made sure to eat all of his vegetables at dinner.

Since he didn’t need much time to prepare for a beach day, he offered to help Dean clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher—he was confident he’d made a good first impression, but wanted to solidify a spot on the Good List. By the time he’d started the cycle, Delaney had returned from their shared room and Tyson nearly choked on his coffee when his eyes landed on her. He’d never seen her in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and the expanse of her golden skin wasn’t something he had prepared himself for. 

Of course he’d noticed the way her eyes bulged when he took his shirt off before bed; he’d bitten his lip to keep from smiling. She had told him to act normal and be himself—it wasn’t his fault he preferred to sleep sans shirt. But after seeing her in beachwear, Tyson’s confidence in his ability to manage his emotions as Delaney’s fake boyfriend was starting to waver. The black linen pants she sported were enough to have him sweating for a moment before he collected himself, tearing his eyes away from the curve of her ass.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—for him, he didn’t have much time to dwell on how well her pants fit her hips and her ass, for Olivia was barreling down the dock, followed closely by Noah, both of whom were calling to Tyson to help them build the world’s largest sand kingdom. Delaney grinned at him, offering a sympathetic shrug before he was being tugged to a spot on the beach by Olivia.

Right away, she directed him to dig the moat, while she and Noah worked on starting the base. Tyson kept the conversation going, asking them both about school and letting them ask him questions about life as a hockey player. Every so often, he’d glance over at Delaney, sitting on the deck with Rachel, Isla, Violet, and Preethi. He smiled at the light in her eyes as she sat, chatting and laughing with her family that he knew she missed dearly. For the first time in a few weeks, she was smiling, the weight on her shoulders temporarily lifted.

This was why he came. Why he traveled 500 miles from home, voluntarily staying in a house full of strangers and was now elbow-deep in wet sand: To take away a pressure point so that she could enjoy her weekend with her family without the unspoken still-single? narratives. She thanked him more times than he could count, but it honestly hadn’t even occurred to him as something that was worth thanking him for.

She was a friend, and she needed something from him. Simple. There was no decision to make. If she needed him, he was there. When a friend asks for help, you help ‘em.

Even if it meant he had to spend an entire weekend with her loud, large family and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Something about playing that role, envisioning himself as the man beside her in her life, made him feel… warm? And kind of fuzzy? Prior to arriving, he’d been a bit anxious at the immense pressure of being able to act the part and pull it all off, but being Delaney’s boyfriend was easy. Her warmth attracted everyone; it was only natural to be drawn to her. 

“Tyson?” Olivia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Dee?”

Tyson felt his cheeks tinge with pink heat, stuttering for an answer; he got the strange sense that Olivia had been reading his thoughts. His gaze flicked over to the girl in question, gently rocking Isla in her arms. For a brief moment, his brain conjured the idea that she was holding their daughter, and he couldn’t keep up with the surge of emotions in his chest.

He cleared his throat, blinking away the thought. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Do you think I should?” 

“Yeah,” she said after a moment of introspection. “She smiles a lot with you.”

“She does?”

“Duh. You’re her boyfriend.”

Tyson hummed, letting Olivia drop a handful of sand into the bucket he was holding. He packed it in before helping Noah place the next section of the wall.

He’d be so lucky to marry someone half as wonderful as Delaney.

The sun warmed Delaney’s skin, amplified by Isla’s body heat, sleeping soundly in her arms. She smiled down at her newest niece, drinking in her tiny features.

“You got yourself a good one, Del,” Rachel said, causing Delaney to glance up at the use of her name. “He’s wonderful.”

Delaney swallowed the urge to respond that Tyson wasn’t hers, that he could only ever be hers in her dreams—or, in this case, in an entirely fake scenario. Even in the first 24 hours, everything had come so naturally to them, she had to remind herself that he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her. The thought stung, but she pushed it aside to unpack later.

“It’s actually so sweet how in love with you he is,” Violet agreed. “I love watching him look at you.”

“Oh my God, right?” Preethi gushed. “Every time I look over at him, he’s staring at you with that dumb little smile on his face. It’s so cute.”

The thump of her heart quickened at her family’s words. She’d never seen the looks they were talking about. In fact, she’d never even seen him looking in her direction when she’d sneak glances at him across the room, keeping tabs on his whereabouts and if he generally appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you loooove him?” Violet asked. Her sing-song voice made Delaney roll her eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said, far too quickly, before she realized that being in love with her boyfriend is kind of the end goal when in a relationship. “I mean, not yet. It’s not been that long.”

She ignored Rachel’s glance, allowing Violet to nudge her knee with her own. “Alright. Well, no time like the present.”

“Judging by the way he looks at you, I think your boy is already there,” Rachel said.

Heat surged to Delaney’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t true, but they had every reason to believe it. It was strange to be at the center of a lie, watching as the strings began to weave an intricate pattern—all because she couldn’t bear to disappoint her family again.

And Tyson had been more than willing to jump in and help her; in fact, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was overwhelmed with his generosity, his kindness. The display of friendship made her heart ache. And now, here he was, convincing everyone in her life that he was her boyfriend—so well that her sisters were convinced that this wonderful man was in love with her.

She made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities. “Stop. He’s not.”

“Girl,” Violet said disbelievingly. “You go off to la la land with that dopey-ass smile on your face when your sister says he’s in love with you, and you think you don’t love him?”

“Let her get there on her own, Vi,” Preethi said, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s arm. She winked at Delaney before saying, “You’re right, though.”

After another roll of her eyes, Delaney glanced to the sparkling water beyond the dock for a reprieve from her interrogation. The waves softly rolled toward the shore, whispering her name on their breath. She nudged Isla into her sister’s arms before rising from her seat, stretching. “It’s time.”

Rachel’s “Have fun!” followed Delaney as she headed down the dock, slipping her linen cover-up down her legs and tightening the straps on her bikini. At the end, she wasted no time diving in, letting the water surround her.

Delaney swam around, letting the coolness of the water soothe her warm skin. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been coming to this place, and something about the feeling of the water on her skin was cleansing; purifying even. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in this place, pressures and stressors and everything else muted while she was there with her people. 

This time around was different. This time, her life back at home was in shambles, unable to catch a break. But this time, she also had Tyson by her side, there to alleviate the pressure so she could have an escape. His presence was different from how Mark’s had been, despite the fact that Mark was actually her boyfriend. Tyson seemed to understand her, listened without judgment, supported her without question.

Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had—maybe in a way that even her family never had.

—

Tyson was helping Olivia put the final touches on the sandcastle, which included a garage for her Barbie Jeep, when movement on the porch steps caught his eye. His throat went dry when he saw what—or who—was making their way toward the water.

Delaney, stripping out of that linen outfit, excitedly speed-walking down the dock. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest. Unable to help the way his eyes traveled over her skin, he let his gaze drag up her legs, over her curves. Fuck. She looked good.

A shriek sounded beside him, and Tyson’s eyes went wide as his head whipped to Olivia. Only when he saw her smiling did he realize that she was shrieking with joy, presumably at the sight of Delaney jumping in the water, if the cheering was any indication.

“Aunt Dee! Aunt Dee!” she squealed, dropping her sand shovel and running back toward the shed. She handed him a Frozen floaty, indicating for him to help her blow it up. Once she was situated, the floaties wrapped securely around her upper arms, she was bounding down the dock toward her aunt. The sound of a splash, followed shortly by a squeal and laughter informed Tyson that she had successfully made it.

He smiled fondly, making his own way down to the end of the dock where Delaney was helping Olivia make a whirlpool.

“Incoming!” he shouted, tossing his t-shirt and sunglasses to the side before he cannonballed in amidst screams from both girls. Rising to the surface, he was met with splashes from Olivia’s tiny feet, which he quickly grabbed and tugged her toward him to lug her over his shoulders. Another squeal left her mouth as he launched her—safely—out of his arms, crashing into the water.

Delaney laughed beside him, watching Olivia’s triumphant smile as she rose to the surface. Moments too late, she realized that she was Tyson’s next target, her eyes going wide when his hands found her waist. He ignored the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way she fit in his arms as he lifted her, too—much to Olivia’s delight, who was chanting for him to toss Delaney. 

“One, two—”

“Tyson, put me down!” Delaney shrieked.

With a wink at Olivia, he shrugged and said, “You asked.” With that, he launched her and watched her land in the water with a satisfying splash. When she emerged, Olivia was laughing so hard that Tyson couldn’t help but join in. Delaney spluttered, sending a splash of ocean water toward him that he quickly dodged.

He turned to Olivia, still giggling, and ignored Delaney’s sharp protests beside him. His eyebrow raised and he leaned in to Olivia. “We playing mermaids next, or what?”

Prior to arriving at the Taylor family cottage, Delaney had taught Tyson the family dynamics and the Annual Family vacation rules. First and foremost, to relax and spend time with family. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t required to participate in anything—and there was usually so much going on that it wasn’t difficult to find something to do.

Another rule they’d developed early on was that each couple gets a guaranteed, guilt-free date night. Established after Hailey was born so that Alyssa and Ben could have a night to themselves, it had simply stuck as each sister added a significant other to the ever-growing Taylor family.

When Violet announced that Tyson and Delaney’s assigned night was Wednesday, his faux girlfriend was quick to assure him behind closed doors that they didn’t have to do anything crazy— “like a real date, or anything.” Tyson, though, brushed her off and was determined to commit fully to the bit.

It took a fair bit of wrangling and no shortage of dawdling to get himself alone with Alyssa to ask where he should take Delaney on a date. He couldn’t explain why his cheeks were so warm talking with her, taking note of her suggestions like he was in a Calculus class. While their relationship was a farce, he reasoned, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take Delaney out for a memorable evening.

When the night arrived, Tyson fought a flutter of nerves in his chest. He had to actively fight the feeling of being a 16-year-old boy nervous for his first date, despite the fact that he was well into his twenties and had quite literally been sharing a bed with his date for three days. Waiting downstairs with Preethi, Violet, and Hailey, he did his best to act normal like it wasn’t his first-ever date with Delaney.

Like a scene from a movie, he felt his heart leap into his throat when she made her way down the stairs. She was stunning, despite having thrown on “just a sundress”; the body of the dress fit her torso like a glove, the skirt flowing at her waist. A milkmaid dress, he was told it was called—whatever it was, he liked it.

Dinner was simple, one of Alyssa’s top recommendations at which he somehow managed to snag the last remaining reservation. Once they arrived, he understood why: the wall facing the beach was made entirely of windows, leaving the entire restaurant a gorgeous view of the bay and the subsequent sunset. The room was already beginning to fill with the rich oranges and pinks as the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

“How romantic,” Delaney commented with a smirk, nudging him with her elbow. “Candlelit dinner at sunset? Should I be expecting a proposal later?”

Tyson’s face split into a grin, patting his pocket. He could’ve sworn his arm radiated warmth when she pulled away from him. “Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, honey bee.”

The meal itself was good—homemade pasta and some kind of whipped eggplant that had him contemplating ordering a second helping—but the highlight was sitting across the table from Delaney, talking freely and feeling on top of the world when she laughed at his stupid jokes. The flickering flame of the candle on her face, illuminating her skin, her smile, the glint of her necklace resting on her collarbones; her thick hair falling in loose waves, the strands around her face soft and so very Delaney. All of it—all of her—had completely sucked him in, fully underneath her spell and he couldn’t have been happier.

Tyson didn’t realize how much he’d been craving her individual attention until he had her uninhibited attention: her eyes locked on his, so in tune and in touch with everything he was saying, nodding along enthusiastically with every word out of his mouth. It was intoxicating to have her all to himself, immersed in him as he was in her.

He was addicted.

Tyson saw the waitress lingering out of the corner of his eye, praying she wouldn’t interrupt Delaney’s story—something about a new exhibit at Buffalo’s art museum; honestly, he was mostly just consumed by the spark in her eyes. Instead of checking in, the waitress approached the table silently, refilling water glasses and wine without a word before walking away.

I’m tipping you 50%, he thought to himself, leaning right back into everything Delaney, Delaney, Delaney.

Eventually, the waitress did return and burst their bubble, but Tyson was already on cloud nine, suggesting a walk on the boardwalk to get ice cream just to prolong the feeling for a little longer. The evening breeze paired with the lack of sun had goosebumps dotting Delaney’s arms, and it was all too easy for him to slip an arm over her shoulder and tuck her into his warmth. 

Driving home was like a scene from a movie, her phone plugged into the aux cord and Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me blaring from the speakers. With a grin, Delaney cranked the volume up and Tyson found himself loudly singing the words alongside her; fortunately, the sound of his off-tune serenade was drowned out by the music. She sang to him, using her fist as a microphone as she danced in the passenger seat of his car.

Pulling in the driveway didn’t stop Tyson from continuing his performance, instead throwing open the door and running around to open Delaney’s, tugging her out to spin her in a circle at the instrumental break. He pulled her back into his arms, relishing the laughter she let out when he dipped her backwards.

The song faded to its end, the sound replaced by a softer one, the melody sweet and lulling. A faint beachy breeze blew past, and Tyson found himself pulling Delaney’s body closer. Her eyes were warm, looking up at him with a softness that made his heart melt and time stand still.

Tyson told himself it was gravity that drew him in, pulling him closer to her lips, suddenly yearning to know what her lip gloss tasted like. The world came to a spinning halt around him when he pressed his mouth to hers, like the universe wanted him to savor the moment. He kissed her more firmly, a strange tug in his chest letting his tongue flit against the seam of her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry ice cream he’d bought her on the boardwalk.

His hand moved up to her neck, cupping the side of her jaw to deepen the kiss, savoring the next sigh she expelled. He didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, not now that he finally knew what her lips felt like against his own. It warmed him from the inside out, like a buttery sunshine spreading through his veins, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart. 

Tyson forced himself to pull away, consciousness seeping back in through the Delaney-infused haze surrounding him. The expression painted on her face was dreamy, her eyes unfocused as she blinked them open, a little hitch of surprise in her throat as reality seeped back in around them. He swallowed the urge to kiss her again.

—

Blinking, Delaney stood in shock. A rush of cool air hit her face from the space that Tyson had just occupied. She blinked again, lips tingling.

Once Delaney managed to get her wits about her, she did her best to keep her voice level. “You didn’t have to… we don’t have to—”

Tyson’s smile was nearly enough to make her knees wobble—though she was stabilized by his hands firm on her waist. He didn’t seem to be nearly as impacted as she was—heart thumping rapidly in her chest, mouth dry, fumbling to right herself on shaky legs. “Violet and Preethi have been spying on us from the upstairs window for ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

In an instant, Delaney deflated. She glanced down at her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment—at both the idea of her intimate moment being impeded on, and at her own stupidity for thinking that the entire evening hadn’t been just an act. He’d been so sweet, so perfect, that she’d allowed herself to really believe in their lie, even for just a few hours. She could’ve sworn there was something so genuine about the way he held her hand on the boardwalk, the way his eyes watched her lips—

And that kiss. She really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor, because he was convincing.

“C’mon, pookie,” Tyson said, taking her hand. Her thoughts vanished upon hearing his voice. “We’ve given them enough to look at.”

Back in the house, they were greeted by a few people in the sitting room, gathered on the couches watching a movie. Ignoring the barely-hidden grins from Violet and Preethi, Delaney offered a quick ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about dinner before heading upstairs—“I’m tired,” was her excuse. 

She hoped her family didn’t notice that she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

Inside the locked bathroom, she turned on the faucet to imitate washing her face. Instead, her face crumpled as a sob wracked her body, warm tears spilling freely out of her eyes. The shift from on top of the world after the kiss to the fall in realizing it was all for show was jarring; she knew what she was agreeing to when he offered to pose as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t thought of the tease it would be for her heart to have Tyson be hers for the week. It hurt more than she’d expected to have him openly acting, to know what it felt like to kiss him and have it be all for show.

The little smiles, soft touches on the back of her arm as he’d pass in the kitchen, the brush of his fingertips on her waist in the lake. All of it so natural, sly, clandestine, like he wanted it to be a secret just for the two of them—and because it wasn’t an elaborate public display to uphold the falsehood for her family, it had only naturally drawn her to the conclusion that maybe there was some truth behind it.

That kind of thinking was too good to be true, she told herself. She wasn’t the main character of some romance novel; she was just Delaney.

And guys like Tyson didn’t go for girls like Delaney.

The next few days passed peacefully: jet skiing, swimming, and plenty of mermaids. If Tyson could sense any change in her after their date, he didn’t show it. In fact, if anything, he’d doubled down on his affection, brushing her cheek with his lips when he walked by, falling asleep with an arm loose around her hip, stroking the back of her hand by the fire. 

It was wonderful and infuriating all at once. Delaney couldn’t help but lean into him, unable to resist his touch, even though she knew it would crush her even more once Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave. She could barely even think about telling her family they’d ‘broken up’—but she was getting ahead of herself.

She knew she should bring it up with him, tell him how she felt, but she couldn’t bear to make things weird and ruin the rest of the trip. For the rest of the week, she reasoned, she’d let herself live in the fantasy. Enjoy another few days of blissful ignorance. And she’d deal with the consequences of her actions later. 

Hurt feelings were future Delaney’s problem. 

It was Friday when the kids announced that everyone was cordially invited to a play performed by them that evening. Both Delaney and Tyson helped them to construct a few of the props necessary—including a reindeer made out of a tarp and a bike and multiple paper crowns. 

Before the show, Delaney followed Tyson into the kitchen to retrieve a beverage for the show. As she poured herself a glass of wine, Tyson passed behind her, hand brushing against her waist when he reached past her to grab a High Noon from the fridge. They turned at the same time, bumping into one another, causing her white wine to spill down her front.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” she said, only to have him interrupt with a sudden kiss.

Initially caught off guard, it only took her a few moments to recover before she was kissing back, addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers. That same beautiful warmth filled her, a kind of light that she only experienced with him. She wanted to devour him, to have him devour her, to think and feel nothing but Tyson—

And then he pulled away. Lips wet, cheeks flushed, she could see the emotion swirling behind his beautiful brown eyes. “Delaney—”

But, with her wits about her now that he wasn’t making her dizzy with his kiss, she knew what came next. She interrupted him before he could finish. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Tyson’s brows furrowed together, confusion knitting between them. “Don’t what?”

Delaney shook her head and repeated herself. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it. It isn’t fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re catching feelings, right? Because you’ve had to act like it all week.”

Tyson blinked, clearly surprised that she’d taken the words out of his mouth. But the surprised expression quickly morphed into one of frustration. 

“So you’re not even going to give me the chance to speak?”

“I can’t hear you say it, Tyson—not unless you mean it,” Delaney said, then added softly, “Not when this has been the best week of my life because I’ve gotten to pretend you were mine—which is all I’ve wanted since we met.”

She watched his eyes soften, and the pity she imagined there nearly made her sick. It was a necessary evil, though; she needed to intercept his confession before he said it out loud. She couldn’t bear to hear him emit those words, couldn’t hear him confirm what she knew to be true: a future with her wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d never say it, probably wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but she knew that he was too good for her, that someone like her didn’t deserve someone like him. She wasn’t ready to burst the final bubble of her beautiful fantasy, leaving her cold and sad and alone.

But instead of sympathy, or a patronizing statement, Tyson adopted a bite to his words. “You think I fell for you on purpose? I didn’t have a choice, Delaney.”

Something about the way he said it felt like a slash to her heart, like he had fallen for her but wished he hadn’t. It stung more than she expected, more than him simply not reciprocating her feelings.

“This was your idea in the first place, Tyson. You committed to this,” she reminded him coolly. “It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a rom-com before. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“Delaney, that’s not what I’m saying—”

Against her will, tightness formed in her throat, a sting hot behind her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. Having you be mine. I’ve always known it would come to an end, that I’d have to go back to life as it was. But I didn’t realize how much different it’d be knowing how it feels to kiss you, to hold your hand. To have you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

“Then you should’ve fucking told me that before you let me be your boyfriend!”

This is going nowhere, she thought to herself. She needed to walk away from him, right now, before the wall of tears threatening to burst through came pouring out.

Delaney took a breath, searching for the words that would wound him the way he wounded her. She steeled herself, feeling a cool exterior blanket her and harden into place like a cast. “Well, I didn’t. Sue me. I just need you to do your job for another 24 hours, and after that, we don’t ever have to speak again. Okay?”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, though she heard him say her name as she walked back outside to where her family was gathered on the patio. Her body thrummed as she returned to Rachel’s side, her younger sister casting a glance of concern in her direction. Delaney ignored her, smiling and turning to Hailey, Noah, and Olivia’s performance—Frozen, the musical.

A movement in her periphery told her that Tyson, too, had returned to the group, taking the seat beside the makeshift stage that Olivia had saved for him. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

“Good?” Rachel’s voice was quiet, subtle, concerned. Delaney nodded, and she knew that her sister knew she wasn’t, in fact, good. She was grateful that Rachel knew her well enough to know to let it be, that she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Delaney wanted to stew a little bit.

So stew she did, staying mostly quiet as the musical wrapped up. The performers received a standing ovation before a fire was started and the usual chatter began. Darkness fell, the moon rising higher in the sky, their voices swallowed by the night air. Delaney offered a few comments here and there and helped Noah with his s’more, watching the group dwindle as more and more of them went off to bed for the night. Tyson, to his credit, remained by the fire too, helping to keep the kindle stocked—almost like he was saying, ‘I can go all night.’

But so could she.

—

The crackle of the wood and the lick of the flames hypnotized Tyson, pulling him in and quieting thoughts running through his mind as he replayed the conversation they’d had. Admittedly, he’d lost his temper a little bit, frustrated that Delaney wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, that she’d somehow made him out to be the bad guy.

As the kids began to make their way to bed, Tyson indulged in another beer—or three. Not enough to be drunk drunk, but enough to wash away some of the rogue emotions swimming around inside of him. He kept his eye on Delaney, who appeared to be stewing silently across from him and refusing to make eye contact with him.

But he was determined; he wasn’t going to let her slip away—not this time. Not after her confession. Not when he still had things to say that she needed to hear.

So he waited, making casual conversation with those remaining, the chairs around him slowly emptying out until it was only him, Dean, and Delaney remaining. He cast another glance over to her, startled to see her already looking at him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but he held her gaze through the tips of the orange flames dancing between them regardless. Something in his heart swelled, even though he was pretty sure he’d fucked it all up—he just wasn’t exactly sure what he did wrong.

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that.”

With a blink, Delaney broke eye contact to turn and look at Dean. Tyson had never heard her talk about her mom, save for an occasional memory. Her lips parted—in surprise, maybe—before she said, “Like what?”

“Like there was no one else around,” Dean said simply.

Delaney’s eyes flicked to Tyson’s. He swallowed carefully, suddenly all too aware at Dean’s implication, whether intentional or not. As her boyfriend, he was supposed to want a future with her: that was the end goal.

He didn’t have to feel guilty. 

So he smiled, letting her see the warmth and happiness that Dean’s statement filled him with. He wanted her to know that when he was with her, the rest of the world faded away.

She was his Cape Cod. His escape from the upcoming pressures of free agency, of the already-exhausting training regimen that waited for him upon return home, of his future in the NHL on the line. With Delaney, none of it seemed to matter so much. As long as she was by his side, everything seemed like it’d be okay.

“Goodnight, you two,” said Dean’s amused voice. In his inner monologue, Tyson had completely forgotten that Dean was around, and he jumped slightly when he’d interrupted his train of thought. “Put the fire out when you come inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” Delaney called after him, glancing back at Tyson. “Goodnight, dad.”

Tyson waited until the crunch of Dean’s shoes on the sand disappeared up the lighted walkway to the house. “Delaney…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have— it wasn’t fair of me to not even let you say your piece.”

“I didn't know how you felt. I… I wish you’d told me,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tease you.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird between us,” she confessed. “I didn’t really think about anything being different after this.”

Tyson nodded in understanding. The fire crackled beside him, burning bright in the cool darkness around them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity to Delaney that made everything seem so damn beautiful. Probably a mix of both.

“You can say your piece now. I won’t interrupt this time.” She smiled, following where his gaze had just been, watching a spark pop beneath one of the logs.

“It’s not much of a piece,” he said. “I didn’t really think about how I was going to say this.”

“So, just say it.”

“I love you.”

Delaney snorted, rolling her eyes. “Tyson, you’re drunk.”

“I know. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned first saying it to you, but I need you to know,” he confessed, aware that he was on the verge of drunk rambling. He composed himself and repeated, “I love you, Delaney.”

Delaney’s smile faded, staring at him. Her eyes studied his face, almost like she was searching for the truth in his own eyes. Convinced he could prove it, he stood and walked around the fire, moving into the empty seat beside her—only wobbling once en route. Her breath caught in her throat at the new proximity and he reached across the armrest to take her hand in his. 

“You said not to say it unless I meant it,” he whispered. “I mean it.”

He watched as the weight of his words settled in, even drunk Tyson having enough wherewithal to know that it was time for silence. Slowly, a smile began to spread across her features. 

Illuminated by the glow of the fire, Tyson thought it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her look.

“Are you still gonna mean it when we leave here on Sunday?” she asked, eyeing him. “You’re not going to get back to Buffalo and shake out of this vacation high?”

“Whatever you need me to do to prove it to you, I will,” he said solemnly. “But I really, really would like to kiss you first, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, just briefly, but then she was smiling again and nodding. With a finesse that only a drunk person could manage, he leaned forward to cup her jaw with his hand, nose brushing her own affectionately. He savored the feeling of her breath against his lips and closed his eyes.

As it had both times before, her kiss lit him on fire from the inside out. He poured himself into her, hoping that he could convey his sincerity with the depth of his kiss.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The buzz of her phone had Delaney setting down the Lego instruction booklet to glance at it. Smiling at the contact photo—Tyson, freshly awoken, his hair sticking straight up—she turned the screen to Noah, earning a wide smile with an extra tooth missing. She swiped to answer, letting the camera face her nephew.

“Noah! Hey, buddy,” Tyson’s voice greeted with a laugh. “What’re you up to?”

“We’re making a Spiderman Lego set! Look!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I wish I could do it with you. You look like a real hockey player with those teeth missing.”

Noah smiled again, showing off the two gaps where his baby teeth had recently fallen out. Delaney started to flip the camera back to herself when a voice sounded from the other room. “Tyson! Tyson!”

Little feet pattered excitedly through the doorway, Olivia’s face beaming as she ran to grab the phone from Delaney’s hands. “Hi, Tyson.”

“Hey, Liv. When are you coming to visit me and Aunt Dee?”

She jumped up and down excitedly, looking at Delaney. “Aunt Dee said we can come and have a sleepover over winter break!”

“That sounds awesome. We can wear matching pajamas,” he said, earning a giggle from Olivia, who launched into an elaborate itinerary for their slumber party, including candy, a makeover, and a Frozen marathon.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Aunt Dee?”

With a nod, Olivia said her goodbyes and made him promise to text her goodnight. Flipping the camera back to herself, Delaney smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Hi.”

“Hi, muffin,” he said, an easy smile curling up on his own face. He was sitting outside on a porch, curls peeking out from under a gray hoodie. “How was your interview?”

“Really good. We’re going to schedule a final interview at the museum next week once I get back. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

Tyson’s smile grew wider. “That’s great news. One step closer to the Met!”

“I’m good with Buffalo’s art museum for now,” she said. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

“Aww, honey bear,” he teased. Delaney wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at him. Her interview had been over video call, taken from Ben’s office at their house in Rochester. If all went well, she would soon become Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s new Membership Coordinator.

Things were looking up for her. And even though life wasn’t perfect, she had Tyson and her family to help her get through whatever came her way.

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Third Time’s the Charm* Adore You Love It If We Made It* One Night Standards

[senditcolton]

frequently asked questions

a list of answers to your burning questions!! please use as reference. will be updated semi-frequently.

Does your blog contain +18 plus content? yes. but i do welcome everyone here and do my best to make it clear which content is specifically nsfw so it's easier to avoid.

How can I filter out content I don't want to see? if you are under 18, filter #la petite mort to avoid my writing, filter #nicole writes to avoid fics in general, filter #nkh bookstore player tags are their initials & number (ex. Chris Kreider = CK20) teams tags are their official abbreviation (ex. Dallas Stars = DAL)

Are we mutuals? this is a sideblog, so it does get a little tricky. i like and follow from @idonthaveaclue so if you see that username in your notifs, it's me!! (and if you'd like to follow me there, you totally can).

Can I send you random asks? of course! my inbox is always open for questions, thoughts, and/or musings, regardless of if we know each other or haven't spoken before! i love talking to you guys!! however, i am sometimes terrible at replying in a timely manner. but know i have see it and i will respond eventually, i promise!!

I'm shy but I want to have conversations with you; can I sign my anon asks with an emoji? absolutely!! i always have my anonymous asks on and if you are more comfortable talking that way, no judgement!! emoji's already claimed: 💜✨☁️💛

How often do you post fics? whenever i can. i do have a rough schedule of upcoming projects which i update at the beginning of each year, but it is highly subject to change.

Are your requests open? requests are currently closed

When do you open requests? it varies. i sometimes have themed events/nights where you can send in specific requests and sometimes i will open requests completely. whatever it is, i will always make an announcement post for you all to see!!

What players do you write for? check out the full list here

Can I be tagged in your writing? absolutely! check out this post to see how!

Can I use your moodboards as inspiration for my own work? of course you can! many of my creations (both writing and moodboards) are inspired by others so i feel like it would be hypocritical for me to say no. just please give proper credit.

Is there any way we can support you and your writing/creations? right now, it's just reblogs and comments! they mean the world to me!! however, i will say that i'm toying with the idea of starting a Ko-fi account. i will update if that becomes true!

[senditcolton]

I got my summer romance Tyson and now I get my winter romance Tyson?? How am I so BLESSED!?!?! LAUREN!! I'm so excited to get into this one!

(once again, in-depth screaming below)

AND THE REASON IS YOUUUUUUUU!!! AND THE REASON IS YOUUUUUUU!!

Lauren, once again, you and I being on the same wave-length as far as music taste

Awwww, Lucy’s mom so ready to look out for her!! They don’t even know Tyson is there yet!

Loving her independence – Lucy and I are kindred spirits. (but also that indepence might have been the cause of some issues…)

Her immediately breaking the cookie apart to give part of it to Tyson!!!

“He knew that? Did he ask? Or did Jim just tell him?” I have a feeling that he asked Lucy but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself

“He remembered? After all this time?” Lucy… come on, it’s right in front of you… HE’S right in front of you

“It sounds like everything was worth it for you” TYSON NO DON’T BE BREAKING MY HEART ALREADY

Drunk Tyson just saying the things that have been on his mind is a double-edged sword

Positive: him telling Lucy how pretty and how awesome she is

Negative: him getting into his own insecurities and talking down about himself

YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR ME – TYSON NO!!

“I can barely get a team to keep me and you’re soaring ahead” LAUREN THIS WAS CRUEL AND UNUSAL (said with the utmost affection) I JUST WANT WHAT’S BEST FOR HIM – and apparently so does Lucy!!

“Because neither of them were each other’s first choice” OUCH!! MY HEART!!

“If I could go back and change it all, I would. I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.” ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES THAT WASN’T EVEN ON THIS YEAR’S BINO BOARD?! MIND READER!!

“Well I could never accuse Tyson of being subtle” – fair enough

Lucy’s mom also being like, “honey, the answer is right in front of you, come on.”

YOU CAN HAVE BOTH!!!

Grandpa Jost knowing to walk back in the house and let them have their moment!

“There is no world in which you would be too late” I AM MELTING LIKE A PILE OF SNOW IN THE SUN

THIS WAS WONDERFUL!! You brought in ALL the emotions like you ALWAYS do!! I was sad and then heartbroken and then happy and relieved and AAAAAAHHHH!!

I loved it. I loved it! Just... AAAAH!!

A reason to start over new - T. Jost

Summary: It’s been five years since Lucy has seen her ex-boyfriend Tyson. Can his grandparents’ Christmas party fix their broken hearts?

Happy birthday @senditcolton! This is my fic for your birthday bingo – I had a lot of fun with this one! I chose The Hand Touch, Exes to Lovers, Free Space (Resolved Angst), “You’re Too Good for Me”, and Winter Romance, making it a full bingo! Hope you have a wonderful day Nicole.

A massive thank you to @jostyriggslover96 for reading through this!

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: angst, flashback to breakup, some bad language, self-deprecation.

Title from The Reason, by Hoobastank

~

I've found a reason for me, To change who I used to be, A reason to start over new, And the reason is you.

~

“Oh wow, Val and Jim have really outdone themselves this year, haven’t they?”

Lucy glanced around at the Christmas decorations surrounding them, smiling at her mom’s words.

“Full of holiday cheer, as always!” she nodded.

She took off her thick coat and gloves, glad to be out of the icy air, hanging them up on the rack put out for guests.

“Now honey, if it’s too much, you can slip out back and head home, okay?” her mom said seriously, albeit quietly.

“You said that last year. And the year before that. For the last five years, actually,” Lucy mused.

“And I’ve meant it every year. They might be our neighbours, but you are my baby. And my priority, always,” her mom said seriously.

Not for the first time, Lucy was thankful to have the mom she did.

“And I appreciate it. But I’m going to be fine,” she said, smiling fondly.

“Alright, if you’re sure. You just send me a sneaky text if you change your mind though, yes?”

“Yeah, thanks mom,” Lucy beamed.

The Christmas Eve Party thrown by her neighbours was a tradition she’d attended her entire life, and even though she hadn’t dated their grandson in half a decade, Val and John had always insisted that she still came along. A lingering effect of being childhood sweethearts, she supposed.

“Amy! Gary! Lucy!”

The welcome from their neighbours was warm and effervescent as it always was, and soon enough Lucy found herself swept in by conversation and catching up. She may have gone to college in UBC Okanagan in Kelowna for both her degrees, barely away from home, but she’d lived in campus residence for all four years of her bachelor’s degree and moved out of her parents’ house properly into a small apartment near campus for her master’s degree. It would’ve been easy to move home after guaranteed accommodation ended, but Lucy had wanted to keep the independence she had grown to love, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t visit her parents at least every other weekend.

But it was still nice to be able to talk about her accomplishments with the people that she’d grown up alongside, especially now that she was in the final year of her master’s degree and looking like she was on track for starting the PhD she’d always aimed for.

After a couple of hours, she escaped the crowds in the living and dining areas, grateful for the sanctuary of the kitchen. There were a few plates of cookies and other Christmas treats laid out, and Lucy couldn’t resist reaching out for a snickerdoodle…

…at the exact time as someone else.

She jumped in surprise as a large hand rested on top of hers, not realising anyone was next to her, but as she looked up, she couldn’t but to freeze despite the warmth of his touch. Tyson. It was Tyson’s hand touching hers.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I…Lucy?”

“Hey Tys,” she managed to breathe.

The familiar curls, the big beautiful eyes, the sweet smile, and now a little bit of stubble? He looked good. Of course he looked good.

Tyson quickly drew his hand away from hers, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Uh, you have it, I shouldn’t be eating baked goods too much anyway,” Tyson said, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly.

Lucy pursed her lips and broke a third of the snickerdoodle off, handing it to Tyson with a raised eyebrow. Tyson huffed out a laugh but accepted the offered treat, sending her a small smile of thanks. Fuck, it may have been five years since they broke up, but he really hadn’t changed, had he?

“So, uh, you still come to these parties?” Tyson asked.

Lucy bit her bottom lip but nodded.

“Yeah, your grandparents insist. I hope that’s okay,” she winced.

“Of course it is,” Tyson said quickly, “They always loved you.”

Well that was something at least. Why did this feel so awkward? Sure, it had been five years since she’d seen Tyson, but they dated from eight years – surely they had more than this?

“I don’t usually come to these. Well, I guess you already know that, if you come every year. I, uh, I have the 24th to the 26th off this year, so I didn’t want to miss another Christmas with my grandparents,” Tyson explained.

“I bet Val and Jim were over the moon when you told them,” Lucy mused.

Tyson laughed softly, nodding. “They were. Mom and Kacey didn’t hesitate to come to Kelowna to join us, so it’s a big family Christmas this year.”

“That’s great, Tys. Really. Spending Christmas with your loved ones is important,” she said softly, smiling.

His smile dimmed a little, but he nodded.

“How’s, uh, how’s your degree going? Gramps said you’re doing a master’s now?”

He knew that? Did he ask? Or did Jim just tell him?

“Uh, yeah. I graduated my bachelor's degree magna cum laude back in 2020 and went straight into starting my graduate program there. I’m a paid teaching assistant for my supervisory professor too.”

“That’s incredible, Luce. Still doing Earth and Environmental Sciences?” Tyson prompted.

He remembered? After all this time?

“Yeah, yeah it is. Focusing in on environmental impact assessment for my master’s thesis,” she nodded, a little stunned, “I didn’t think…I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course I remember. You were always so passionate about your studies – it was one of the things I loved most about you,” he said softly.

“Tyson…” Lucy said faintly, trailing off when no words would come.

He smiled sadly at her, shaking his head.

“Sounds like…it sounds like everything was worth it for you,” Tyson murmured.

~

2019

“So you can’t make it over?”

“No, Tys, I can’t, I have labs to do,” Lucy sighed.

“We haven’t seen each other in so long!”

“I can’t just not go to my classes because you want me in Denver! You know this!” she groaned.

“I know, I know, but it sucks.”

Lucy frowned, even though he couldn’t see her. “You’re the one who didn’t come home for Christmas, remember?”

“The schedule didn’t make sense, and I offered to fly you down?”

“Tyson!” she groaned.

He stayed silent on the other end of the phone, a silence that sent an ominous shiver down her spine.

“So where do we go from here?”

“W-What?” she said, confused at the dull tone of his voice.

“Your priority is college, my priority is hockey, and neither of us can compromise. I would never ask you to compromise, just like you wouldn’t ask me. We have different priorities, clearly. So where do we go from here?”

“Tyson, are you really saying what I think you’re saying?” she whimpered.

“Yeah, I think we should break up.”

“We’ve been together for eight years! You’re the only boyfriend I’ve ever had, the only guy I’ve ever wanted. And you want to break up, just like that?”

“I don’t want to break up, Luce. But what other option do we have? Neither of us can give the other what we need right now. We have to focus on ourselves, don’t we? For our own careers? You have so much ahead of you and I can’t be there to celebrate it. And you can’t be by my side cheering me on from the stands. I love you, Lucy. But this isn’t working anymore.”

~

“Tyson, why would you say it like that? You think it’s been easy for me?” Lucy asked, throat a little choked.

“No, no, of course not,” he groaned.

“Then what do you mean?”

“Look, forget I said anything, okay? It was really good to see you, Luce.”

Before Lucy could say a word, Tyson walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen with her head spinning. What the hell was that?

For the final few hours of the party, Lucy indulged in a couple more glasses of wine than she intended, sticking solidly by her parents’ sides. She did her best to keep a smile on her face and ease into the Christmas festivity, even when Laura and Kacey said their hellos, but her mind just kept going back to Tyson.

“We’re going to start saying our goodbyes, okay honey? Why don’t you find all our coats.”

Lucy just nodded at her mom’s suggestion, grateful for the opportunity to escape the crowd. Well, she was grateful, until she saw Tyson sitting on the bench next to the coat rack, face flushed and eyes glassy. He was drunk, at least moderately so.

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, voice slurring.

What did he mean by that?

“I’m just getting our coats. We’re heading out,” she murmured, trying to ignore the whoosh in her stomach.

“Already?”

“It’s nearly midnight, Tys,” she said, smiling wryly.

“Well, fuck. Time flies when you’re having whiskey, I guess,” he groaned, putting his empty glass on the bench next to him.

She huffed out a laugh, unhooking the coats when she finally spotted them.

“You look good, Luce,” he murmured, looking up at her through his eyelashes.

“I do?” she blurted.

Damn it.

But Tyson just grinned. “Yeah, you really do. You always looked good, but damn you’ve really settled into your own skin, eh?”

“I love who I am, yeah,” she nodded.

She wasn’t lying, or even placating. Her studies in environmental impact had opened up a whole new side of her she hadn’t even realised was there, and she loved everything about the person she’d become through it. She just hadn’t realised it was obvious on the outside.

Then again, if anyone was going to notice something like that about her, it was going to be Tyson, wasn’t it?

“You’re too good for me.”

Oh fuck.

“That’s not true. Not even slightly,” Lucy said, frowning.

“No? I can barely get a team to keep me, and you’re soaring ahead with your academic career, just like you deserve,” Tyson scoffed.

This was just the alcohol talking. It had to be.

“Tys, those teams are the ones missing out. You’re amazing,” she said softly.

He paused for a moment, before shaking his head.

“If I’m so amazing, why did we break up?”

Because he had to put hockey first.

Because she had to put college first.

Because neither of them were each other’s first choice.

“That’s not fair, Tyson. We were kids when we first started dating. Barely 13 years old. And we were together for eight years! We had an incredible relationship! It just…we wanted different things. Our priorities were different, our passions were different – we might have grown up together, but we’d also grown apart. Your life is hockey and my life is academics, and that’s okay! That doesn’t mean we didn’t have love, yeah?”

The way that Tyson’s eyes filled up with tears made her own eyes water, dangerous lump rising in her throat.

“If I could go back and change it all, I would. I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.”

His soft words tore a sob from her throat and she shook her head. How could he be so cruel?

“Don’t say that. We made the right decision five years ago and you know it,” she whimpered.

Tyson’s face fell at her devastated expression, and he staggered to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry,” he said sadly.

And yet here she was, broken hearted all over again.

“I should go. I need to go,” was all she could manage to choke out.

“Lucy, baby, please…”

But Lucy just shook her head, clutching the coats in her hands, shaky smile on her lips as the tears finally fell. “Merry Christmas, Tyson.”

~

“So what happened at the Christmas Eve Party that has you all torn up like this?”

Lucy flinched at her mom’s voice, turning her head to see her standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Uh huh, and I’m a fairy princess,” her mom snorted.

Lucy couldn’t help but giggle, earning a fond smile as her mom walked into the room and sat down next to her on her bed. Lucy placed a bookmark in the book she’d been reading to give her mom her full attention. She’d needed a little respite from all the preparations to hold her dad’s family for a late lunch, after all the intensity of having her mom’s family over yesterday on Christmas Day, but she’d found herself reliving her conversation with Tyson over and over.

“Sounds like…it sounds like everything was worth it for you.”

“You’re too good for me.”

“If I’m so amazing, why did we break up?”

“If I could go back and change it all, I would. I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.”

So really, her mom coming up to talk to her was a welcome break from all of that as well.

“If you know it was the Christmas Eve Party then you can take a guess,” Lucy said, shrugging.

“I’d rather hear it from you, when Tyson’s involved,” her mom mused.

Well at least her mom was blunt about it.

“We had a couple of conversations, and it stirred up old emotions, old drama. He…mom, he said he’d go back and change it all if he could. That he’d always choose me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Her mom blinked a couple of times, lips parted in a surprised, before she coughed out a laugh.

“Well I could never accuse Tyson of being subtle.”

“Mom, seriously. This is stressing me out. I can’t stop thinking about it,” Lucy groaned.

“I think that’s an answer in itself, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“What?”

Her mom stayed silent, just nudging Lucy with her shoulder, and Lucy nudged back out of habit. What did she mean, that was an answer in itself?

“Lucy, honey, if you can’t stop thinking about Tyson choosing you above everything else, that means something,” her mom eventually said with a huffed laugh.

“But how can it? He still has his hockey, and I still have academics. Neither of those are going to change any time soon,” Lucy said sadly.

Because at the end of the day, that was the bottom line of it all. Their priorities haven’t changed.

“Just because your both still have your passions doesn’t mean that they have to be your only love. You can have both,” her mom said firmly.

What?

“How can I have both?” Lucy asked, confused.

“Do you love him?” was all she said.

“What?” Lucy said, surprised.

“Do you love him?” her mom repeated.

Lucy opened her mouth, shutting it again before huffing out a laugh. There was only one answer to that.

“Yeah, I never stopped,” she replied.

“Then you can have both. You spent the last five years missing him, and I know damn well that that boy missed you too - neither of you deserve that for another second. You can have both,” her mom said decisively.

She could have both?

How could she have both?

“You love him.”

“I love him,” Lucy whispered.

“Go get him.”

Lucy whimpered as she looked into her mom’s eyes, but she only saw warmth and encouragement. Her mom was right. She loved Tyson. She loved Tyson and if seeing him again this Christmas had taught her anything, it was that she was stupid if she tried to deny how much she missed him. If she didn’t tell him now, when would she?

“He leaves today. I need to go now,” she said suddenly.

“Well damn, okay then. Put on a sweater and I’ll find your snow boots,” her mom grinned.

Lucy felt like she was in a haze as she walked as quickly down the street as was safe, heart pounding as she spotted Tyson loading bags into his grandpa’s car.

“Tyson!”

His head whipped around at her shout, eyes going wide as he saw her walking towards him. Tyson shuffled down the driveway, missing Jim’s fond smile as he himself went back into the house, and the moment that she was standing in front of him, Tyson cupped his hands over her elbows to steady her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I love you,” she breathed.

Tyson whimpered, but Lucy wasn’t discouraged, not when she saw the wonder that filled his expression.

“You love me?”

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t stop thinking about everything you said the other night,” she blurted out.

“Luce, I’m sorry, I know I upset you but…”

“No, Tys, it’s okay,” Lucy said, shaking her head as she interrupted, “While I stand by what I said, that we made the right decision at the time, maybe we could make a different decision now?”

“What are you saying?”

She could understand his hesitation, really she could. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t coming out with this out of the blue, after five years of nothing at all. After five years of heartbreak and heartache. But her mom was right – she missed him so fiercely and she couldn’t bear the thought of him not knowing that.

“I want us to start over new. I never stopped loving you, not for one moment. We could have both. We could have our passions and our love, and I hate that it’s taken me this long to even consider that? I miss you and I love you and I know you’re heading to the airport to fly back to Raleigh, but tell me I’m not crazy for thinking we could do this?”

Tyson’s jaw dropped as he processed her long rant, and it was only his firm grip on her elbows that stopped her from giving up hope.

“That was a lot,” Tyson said.

She winced. “I know, but…”

“And you poured out a lot of emotion there,” he interrupted.

Lucy kept her mouth shut this time, as much as she wanted to beg him to say more.

“It’s been agony for five years, for so many reasons, but hearing you say that you love me and you want to give our relationship another shot? I just…”

Tyson trailed off, letting out a long breath.

“I understand if I’m too late,” she murmured.

But Tyson huffed out a laugh, raising one hand from her elbow to cup her face in a gentle motion that had her breath hitching in her throat.

“There is no world in which you’d be too late,” Tyson said softly.

“Really?”

“I love you too, Lucy. I never stopped either,” he murmured.

She couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that tumbled from her lips, smiling back up at Tyson as he smiled at her.

“We’re really doing this?” she asked, giddy.

“Yeah, baby, we are. I don’t know how we’re going to do this, or what it’s going to look like, but we’re both adult enough to know how to put in more effort this time round right, yeah? I’ll fly home for the all-star break, and I’ll fly you out for spring break, and we’ll have video calls that neither of us are going to miss. And everything else. We’re going to make it work this time,” he said, tone serious but face grinning.

“And we’re going to communicate, yeah? When one of us is finding it hard? We’ll find little compromises, as we can’t do the big compromises. We’re worth it,” Lucy added, not caring that her cheeks were aching with her smile.

“Yeah, we are. I love you, so much Lucy,” Tyson grinned.

“I love you too.”

Tyson didn’t waste any time in leaning down to press his lips to hers, their last first kiss.

[senditcolton]

first off, I am so sorry that this reactions is so delayed. but now, as i'm typing this after reading the whole fic, maybe it's a good thing i waited because I'M SAD NOW! (which means you did your job and i love it). but let's get to in-depth, play-by-play, screaming:

I'm ready! *after watching the very first tik-tok linked* I'm so not ready.

hating the sun: Colette 🤝 Me

gotta love someone who is fiercly protective of library books

(although, i have to agree with Mat slightly; why are books so expensive?)

*after first section* damn, they cute already

Colette is my twin because I am also wildly skeptical about camping.

I ADORE both Colette and her friends. The interaction between her and Eddy? 😂😂😂

Meddling friends - gotta love it.

HE WAS GONNA ASK HER ANYWAY?!?

"She wanted to hear [Anthony's laughter] as much as she could" eeeeeee!!!

"Do you think I'm imaginary or something?" maybe... perhaps one could say... the girl of his dreams...

Addison being like "girl, are you dumb? he likes you."

"I don't do anything I don't want to do." !!!!!!

Once again, I love Eddy

Ah, nothing like a surprise parent visit the morning after a hookup.

The way Anthony is so chill with all of this! Big golden retriever energy indeed!!

"What if she wasn't good enough for him?" Oh no, here it comes.

It took me a minute to register that he said the L word!!

What if her love wasn't enough?! *gunshot* What if he ended up loving her more than she was capable of loving him?1?! *gunshot* She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel more?!?!?! *kill-shot*

^ cruel and unusual hitting me with those lines in quick succession (affectionate)

Babe! Babe! Stop panicking because you're making me panic!

NO! NO! NO!

(Was he ring shopping? Is that the secret? I'm spit-balling here)

Not saying that exes can't be friends but when there's lingering feelings... and womp, there it is.

"Ring, not on the ring finger" I KNEW IT! (I still don't know anything)

"I thought this would be us one day." The inhuman screech I let out.

I DID KNOW IT!

"Look about his place - you are in every corner." Why am I tearing up?

My God, I am literally crying right now.

"How lucky we are that we got to love each other so much that a simple goodbye could feel as devastating as this." WHAT THE FUCK!

Girl, stop making cry!!

"Just because you're meant to be doesn't mean you'll actually be." WHAT THE FUCK X10000

Nope, nope, I refuse. They get back together and live happily ever after, I'm deciding it now.

... I'm going to get chocolate ice cream.

So... if you couldn't tell from the above... I ABSOLUTELY ADORED THIS. I really don't have the words. It was so cute and then so sad and then absolutely devastating! And how am I just now realizing that each section header are the tattoos in Colette's sleeve?! That is so genius!!

So, yeah, anyway, I LOVE THIS and THANK YOU SO MUCH, WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!?!

(^ me throwing all the love on you and this fic)

Tattoos of You

Look, I know this gif is ancient but I love this one don't judge me.

ANYWAY here I am with my entry for @wyattjohnston's summer 2024 fic exchange! I had the pleasure of writing for @senditcolton so I hope you enjoy this because I have literally been thinking about this fic so much for the last like three months (yes I have been working on this idea for too long)

These following links are some of the tik toks that I used for inspo for this fic: X X X X X

Special shoutout to @nicohischier for reading this the entire time I was writing it, love you (I swear you'll get a happy fic at some point)

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST (Nicole you asked for it)

WC: 11k

________________________________

an open book with a sunset coming out of it

The sun was shining, children were running around and laughing, people were splashing around in the water.

Colette was under an umbrella, trying to stay in its shade as much as possible, with a hat on her head and her sunglasses on. 

“Can you please enjoy yourself?” Becca asks. 

“This is as close to enjoying myself as you’re going to get,” Colette mumbles, not looking up from the book that she was reading. It’s not that she hated the beach, it’s that she hated the sun, the sand, the heat, the noise, the crowds of people.

Maybe she did hate the beach.

“Do you want to go back up to the house?” The house was not much better: the AC barely worked when they got in last night, and Colette spent most of the night not sleeping because of how hot the room was. She was also pretty sure that there was a raccoon somewhere in the walls of the house, since the scratching she could swear was coming from behind her head when she was in her bed only happened at night, and magically stopped once the sun came up. 

“Do you want to go back to the house?” Colette asks.

“Not at all.” 

“Well, I’m not going to walk the two miles back alone, am I?”

Becca rolls her eyes, shielding them from the sun despite the huge sunglasses on her face. She looks out to the water and lets out a long sigh. “Everyone else is in the water having fun, why don’t we join them?”

Colette makes a face as she looks out at the rest of her friend group. They were playing some horrible version of chicken, given the fact that she was sure she and Becca were the only ones sober at this point. “Then when you get out of the water, the sand sticks to you because you’re all wet and it’s impossible to get off.” 

“You’re, like, the only person I know who hates the beach this much.”

“I wanted to go to a cabin near the lake we used to go to when we were younger, and you all wanted to ‘try something new,’” Colette points out. “I told you I didn’t like the beach, but you guys said you wouldn’t go away without me.” 

Becca rolls her eyes again, “That’s because we like you, Lettie. You’re the responsible one in the group.” 

Becca gets up without another word, going to join the rest of their friends in the water. “Great,” Colette mumbles, going back to her book.  

She loses track of time, her friends never even coming back to talk to her while she finishes one book and quickly moves on to the next. The people around her come and go, the beach slowly emptying out as people leave for dinner. She wasn’t sure how long her friends would last without food, given the amount of alcohol they had consumed and how little they had come back to their spots in the sand to even grab the snacks they ran around packing that morning. 

“Watch out!” she hears coming from her left, a ball hitting the book out of her hands and into the sand a few feet away before she even has the chance to react.

“You bastards,” she shrieks as two guys come running over to get the ball. “That’s a library book.” 

“Your book is fine,” one of them says, holding up the book with two fingers as if it had a disease or something else rancid oozing out of it. 

“Are you ok?” the other one asks, Colette holding up her hand to shield her eyes so she could at least see the guys she was scowling at with the sun behind them. 

Despite her anger at them for nearly probably injuring her, they were, unfortunately for her, attractive. Not that made her less angry, but if Becca were there next to her, she would somehow manage to force Colette to acknowledge it to their faces. 

“I’m fine, but my book is not,” she says, ripping the thing out of the darker haired boy. “You ripped one of the pages when you picked it up.”

The one with lighter hair looked behind his friend, scoffed and thrust the ball into his friend's chest to pick up the now missing page. “You’re giving her money to pay for a replacement book,” he says, handing Colette the page.

“Fine, I’ll give her the ten dollars.”

“This book cost twenty five,” she tells him, showing him the price from the back of the book.

“Books are twenty five dollars?” he scoffs. “For what?”

“If you could read above a fourth grade reading level, maybe you would know,” Colette mutters, earning a laugh from the lighter haired boy. 

“I’m not paying that much for a book.”

“You’re the one who kicked the ball that ruined her book. You’re the one who’s going to pay for her to replace it so she doesn’t have to. You get, like, a hundred and seventy five thousand dollars a week for your paycheck, you can handle twenty five dollars, you jackass.”

Colette nearly chokes when she hears the number he casually spit out, the two sending themselves into a bickering match over the money. She gets out her phone, wincing as she stands up for the first time in hours to hand it to the dark haired boy. “Send the money here.”

He starts mumbling something under his breath, Colette rolling her eyes as he does as instructed. One of the guys from their group calls for them, him running back to them with the ball.

“Sorry about Mat,” his friend says, standing over Colette as she sits back down.

“He seems like a delight,” she deadpans, trying to hide the combination of disgust and excitement as he sits down with her, laughing at her words.

“He’s an asshole,” he tells her, squinting as he looks out at the water. Colette couldn’t help but study him, the green of his eyes, the sharp angle of his jawline, his somehow perfectly styled hair, all combining to something she didn’t understand her need to look at. “And thankfully, my opposite.”

“People don’t talk like that,” Colette blurts out before thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“‘And thankfully, my opposite,’” she imitates him, lowering her voice and earning another laugh from him. “That’s something people say in rom coms.”

“You’re awfully judgemental for someone who doesn’t have to pay for a damaged book.”

Colette laughs, a smile forming on his face that, for some reason, she didn’t want to stop seeing. “It’s part of my charm. I’m Colette, by the way.”

“Anthony.”

Colette loses track of time again, not because of her now ruined book. Becca eventually comes back, as do the rest of the friends, letting her know that they were running to grab food before coming back to watch the sunset. Anthony’s friends had seemingly all but forgotten about him, at one point leaving without him realizing it, only to come back with Colette’s friends with food for both of them. 

“You guys came all the way to Canada when you live in Pittsburgh?” Mat asks.

“We go somewhere every year together, Lettie picked Vancouver for her turn,” Eddy says.

“I did not pick the beach, though,” she says, only loud enough for Anthony to hear. 

“Glad you did,” he replies, again, only loud enough for her to hear. He smiles at her, his hand inching towards hers in the sand as the sun sets over the water. 

a tent on the ground with a pine tree next to it, the moon and shooting star over both

“Those guys from the beach said they wanted to go camping with us this weekend,” Eddy says during their group facetime. 

Becca immediately started making plans of who was driving with who, Addison talking about the tents and sleeping bags she could borrow from her dad and brothers from their scouting days, Devyn talking about the food they would be able to bring, Franco talking about the beer. 

“Hold on, guys,” Colette interrupted, doubting that any of her friends was actually listening to the others. “Since when do we camp?”

“Since hot guys ask us to,” Eddy says.

“You liked those guys?” Colette asks, the rest of her friends laughing at her.

“Oh, come on, Lettie,” Addison teases her. “You ignored us for the entire three days we were there because you were talking to Anthony.” 

Colette rolls her eyes, thankful that her friends couldn’t see the rapid succession of texts from Anthony appearing on her screen at that moment. She didn’t want to tell them that they were right that she liked talking with him that weekend two months ago, so much so that she had been texting him almost as often as she was texting the group chat. She didn’t want to admit that she thought she was starting to fall for a guy she had only interacted with in person once, because who the hell did that? 

But, this was an excuse to see him again, without her friends nagging her about her crush, that may or may not exist, in a way that wouldn’t be a date. 

“I’m not driving.” 

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Eddy asks, all of her friends faces’ way too close to their cameras for her to do anything other than groan.

“Unfortunately.” 

By the time they got to the camping site, the guys already had enough tents set up for a small army. Eddy stops the car, Devyn and Franco getting out and immediately starting to unpack the trunk full of their stuff. 

“Damn,” Eddy drools, Colette laughing. “I never knew setting up tents was hot.”

“It’s not.”

Eddy fans himself, taking in a deep breath. “It is once you realize that that active bakery over there is attached to your boyfriend.” 

Colette cringes, trying not to let Eddy see her looking at Tito with his back towards them, bent over at his waist, his ass right there. “Not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet, babe,” Eddy corrects her. “That could change tonight.”

“And how, praytell, do you see that happening?”

“You’ll share a tent with him, you’ll share all your secrets, fall madly in love, get married with me as the bridesman of honor, of course, have tons of babies, and die in each others arms like that one couple on the Titanic.” 

“You could eat and shit out a bunch of Scrabble tiles and whatever they spelled out would still make more sense than whatever just came out of your mouth,” she says, getting out of the car just as Becca and Addison pull up behind them. 

Eddy laughs, locking the car doors. “Just because I don’t make sense to you doesn’t mean I’m not right. I’ve never seen two people who align so well before you and Tito. You are so meant to be.”

Colette laughs. “I’ll remember that next time you’re fawning over Devyn and Franco’s relationship,” she tells him, gesturing over to their two friends who had already claimed a tent to share together. 

Eddy had a sly smile forming on his face, one that Colette knew was going to lead to something she hated. “Hey, Anthony,” he calls.

Anthony perks up once he sees who calls his name, Colette telling herself that it was simply because he heard his name and he had ‘golden retriever vibes’ in general, not because he saw her, despite the fact that he was looking at her the entire time he came over. “What’s up, Ed?”

Eddy visibly swoons at the sound of Anthony calling him a nickname, trying to collect his composure before Anthony actually notices or Colette calls him out for it. “Lettie here said that she wanted to share a tent with someone since she’s never been camping before.”

“What?”

“Ok?”

“Well, I snore like a jet ski, so I would never want to subject our girl to that,” Eddy continues, throwing his arm around Colette and pulling her close to him, throwing her off balance, “So we were wondering if you wanted to share with her?”

“Oh!” Anthony says, his face turning red. Colette tries to discreetly pinch Eddy’s side as payback, her heart racing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was going to ask you that anyway, but I guess you beat me to it.” 

Eddy walks away without another word, leaving an angry Colette and an embarrassed Anthony behind in his wake. “He’s lying, I’m fine on my own if you don’t-”

“You don’t-” he cuts her off, looking down at the ground, “You don’t want to share a tent?”

“No, I mean,” she starts, trying to find the right words. How do you tell someone you want to be near them without it sounding weird? “If you want to, I wouldn't say no to sharing.”

“Oh, I want to,” he says quickly, a small laugh escaping his lips that matched Colettes. “I want to.”

Colette could feel her face getting hot as she smiled at him. “Let’s go set up our tent?”

Their friends wander off again, just like the day they met at the beach, as the day wore on, leaving Anthony and Colette to finish setting up where they were going to start their fire for the night. 

“Hold on,” Colette says, trying not to laugh so hard that she couldn’t get the words out, “She threw what?”

“A dildo.”

“So that photo you sent me of your black eye from last season?”

Anthony’s face was bright red, biting his lip and nodding, “Yeah. yeah, it wasn’t from practice. It was from Tamsin throwing a dildo at me when she thought I was breaking into our apartment.”

Colette cackled, the ugliest sounding laugh she had ever heard bubbling up from her stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“Like you’ve never had any embarrassing encounters with an ex.”

“The worst I’ve had is a guy named Mason sprinkled packets of those instant mashed potatoes around the lawn outside my apartment complex after a bad break up when we were in college.”

“How’d you know it was him?”

“He texted me right before it rained asking if I liked mashed potatoes, and then I never heard from him again.” 

Anthony laughs, the voice in Colette's head telling her that she wanted to hear that sound as much as she could. They keep talking about nothing as the sun sets, starting the fire before it gets too dark out.

“So,” Anthony says, sitting down on one of the chairs, the shadows from the flames illuminating every Colette had been mesmerized by the first time they met. “We’ve got Dildo Throwing Tamsin and Mashed Potato Mason as our exes.” 

“I think they’d like each other,” she laughs, plopping down on a chair next to him. Colette looks up to the sky. The stars streaked the sky like nothing she had ever seen before. She knew there were millions of stars up there, but she never thought she would see them. “God, you never get to see the stars with all the city lights. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” she hears Anthony say, his face red yet again when she turns her attention to him and smiles. Before she can say anything, he starts, “Do you think we can see each other?”

“Do you think I’m imaginary or something?”

“No, I mean,” he starts, the sounds of their friends coming back to start eating making him jump. He pulls his chair so close to Colette’s they practically overlap as he lowers his voice. “Can we go out when we’re back in the city? Just the two of us?”

Colette felt her face getting hot again, charmed by the nerves he showed around her. “Yes.” 

a mirror with an outline of a head in it, no face

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m getting ready for work.”

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Did you not hear me?” 

Colette hears Anthony laugh on the other end of the phone. “I heard you, but I still want to hang out. I miss you.”

Colette cringed as she felt her heart skip a beat. She hated that she missed him too, and she wanted to see him, but, “I have to leave in the next two minutes if I want to be on time for my meeting, I can’t. What about tonight?”

“We have a home game at seven tonight. Tomorrow morning?”

“I’m watching my cousin and taking him to his soccer game for my aunt tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“You’re not coming to watch pee wee soccer.”

“What time are you leaving to pick him up?”

“You’re really bad at listening,” Colette says, grabbing the last of her stuff as she heads out the door. 

“What time?” he repeats, clearly not going to stop until she gives him an answer as she rushes out the door. 

“I don’t remember. Can I let you know after work tonight?” 

“Sure. Talk later?” he asks, alarm bells going off in Colette’s head about something she was sure he was scheming.

He hangs up before he can say anything, leaving Colette to stew as to what he was going to do. Anthony wasn’t going to show up at her apartment when she was supposed to leave to get her cousin, was he?

“Why do you look like that?” Addison asks once she sees Colette at work. 

Colette snaps out of the trance she didn’t realize she was in, looking away from her computer for the first time in a while. “I don’t know, genetics?” she asks, a slightly offended tone in her voice. 

“No, I mean,” she says, sitting down on Colette’s desk. “You look concerned.”

Colette shakes her head. “I was just working,” she says, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. She lets out a sigh. “Anthony was really adamant about hanging out.”

“Oh, no,” she says, fake concern dripping through her voice as Colette rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re dating wants to see you.” 

“He was kind of weird about it, though. He wanted to come over this morning, and I think he wants to hang out tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s not weird.”

“I’m watching Grayson tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And he knows that.”

“So?”

Colette rolls her eyes again out of frustration for herself. Why couldn’t she explain how she felt to her friend? “So we just saw each other, like, two nights ago. Isn’t it too soon to see each other again?”

Addison shakes her head. “Don’t you want to see him?”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s only asking to see me because he knows I want to see him and he doesn’t actually want to see me? I have to take Grayson to his soccer game. That’s so boring. Why would he want to do that?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Because he’s obsessed with you?”

Colette groans. “Don’t you have a meeting in a minute?”

The next morning, Colette wakes up to knocking on her door. She gets up, surprised to find Anthony standing on the other side of the door with coffees in hand. “What are you doing here?” she whines.

“You never texted me,” he tells her, pushing past her and heading to her room.

“I, uh,” she hesitates. “Sorry, I forgot.” 

Anthony sets the coffees down on her nightstand, pulling up her sheets as if he was going to start making her bed. “No you didn’t.” 

“I did,” Colette tells him, her voice sounding more sure of her lie. 

“You just didn’t text me.” 

“Look, I love taking Grayson to his soccer games when my aunt can’t, but they’re really boring for other people. Last time I took Eddy, he complained the entire time,” she explains, taking the coffee from him. “I didn’t think you’d really want to sit through that.” Colette starts to get ready, sitting in front of the mirror in her room to get her hair together. 

She makes eye contact through the glass with Anthony as he sits down on her now made bed. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” 

a cartoon cinnamon bun

Anthony had his arms around Colette before they were even through the door, pinning her against the wall outside her apartment, his lips on hers. They had been like this since they were in the bar with the rest of their friends, them being teased that they needed to get a room. Since Anthony’s eyes got darker when he turned to her, his hands on her waist as he asked her who’s place was closer for them to get in a bed as soon as possible. 

They barely made it through her door and had it shut when Anthony’s fingers danced along the hem of her shirt, pleading with her to take it off and practically ripping his off at the same time. Anthony and Colette stumbled their way to her bed, nearly losing contact with each other when they collapsed onto her mattress, skin to skin and Colette already deliriously happy. 

They woke up the next morning, the sheets a mess, their clothing in a trail leading from her entryway to her bed. Colette’s phone was somehow on her nightstand next to her, buzzing continuously for what seemed like any hour. Anthony let out a groan, a result of the hangover he was probably feeling. 

“Don’t get it,” he mumbles into her pillow, his arm wrapped around her pulling her closer. She could feel herself relax as his heartbeat gently thumped against her back. It buzzes again, Anthony starting to kiss his way from the nape of her neck down her spine, a giggle escaping her lips at his attempt to distract her.

“If it’s going off this much, it has to be something bad.”

“One time it was Eddy melting down and calling to tell you he got water on his new shoes.”

Colette scrolls through her phone, multiple missed calls from her friend group as Anthony’s mouth works his way back up to her neck, propping himself up to try to get her cheeks. Another call from Eddy appears on her screen, her heart racing that something bad happened to one of her friends. 

“Hello?”

“Oh my god,” Eddy screams, “I thought Anthony murdered you.” 

Anthony and Colette laugh, Colette switching over to speaker phone even though Anthony had no problem hearing their conversation without it. “No, we were asleep. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been praying to God all morning that you were ok.”

“Eddy, it’s like 9 am, and you don’t believe in God.”

“I found God so I could pray that you were ok.”

“I didn’t realize she was lost, but sure. What’s wrong?”

“Your parents are on their way. They said they’d be at your place at 9 am.”

Colette looks at the time at the top of her screen: 8:56 am. 

“Fucking shit,” she screams, dropping her phone on her bed and practically falling over the sheets as she launched herself off the mattress to collect the clothes scattered around her floor. 

“What, what’s wrong?” Anthony calls after her, picking up what he can and throwing on the shirt that was still sitting by her front door. 

“My parents are coming.” 

“And?”

“You’re here.”

“Do you not want me here?”

Colette whips around to face him, thrusting his underwearing and pants from last night into his chest while trying to get her own shirt back over her head. “Of course, I do.” She runs past him and back into her room to throw clothes on and panic make her bed. “It’s just, you don’t have enough time to leave before they get here. And, if you’re here, then they’re going to start asking questions about whether or not you’re my boyfriend, and probably a bunch of other things, too.”

“Then we tell them I am,” Colette hears, seeing Anthony appear on the other side of her bed to help her straighten up. 

She stops, standing straight up to stare at him. “What?”

“We tell them I’m your boyfriend.” He walks around to the other side of her bed to meet her. “Unless, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend.” 

Colette opens her mouth, no words coming out. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Anthony throws his head back in laughter, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “Of course I do.” Colette gives him a kiss, a knock at her door pulling them apart. “You get more clothes on, I’ll go meet your parents.”

Colette scrambles to find something presentable enough for her parents liking, trying her best to fix her hair and the makeup that she never took off from the night before when she hears laughter coming from her kitchen. She finally comes out of her room, her mom’s hand over Anthony’s while her dad is animated talking to him, a pink bag from her favorite bakery near their house on the table filling the room with the scent of the cinnamon buns that made her mouth water. 

“Sweetie, we brought you some breakfast, but we didn’t know you had your boyfriend over,” her mom says, no hint of the fakeness Colette expected in her voice. 

“Why don’t we all go out for breakfast?” Anthony says, getting up from his seat, “My treat. Colette and I can have the cinnamon buns later.”

Her mother swoons as he takes her hand and leads her to the door, a wink from Anthony sent Colette’s way that made her cheeks burn. 

Her dad pulls her in for a hug, his arm around her shoulder as they follow Anthony and her mom down to his car. “Boyfriend, huh? Is he good enough for you?”

Colette hesitates, not sure why she did so before saying, “I think so.”

What if she wasn’t good enough for him?

a phone with an incoming call, no contact on the screen

“Franco, please, you’re giving me a headache,” Addison groans, her hands on her head to massage the headache away.

“No, I don’t care, you guys don’t understand how amazing she was.”

“We do, babe, I promise, but it’s 1 am,” Devyn tells him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his thigh. 

“No, you don’t get it. She has only lost the all-around once on the national and international level in the eleven years she’s been qualified for elite,” Franco argues back, launching into a rant about Simone Biles that none of them wanted to hear when they wanted to go to sleep.

Eddy groans the loudest. “I think you talk this much about your fiance,” he points out Devyn taking a minute before she realized he was right and giving Franco a glare. 

The rest of the group launches into an argument when Colette’s phone rings, Anthony’s name coming up with a picture of the two of them from one night when they fell asleep on the couch together. Eddy had taken the photo and immediately gotten a bucket of water to pour over them to wake them up because he wanted to go out and get food with someone. Despite the aftermath of the photo, seeing it made her smile every time.

“Hey,” she says, walking out of Devyn and Franco’s living room without her friends noticing. “How was the game?”

“We won,” Anthony tells her. They were on a west coast road trip that was supposed to end tomorrow with a game against Seattle. 

“Why do you sound so sad, then?” Colette asks. Before they left, he told her they needed to do well this road trip in order to get into the wild card spot since the playoffs were right around the corner. They needed this win to get the cap between them and the next team even wider.

He lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t really play that well or that much.”

Colette could hear the sadness in his voice. She knew that he had been bouncing around to a few teams in the last couple of years, finally finding what he hoped was a more permanent home in Pittsburgh. “Did anyone score while you were on the ice?”

“No.”

“Did you get an assist or score?”

“Two assists, yeah.”

“Then what happened?”

She knew Anthony was scrunching his face. “I don’t know, I just felt off.”

Colette nodded. “I get that.” Anthony lets out a long breath. “Are you guys leaving after the game tomorrow or the next morning?”

“I actually don’t know. I guess I’ll find out when I’m on the plane,” he jokes, Colette laughing. “I can come over whenever I get in?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling at the thought of seeing him. “If it’s tomorrow night, just wake me up when you come in.” 

“Nah, I’ll let you sleep,” he says.

“No,” she argues, “I want to see you.” Eddy comes up behind her, making kissing noises at her. 

“Tell Eddy I can hear him,” he laughs, Colette following suit. Anthony lets out a yawn. “Ok, I’m gonna go.”

“Bye, babe.”

“I love you, bye,” he yawns, hanging up before she could say anything else. 

Colette stands there, staring at her phone with her mouth hanging open. 

“What did he do? Do I have to kill him? I have enough gas in my car and money in my bank account to drive to San Jose and commit a felony,” Eddy starts, dragging her back into the living room with the rest of their friends.

“Lettie, what’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Anthony just told me he loves me.”

The entire group’s jaws dropped, Eddy screaming loud enough that Colette was sure Devyn and Franco's neighbors could hear him. “What did you tell him?”

Colette shook her head. “Nothing. He said it and hung up the phone.”

“That rat bastard.”

“Eddy, say something helpful for once, please?”

Her friends start asking her a hundred questions, all coming at once. Why didn’t she call him back? Was she going to tell him she loved him? When was she going to tell him? When was she going to talk to him again in the first place?

Becca asked the question that made her stop. “Do you love him?”

Colette didn’t know what to say, trying to find the words. She knew she liked him, a lot. He was probably the person she could see herself loving for the rest of her life if he would let her. 

“We should let her tell Anthony first, not us,” Devyn says, Colette letting out a little bit of an exhale as her friend told everyone it was probably time for them to go to bed.

She spent the night on their couch, Becca and Addison in their guest room, Eddy bringing his own blow up mattress and snoring on the floor near Colette. 

She barely slept. Could she tell Anthony that she loved him? She could tell him anything, but if she did, would she mean it? It shouldn’t have surprised her that he would say it first, and it didn’t even surprise her that he said it at all. What shocked her most was that she wasn’t sure what she would say back. 

Anthony was the kindest person to her, the one she wanted to call and see and be with all the time. She would do anything for him, but did that mean she loved him?

What if her love wasn’t enough? What if he ended up loving her more than she was capable of loving him? 

“Eddy,” she whispers, trying not to scare him into waking up. She throws her pillow over to his mattress, hitting his face.

“The fish escaped,” he says, startled out of whatever his dream was. He rubs his eyes, groaning. “I was just about to save the country from the dinosaur fish.”

“You can go back to that in a minute,” Colette says, turning on the lamp on the end table next to her, despite Eddy’s groans. “When you were with Alex, how did you feel when you said ‘I love you.’”

“I think I was drunk and then blacked out.” Colette groans. “Lettie, if you’re freaking out about telling him you love him, then you don’t have to tell him right now. It’s ok for you to not say it if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“That was out of character for you.”

“A stopped clock is right once a day.”

“Twice, Eddy.”

“Whatever, I’m going back to sleep. I hope this dream lets me play with kittens instead.”

Colette spent the next day stressing, running on pure anxiety due to her lack of sleep the night before. She hadn’t been able to watch Anthony’s game that night, falling asleep before it even started. She woke up Saturday morning to the sound of someone coming in her front door, hoping that it was Anthony and not an intruder.

“Colette?” Anthony calls, wandering into her bedroom to find her just sitting up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “It’s nearly two pm, are you just waking up?”

“Don’t judge, I couldn’t sleep the other night. I guess it just caught up with me now.”

“I feel like I freaked you out after the game against San Jose,” Anthony says, sitting down. They had barely talked the day before, Colette purposely avoiding him under the guise of being busy all day with something at work. It wasn’t technically a lie, she just also hid her phone in her desk and forgot about it on purpose.

“No, you di-” she starts.

“I do mean it, though,” he says, pulling her in for a hug. “I do love you.”

Colette felt her heart start to race as she felt his hand on the back of her head. She could say it. She was sure it felt right. “Anthony,” she starts, feeling herself start to sweat as she pulls away to look at him. “I love you, too.” 

Anthony smiles, kissing her.

Saying it felt just fine. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel more. 

wheel of fortune tarot card

Colette was exhausted. 

The entire last week was spent with her and Anthony unpacking all the things they had into their new apartment, trying to figure out what to get rid of and what to keep when they realized that consolidating their things meant they now had two of everything they needed to share with each other; two sets of silverware, two sets of plates and bowls, two bedroom sets, two sets of living room furniture. 

Anthony was willing to get rid of anything he needed to, but Colette was having a harder time going through her things. She didn’t mind sharing, but she wanted her own stuff. What if she, for whatever reason, had to move out, or if Anthony got traded and had to take stuff with him and left her with nothing because the stuff he took was technically “his” and not her own?

“Hey, babe,” she calls into the apartment, a little bit of an echo following her through the few rooms they hadn’t finished unpacking yet. 

“In here,” Colette hears, following Anthony’s voice into their bedroom. He was standing in front of the bookshelf he had built into the wall (by someone who knew what they were doing, not by him), putting up all the books she had brought from her old place.

“I told you I would organize these,” she told him, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing his back. “I have a system.”

Anthony laughs, spinning around and hugging her back, kissing her on the lips. “Your system is ‘I have a bunch of books by this author, so they need to be together.’”

“And?”

“I’m not even touching your books yet,” he points out, turning her attention to all the boxes she left in the corner that were still, in fact, untouched. “These are my books.”

“I didn’t know you read.”

“Not all hockey players are illiterate, Colette,” he jokes, earning a laugh from her.

“No, I mean,” she starts, heading over to one of her boxes to start trying to organize them. “I know you normally don’t have time to do things other than, like, eat, sleep, and play hockey. Reading didn’t seem like something you had time for.”

“Well, you read a lot, so I thought I could do the same,” he tells her, his voice lower than normal. Colette looks up at the shelf he was putting books on; The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn amongst other books she loved and already had copies of sitting there on their own shelf. 

“I already have these, you could have borrowed them at any time,” she points out, feeling Anthony’s arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. 

“Yeah, but this way I can take them with me on the road and you’d still have your copies. I’d have a piece of you with me.”

What piece of him would she have with her while he was gone? She couldn’t think of anything as he spun her around in his arms to kiss her, feeling his smile against her lips while all she could feel was distress coursing through her.

a laundry basket full of clothes with a piece of clothing crumpled up in front of it

“What the hell?” Colette comes home from work to find that everything Anthony said he was going to get done was not done. He had promised he would get everything cleaned up before his friends came over tomorrow. “Anthony?”

Her boyfriend peers his head into the kitchen where she was standing, a smile on his face immediately fading when he sees the anger on hers. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit,” she says, gesturing around her. “This is the third day in a row that you said you would clean up.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He tells her, approaching her slowly, as if she were a tiger going to pounce on him with any sudden movement. “I’ll start now.”

Colette scoffs as he reaches out to her. He did this all the time. He would tell her that he would help her clean, especially when more than half of it was his mess to begin with, and then it always fell on her. “That’s not the point, Anthony,” she snaps at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t. You tell me that every time you do this. You said you would help with the laundry, and look at where all the clothes are, not even in the basket still sitting on front of the washer and dryer where you left them two days ago,” she starts, gesturing to the mountain of dirty clothes she could see in their little laundry alcove that she swore she could smell from where she was standing. “The dishes from dinner on Monday are still here because you promised me after I cooked that you would clean them, but you disappeared instead and didn’t come home until after I went to bed. You have your coffee cup sitting on the table with coffee in it that I’m pretty sure is from at least three days ago. What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, his face getting red as he turns towards the sink to start the dishes. “And, to be fair, you do this to me all the time. I come home from road trips and find you haven’t taken out the trash the entire time, or the dishwasher hasn’t been started. I’m sorry I forgot the last couple of days, but I’ve been busy.”

Colette bit her lip, knowing he was right. She was picking a fight with him they didn’t need to have, yet here she was anyway. “With what?”

“My job?” he says, shrugging, despite the slightest hint of a wavering going through his voice. It wasn’t just hockey. They were in the middle of a homestand and he had the day off today anyway. 

Colette studies him for a second. “You’re lying to me,” she tells him. She could tell he tensed up from behind, the way he does when he’s not telling her the truth about something.

“I’m not.”

“Then what has been going on with you?”

Anthony hesitates, shaking his head and opening his mouth, clearly trying to figure out what to tell her. “Nothing. Like I said, I just got caught up.”

“With what?”

“Mat needed some help with something.” 

Colette scoffed again, walking out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. She knew Anthony was following her, but shut the door behind her anyway. “Why would Mat need your help so urgently that he, on Long Island, needed to take you away from cleaning for the entire day here in Pittsburgh?” she asks, sitting on their bed as he opens the door back up.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s Mat’s business.”

Colette nods, knowing he was still lying. She pulls out her phone, pulling up her boyfriend's best friend's contact. “Hey,” she says when he picks up, seeing the wave of panic flash in Anthonys eyes as he pulled out his phone and started typing furiously on his own phone. She knew he was texting Mat. “Have you heard from Anthony today?”

“Uh, no, why?” Mat says, Anthony throwing his head back, sucking on his teeth and muttering ‘fuck’ under his breath. 

“He just seemed a little off this morning when I left for work, I thought maybe hearing from you would cheer him up a little,” she lies to him.

“Oh, sure?” Mat tells her clearly confused before they hang up with each other.

“I can explain,” Anthony starts, sitting next to her on the bed and putting his hands in her lap. 

Colette waits for a moment. “Then do it.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.” 

She lets out a laugh. “No, now.”

“I can’t.” 

Colette stares at him for a second, him still not looking directly at her but a pleading look in his eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

Anthony finally looks at her. “What? Of course not.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Anthony, you know everything about me. I tell you everything,” she says, looking around at the room they shared that he filled with her favorite things. She still hadn’t figured out what she would do for him. She could feel herself starting to panic, a year since they moved in together and she still barely knew anything about him. Colette shakes her head, looking down at his hands still in her lap. “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“If we want to be in a relationship like this, we have to tell each other what’s going on,” she lies. She couldn’t do this anymore. 

“I told you, I can tell you tomorrow.”

“What is so important that you can’t tell me now?” she asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace. Her mind started spiraling, thinking the absolute worst of what he could be hiding from her. She was self destructing, and blaming it on him was the easier way out. She knew it was. “You’re cheating on me, you’re going to break up with me, you have a child you haven’t told me about, you’re dying or you’re seriously sick.”

“Hey woah,” Anthony says, stopping her and standing in front of her. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Colette, why don’t you trust me?”

Colette stares at him for a second, trying to find her words. “I don’t know.” 

Anthony’s expression drops, his hands sliding down her arms as he shakes his head. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me like this.” 

Colette tries to hide the hurt that came with his statement. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t tell me the truth when I ask him for it.” The two of them stare at each other for a few moments in silence. “Does that mean we’re done?”

Anthony nods, his eyes not reaching Colette’s again. “I think so.” 

a glass looking liquor bottle with a small amount of liquid inside, a solo cup on its side tipped over in front of it

The guy in front of Colette was so cute. At least, he was cute enough to flirt with while she was drunk and still wanting more drinks she didn’t want to pay for. The cup of rum and coke in her drink never seemed to empty for long enough with him standing there with her.

She wasn’t even sure what his name was. She wasn’t sure she cared what his name was.

She was pretending to listen to him while twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers, trying her best to make it look like she was intrigued so that he would get her a refill of her almost empty drink. It wasn’t how she normally flirted, but it was working for him, so why not? 

“Lettie, babe, come on,” she hears Anthony behind her, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist and pulling her ever so slightly towards him. 

A month ago, she would have done anything to feel his body against hers like this. 

Now, she wanted nothing more than to get out of his arms. 

“Anthony,” she tries to fight.

“This your bodyguard?” the guy asks her, looking incredibly pissed off. 

“Boyfriend,” Anthony corrects him.

The guy scoffs, running his hands through his hair. “Nice.” He walks away despite her protests, not listening to her as she tries to pry herself free of Anthony’s grasp. 

He laughs, leading her back to their friends. Colette sits down, a now empty cup in front of her since she didn’t get that last refill that she wanted. None of her friends noticed her not participating in their conversation, her anger toward Anthony increasing along with her sobriety.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she stands abruptly, nearly knocking over the table holding all of their drinks. 

Anthony gets up with her, Colette not hearing him say, “I’m gonna turn in too, I’ll walk her home,” before she pushes her way out of the bar and into the muggy air outside.  

“I don’t know how you could stand there and let him flirt with you when you made it pretty clear that you weren’t even interested in him,” Anthony whines, not noticing how annoyed she was with him. He was acting like a hero when he shouldn’t have been. “I mean, I can’t believe I had to step in and help you.”

“You didn’t,” she snaps at him, catching him off guard. “I was interested in him. He was nice. He was buying me drinks. That’s why he was flirting with me, because I was flirting with him.”

Colette thought that they were actually going to be friends, like they said they would be. They had been out together since they broke up. They had hung out with their friends in the exact same setting and had the exact same scenario happen but without this ending to the night. There was no reason why he should have stepped all over her like that to ‘save her,’ as he put it. 

“What? Oh, come on, I know how you act when you’re flirting with a guy.”

“Do you?” she asks him, followed by him giving her a confident, ‘yes.’ “Really? So what do I do?”

“You, you,” he starts, knowing that he dug himself into a hole. “You smile at him, you laugh at everything he says, even if it isn’t funny. You run your hands through your hair because you know that fucking collar bone of yours drives me crazy.” He stops, both of them shocked that he just said that. That isn’t how she flirts with anyone, that’s how she acted around him when they were together. “Fuck.”

“Anthony, you cannot keep doing this. We broke up,” she starts, not adding that it was her fault, even though she still felt like it was. “Stop interfering when I’m with another guy.”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he tries to defend himself.

“From what? From who? What could you possibly be protecting me from? Other guys? Why, Anthony?”

“Fuck, Colette, you think it’s easy watching you flirt with another guy? Just because we broke up, that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you,” he spits out.

Colette stands there, trying to process what he just told her. She could feel her heart racing, the sound of it beating the only thing she could hear. “I didn’t know you still loved me.”

Anthony scoffs, looking down at the ground, shaking his head. “Of course I did. I do. You haven’t noticed that I haven’t looked at another girl since we broke up? I want you, and only you.”

“I didn’t,” she tells him. “Anthony, you’re just saying this because you’re drunk.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow, shaking his head and biting his lip. “Look, I might be. But I know that drunk or not, I cannot sit around and watch you flirt with every guy in existence, while you, the one who was supposed to be my best friend, didn’t even notice that I was miserable while it was happening.”

“What do you want from me?” she snaps. “What am I supposed to do? We tried. We didn’t work. As much as we both wanted to, we did not work.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. He had to know it was her fault they broke up. It wasn’t mutual, not really.

“I guess, nothing,” he tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nothing at all.” He looks down at the ground and lets out a long sigh. “I’ll see you at the wedding,” is the last thing Anthony says to her before turning on his heels, leaving Colette alone on the sidewalk. 

a ring, not on the ring finger

“Devyn really picked the worst shade of blue she could find for these dresses, didn’t she?” Devyn’s youngest sister, Blake, complains to the rest of the bridesmaids.

Devyn had just stepped out of the room to do her first look with Franco, leaving the girls alone to finish getting ready. 

“She picked sapphire,” Becca said.

“You know,” Colette continues. “Her birthstone?”

“She should have picked a lighter blue. This dark blue totally clashes with my skintone.”

“Blake,” Kendall, her other sister scolds her, “Devyn didn’t give a fuck about your skintone when she picked her favorite color. Either you’re wearing the dress without complaint or I’m telling mom and you’re not in the wedding.”

The sisters keep bickering, Addison, Becca, and Colette slowly moving away from them. 

“I always forget that Blake is still in high school,” Addison says, grabbing her bouquet before checking her makeup one last time.

“I don’t know how you could when she’s constantly tagging Devyn in her posts,” Colette points out.

“Especially the ones she’s not even in.” 

“To increase her visibility,” Colette starts, reciting word for word what Blake had tried to explain to them during Devyn’s bachelorette party. “So she has more people who know her brand when she becomes famous.” 

“Teenagers make no sense,” Devyn appears, a nervous look on her face. “I think we’re almost ready to start.”

“What’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Colette, we have a problem.” 

“What did I do?”

“Sebby thinks Becca is hot and wants to walk down the aisle with her.”

Colette could feel the color draining from her face at the realization of what this switch would mean for her.

“Is he Franco’s older or younger brother?” Becca asks.

“The older one.”

Becca turns to Colette. “I’m not coming back to the hotel room tonight,” she tells her, practically giddy. “Oh, wait.”

“That means Colette has to walk with-” Addison starts.

“Anthony,” the four girls say at the same time. 

“I’ll be fine,” Colette says, her voice noticeably higher than it should be. She clears her throat, trying to calm herself considering the last time she talked to Anthony was the night he told her he loved her. “I’m fine.”

Devyn’s wedding planner, Jax, comes over to tell them it’s time to line up to enter with the groomsmen. 

“I love you,” Devyn calls after her bridesmaids, all of them calling back to her the same sentiment. 

Colette nearly stops breathing when she sees Anthony in his suit, helping Eddy adjust his tie. The suit fit him perfectly, Colette silently cursing the fact that Franco picked dark gray as the color. She hated to admit that she still thought about that one suit of his that he wore on game day, one that looked identical to the one he had on now. 

“Hi,” she says, standing next to him, trying to not look at him. 

“Hi,” he repeats, staring straight ahead at the back of Eddy’s neck.

The music starts, both of them rigid while everyone else around them is relaxed.

“I thought this would be us one day,” Anthony breaks their silence as the first couple starts to walk arm in arm down the aisle towards where Franco was already standing.

“What?” Colette asks, caught off guard.

Anthony nods, still staring in front of him as they move closer to the entrance of their venue. “I had the proposal all planned out. Had the ring. Had the reservation for dinner. Had a photographer. Everything. And then, the night before I was going to ask you, we broke up. That’s why I couldn’t tell you what was going on. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Colette looks at him, not noticing that they were next to go down the aisle, Anthony taking Colette’s arm in his as Jax tells them to start walking. 

a candle with a long wick, uncut, the lid propped up against the glass

“Are you sure you’re ok to come to this?” Franco asks her.

Colette hesitates for a minute. She hadn’t seen him in months, so she wasn’t sure why she was being invited to his apartment. She hadn’t been to his place since he moved in over a year ago, and honestly, Colette hasn’t intended on going. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve looked like you were going to vomit since we picked you up for this?” Devyn twists her body from the front seat to face her. “We can take you back home if you want.”

Franco pulls up in front of Anthony’s new place, knowing that she couldn’t ask them now to turn around and drive the entire way to and from her place again. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Colette takes in a deep breath as Devyn and Franco get out of the car, leaving her behind in the back seat to stare up at the building they were all supposed to be heading into. There was no need for her to be this nervous. She and Anthony were friends. They talked still, occasionally. Maybe once a week. And the conversations were never more than half an hour long, just to check in, but that’s adult friendships.

Right?

She gets out of the car, jogging to catch up with her friends as they were already to the elevator. 

“You’re going to be ok, you know,” Devyn says, putting her arm around Colette.

“Yeah, we’ll kill him if you want us to.”

Devyn smacks her husband's chest with her free hand, scolding him as Colette laughs. 

She could do this. 

They make their way up to Anthony’s place, getting turned around and somehow ending up two floors above where they were supposed to be, thanks to Franco not being able to read a text message properly and upsetting one of Anthony’s elderly building neighbors. By the time they find his apartment, the place is full, their friends and Anthony’s taking up so much space they could barely move. Franco and Devyn break off from Colette, leaving her alone to scope the place out.

She wanders through his place, people in every single one of his rooms. She stumbles across what she assumes to be a guest room. It was way too neat to be Anthony’s own room, despite him always making her bed when they were together. 

Mat appears behind her, laughing at the sight of the room. “I guess it’s easy to figure out which room is Tito’s, huh?”

Colette lets out a small laugh. “I was just thinking that.” 

“How have you been?” he asks, sitting down on the bed. 

She goes to join him, sighing. “I’m at my ex’s place for the first time since we moved out of the place we got together. Clearly, I’m on top of the world.” 

“It could be worse.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs.

“Ok, what animal are you least afraid of?” Colette looks at him, confused by the non sequitur. “I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Fine, fine,” she rolls her eyes as he nudges her shoulder. “I guess fish?”

“No, I said an animal.”

“And I said a fish.”

“No, a real animal?”

“Are fish fake?”

“You can’t find a fish at a zoo. Have you heard of fish zoos?”

“Yeah, they’re called aquariums, you fucking walnut,” Colette tells him, laughing so hard she could feel pain in her sides.

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Mat sits there for a second, looking down at his hands with a smirk on his face while Colette continues to laugh. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh that hard since you broke up with him.”

“This is the first time we’ve seen each other since before he and I broke up,” Colette points out once she catches her breath.

Mat sighs. “I don’t think he’s laughed as hard as you just did since you two broke up.” 

“Yeah, sure,” she says, not believing him. 

“Colette, you make him want to live as long as possible so he can have as much time sharing the planet with you as he can. He has all of your favorite things in his Notes App on his phone that he will not delete. That one picture I took of you guys way back when we all met is still one of his lock screens, again that he won’t delete. I mean, look around his whole place. You are in every corner.”

Colette shakes her head. “Come on.”

“Look at that bookcase,” Mat says, bringing her over to the other side of the room. A picture of Devyn and Franco’s wedding party is framed on one of the shelves, one where he is looking at her so lovingly that someone in passing would assume they were the ones getting married while she was looking at the camera if not for what they were wearing. Her favorite candle scents were still unlit, sitting on the shelf next to all the books she loved by Leigh Bardugo and Gillian Flynn, the same ones from when they first moved in together, their spines now noticeably more worn, the copies loved by someone who had to have read them multiple times. She picked up the copy of Ninth House, seeing his writing in it and comments saying things like ‘remember when you said this to me?’ or ‘this has to be your favorite scene because’ left unfinished. 

“He was writing these to me,” she realizes, not noticing Mat leaving the room.

“Of course I was,” Anthony says, her turning around so fast she loses her grasp on the book in her hands to send it falling to the floor. “I can’t really read these books anymore without thinking of you.”

“Why do you still have them all then?”

Anthony looks at the book on the floor. “How could I get rid of them?”

The two of them stand there in silence for what feels like forever. She wasn’t used to having Anthony in front of her and barely being able to find the words to say to him. She hated herself for losing him, but how could she have kept him? Colette takes in a deep breath. “We made a mistake breaking up, didn’t we?”

Anthony nods, shrugging. “Yeah, probably.” 

“I don’t think we could ever go back, either.” Anthony sighs, opening his mouth to say something when Colette cuts him off. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“I think I’m still in love with you, but we can’t be together. We don’t trust each other,” Colette hears herself say, shocked at the words that come out of her.

Anthony closes the distance between them, taking her in his arms and hugging her so fiercely she could barely breathe. “I still love you, too.” 

The two of them pull apart, both of them crying. They knew what this was for them.

“God, this sucks,” Anthony laments.

 “It’s kind of amazing, though, isn’t it?”

“What?” Anthony asks, shock in his voice.

“How lucky we are that we got to love each other so much, that a simple goodbye could feel as devastating as this.”

two sets of eyes, one opened set, one closed set

“Don’t panic,” Addison says, Eddy rolling his eyes behind her.

“Yeah, because only good things come from people saying that,” Colette says, handing her friends the drinks she bought them. Becca was somewhere with Devyn and Franco, the six of them out together for one of their increasingly rare nights when they could all be together without having to worry about anything outside the building they were in. 

“She thinks she saw some of Anthony’s teammates,” Eddy explains, guiding them back to the rest of their friends. 

Colette rolls her eyes, looking back to her friend who had already downed more than half her drink. She knew that Addison had a drunken habit of mistaking strangers for people she actually knew, or thought she knew. Just because she thought she saw some of his teammates, that didn’t actually mean anything. “I think we can save the panic for when we know we see him, instead.” 

“You’re already panicking about seeing him again?” Becca asks, overhearing only the last part of the conversation as they arrive back at the table. 

“We are talking about different people,” Colette says. “I was just with Carter last night.”

“That’s, what, almost every night that’s he’s not away for the last five months that you’ve spent the night together, isn’t it?” Devyn asks, stirring her drink with her straw.

“Yeah,” Colette sighs.

“Oh, no,” Franco groans.

“You guys seem really in to each other.” Becca points out.

“I mean, physically, it’s great. But, he just,” Colette starts, trying to figure out what to say. She knew exactly what bothered her; it was why she broke up with Anthony in the first place. “He doesn’t really know me.” 

“Holy shit,” Eddy says, nearly choking on his drink. The group follows his gaze to see that Addison was right; Anthony’s teammates were there at the bar, but so was Anthony. 

Not only was he there, but he had his arm around a girl, guiding her through the place to see if they could find an open table, the only one close to them being the one right next to them. 

“You make it worse if you freak out,” Devyn scolds him.

“Hi,” Anthony says when he sees her, standing right next to their table. 

“Hey, bud,” Eddy greets him, Franco punching him in the arm for the over enthusiasm. 

“We’re going to go get more drinks,” Becca says, all of Colette’s friends grabbing their clearly new drinks in front of them and excusing themselves from the table. 

Anthony awkwardly chuckles as they all leave, just him and Colette alone for the first time in what felt like forever. “So they haven’t changed.”

Colette felt a pit in her stomach. “You didn’t have to stop talking to them because we don’t talk that much. I mean, you were in Devyn and Franco’s wedding.”

Anthony nods, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down on the table in front of her. He was still standing awkwardly, Colette knowing that he wouldn’t ask to sit down with her. “Talking to them made me think about talking to you.”

The two of them sit in an awkward silence for a moment. 

“So who was-”

“I saw you-” they start to say at the same time, both of them letting out a laugh in hopes it would calm them down.

“You first,” Colette tells him.

“I saw you started seeing someone,” he brings up, leaning against the table as he looks down at his drink, a sad smile on his face.

Colette cringes, nodding. She forgot she still had him on her private story. “Yeah, but it won’t last much longer.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you were here with someone?” she asks, gesturing to the girl who was with his teammates.

Anthony looks over, waving at his friends and the girl. “That’s Mat’s little sister. She’s just here to visit.”

“So are you seeing anyone?”

Anthony shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Colette hears herself say, gesturing to him to sit down next to her.

He waves her off, taking the seat previously occupied by Franco across from her. “It’s fine. I’ll find someone else eventually.”

“No, I mean,” Colette starts, taking in a deep breath and trying to figure out what to say after all these years of not saying what she wanted to. What she should have said. They both knew they had already found each other and they let it go too soon. “I’m sorry for ending things. I’m sorry for being the reason everything fell apart. I’m sorry I didn’t show you how much I love you the way you showed me.”

Anthony looks up from his drink, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You knew everything about me. You have my favorite books, you always knew exactly what I wanted to get when we went out to dinner before I had the chance to tell you, you know my mood based on the smallest things I do. You showed me you love me with everything. I didn’t do that for you.” 

Anthony gives her a sad smile. “You always showed me you loved me.”

“Not the way you did. I feel like I knew nothing about you the way you knew me.”

Anthony shakes his head. “You know me better than I know myself.” Colette starts to shake her head, about to dispute him when he cuts her off. “If I had a bad game, you always had a cup of tea ready for me when I got home with a note telling me how you knew I’d be fine next game. You never tried to minimize how I felt after a game and listened to everything I told you. If I had to get up early for practice or to leave for a road trip, you had my coffee ready for me before I was even awake sitting on the nightstand waiting for me, even if you hadn’t slept great the night before. I’d open my bag and find the notes you wrote for me hidden in my suit pockets so I’d have them with me in the locker room. You still text me after games to tell me you’re proud of me. You think you didn’t show me you loved me? I’ve never felt more loved by anyone before meeting you.”

“I didn’t think those things meant anything.”

“They meant everything.”

I love you

Colette walks into the studio, paper in hand. She had booked yet another appointment with her favorite artist, Eleni, months ago, going back and forth as to what she wanted. Her left arm was covered in a series of small tattoos as it was, enough space right at the start of her forearm for one last small tattoo. 

“Hey, Let,” Eleni greets her.

“Hi, Len,” she smiles back, handing her the piece of paper.

“You want the words, ‘I love you?’” Eleni asks, eyebrow cocked. Colette swallows, knowing that this was the last thing she wanted on her arm. “Whose writing is this? I know it’s not yours.”

“Anthony’s,” Colette admits after what felt like too long of a silence for it to be anyone else's. 

“Are you sure you want this?” 

Colette forces out a laugh. “Every tattoo on my arm relates to him in some way, you know that. You put them all there. The book with the sun, the solo cup, the wheel of fortune. Might as well finish it off with how we feel about each other.” 

Eleni takes in a deep breath, getting Colette ready for her tattoo. “I don’t get why you two aren’t together.”

Colette sighs. “I fucked up. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix it. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” Eleni gives her a sad look, Colette shaking her head and waving it off. “Besides, just because you think you’re ‘meant to be’ with someone, doesn’t mean you’ll actually ‘be.’” 

[senditcolton]

First off, I am so sorry I am just getting to this now! I saw the notification when I woke up on Sunday but I had plans and then school and all those other excuses but now I am here and very VERY ready to get into this!

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” *throws the wedding invitation* “I want you to come with me.”

Luc, that 100% isn’t a question. But… considering the full details of that proposal, maybe that was the best way to start this convo

HANDS CUPPING FACES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT! Girl, how are you not kissing him?! This fic would be over in the first ten paragraphs if that was me.

I’m sorry, multilingualism is so attractive to me.

And Luc being all sweet and comforting about it!

But also, terribly relatable of not wanting help (or not wanting to ask for it).

AGAIN, GIRL HOW ARE YOU NOT MELTING INTO A PUDDLE?! JESUS CHRIST!

Him standing behind, caressing arms, lifting the jaw for eye contact, his face millimeters away? This is both the reason I hate to love slow burns because… aaah!

I feel like I am watching a movie with this getting ready scene. The shift in dynamic, the delicate touches, I can hear the soundtrack playing!

Oh, this is everything I love about fake dating: the ease, the comfort, but that lingering knowledge that it isn’t real or only temporary. YES

THE BUILD-UP! THE TENSION! “DON’T YOU TRUST ME?” THAT KISS!!!

Oh, and I love that magical moment stopped there and then turned into what now? What does it mean? Does this change things? I ADORE IT.

Ooooh I love this!! I thought earlier that Luc has already fallen and now, I think I can confirm that. We shall see!

I have already said this but, THE TENSION!!! IT JUST KEEPS TENSING!!

I AM JUST SCREAMING OVER HERE. THE CHAIN!

“No one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend.” I’m sorry, this line?!?!?!

“You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first.” WAIT, THIS LINE?! I CANNOT FUNCTION RIGHT NOW.

(you know how I said multilingualism is hot? reducing someone to their mother tongue is one of the many reasons why I find it attractive)

I HAD TO PAUSE AND TAKE A FEW BREATHS WHEN HANDS WERE GUIDED TO THROATS

JEUSUS FUCKING CHRSIT THAT WAS SO HOT I LITERRALY CANNOT RIGHT NOW

Am I that easy to know based by my online presence? Because I feel my personality infused into this story like oh my god (not complaining though because yes!)

No answers? But kisses. *insert kombucha girl meme*

Oh this another fav of fake dating; being able to answer questions because they are partially based in truth. And I like it because “yes blur all the lines!” which is a recipe for angst but maybe also happiness! You’ll never know!

NO! NO!!! OH COME ON!

NO! I mean I would be reacting in the same way but girl, let him finish the sentence! I’m begging!

Oh, I also love this how there is no major time-skip. We aren’t glossing over the aftermath, no we got to go through it all.

HE MADE THE PLAYLIST TO APOLOGIZE?! I’M-

“Explain.” YES PLEASE EXPLAIN I NEED IT.

I CHOSE YOU?!?!?!

IT WASN’T PRETENDING?!?!

I FUCKING KNEW IT BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I WASN’T KICKING MY FEET IN JOY AT THE REVEAL!!

Babe, when you prefaced the playlist like a rom-com soundtrack, you are so right about it because there were multiple moments in this fic that felt cinematic. Like I was watching a movie on a screen. I have absolutely no words except for a bazillion “thank you”s and incoherent keysmashes. So, that is what I will leave you with:

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THAKNISDBGBSAKNAVJANFIEAIHJYKLOU

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[senditcolton]

I just realize that both you and Lauren chose the same squares! But I love that because I love to see what people do with the same prompts, it’s so fun!!! Okay, onto this sure to be amazing fic.

Forgetfulness about things that you think you should/would remember… very relatable.

“With all the subtlety she was known for – none.” That is one of the greatest descriptions I’ve heard.

It’s a double champagne type of night from the sounds of it.

BROCK BOESER IS THE SUN! THAT IT THE TRUTH!!

“She may have forgotten that he’d be at the wedding but she could never forget him.” Accurate description of having Brock Boeser in your life.

My jaw is dropped, I don’t know how to respond to that either! Other than James seems like a real piece of human garbage!

Shoutout to Brock honestly! Shut him down without making a bigger scene! Heck yeah!

“She was letting her hair down… Drunk. She was getting drunk.” NOW THAT’S THE MOOD

SURPRISE OTTER APPEARANCE!

“They were both far too nice to even pull a face that might let someone know they didn’t want to talk about it.” Ah yes, my two too sweet Minnesota boys.

The way you keep teasing me about Brock and Josie past… I love it but also TELL ME

The chemistry between them!! I need the info! The 4-1-1! I’m dying!!

Plus their new little wedding inside jokes/traditions! Come on!!

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?! DO I NEED TO COME AND BEAT JAMES’ ASS?! PROBABLY FROM WHAT I CAN GATHER!!

THESE TWO ARE GOING TO KILL ME!! MY GOD, I’LL REPEAT: THE CHEMISTRY!!

She’s looking for him at weddings now?! I’m –

I love that Courtney and Liam are just instigators in this which is… relatable because if I was a character in this story, I would be right there beside them!

YES!! THEY FINALLY KISSED!!

Also: “We should do this all the time.” + Brock pulling her in and kissing her!! Damn!! That was smooth af!!

I LOVED THIS!! HOW DO YOU DO IT EVERY SINGLE TIME?! I AM FOREVER IN AWE OF YOU!! THANK YOU DARLING!!

and i had silly dreams - brock boeser

summary: a series of weddings mean a series of run-ins with brock, and that means josie must confront some long held feelings.

word count: 3.2k

note: happy birthday @senditcolton!!! this is what i wrote for your birthday bingo and i hope you like it. i hope you get loads of wonderful fics to read, because you deserve them all <3

bingo squares: wedding season + 'it was always you' + free space + second chance romance + interrupted kiss

Josie had forgotten that he’d be there. She’d helped with sending the invitations, helped with the seating chart and had felt her heart skip a beat every time she saw his name. She still did a double take when she saw him at the reception.

Immediately noticing the double take, Courtney, the bride, asked in a high pitch, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is perfect,” Josie said, literally waving her off. “I forgot Brock was going to be here, is all.”

With all the subtlety that she was known for—none—Courtney whipped her head in the direction Josie had vaguely pointed at. Josie rolled her eyes but followed Courtney’s gaze to see Brock standing beside a table laughing raucously.

“He’s single.”

“Yeah,” Josie said, rolling her eyes. “That’s never been the problem.”

Courtney’s mouth opened and Josie knew she was ready to go off on a tangent about there never being a real problem. Luckily for Josie, Liam materialised to distract his bride and take her away to speak to his parents.

Their departure led to a brief reprieve for Josie who felt like she hadn’t stopped all day, or for the entire month leading up to the wedding. She had truly gone above and beyond—something that Courtney had been increasingly thankful about—and, while there was a quiet moment, she took her seat at the wedding party’s table and barely resisted dropping her head onto the table.

People approached her to check in, the other bridesmaids making sure everything was going to schedule and being redirected to the wedding planner, Rebecca, and her own parents making sure she wasn’t taking on more than she could handle. She absolutely was, but that wasn’t something she’d readily admit. Rebecca popping by was the last thing Josie wanted, because the updates she’d been getting all evening weren’t good.

She felt even more drained when she was left alone again, only interrupted by a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. Josie took two flutes.

It wasn’t a hardship to watch Courtney and Liam bounce around the room together, largely inseparable and overwhelmingly in love—they’d been together for so long that their marriage had slowly morphed into an inevitability and Josie was happy that she had a front row seat to it all.

Even if, every so often in her peripheral vision, there was someone she had to keep monitoring. That she could have done without.

Someone dropped into the empty bridesmaid’s seat beside her, and Josie’s breath hitched in her throat when she realised who it was. She may have forgotten that he’d be at the wedding, but she could never forget him.

She only looked at him out of the corner of her eye—he was like the sun, really, it was dangerous to look directly at him.

“You look stressed.”

Josie hummed in agreement, picking up her second champagne flute and saying, “It is my job to burden all the shit that Liam’s cousin is pulling and make sure that Court never hears about it.”

“And he’s pulling a lot of shit?”

“Literally hasn’t changed since high school.”

Brock’s laugh was low, and he didn’t sound at all shocked. Even having spent a couple of years not in school with said cousin—James, if she had to use his name—Brock was no stranger to the trouble that followed him around.

“Surely just kick him out,” Brock suggested.

“He’s got one more chance. I really don’t want to cause a fuss, right now Court and Liam have no idea, but the poor wedding planner is getting complaints from the staff that he’s being rude to them.”

Brock patted the table and Josie looked at him, then. It truly was dangerous because there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for him. So, when he smiled at her and asked if she wanted to go for a little walk outside to destress there was no chance she’d ever say no.

Despite the sweaty palms he gave her, and had given her for many years, being around Brock was easy. There was never any pressure, no expectations that ever came with him. At least no expectations coming from him, the expectations placed by other people were forever lingering.

The Country Club in Lakeville was the perfect place for a wedding—a fact that had held true for years, and would continue to for many more, Josie was sure—and the weather only made it more so. Despite the sun having set about an hour earlier, the temperature had held steady and, had it been any other wedding, Josie would have taken off her shoes and ran through the grass with her arms outstretched.

“Do you like being home?” Josie asked Brock when they stopped at a patio table.

“I like that it’s quieter here,” he admitted. “Vancouver’s great, but… Yeah. I like being home.”

They sat at the table, just staring over the course and into the night sky, with no knowledge of how long they’d been out there. Josie knew that she’d never be able to truly relax while she was waiting for James to do something, but it was nice.

Brock’s company was always welcome, his ability to find a topic and talk about it for any length of time had always impressed, and it was a welcome distraction even if it was only temporary.

Rebecca came to find her far too soon after they ventured outside, somehow looking even more frustrated than she had all night. James was hot on her heels, cursing up a very loud storm.

“She’s lying!” James shouted. Josie instinctively looked to Brock, her eye twitching.

“He’s now inappropriately touching the waitstaff.”

The eye twitch changed into a full grimace with an accompanying disgusted groan. James’ shouting got louder and angrier, that anger directed at Josie at the first sign that she didn’t believe him. Within a second of James taking a step forward to get in Josie’s face, Brock was standing. He didn’t raise his voice, nor did he sound particularly angry when he spoke.

“Time for you to go home, don’t you think?” Brock asked, so calm it was rather disturbing.

James stepped back but didn’t stop his yelling, trying to shout around Brock’s body to continue his tirade on Josie. Rebecca was long forgotten.

“It’s been ten fucking years and you’re still so fucking pussy whipped. She’s so fucking frigid she’s not going to sleep with you, dude, you don’t need to white knight.”

James’ words rolled through Josie’s head one by one, so slowly that she was only processing them one at a time. Until the meaning of what he’d said hit her, then her silence was because she had no idea how she could possibly respond.

Brock took care of it, though, clapping his hand down on James’ shoulder with a satisfying and deep thud, forcibly turning him around and saying, “Pretty sure your parents are looking for you.”

Rebecca stared at Josie wide eyed; Josie still didn’t know how she was supposed to have responded.

A few weeks passed and the next wedding popped up on Josie’s calendar—everyone she knew was getting married and it was the busiest summer she’d ever had. She had no responsibilities at any other wedding that summer, though, and as far as she knew there would be no sign of James at any of them, so she was letting her hair down.

Drunk. She was getting drunk.

Brock had also made an appearance which Josie hadn’t been expecting. Maybe she should have seeing as the Bride and Groom had invited practically everyone they’d ever met.

Josie and Courtney had barely left the dancefloor since they were let loose after dinner unless it was to get another drink that didn’t even make it back to the dancefloor. The looseness in her limbs helped the floating feeling coursing through her even as she and Courtney scream-singed at each other manically. Liam moved around them, manic in his own way, and joined them to bounce and sing through the choruses.

Every so often, Josie would catch sight of Brock somewhere throughout the room being cornered by someone who was no doubt talking to him about hockey. It was happening to Jake Oettinger, too. They were both far too nice to even pull a face that might let someone know they didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe they did want to talk about it—Josie didn’t know Jake very well at all and it had been years since she’d known Brock in any meaningful capacity.

The dancing did eventually stop when it was time for speeches, so Josie procured another drink from the bar and took her designated seat and readied herself for a bunch of inside jokes she had no context for. The chair beside her pulled back and Josie started to greet the old friend from high school she’d spoken with throughout dinner only to be met with Brock’s smiling face.

“Wow, Mike, you’ve changed a lot since dinner.”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since dinner,” he said, hushed. “You’ve been having fun.”

It didn’t take long for the speeches to drag on—the bride was the least interesting person Josie had ever met and nobody had injected her with any personality in the lead up to the wedding which was a surprise because her father stole the show and spoke for what may have been half an hour.

Brock was mumbling under his breath beside her, mostly when a new person got up to speak but the ones that had her struggling to muffle her own laughs were the for fuck’s sake that fell from his mouth whenever someone paused, raising everyone’s hope, only to continue and destroy it all. Everyone was apparently following the same formula of disappointment.

The applause when the speeches finally ended could not have been solely for the speech itself, it was far too enthusiastic for how boring the speech was.

“Drink?” Brock asked, already standing.

Josie was past the point of being concerned about a hangover, so she walked with Brock to the bar, ordered another glass of champagne and happily let Brock walk them outside. It was a cooler night than the last time they sat outside, but the alcohol running through her veins meant that Josie hardly felt it.

“Do you ever just tell people you don’t want to talk about hockey?”

Brock’s mouth twitched, “Josie, I don’t want to talk about hockey.”

She huffed, slouching down in the chair she found, and then started to giggle when Brock’s face morphed into a proper smile. Still laughing, Josie let her head fall back against the top of the chair, her eyes falling shut even if she did want to stare up at the stars.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked slowly, taking time to sound out each word. “I don’t know how long I can talk for.”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay after what James said.”

it was a punch to the gut, being reminded. She forced herself to shrug. Talking was, at that point, beyond her. Brock didn’t seem bothered by the silence.

When the next wedding rolled around, Josie was much more sensible. It helped that Courtney and Liam had finally departed for their honeymoon and Josie had nobody to get silly with, and also that her parents were in attendance. It was a much smaller wedding, too, so she couldn’t blend into the crowd.

The biggest factor might have been that she had been seated right next to Brock. Somehow, she didn’t know who was the reason behind it, their chairs ended up right next to each other—so close that she could feel the warmth of his body from his leg where it was pressed against hers.

“Will the speeches be better this week?” Brock whispered in her ear. Josie covered her mouth to muffle the sudden laugh that threatened to burst from her mouth.

They weren’t better, but they were at least shorter.

It didn’t take any convincing for Josie to join Brock outside—their own little wedding tradition, it seemed. It was their space, even when half the guests had ventured outside and away from the loud music, and Josie couldn’t help but lean towards him to make sure she didn’t miss a single word he said.

“I didn’t realise we still had so many friends in common,” she said after they were briefly interrupted by someone wanting to say hello.

Brock bristled, affronted, “I didn’t just forget everyone when I left.”

“No, I know,” she stressed. “You and I both know that the hockey team and I weren’t exactly best friends. James made sure of that after you went to Iowa.”

Brock’s face fell. He’d heard the stories because Josie was the one to tell him during the summer after high school after two years of being put through hell. James’ outburst at Courtney and Liam’s wedding wasn’t dissimilar to what he’d been saying to her for years.

“That’s not the point, though,” Josie interjected, noticing that Brock was opening his mouth to speak. “The point is, that I forget that you had friends outside of the hockey team. Have friends outside the hockey team.”

It didn’t do much to appease Brock, Josie noticed, a sullen expression still etched across his face. Her shoulders fell when she realised that she’d sufficiently killed the happy mood they had been sitting in.

Without warning, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Brock said, “You’re one of the best friends I’ve kept.” He continued, after a loud and uncontrolled scoff from Josie, “I know we aren’t as close as we used to be but… I don’t know, you’re someone I would have hated to lose contact with.”

Josie rose and moved towards Brock, bending down to wrap her arms around his neck before he could even register what she was doing. She was forever glad they were still in touch, even if they typically only talked over the summer.

It did nothing to help ten years of pent-up feelings when Brock’s hand settled against her lower back, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to hide the warmth of it. The size of it. The way it made her heart jump into her throat.

He didn’t move it as she started to pull away—not because she wanted to move, but because she had to in order to preserve her own sanity. She could only imagine the sadness and longing, in her eyes when she was just far enough from him to make eye contact.

“Brock…”

“Why haven’t we?” Brock asked in a whisper.

In just as quiet a whisper, Josie asked back, “Why haven’t we what?”

“You know what.”

Brock’s eyes drifted to her mouth, and Josie promptly forgot how to breathe. Josie looked at his mouth, struck by the way they slowly parted and hers unconsciously did the same. The light pressure on her lower back increased, it was only slightly but it was enough to have her leaning into him.

“Josie? Are you out here?”

With a sudden but noticeable lack of warmth against her lower back, Josie straightened with a heavy sigh—Brock was laughing in disbelief.

“Yes, Mom,” she said, slowly sinking back into the seat she’d left.

And so, Josie’s mom wandered out into the courtyard, none the wiser to what she had interrupted, and starting a lengthy rant about her own sister that held Brock and Josie captive until it was time for the First Dance.

At least by then Josie’s breathing had returned to normal, though her erratic heartbeat was never going to calm when Brock was looking at her so softly.

The summer of weddings was never ending, with Josie being pulled interstate to attend weddings of some of her sorority sisters. They were exceedingly fun, even if Josie found herself looking around the room for Brock without realising—he’d become quite the fixture.

She was still yet to see him outside of a wedding, despite his assertion that they were friends, but Josie wasn’t making any efforts to organise that either, so she wasn’t able to blame him solely. Courtney had not been quiet about any of it and had made multiple threats to schedule a double date. All of her suggestions had been cut down, no matter how well intentioned.

At Josie’s final wedding of an otherwise gruellingly long summer, she spotted Brock almost instantly. As did Courtney and Liam, both of whom pushed Josie in Brock’s direction. She only barely saved herself from tripping in her heels before Brock was shifting his attention away from Jake Oettinger—god, it really was a small world that he’d been at two of the summer’s weddings—and noticing her. He didn’t waste any time in abandoning Jake to stand beside Josie.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Surely there’s no one left in Minnesota to get married.”

“Just us, I think.”

Josie didn’t want to conjure up an image of her standing with Brock at an altar, in a dress she’d been dreaming about her entire life, but she did. In high-definition technicolour.

With cheeks red and warm, Josie blinked the image from her mind and accidentally made eye contact with Brock when she started to frantically search for Courtney to come save her. The eye contact was the worst thing she could have done; it added to her wedding daydream as she plastered that expression onto Brock’s face at the altar.

It became clear that nobody was coming to her rescue—that anybody even noticed she was in need of rescuing— so Josie turned her back on the crowd of people so that they wouldn’t see the heartbreak on her face when she said, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” Brock asked with no hesitation or uncertainty.

“Because it’s not just us, Brock. It’s never me.”

“What are you talking about, Josie?” She had never heard him sound so exasperated or confused. The tight pull of his eyebrows softened as he said, “It was always you. It’s literally always been you.”

Josie frowned as she felt her shoulders sag—no weight had been lifted from them by the admission. In fact, she felt more tense than ever at Brock’s words.

“That’s… That might be worse, you know?” she sighed. “It’s been like ten years and if it’s always been me then why has it never been me?”

“Why has it never been me? I didn’t think I was very subtle.”

A swarm of people began to move in their direction, and Josie turned just enough to see people beckoning the crowd into the chapel.

Harried and conscious of how close everyone else was getting, Josie whispered frantically, “We can’t do this now.”

“We can do this whenever,” Brock said, taking Josie’s hand as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “We should do this all the time.”

Josie’s brain wasn’t entirely online as she felt Brock’s long fingers wrap around hers, and it was only just started to register everything around her again when he used that hand to pull her closer to him. There was so much time to move away, that Josie nearly did because she thought he’d pulled her in on accident. The way his head tilted down was unmistakable, though, and Josie didn’t want to move a muscle as their lips touched for the first time.

[senditcolton]

AAAAH! Okay, I’m so obsessed with the vibes of the header alone! My OG hockey husband?! Plus the Sabrina Carpenter inspired title?! New Year’s fic!? I’M SO READY FOR THIS!! (reactions below)

Ah, yes the dread of relatives during the holidays, very relatable (and when you’re going through a divorce, double yikes!)

“You shed 75 pounds of jackass” already in love with these friends!

The sage cleansing!! Essential for after a breakup!

YES THE ERAS TOUR!! Have to have the Taylor Swift nods in here!

Honestly thank god you dumped him girl!! I would be right there with Nic and Katie and Nora!

The way she still has her cheating husbands credit card!?!? You fucking go girl!!!

“They’re laughing and shoving each other like overgrown frat boys” never have I ever heard a more accurate description of hockey players

It’s okay, my body would have the same reaction to ten-seconds of eye contact with Tyler Seguin

Listen… being pinned between the bar and Tyler freaking Seguin?! This is already one of the hottest things ever.

AAAANNND it just got hotter! Whew! My lord! In the secluded VIP section of the club (which I have absolutely no qualms about [if you’ve been here long enough, you know this])

Also, Tyler being a goofball even in the middle of sex… I will say it’s completely on brand.

Also, also, we’re all picturing the “Feather Sabrina Carpenter Heels” right? Because I am. And those are 100% staying on.

I… feel like there are worse ways to wake up. But hungover and newly married is definitely up there on the list.

“He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal – and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize the feral animal had to have been you” Relatable

The fact that Tyler is so casual about all of this has me giggling

“Any man that has his dogs as he phone screen can’t be a total sociopath” gotta mention the goodest boys!

The headshot! I would fall in love immediately because it is very truly ridiculously endearing

Tyler! It’s not a bad idea but wow, suggesting you stay married to the woman you just met – and married – last night and neither of you knew each others full names until this moment is certainly a Choice!

...but again, I hate to say that it feels very on brand.

Oh god, I can only imagine that flight home.

The progression! Learning about his job, learning about each other, a vacation to Mexico, some more ‘compatibility testing’, moving in together, meeting the family, I love it!!

And then the (second) proposal!!! And then the surprise ‘wedding’ on New Year’s Eve!!

THEIR BANTER IS JUST SO PERFECT!!! I ADORE THIS!!

“I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk married in Vegas” I’m sorry, why is this so stinking cute!?

I am in love with this! It was so hot and cute and adorable and ridiculously endearing, all at the same time!!! Drunk marriage in Vegas that turns into something real is such a cool concept and you executed it so well!!! And it had like, everything I love! New Year’s, nods to my two favorite blonde pop stars, and – of course – TYLER FREAKING SEGUIN. I can’t believe this is your first time writing for him, you captured that loveable goofball energy that I adore about him so perfectly!!! I would 100% not complain if you decide to write more for him. But overall, AAAAAAAAHHHH THANK YOU!!!

a/n: my @wyattjohnston winter fic exchange fic for @senditcolton (whose writing i am OBSSESSED with - praise you like i should made me see the light on matty t) 🥰 i’ve never written for tyler seguin and my only familiarity with him was him showing his own headshot to get into the arena which immediately made me love him lol. i had fun writing this one and i hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 12.1k

tw: drinking , fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, hangovers, mild cursing

summary: new year’s eve in las vegas gets out of hand when you meet tyler, a gorgeous stranger in the club

After your divorce papers are signed, sealed, and delivered - on Christmas day no less, leave it to your jackass ex to find the only lawyer in the entire Fort Worth area willing to work on a national fucking holiday - your best friends appear at your front door with suitcases, bottles of champagne, and round trip tickets to Las Vegas, leaving on the 27th.

“No,” you tell them flatly, arms crossed over your flannel shirt, hair in a three-day old knot on top of your head. “I’m not in the mood to go anywhere, much less Vegas.”

You hadn’t even taken your parents up on the offer to pay for a plane ticket back home to New York for the holidays. It was too much to face them after your marriage had imploded and getting the third degree from your relatives wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. Spending the holidays alone had seemed like a better option, even if the day had been a little lonely. But a spiked hot chocolate and a string of Christmas movie classics had kept you from getting too depressed.

“Honey,” Nora says, in her Christmas sweat set, the cartoon Grinch blazoned across the front giving you a nasty smirk, a patient smile on her face, “now is exactly the time to get away. You just shed a hundred seventy five pounds of jackass, you need a distraction.”

She muscles past you and nearly drags her rolling suitcase’s wheels over your bare toes. You pull your foot back and lean against the wall as Katie and Nic follow her inside, a makeshift parade to celebrate your divorce. Nic at least has the decency to shoot you an apologetic look as she passes, whispering, “I tried to get her to settle for a little trip to a spa, you know, manis, pedis, massage. But you know Nora…”

“Never Takes No for an Answer Nora,” you finish when Nic trails off, smiling a little despite yourself. Nic gives you a little smile and bumps your hip with hers.

“Seriously though,” she says as you close the door behind her, “if you really don’t want to go, Nor will understand.”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, I…it’s probably good for me to get out of town,” you admit reluctantly. It’s been a depressing few months, full of anger and tears and tense phone calls and curt emails. You’re tired of being sad, of being angry, but mostly you’re tired of being in the same city as your asshole ex-husband. Even though you moved out of the house you shared and into an apartment, the entire city holds reminders of your relationship. Now that the divorce is official, you’re starting to wonder if staying in Fort Worth is the right move. Your friends and your job are here, but the risk of running into Jason is astronomically high and maybe a change of scenery would be good. You rub at your forehead - that’s a problem for the new year.

The girls leave their suitcases in a pile in your front hall. Two pairs of Nikes and a pair of Ugg platforms join the suitcases and you’re pulled into a pile on your couch - the college tradition for a broken relationship. Back then it had been cheap wine coolers and binge watching The Bachelor. Now, Nora hands you a bottle of champagne, cheers when you pop the cork, and drops her head to your shoulder after you take a huge gulp. You drape your legs over Katie’s lap and rest your cheek on the top of Nora’s head. It’s not the way you thought you’d be spending the holidays, but you’re so grateful for your friends.

“In about an hour, we’re going to start helping you pack,” Nora says, taking the second bottle of champagne from Nic and swigging from it. “But right now, it’s time to tell us every single negative thought you’ve had about Jackass Jason and didn’t want to say before.“

“Have to cleanse the energy,” Nic says, “by putting all his negative traits into the air and I’ll light some sage.”

“Sage?” You lift an eyebrow, warm and cozy in the cocoon of your friends.

Nic digs into her giant purse and pulls out a wad of sage, tied up with white string. She beams. “Sage! It’s very cleansing.”

Katie cackles a laugh. She kicks Nic’s thigh lightly and grins, “never change those hippie ways, Nicky.”

“Pass me a lighter,” Nic holds out her free hand and wiggles her fingers. Nora drops a well used plastic Bic onto her palm and you lean in to cup your hands under the sage bundle. The last thing you want is ashy smudges on your couch.

It takes two tries, but eventually Nic manages to get the lighter to catch and she holds the flame to the top of the bundle. It immediately starts to smell of the burning herb and smoke rises to the ceiling when she blows out the small fire. You cough a little, the scent of sage stinging your nose. Nic rolls off the couch and begins to wave the stick around, explaining what she’s doing as she goes.

“So, we’re getting rid of all of Jason’s negative energy and karma,” she waves the stick and you wince when a little clump of ashes falls to the carpet and then sigh when Nic’s bare foot grinds them further into the fibers.

“Jason never lived here,” you point out reasonably, the bottle of champagne lighter in your hand as you take another drink. Your chest already feels lighter and less knotted with grief and anxiety.

Nic looks at you like you’re an idiot and you feel strangely chastened, taking another swig from the bottle. “Honey, his negative energy and toxicity was absorbed by you and all the stuff you took from the house. We have to just, like, get his energy out of here.” She cocks her head at you, squints, asks, “would you consider cutting your hair? Hair holds onto a lot of trauma.”

“No!” You yelp, hand flying up to clutch at the knotted mess on top of your head. “I thought you were the ones to talk me out of breakup bangs when he first left? Now I’m supposed to cut my hair?”

“Just a suggestion,” she says, even as the other two chime in from the couch to encourage a change in your hairstyle. Nora mentions a bob and you resist the urge to kick her.

With a roll of your eyes, you say firmly, “I’m not cutting my hair. Let’s move on from this.”

Nic nods and finishes sageing the apartment, leaving a faint haze of smoke in the air and you’re honestly very grateful when she puts the bundle in a ziploc bag and stashes it back in her purse. “Okay,” she beams, dusting off her hands, “bad energy officially cleansed. We can move onto the fun part!” She drinks from the bottle that you’ve mostly emptied on your own and before you can ask what the fun part is, you’re being pushed into your bedroom and the girls are rummaging in your closet for your suitcase.

They work in coordination, while you’re sitting stupid in the middle of your bed, to throw your skimpiest clothes into the opened suitcase. You watch as a colourful array of fabric is tossed from your drawers and wonder what, exactly, they have planned for the trip.

“This one, for sure,” Katie’s voice is muffled from deep in your closet. Her hand appears, the mirrored minidress you bought and wore for the Eras Tour swinging from its hanger. The mirrors sparkle under the hi-hats in your room and throw discs of light onto your bedroom walls.

“What are we doing in Vegas?” You ask finally, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I mean, I love that dress, but can’t this just be a chill trip? Like what if we just got tickets to see Adele? And I can cry to her music?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora shakes her head and Katie shakes the dress at you again. “We’re going to get you to forget about the jackass and the divorce one way or another. Whether it’s drinks or dick, that’s your choice, but you deserve to let loose after taking care of him all these years.”

“Besides,” Katie pipes up, “how good do you think we are that we could get last minute Adele tickets? That shit was sold out months ago!”

Tears prickle at your eyes, your nose burning a little. Divorced at 27 isn’t exactly how you pictured your life going after meeting Jason in college, getting married at 22, and supporting him all throughout his time in law school, but you’re beyond grateful for your girls.

“No dick,” you murmur, a shaky smile on your face. “I’m not ready for that, but drinks I can do.”

The trio cheers and starts tossing more clothes into your suitcase.

——

The next day is spent nursing your mild hangover and repacking the drunken mess you’d all made of your suitcase the night before. Once you’re packed to your satisfaction - mirrored mini dress and platform heels included - you run out for a quick wax before meeting the girls for a manicure.

“I meant to say it last night,” you say watching your crusty old gel polish disappear into dust, “but let me know what I owe you, for the flight and hotel and everything. I’ll Venmo you.”

Nora waves you off, apologising quickly to the manicurist when she complains as Nora’s hand is ripped away. “Don’t even worry about that. I used miles for the flights and -“

“The guy I’ve been seeing?” Nic cuts in. “The hedge fund guy, Mark, he’s treating for the hotel suite.”

Katie’s eyebrows shoot up along with yours. Clearly she didn’t know about the hotel connect. “Whoa,” she grins, “Nicky with the high roller! Hold onto him with two hands.”

Nic blushes. “He’s really sweet too.” She continues talking about him for a few minutes until she stops herself and looks at you with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Here I am rambling on and you’re going through -“

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You cut her off. “I’m okay! I want to hear about the guys you’re dating. Just because I’m single again doesn’t mean I want death to love for everyone.” You snort a laugh that sounds a little forced even to your own ears. The girls share a look that you hate, but continue talking about the dates they’ve been on and the mediocre sex they’ve been having. Truthfully, you tune them out a little bit, cranky about the divorce, about the trip that was sprung on you, and embarrassingly enough, jealous that they’re having sex at all.

Even before Jason started the divorce proceedings six months ago, it had been nearly eight months before that the last time you had sex. You should’ve realized he was seeing someone else on the side because there was no way he had gone that long without sex. And yet. You’d been caught off guard by the cliched texts found in his phone, the lacy thong found in his car, and the divorce petition delivered to you while he was “working late.” Thinking back on it, you feel supremely stupid.

Now that the paperwork is signed and you’re officially, legally single again, you’re just glad you didn’t have kids or anything really significant to fight over. It’s almost a blessing that the process wasn’t as drawn out as it could’ve been.

You make a conscious effort to push all thoughts of Jason from your mind and try to be in the moment, a task made easier once you’re in the air en route to Vegas and then actually in the city itself. It’s both like the movies and not, colorful and loud and a little sketchy. But you immediately make twenty bucks on a slot machine in the airport, so you figure that’s a good omen for the trip.

The first four days of the trip pass in a blur - all you can eat buffets, drinking, dancing, spas, too little sleep, and too much gambling. You’re up nearly three hundred dollars after being down almost a thousand the day before, so that’s cause to celebrate with drinks. Not that you really need an excuse - you’ve had more alcohol in the last four days than in the last four months. You’re exhausted, but you’ve also laughed more than you have in a year and your face hurts from smiling. The entire city has a numbing effect on your lingering emotions and you feel yourself starting to rediscover who you were before the Jason of it all.

“Time for the mirrorball dress!” Nora singsongs, dancing around the suite in her plush robe. It’s New Year’s Eve and the city feels even sparklier than usual. The streets have been packed with people and the casinos are at capacity - apparently there’s a hockey game tonight too, so the sports bettors are having a field day. You’ve been going to different hotel bars and clubs the past few nights, but tonight is the big night out before you fly back to Texas tomorrow night.

The entire Strip is shut down to traffic for the night and you’re planning on going to TAO for dinner and dancing since it’s inside the Venitian, where you’re staying. It’s a major splurge, but fuck it, you’re about to get alimony from your corporate lawyer ex-husband. You still have Jason’s credit card, so you’re fully planning on putting dinner on his tab, before he realizes that the card is in your possession. For all the little details Jason remembers, he’s surprisingly bad about his finances.

For now though, you dig your hand into the pillowcase that had been full of the little shot sized bottles of alcohol four days ago and is now mostly empty. You groan when you pull out a little bottle of Pink Whitney, the pink lemonade vodka is your least favorite drink. You knock back the shot while the girls cheer you on, all three of them already in various states of tipsy. It honestly feels like you haven’t been completely sober since you left Texas.

Nic blasts a classic 2000s playlist while you’re getting ready and you dance around the huge suite, feeling light and floaty.

It’s complete chaos out on the Strip, even though it’s barely after 7. You could’ve gotten to the restaurant directly through the hotel, but you decide to walk outside for a bit to see what’s happening. It’s chillier than you expected, so by the time you get to the restaurant, you’re more than ready for a drink and dinner. You fill up on sushi and expensive drinks, gossiping about people you knew in college, spilling some more of the more extreme details of Jason’s cheating when you’re finished with your third TAO-tini.

“FUCK HIM!” Katie shouts in the middle of the restaurant, drawing attention to your table. You giggle and shush her drunkenly, waving a hand to get her to lower her voice. “No,” she shakes her head, only marginally quieter, “you really are so much better than that douche. When we get downstairs, we’re finding a man and you’re fucking him!”

Nic giggles and leans a little sideways in her seat, “new dick to cleanse Jackass Jason from your vagina!”

You flush with embarrassment as more people look over, but thank god the waiter comes by with the check. You toss Jason’s platinum AmEx onto the little dish and grin wickedly as you tell the girls, “dinner was on Jason.” They cheer and Nora laughs, “I should’ve ordered another drink!”

Once the bill is paid, with a generous 30% tip added, you traipse downstairs into the club part of the restaurant. The lights are low and the music is loud, plenty of people already drunkenly dancing just three hours before midnight. Nic and Nora join the fray immediately while you and Katie detour off to the bathroom quickly where you fix up your makeup and fluff up your hair, inspecting your face in the mirror. You look tired, but there’s a spark in your eyes that you hadn’t noticed was missing in the last year of your relationship with Jason.

“I’m serious,” Katie says, her solemn tone betrayed by the slight slur to her ‘s’. “Pick a guy in here and I will make sure you fuck him. You deserve a little fun.”

“I have been having fun,” you assure her, your reflection grinning at hers. The alcohol is making your brain pleasantly fuzzy, thoughts drifting away as easily as they come. “I don’t need a man right now,” you continue. “Even for the night. I just want to dance.”

“Okay!” Katie chirps, grabbing your hand and pulling you back out into the club. “Let’s dance!”

And you do. You find Nic and Nora and for a handful of songs, the four of you are jumping and screaming and having a blast.

Sweaty and thirsty, you break off from the girls and wobble towards the bar, weaving in between the throngs of people. The line for the bar is two or three people deep, so you settle in for a wait, looking around the room and people watching. The crowd seems pretty typical for New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, but your gaze lands on a group of men and your heart skips a beat.

There’s at least four of them huddled together, maybe five, and you know you’re drunk, but you didn’t think you were drunk enough to be seeing double. You blink and they come into sharper focus - not seeing double, just two incredibly handsome, dark haired and bearded men. Another dark haired man with no beard and a curly haired blond man. They’re all in slacks and white button downs in various states of unbuttoned, like they came from the office or something. They don’t look out of place in the club though, with drinks in their hands and the way they’re grouped together.

They’re laughing and shoving at each other, like overgrown frat boys, and you can’t look away. You’re captivated by the way they hold themselves, clearly confident in their bodies. Even in the dark of the club, you can see the faint outlines of ink through the white fabric of one of the guys’ shirts.

You’re still staring like a creep when the tattooed guy turns and looks directly at you, making and holding eye contact. A little gasp slips from your lips and your stomach flips, the familiar and nearly forgotten feeling of arousal sparking to life in your stomach. His friends shove at his arms, laughing. You blink and look away, feeling shaky and not from the alcohol. A faint flutter between your legs has you pressing your thighs together. “This is stupid,” you mutter to yourself. Ten seconds of eye contact shouldn’t have had you reacting like this. Yes, it had been a while since you last had sex, but jeez.

You rub your fingers over the bridge of your nose and nearly jump out of your skin when a deep, unfamiliar voice says, “what are you drinking?” right in your ear.

“Oh!” You turn, stumbling just enough that a hand shoots out and grips your elbow to steady you. A warm, broad hand. Attached to a tanned, tattooed forearm. Attached to a broad chest barely covered by an obscenely unbuttoned white shirt - tattoos and chest hair exposed and making your body react. Attached to the dark haired man you had made eye contact with. You blink up into warm brown eyes and ignore the way your stomach clenches up. His thumb brushes against the inside of your elbow and your skin feels like it’s on fire.

His mouth, full lower lip and thinner upper lip surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, quirks up at the corner. “In case I wasn’t clear,” he says and you can hear the laughter in his tone, “can I buy you a drink?”

A faint smile touches your own lips and you nod. “Double vodka cranberry,” you say, voice a little raspy from screaming along to the music.

Mystery Man nods, smiling, “good choice. Come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand down your forearm and laces his fingers with yours to pull you behind him while he uses his broad shoulders to muscle past the crowd around the bar. When you reach the bar, he does a quick maneuver, dragging you in front of him so you’re sandwiched between the bar and his chest, heat pouring off his body. He leans forward a bit, pressing against you, and catches the bartender’s attention. Your entire body feels too warm, the thin fabric of your thong growing damp from the solid mass of his chest against your back.

“Double vodka cranberry for the lady,” he orders. “And double scotch on the rocks for me.”

His forearms come to rest on the bar top, trapping you in the circle of his arms. The alcohol is lowering your inhibitions and your intrusive thoughts win out and you arch your back a little, pressing your ass into his crotch, turning your head to look back at him. He wears a shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t usually let strangers buy me drinks,” you say, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t feel like a threat, doesn’t feel like someone you should be afraid of. You lean a little closer to him, something crackling in the air between your bodies.

Something flitters across his expression, but you’re just this side of drunk and can’t manage to identify it before it’s gone. “Tyler,” he introduces himself, trailing a finger over your arm and up to your shoulder where he plays with the thin silver strap holding your dress in place. “Not a stranger now.” Goosebumps lift on your arms as his fingertip twists in the skimpy strap. His gaze is searing, flickering from your eyes to your lips to the hint of cleavage exposed by the draping of your dress. Your nipples tighten under the fabric, pinching almost painfully.

You offer up your own name in return, taking the drink directly from the bartender when he returns. You sip at it and it tastes stronger than a double or maybe that’s just Tyler’s proximity that’s clouding your senses.

He takes a sip of his own drink and leads you away from the bar, giving you another opportunity to watch his back muscles move under his shirt as he works his way through the crowd. A gym rat, you think, with the way he’s all lean muscle and quiet strength. He’s muscled, but not disgustingly so.

“What are you doing in Vegas?” He asks, when you’re alone again, just off to the side of the bar. You can see the girls out of the corner of your eye, staring at you with matching ‘you go, girl!’ expressions on their faces. You giggle a little.

“Celebrating,” you reply vaguely, taking a sip of your drink and fluttering your lashes. You’re flirting, you realize. You haven’t flirted with anyone since Jason. The bubbly feeling in your chest expands and you smile up at him.

“Huh,” he laughs warmly, “what do you know, me too. And the only thing my night was missing is a pretty girl.”

Alcohol fuels your confidence, along with the hungry way Tyler’s gaze takes in your body, and you reply, “good thing you found me then.”

Your gaze lingers on the notch of his collarbone, the dusting of hair over his chest, the dark lines of his tattoos. Your cunt gives an enthusiastic throb and you swallow heavily.

Tyler leans in a little and you catch a whiff of spicy cologne mixed with the scotch on his breath. This isn’t his first drink of the night either. “Would your friends mind if I monopolized your time tonight?”

Biting your lip, you look over at the girls. Katie is moving her hand near her mouth in the universal sign for blowjob and Nic is giving you the biggest, most encouraging puppy dog eyes. Nora flashes you a double thumbs up, spilling some of her drink in the process. A laugh huffs through your nose and you look back up at Tyler, “no, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Good,” his smile is adorable, his hand lands on your waist, and you completely forget why you told Katie you weren’t interested in a hook up tonight. “Want to dance?”

You’re not quite sure how it happened - one minute you were dancing with Tyler, one of his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hips gyrated against his pelvis, the hard bulge of his cock obvious every time you moved and the next minute you found yourself pressed up against a wall in the VIP section of TAO, with Tyler’s tongue deep down your throat and his hand sliding up the side of your thigh, fingertips playing at the hem of your dress. Your hands are fisted around the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close as you can while you moan into his mouth and cant your hips towards his, spreading your legs a little to encourage his hand’s exploration.

His fingertips make contact with the soaked fabric of your thong and you whimper, knees going weak. Tyler’s lips turn up in a smile against yours and he uses more pressure, finding your clit easily through the fabric until you have to pull back and gasp for air, your head thrown back while you pant.

“Jesus, baby,” he mutters, kissing a trail down your jaw and over your throat. “You’re fucking soaked.” He sucks gently at your pulse point, your heart hammering in your chest.

He slips his fingers under the fabric, rough pads of his fingers catching against your slick folds. “Oh my god,” you mutter, grinding against his fingers. “More, please, Tyler.”

He obeys, thumb catching on your clit and middle finger teasing at your entrance before sliding inside easily. A whine catches in your throat and it feels so good, too good. Between the alcohol and the lust and the months long celibacy, you’re at the edge of an orgasm in less than a minute, dripping around Tyler’s fingers before you can even process that you’ve come. White spots dance in your vision and it could be the strobe lights or the searing pleasure from having your clit rolled between Tyler’s thick fingers.

“Good girl,” he grins against your neck, beard and teeth scraping against your skin. Your face already feels rubbed raw with beard burn, but you don’t want him to stop. “Think you can do it again?”

Truthfully you think that you’re so worked up and horny you could come just from Tyler looking at you, but you nod and squeak out a yes.

Tyler bites a mark against your collarbone and drops to his knees, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and forcing them apart. He looks up at you from between your legs, dark eyes even darker with lust and a wicked grin on his face, “hold on, baby, gonna make you see fireworks for the New Year.”

You laugh at the corny line, choking off into a prolonged moan when he buries his face between your legs and presses his tongue flat against your cunt, the wet heat of his tongue pressing your damp thong into your sensitive clit.

You’re beyond thankful for the darkness of the VIP area and the loud music because you can’t contain the noises that Tyler’s drawing from your mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair - fuck, it’s so soft - and hold his face up against your cunt. The other hand reaches blindly for the magnum bottle of champagne you’d been sharing. Technically it’s the second bottle and it’s more than half gone when you tip it up to your mouth for a drink.

“I - ah! I don’t usually doooooh my god, right there - this,” you gasp, writhing over Tyler’s face. His nose is pressed against your clit and his tongue is flat against you, licking with purpose. You grind against his face, making sure the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“What,” he pulls back with a wicked grin that only grows when you whine and try to push him back in place with your grip on his hair, “get your pussy licked?”

The bottom half of his face is glistening in the strobe lights and you feel the blush rise on your chest knowing that your body did that to him.

“Um, yes,” you admit quietly, “and the whole, uh, stranger in a club thing too.”

His smile turns a little soft, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Happy to be your first then,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and lifts your leg so it’s draped over his shoulder and you’re spread even wider for him. You’re impossibly exposed to him and all it does is make you wetter. Tyler tilts his head back a little and opens his mouth, you instinctively pour some champagne into his mouth, the both of you laughing when it splatters onto his face and shirt, making the white fabric nearly see-through. He wipes a little at his face, fingers scraping at his beard, and he shrugs. “Was gonna get all wet and messy anyway.”

He holds his champagne covered fingers up to your face and you lick at his skin, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and letting them rest on your tongue for a moment before he pushes them a little further past your lips, until saliva is dripping down his palm.

Tyler’s head is back between your legs, a strong hang gripping at your thigh, his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucks at the swollen bud and your leg kicks out, the heel of your platform smacking against his back with an audible thunking noise. He grunts into you and you moan an apology, his fingers falling out of your mouth so you can take another gulp of champagne. The bubbles fizz on your tongue and burn going down.

He buries his wet fingers into your cunt, curling and pumping, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Not that anyone would hear you with how loud the music is in the club. You grind your hips against Tyler’s face and feel him smile, the coarse hair on his face scratching against your inner thighs when you subconsciously try to close your legs around his ears.

“Gonna kill me,” he pulls back and mutters, nipping at the junction of your thigh. You jolt when his hands squeeze at your asscheeks, the scrape of the sequins on your dress adding more overwhelming sensation. He adjusts your thigh over his shoulder, his other hand trailing down your leg and wrapping around your ankle. He pulls back a little and you whine at the loss of sensation. “I like these,” he says, his fingers tapping against the sparkle of your platforms. “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.”

You laugh, about to deny that this is going any further than the club, when his mouth is back on your cunt, tongue stiff and warm as he licks at your clit. All thoughts are gone from your head, aware only of the pleasure Tyler’s giving you. His hands are all over your body, fidgeting from your thighs to your ass and back again, calloused fingertips ghosting over your skin and making you shiver.

You close your eyes against the pleasure building in your body, tears pooling at your waterline. How the fuck did you go this long in life without realizing that you’ve never had a satisfying orgasm? And some random, gorgeous man in a club in Vegas is the one to satisfy you over and over? It’s a shame this is a one night thing.

—-

Sunlight streams in through the windows and you screw your eyes shut tighter, nausea rolling your stomach even though you haven’t moved. It’s like an ice pick is stabbed into your temple, the throbbing somewhere deep in your brain a harsh reminder that you’re not 21 and immune to hangovers anymore.

You press your lips together and lift your hand to rub at your temple, trying to keep your movements as slow as possible so you don’t vomit. Something hard and sharp knocks against your brow bone and you crack one eye open to see what the hell it could possibly be since you don’t remember putting any jewelry on last night. A huge twinkly diamond ring stares back at you from your finger.

The ring finger.

The left ring finger.

…fuck

Your eyes fly open and you ignore the wave of nausea and shooting headache to look around the hotel room. The unfamiliar hotel room. The sheets slide down your chest, exposing you to cold air and making you shiver. Your nipples pebble from the cold and you look down, eyes widening at the little bruises and bite marks scattered over your chest and stomach. You’re naked under the sheets save for a pair of black boxer-briefs looped around one thigh, like you tried to put them on last night and got tired halfway. The fabric is soft and worn and they’re absolutely not your underwear.

“Fuck!” You yelp, gaze landing on Tyler’s prone form in the bed next to you. He’s flat on his back, one arm thrown over his face, the other out to his side with his fingers curled in your direction. “Oh my god!”

His chest is bare, tattoos a stark contrast against the white sheets and his tan skin. He’s got purpling bruises on his chest and stomach too, marks that you must’ve left on him. Marks that make a trail from his collarbone over his pecs, down his stomach, barely hidden by the sheet that rides low over his lap.

If you’re half wearing his briefs, he’s definitely completely naked from the waist down too. Before you can comprehend the thought, you wonder if you left marks lower on his body too.

Your head is moving around like it’s on a swivel, taking in all the details of the room that you’re pretty sure is Tyler’s. There’s a black suitcase in the corner and your dress is a shiny pile on the floor. Your thong tossed over the lampshade on the bedside table. You can’t find your shoes, until you notice them at the foot of the giant bed, left in a haphazard pile and you remember, faintly, Tyler’s words from last night - “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.” They look like they were discarded in a rush, one ankle strap not even fully pulled from its buckle. His clothes are everywhere, tossed in a trail from the door that speaks to how fast you were trying to get him naked.

The hangover is clouding your brain, making it feel like your head is stuffed with cotton, and you haven’t even begun to consider what the ring on your finger means. Maybe it was just a joke? It had to have been a joke.

Tyler shifts, grunting a little in his sleep, and reaches his hand out in your direction like he’s trying to find your body. His movement startles you.

“Ah, fuck!” You yelp, scrambling out of the bed, legs all tangled in the sheets. The briefs slip down your leg and tangle around your ankle. You kick your leg wildly, the black fabric going sailing across the room with the force of your kick. Frantically, you yank at one of the blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed and wrap it around yourself like a toga. Your hands shake a little.

Tyler stirs and blinks sleepily, stretching his arms over his head, giving you a show with how the black ink of his tattoos move. His gaze is unfocused when his eyes finally open, landing on your blanket-wrapped form. A slow smile graces his lips and he rasps, “hey, morning.” There’s a smudge of your dark lipstick on his cheek, partially hidden by his beard. A bruise is sucked into the underside of his bearded jaw and you notice, for the first time, the ragged red nail marks on his shoulders and biceps. He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal - and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize that feral animal had to have been you.

You can’t even find words, mouth gaping open and shut at him like a fish. Now that you’re standing, you finally stop for a second to take stock of your own body. Sticky between the thighs, sore like you’ve never been sore before - in a pleasant, well taken care of way. Your inner thighs feel raw and you know that when you look later, you’re going to find beard burn on the sensitive skin. You can already feel it on your chin and cheeks.

“What is this?” You hold your left hand out to him, the gaudy ring - because now that you’ve gotten a better look at it, it’s not a real diamond, thank god. It’s cubic zirconia or something cloudier than a real diamond and it’s a huge oval, spanning the entirety of your knuckle - glinting in the early morning sunlight.

Tyler squints at you, rolling onto his side before sitting up, either unaware or unconcerned that he’s completely naked and the sheet pools low enough in his lap that you can see the trail of dark hair leading down to his dick and the hair at the very base of him. You try to keep your eyes from looking, but he reaches a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck, making his bicep pop and the sheet move around and you’re only a woman, you can’t help yourself from looking. Your clit throbs between your legs, clearly remembering what happened last night even if most of it after getting eaten out in TAO is a little fuzzy to your brain.

“It’s a ring,” he replies simply, looking like his brain is trying to come back on-line too. He shifts his hand and his eyebrows lift. “Oh, shit. I’ve got one too.”

Your gaze lands on the band on his left ring finger. It’s yellow gold, or something cheap that looks like yellow gold, and you hate that your immediate thought is that it looks good on him. The band contrasts nicely with his skin and he spins it with his thumb, your eyes tracking the rotation.

A little chuckle slips past his lips and you blink at him. He takes in your expression and laughs outright. “Come on, you can’t possibly think we what? Got married last night?” His laugh is warm and too familiar for someone you’ve known less than twelve hours. “That’s a Vegas cliché if I’ve ever heard one.”

You shake your head. “Right, no. Yeah, I’m just being stupid. It’s just—“ you hesitate, glancing around the room again, avoiding looking at him, noticing the - oh god - four condom wrappers discarded on the floor. No wonder you’re so sore. The tenting of the sheet in his lap isn’t doing much to hide his morning wood, the shape of him obvious even with the quick little glances you’ve been sneaking. Four times. It’s a minor miracle that you’re not walking bowlegged.

Tyler stretches again and looks around for something - his clothes, his phone, who knows - while clearly not caring that the sheet is covering next to nothing. “Hey, do you see my phone?” He asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “Just wanna check the time.”

He’s remarkably chill and you’re starting to feel a little crazy for overreacting so much to silly rings bought in a drunken haze. There’s a phone on one of the little decorative tables in the corner of the room and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his, but when you pad across the room to get it, you step on a piece of paper, crumpling it under your heel. Leaning down to pick it up, you fall back on your ass in shock when your eyes land on the words at the top.

Clark County Marriage License

“You okay?” Tyler asks, sounding concerned.

“No,” you manage to squeak out the word around the block in your throat. There in black and white - your name and Tyler’s. Tyler Paul Seguin, apparently, if the document is to be believed. You feel your stomach lurch when you see the date on the license. Last night, New Year’s Eve.

How drunk had you been?

Who the hell had let you get married?

You’re so caught up in the implications of the piece of paper you’re holding that you don’t realize Tyler’s out of bed and squatting next to you, wearing his briefs, thank god.

“Whatcha got - oh,” he cuts himself off, reading the words over your shoulder. “Oh. Shit. Wow.”

He sits down on the floor next to you and you look over at him, eyes wide. “We actually got fucking married in Las Vegas,” you breathe, chest tightening in panic.

“I mean, maybe we didn’t?” He says hopefully. “That’s just a license, doesn’t mean we actually did it.” He taps his fingers absently over one well-muscled thigh, an irregular beat that you somehow sync your breathing to. With a huge effort, you drag your gaze away from his fingers - long and thick and the last you remember, stuffed up your cunt and dragging an orgasm out of your body - and steady your breathing. One hand presses against your chest, fingers digging into your skin like you could reach in and squeeze your heart back into a normal rhythm.

The phone on the tabletop starts buzzing and Tyler reaches up to grab it - “mine,” he says, glancing at the screen and jabs his finger to silence the alarm. He reaches his hand back up on the table and comes back with a handful of Polaroids. He splays them out like a deck of cards and you look at them. “Huh.”

Each picture is blurry as hell, but they’re unmistakably wedding photos. You’ve got a little fluffy veil on. Tyler’s shirt is unbuttoned past is sternum, but tucked neatly into his pants. He’s got you dipped back at the waist, kissing you dramatically. You’re on his back, holding a bouquet of flowers in the air as you kiss his cheek. He’s holding you, chest to chest, one large hand splayed over your bare back, your hand slid underneath his shirt. The Little White Wedding Chapel sign behind you and Tyler in one photo makes what happened last night unavoidable.

“I think we got married,” Tyler states the obvious and you burst into hysterical, gasping laughter. He looks at you, concerned for a beat before starting to laugh himself. It’s not funny at all, but if you don’t laugh, you think you’ll cry.

Once you catch your breath, you hiccup a little noise that sounds like a sob and carefully put the license up on the table. Tyler watches you and then glances back down at his phone, wincing at the time. “So, uh, hate to get married and run, but I have to go,” he taps his phone screen. “I’m on a flight to San Jose in an hour and I really can’t afford to miss that.”

You catch a glimpse of his lock screen and it’s a picture of him cuddling three dogs, which makes you feel marginally better because at least it’s not a woman that he’s cheating on and any man that has his dogs as his phone screen can’t be a total sociopath. A little bit of the knot in your chest unravels.

“San Jose,” you repeat, finally catching onto what he said. “Is that where you live?” You ask the question realizing you know nothing about this man that you’ve married. You didn’t even know his last name until five minutes ago. Oh god. You’re going to have to manage a time difference while filing for divorce. Your thoughts spiral out. Can you even get divorced in a state that’s not Nevada? You should know this, you’re probably the divorce expert in the room. He isn’t giving off divorced man energy, but do you give off divorced woman energy? You hadn’t thought about that and now it’s all you can focus on.

Tyler laughs a little, drawing your attention and stopping your panic attack. “No, thank god. I’m, uh, not to sound conceited,” he says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but you really didn’t recognize me?”

“Should I?” You frown, studying his face. Maybe he looks familiar? But in that way that most dark haired white men look alike. You’re almost positive that you’ve never seen him before.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is awkward. But I play for the Dallas Stars, the hockey team? We played Vegas last night, San Jose tomorrow.”

You cock your head at him, this new information sinking in. Dallas. Just thirty minutes from your place in Fort Worth. You’ve obviously heard of the Stars, you don’t live under a rock, but you’ve never been to a game, never cared about sports enough to learn any of the players’ names. It would be a weird thing to lie about, but - “prove it.”

“Prove it?” Tyler repeats incredulously. You nod. He frowns and looks like he’s trying to make a decision. After a second, he huffs a little laugh to himself and mutters, “well, it already worked once,” before unlocking his phone and typing away on the screen. A second later he holds it up next to his face, a Google search open on the screen. A headshot - Tyler’s headshot in a green jersey - looks back at you. He grins wryly, “proof enough?” The search bar at the bottom of the screen shows that he typed in ‘tyler seguin dallas stars headshot’ and misspelled his own name as ‘tylor’ - you don’t know why, but it makes you bite your lip to smother a laugh. The little typo is endearing.

You look back and forth between the screen and Tyler, long enough that he starts to genuinely laugh. “C’mon,” he teases, putting his phone down on his thigh, “you’re a tougher sell than security at the arena.”

“Okay,” you offer him a tiny smile, “I believe you. I’m just, um, a little overwhelmed. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever done it before either,” he replies, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be on the road for a bit, west coast swing, but if you put your number in my phone, I’ll have my lawyer start working on the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

He coughs a little awkwardly. “The divorce? Or annulment? Divorce though right? ‘Cause we obviously slept together,” he gestures at the condom wrappers, “so we can’t just sweep it under the rug. Like Ross and Rachel in Friends.”

“No!” The word slips out before you can stop it and Tyler frowns.

“We can annul it? My knowledge of ending Vegas weddings is pretty minimal.” He pauses and then as if to reassure you, says, “my knowledge of ending marriages in general is pretty limited too.”

“No,” you chew at your lip, “it’s still a divorce. But, fuck, this is mortifying. A second fucking divorce before I’m even 28. Good fucking job with your life.” You mutter the last bit more to yourself than to Tyler, tears welling up in your eyes. That would be the last thing you need, to tell your family and friends about this whole debacle. Literally a week after your first divorce is finalized, you go out and get married again. Drunkenly. In Las Vegas!

Tyler’s eyebrow lifts and he doesn’t ask the question he so clearly wants to ask. You scrub a hand over your face, nausea returning but you’re not sure if it’s the hangover this time or the way he’s looking at you.

“What if,” he says slowly, studying you carefully for a reaction, “what if, we just…didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” You shift, the floor uncomfortable under your sore ass. The blanket wrapped around your body isn’t the softest and you’re starting to sweat a little despite the cold air pumping into the room. Tyler’s presence next to you is becoming distracting, the movement of his chest muscles, the rasp of his voice. Your body wants more of him.

“Didn’t get divorced…” he tilts his head at you, keeps looking you in the eye, even after your jaw drops and the blanket slips a little. “We could, I don’t know, just -“

“Stay married?” You finish for him, eyebrows up in your hairline. He nods, shrugs - why not? “Oh my god.”

Tyler’s phone vibrates on his thigh and he glances down at the alarm. It reminds you that you have no idea where your own phone is and you really, really need to talk to the girls. He jabs at the alarm again and looks apologetic. “I really do have to go,” he gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull you up. A spark shoots up your arm when his fingers clasp around yours. He doesn’t let go right away, his thumb rubbing against the backs of your fingers. “Think about it,” he looks at you more softly than you think he really should be in this moment. “You said you don’t do this kind of thing,” he continues, “but new year, new you?” The tiny smile he gives you sends your heartbeat into overdrive and this cannot be good for your health.

“Drunk married in Vegas would be a really new me,” you reply faintly. His hand finally falls away from yours and you’re mildly concerned to realize that you miss his touch. Your fingers flex at your side.

His smile doesn’t waver and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair off your cheek, fingertips lingering on your skin. “I’ll be back in Dallas in two weeks. Think about it, I’ll take you to dinner and we can just…go from there.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Strangely enough, you do feel calmer than you had a few moments ago, Tyler’s steady calm rubbing off on you.

“Okay,” you nod, repeating yourself. “Okay. I’ll…two weeks.”

Tyler grins a little wickedly. “At least we know we’re good together in bed,” he teases, kicking at a condom wrapper with his bare foot.

A laugh startles out of your chest and you find yourself nodding in agreement. “I, ah, definitely agree with that,” you murmur, your entire face flaming with heat.

——

One Year Later - New Year’s Eve. Dallas. TX

Tyler greets you at the door, suited up and bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin,” he grins at you.

“Mr. Seguin,” you laugh back, leaning in to loop your arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, nipping at his lower lip. When you pull back, you’re breathless. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

His hands roam up and down your back, catching in the fabric of your sparkly white minidress, sliding up under the hem to knead at the flesh of your ass. He grins wickedly when his hands don’t find any fabric covering your ass. You smirk at him and wink, giggling when he pinches a cheek.

You lean into his touch with a contented purr. If it wouldn’t make you late for your own party, you’d pull him inside the house for a quickie. You’d already had sex this morning - a wedding present, according to Tyler when he’d given you back to back, mind numbing orgasms with his tongue and dick before you’d returned the favor with a blowjob that had rendered him speechless for twenty minutes - but you would never get enough of being in Tyler’s arms.

“Does it count as bad luck if none of the guests know they’re coming to a wedding?” He asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Or a vow renewal, technically.”

The last twelve months have been a little insane and honestly, looking back, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

After getting dressed quickly, Tyler had found your phone wedged in the cushions of the hotel room’s armchair. The battery was nearly drained but your screen was lit up with more than a hundred texts in the group chat with the girls and nearly as many missed calls. When you had finally called back, all three had shrieked that they were twenty minutes away from reporting you missing. You’d kept the little surprise of legally binding matrimony to yourself, but had admitted to the girls that you’d spent the night with Tyler and that he lived in Dallas and that you were going to see where it went. The flight home was full of whispered shrieking and more questions than you had honestly had answers for at the time. The gaudy engagement ring was buried in the bottom of your toiletry case, acting like the tell-tale heart, blood rushing in your head every time you thought about it.

When you got home, you’d shoved the ring in your jewelry box, determined not to think about it, but found yourself absently running the pad of your thumb over the underside of your ring finger when you let your mind wander to Tyler.

After Tyler had returned to Dallas from his two week road trip - during which you’d basically internet stalked him and spiralled out quietly about not filling for a divorce right away - you’d finally decided to give it, give Tyler a chance. He’d texted nearly every day he was gone, sending stupid jokes or a picture of something he thought would amuse you. Worst case scenario, you filed for divorce and went through the process all over again. By the time Tyler took you out for dinner at a quiet dive-y taco place in Fort Worth where you could actually hear each other, both of your memories of the wedding night had returned, although yours were coloured in a hazy film that made the whole thing seem like a fever dream.

The little ceremony had been officiated by an Elvis impersonator, another Vegas cliché, a fact that you’d learned when Tyler had found another Polaroid in his wallet when he was on the plane to San Jose. You’d cracked up when he finally showed it to you in person - Elvis in the middle, clearly past his prime, with you and Tyler on either side of him doing your best air guitar? Maybe?

“I think I’m trying to do an Elvis hip swivel,” Tyler had laughed.

“Whatever it is, it looks like we’re both mid-seizure,” you’d nearly snorted your drink out of your nose. Looking at the photographs was fun now, a little warmth building in the pit of your stomach, not the tight, nauseous coil of anxiety that you’d experienced when you had first seen them.

Other wedding details were still a little hazy, like where you had picked up the rings or what exactly the ceremony had consisted of, beyond being declared man and wife and being told to kiss and cement your “burning love.”

(What you remembered and what Tyler made sure you didn’t forget was just how good you were in bed together. The four condom wrappers on the floor were not an anomaly with Tyler.)

He’d gotten you tickets for games, right up against the glass so he could skate by you during warmups and tap his glove against the glass to capture your attention. After a few games, once you’d decided to really commit to the relationship and were official within your friendship circles, he picked up the habit of blowing you a kiss, grinning when you’d blush.

He’s really good at his job and you’re only a little surprised to find that you actually love watching him play. It’s horrific watching him get hit or tossed into the boards, but when he scores a goal and celebrates in a big hug with his teammates you’re always the first one on your feet, screaming your head off.

You’d brought the girls to a game early on in your relationship and all three of them had been surprised at how comfortable you were in the arena and how quickly you’d picked up the rules of the game. It was hard to explain that you weren’t just trying to make a regular relationship work, but a whole marriage. The stakes were just a little bit higher than usual.

The league had a break for the All-Star Weekend in early February and Tyler had surprised you with a trip to Mexico, where you’d soaked up the sun and gotten to know each other better, giving him all the sordid details about your divorce and sharing stories from your childhoods over icy margaritas and more tacos than your body knew what to do with. He’d told you about his early career, his misbehavior in Boston and how much he loved being in Dallas. The long weekend was slow and lazy, leaving so much time for the two of you to really talk and get to know each other. The experimental sex in a hammock on the beach was the icing on the cake.

After that, it was like a switch flipped and all you wanted to do was be with him. Truthfully, you sometimes forgot that you were thrown into the relationship with a marriage and settled comfortably into dating Tyler, folding each other into your lives, moving in with him, telling him you love him and hearing him say it back, cheering him on when Dallas made it all the way to the Western Conference Finals before being bounced in seven games by, of all teams, the Vegas Golden Knights.

Summer break meant a road trip to Whitby to meet Tyler’s family. A drive that should’ve been two or three days took nearly a week because you kept making random stops to see the silliest monuments advertised on the highways. You’d nearly killed him driving through Illinois, convinced this was the end of the relationship and you’d have to pull the trigger on the divorce, and then he had surprised you by stopping at a corn maze and getting lost in it with you almost immediately. Your stomach had hurt from laughing with him and making out like teenagers.

The trip to his hometown had been beyond fun, getting Tyler to show you his childhood haunts and seeing all the baby pictures of him with his mom telling you stories too.

On the drive back to Dallas, halfway through Oklahoma and in the middle of the night, while you’re pulled over on the side of the road to look at the stars, Tyler asked you to marry him. Again.

This time you had the moment committed to memory, the way Tyler’s hands had been shaking slightly with the black velvet box popped open in his fingers. The way Tyler’s speech rambled, like he hadn’t prepared anything or had forgotten his words just as he started talking, explaining how your relationship had started in an unconventional manner, but he couldn’t picture his life without you now. The way you’d started crying almost the second he had turned to you on the hood of the car with that gorgeous ring glinting at you in the moonlight and how you hadn’t stopped until he’d slid the ring home on your finger and kissed you like he’d never kissed you before.

Over the months, the wedding plan shifts and changes, from a summer wedding so you can have a real ceremony and party, the whole nine yards, to what it actually ends up becoming - a quiet inside joke with the two of you in order to keep your anniversary date, a New Year’s Eve party for your closest family and friends to be surprised at midnight when you and Tyler recite your vows.

It’s much easier to plan a party in six months than it would’ve been to plan a wedding.

Jamie Benn, Tyler’s best friend and the dark haired man in Vegas you had initially thought was just you seeing double, is tapped as the officiant, getting ordained online and getting really into his role, not knowing it’s basically all just a front. He just loves that he’s the only one in on the secret, constantly wearing a shit eating grin any time any of your other friends discuss wedding plans for a summer wedding that’s not going to happen.

“I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces,” you admit, hooking your hand in the crook of Tyler’s elbow and letting him lead you out to the car. He does a double take when he notices your hand.

“What’s that?” He taps on the ring nestled on your ring finger. Your original wedding ring from a year ago had been replaced with a real diamond, still an oval, but smaller and more tasteful. But that’s not what you’re wearing right now.

Your lips twist up in a sly smile. The huge, gaudy cubic zirconia is back on your finger, your second engagement ring tucked safely in its box in your drawer. “It didn’t feel right to get married without it,” you admit, flexing your fingers against his arm so the fake gem will sparkle.

Tyler’s laugh is contagious. “Everyone’s going to ask about it,” he warns you.

“Let them,” you shrug. “I want to wear my original ring on my anniversary.”

Hours later, when the surprise has been pulled off and Jamie announces that Tyler may kiss his bride, you fall into your husband’s arms, kissing him with all that you’ve got.

Fireworks go off outside the venue, the countdown to midnight at less than a minute.

“Happy anniversary, wife,” Tyler grins against your lips, quiet enough that only you can hear him.

Around you, the countdown continues, seconds ticking away until it’s January first.

“Happy New Year, husband,” you whisper back, laughing when he dips you back dramatically.

The party continues well into the early hours of January first, you and Tyler having had the foresight to rent out the venue for twice as long as a normal party. You spend the night flitting between dancing with your friends and cuddling up against Tyler’s side, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your cheek is pressed against Tyler’s side, the wrinkled fabric of his button down soft under your skin. Your fingers play with the buttons, slipping them from their holes one by one until his shirt is more unbuttoned than not.

Tyler smirks down at you, his hand rubbing an arc over your hip, rucking up the fabric with each upward stroke of his hand, exposing your thigh inch my inch. “Undressing me already, wife? Can’t wait for the wedding night?” He winks at you and you laugh into his chest.

“I think that ship has sailed,” you murmur, sliding your hand under the unbuttoned shirt and over the smooth skin of his stomach, ridged muscles dancing under your touch. You yawn a little, the weird combination of overtired and wide awake making your brain buzz.

Tyler holds you close and leans down a little to whisper in your ear, “want your anniversary gift?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “I thought I already got my gift this morning?”

“That was a wedding gift,” Tyler teases. “This is an anniversary gift, and no, it’s not in my pants.”

You giggle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “Shame, I like what’s in your pants.”

“I’ll give you that later,” he promises, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, I stashed it in the coat closet.”

He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you off, getting stopped every few feet by someone else who wants to gush about what a great surprise the party was. “Just couldn’t wait another minute to marry her,” Tyler grins in response every time, making you laugh at his side, the inside secret of your Vegas marriage a warm fizz in your chest.

When you finally escape off to the coat closet, you try to loop your arms around Tyler’s neck and lift up on your toes to kiss him. He obliges you happily, cupping the back of your head and giving you a searing kiss before pulling away. You whine, “I thought we were sneaking off for a wedding night quickie?”

“I literally told you that your gift wasn’t in my pants,” Tyler laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would you think I wasn’t being serious?”

Your hands find their way underneath his shirt again, fingertips digging into the muscles of his back, and drawing yourself closer to him. “Because I wanted you to be kidding,” you reply. “A little coat closet quickie would be a fun way to start the year.”

“And normally, I’d agree, baby. But I think you’re gonna like this gift,” he leans forward and reaches behind you, giving you the opportunity to press your nose against his collarbone. When he pulls back, he has a fairly large, flat wrapped package in his hand.

“What’s that?” You ask, taking the gift from Tyler as he leans back a little, shoulders resting against the wall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The package is lighter than you thought it would be.

He nudges your foot with his, “open it.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you chew at your lower lip. Neither of you had really discussed the fact that it’s your anniversary or gift giving and now you’re a little embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. You sway a little on your feet, fingers ripping a little at the corners of the paper until it crumples under your touch and the corner of the gift pokes through.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t care. It’s kind of something for both of us anyway,” he says and you wait for the little joke, the tease that you can let him unwrap you later, but it never comes and that’s how you know your husband is about to make you cry with whatever this gift is.

You can feel Tyler watching you as you pull back the paper - leftover Christmas wrapping that’s so clearly been wrapped by a man, too much tape and messy folds. God, you love him - and expose a frame. It takes you a second to process what’s behind the glass, but when you do, you hiccup a little gasp and tears well at your lash line.

Behind the glass is your marriage license with last year’s date and your pair of wobbly signatures. The Polaroids you’d taken that night surround the license and you trace trembling fingertips over the image of you kissing Tyler on the cheek.

“Tyler…” your voice cracks on his name and he gives you a soft little smile.

“This year his been batshit insane, baby,” he leans into your personal space and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “But I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married.”

Tears are sliding down your cheeks and you nod, “I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married, too.”

His laugh is muffled by all the coats surrounding you, but it’s warm and it feels like home. He pulls you into a hug, the frame smushed between your bodies and digging into your stomach, but you don’t care. Tyler’s hand curls around the back of your neck and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your wrist, black mascara smudges streaking across your skin. You giggle a little wetly, “I’m such a mess, oh my god.”

“Everyone will just think you dragged me off so you could have your wicked way with me,” Tyler teases, smirking at you.

“Coat closet quickie for the newlyweds,” you reply, grinning. You settle the frame on the floor, the back of it leaning against your leg, and really wrap your arms around Tyler’s neck, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. The spice of his cologne invades your nostrils and you press your nose harder against his throat, enveloped in his warmth.

Tyler rests his chin on the top of your head and hums, rolling his hips against yours lazily so you can feel the bulge behind his fly. “I could give you a real quick one, just to make sure you don’t have to lie,” he ducks his head to whisper in your ear, kissing at the hinge of your jaw. His hand slides down to graze your ass and you’re nearly ready to say yes, suddenly desperate for him, when a loud bang on the door has you jumping back, heart pounding from the shock, nearly cracking Tyler’s chin with your head. The frame bounces off your leg with your movement, falling to the floor with a little clatter that you hope isn’t broken glass.

“Fuck!” He yelps and you clap your hands over your heart, gasping. “Jesus, who is it?”

Jamie’s voice is choked with laughter as it comes through the door. There’s a slight slur to his words too, as he shouts, “stop fucking on everyone’s coats, we’re doing body shots.”

Your jaw drops open and Tyler rolls his eyes at the interruption. He bangs on the door with a hand and shouts back, “fuck off! I’m trying to spend some time with my wife.”

“Actually,” you say slowly, a little smirk forming on your face, “body shots could be fun…”

“Yeah?” Tyler lifts an eyebrow at you, palm flat on the door.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a wicked grin, “you know I like the way champagne tastes on your skin.”

Tyler’s eyes shut like he’s in pain and your gaze slides down to see the bulge in his pants grow. “You’re a fucking menace and I’m so fucking glad you’re my wife,” he mutters, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you out of the coat closet, nearly knocking Jamie over in his hurry, your shrieked giggles drowned out by the music from the party.

The next morning, afternoon really by the time you finally open your eyes, you wake up with half of your body draped over Tyler’s completely naked one. His hip and thigh is securely wedged between your legs, his morning wood hot against the outside of your thigh. One of your arms is in the sleeve of Tyler’s button down, the rest of the fabric draped over your back like a blanket. The hangover pounds at your temples and the sunlight blinds you and it’s such a deja vu moment you almost think you’re back in Vegas, right until the moment Tyler’s hand twitches against your lower back and he rubs his bearded chin against the top of your head. You melt against him, sighing happily.

“Anniversary party slash vow renewal every New Year’s Eve?” Tyler rasps against your hair, sliding his hand up your spine.

You hum into his skin, “as long as you get me electrolytes and a greasy breakfast on January first, I’m in.”

“How about a headache relieving orgasm first?” Tyler rolls you gently onto your back, already kissing a path down your body. You shiver with each brush of his lips and your legs fall open for him to slot himself between them. He rests his chin on your hip bone and looks up at you with a soft look in his eyes that doesn’t match the hungry smirk that curves his lips.

“What?” You ask, angling your neck to look at him, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. There’s a little streak of glitter against his temple and you brush your thumb over it, wiping the smudge away.

He shakes his head a little. “Just thinking about this past year,” he lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “How fun it’s been, how glad I am that we did the surprise last night.”

“Getting soft on me, Seguin?” you tease, poking at his side with your foot. He wiggles away a little from your touch, ticklish even though he won’t admit it.

“You know I’m anything but soft for you,” he laughs, nipping at your skin. “Let me prove it.” He presses a kiss against your hip bone and then lower and then there’s no more thoughts, just you and Tyler and the rest of forever stretching out in front of you.

[senditcolton]

The fact that I’ve actually read this like five times before finally reblogging it. Yeah, you could say I’m a little obsessed. I also did not realize that I listen Pointer twice until Demi reminded me of my list at the beginning of the exchange and I was like… “whoops.” That’s what I get for filling out the form during a thirty-minute work break where I also have to eat and also decompress a little. But also, I got this masterpiece out of it! Now I’ll always list players twice! Okay, onto in-depth screaming:

Ugh, suffering through heat and humidity is very relatable

Also, my AC is currently broken so very immersed already

“He smiles at you and it’s brighter than the damn sun causing you so many problems today” and that smile seems to be the cause of a lot of problems in this relationship…

God, I wish that was how I was spending my mid-twenties life crisis

“And there’s the whole banning of any food that brings any modicum of enjoyment that you’re not entirely sure is serious or not” dammit Nate, let me have my chocolate and French fries

I can only imagine how intimidating meeting all the wives and girlfriends for the first time can be. Especially considering they’re not a wife nor girlfriend.

Ugh, the way you describe the relationship with Nate! Where does friend stop and something more begin? Just so… angsty and I love it!!

“What it would mean to be so publicly claimed as Nate’s while privately remaining the way you always have been.” OUCH

Oh, this is so frustrating! Everyone thinks they’re together but they’re not but everyone thinks they are and AAAHHHH

My God! The way Nate is taking advantage of them even if he may not fully realize it!

Nate – bud – you were almost there and then you had to keep talking.

“YOU’RE HIS BUT HE’S NOT YOURS” break my heart why don’t you?

I need me a friend like Heidy who will drag me out for a night on the town whether I really want to or not.

I love how Heidy is at first like “distract yourself with someone!” but as soon as it’s Brayden she’s like “not that someone!” Which, y’know, understandable.

“He’s the one that I want” + Heidy immediately softening!!!

“As good as his touch feels, being wanted feels that extra bit more.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Oh my God, Brayden is already so fucking cute!

“A small part of you thinks about how if the roles were reversed, you don’t think Nate would be quite the same” HMMMMM

“Maybe Brayden just knows you better than you think” <3

THE CLARITY!!

In love with the way you described the contrast between “being” with Nate and being with Brayden.

The idea that words aren’t always needed if the actions are clear and intentional – love that!

The fact that Brayden keeps asking for you to wear his jersey and the fact that he keeps asking implies that it might mean something more!

And then throwing in a little sexiness with the jersey request? I’m sold!

I want to know what JT was about to say! “I thought you and Nate were together?” mayhaps???

Did some research and… yeah I would’ve turned down a Tampa WAG jacket in 2022. Love you Brayden but not that much.

“I don’t like the way it makes me feel” !!!!!!

“He kind of looks like he’s about to do something stupid, leaning in ever so slightly,” woah woah woah buddy boy!

NOW YOU JUST PICTURE IT WITH SOMEBODY ELSE!

THEY ARE SO FUCKING CUTE TOGETHER!!

Also, ugh! That quiet subtle cockiness that you gave Brayden… J’adore!

He accepts you with just as much gratitude as accepting the Cup!!! I am melting into a puddle here!

Oh, I also love this predicament of when the best time to tell Nate is! Before the playoffs? No. During the playoffs? NO. During the final? Absolutely not! Now that he’s won it? No because it would spoil his happiness. Like… AGH!

So, of course, it comes out at the worst time but was there ever really a good time?

THE AUDACITY! THE SHEER AUDACITY!

Yeah, call him out!

All of the maybes with Nate that don’t matter now because Brayden is there??? I’m - !!

I am genuinely just like ASDFGHJKL; over the entire relationship and moments with Brayden.

(also, because I’m me and I’ve been listening to Hozier’s new album on repeat, the relationship with Brayden is reminding me of his new song “First Light”)

“Glad you won.” “In more ways than one.” Excuse me while I die.

This fic was EVERYTHING. Some final overall thoughts:

I just adore love triangles but the unique way you did it? Even more stunning!! Because some love triangles can get too ‘macho’ like “two men fighting for the affection of one person.” Ugh. But this unrequited romance, secret romance, love triangle?! This “I’m in love with my friend but he doesn’t feel the same and now I’ve found someone else who gives me the love I want but it’s also a little complicated because of who he is in relation to my friend and now my friend has finally figured out his feelings towards me while I’ve gotten over him and now it’s all AAAHHH!” Just, fantastic!

It is actually so much fun re-reading this because you can pick up on all the things that will change, before things change which is so fun so see after the fact!

I also loved that the spicy moments in here are still so hot without being explicit is *mwah* amazing!

The fact that we begin this fic complaining about the heat and then fall in love with a boy who lives in Florida… what are we doing? Just kidding, I would indeed suffer through unbearable heat and humidity for Brayden Point

Just, yeah I adore every bit of this and I will be re-reading it again and again. Heck, I’ll probably reread it right now! Thank you, I’m over the moon, and yeah, like… THANK YOU + A TON OF HEART EMOJIS AND ANOTHER ROUND OF AJBGIKRNVKJABSOJACNLDKBFH AND YEAH!!

one day all my love will come back to me

Spending a mid-degree gap year in the guest bedroom of your best friend who you’ve been in love with for ages seems to be a recipe for disaster until a hook up with a player from a visiting team threatens to change your future forever 

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader; brayden point x reader

warnings: creative liberties taken with the 2021-2022 regular season schedule and the availability/contributions of Brayden Point during the 2022 playoffs, typical angst associated with a love triangle with a hint of unrequited love, sexual themes (not quite smut but more than implied) and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc.)

word count: 10.9k

a/n: surprise @senditcolton i'm your summer exchange fic writer! i'm so so so sooooo sorry this is late, @wyattjohnston and i were having a hot girl european summer and it's not an excuse but a bit of an explanation. when i saw you had written brayden point twice in your players list, i knew it was time to dust off this fic idea i had last year and do her proper justice. i hope you like it!!! shout out to demi for the many "replace c with C" suggestions on google docs and @thomasschabot for the other suggestions. ok i'll shut up now, enjoy!!

The Avs are up by one with thirty seconds to go and you’re pretty sure you’re going to puke. It’s a good thing everyone is far too focused on the action going on at ice level to question why your gaze keeps bouncing between the good guys and a certain forward on the other team. It’s such a strange feeling—you want with your entire being for your boys to hoist the Cup, but there’s a small part of you that never wants to see the boy on the other team you care for so deeply, so upset. He was right, you both crossed the line past hooking up a long time ago. 

-

“You look hot.” 

In any other circumstance, those words from Nate would have your heart going into overdrive. As it stands, your heart is already pumping at a rate you fear is not healthy while you lie on a trampoline with your niece’s sprinkler set up beneath it. For every bitter complaint you’ve ever had about a Canadian winter, the opposing heat waves might just be slightly worse.

“A/C’s broken,” you say like that explains everything. 

Nate hums in response like maybe it does before pulling himself up beside you. 

Somehow the air around you feels even hotter, precipitation building at your hairline. You fuss for a minute, wiping away the sweat before dramatically slapping your hands down on the trampoline in protest. 

Nate ignores you, choosing to instead cheerfully proclaim “This is nice!”

“What do you want?” you ask in response. There are layers to your grumpiness, but for now you can pretend it’s all related to the unbearable heat.

“Can’t a guy visit his best friend?” 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep yours closed. “Not when it's 34 degrees out and humid as hell and he has to leave his air conditioned mansion to do so.”

“I saw your story and I was coming to invite you to my air conditioned mansion.”

“Is Sidney home?” Your tone is so much more nonchalant than you feel. It doesn’t matter that the aforementioned man went from Nate’s childhood hero to mentor to near-brother; it will never not be weird to have but one degree of separation from the man who’s name is on your town’s welcome sign. 

Nate laughs like he can read your mind, but you still don’t glance over at him. You don’t need to, not really. The image of him beside you comes all too easily to your inner mind. His hair’s got a wave from the humidity, his nose tinged red from the hot sun, and his chest golden and chiseled and harlequin romance novel cover-esque— 

“You know one day you’re going to have to get used to being around guys who made it to the show. Hell, I'm a guy who made it to the show.”

Finally you turn to look at him and he’s somehow even more beautiful than you’d just imagined. “That’s different Nate. You’re….you.”

He smiles at you and it’s brighter than the damn sun causing you so many problems today. “And Sid’s just Sid. And the guys in Denver are just the guys in Denver.”

His words have your nose scrunching and you promptly go back to laying flat on your back. “Don’t remind me.” There’s silence for a beat or two and then you continue, “Speaking of, are you sure it’s still okay—“

Nate doesn’t let you finish this time. “Yes, I’m sure it’s okay for you to hang around my apartment in Denver while you take a year off from school to figure out what you want to do.”

“Thanks Nate,” you reply and he hums in response. Abruptly you sit up, sliding a little from the slick trampoline surface. “Your A/C offer still standing too?”

He grins this time and you’re damn near blinded. “For you? Always.”

Sidney—Sid waves at you both from his kitchen when you pull up to Nate’s but that’s as far as it goes. Nate makes a joke about banana bread that you don’t quite get, mood souring considerably when you wonder aloud if he thinks Sidney will bring some over. 

It’s all forgotten when the cold air hits you as you enter the lake house. 

-

The summer passes by quickly without too much incident—just the nagging of your mother about your future and your own tiptoeing around the feelings you have for your friend. 

On one of your and Nate’s last nights before leaving for Denver, your niece pulls him aside and sternly instructs him to bring home the Cup for her. 

He laughs, but there’s something in his eye that says he means it when he says he will. That intensity doesn’t waiver, even as his gaze slides toward you. It has you thinking about a future by his side, celebrating those moments with him in a way so much greater than you do now. 

The thought doesn’t leave you as you kiss your family goodbye, trying desperately to not let any tears shed at the thought of no longer being a small distance away. Nate’s constant near proximity and the promise of more of it takes away the sting a little, but you fall into your sister’s embrace that little bit more all the same. 

Even as you do a final check of your things—two large suitcases, a carry-on and a backpack to house everything you’ll need for the next year—you think about it, of what it would be like to do this every year. What it would be like to pack with the intention of unpacking your things beside Nate’s in his closet. It’s silly, but sometimes you still feel like you’re fifteen years old, realizing you’re in love with your best friend as he goes away to the same hockey school as his idol. 

Two flights full of self doubt and Nate sleeping on your shoulder later you’re convinced spending your impromptu gap year at his place is a bad idea. But then he’s smiling and ‘welcome home’-ing you and you step through the door.

-

Unemployment and a mid-twenties life crisis isn’t so bad from the guest bedroom of a lavish semi-detached in the suburbs of Denver. The bed’s softer than the one in your childhood bedroom. Bigger too. And the closet leading into the attached en-suite has no business being the size it is. 

There are downsides of course. You are still unemployed and in the middle of a life crisis. Nathan is woefully unaware of your feelings and likely to never reciprocate. His teammates look at you like they know, though. And there’s the whole banning of any food that brings any modicum of enjoyment that you’re not entirely sure is serious or not. 

The teammates that come around are kind to you when you’re around them enough to let them be. A small part of it is the intimidation of them being professional hockey players but they’re good guys and you’ve met many of them before. Really, it’s something more akin to the inherent uncomfortability of your predicament. It’s Nate’s house and you’re free-loading. 

Of course he would argue differently if you voiced your thoughts and hang ups but that’s precisely why you don’t. 

Nate may have never caught onto your feelings for him, but he’s not an oblivious person. That’s probably how you end up in the family box, being personally invited to brunch with the Better Halves by the best-half-in-charge herself, Mel Landeskog. 

You find yourself nodding despite the anxiety of the possibility of making new friends, certain it’s less of an invitation and more of a demand. 

She tells you as much, pressing a mimosa into your hand when you arrive at a cute restaurant and a table full of beautiful, predominantly blonde women. If Nate’s teammates were intimidating on a personal level, their wives and girlfriends are a whole other level. Never in your life have you been so surrounded by a group of women so put together—every outfit perfectly on point, every head of hair treated to an expensive blowout, every foundation shade perfectly matched or worse, no makeup needed. 

It has you self-conscious, despite having spent ages picking out something to wear and trying to tame your hair into something presentable. The mimosa helps, and so do the compliments from Ashley Kadri. Little by little you open up, and by the end of brunch you have a killer buzz and a dozen new instagram followers and numbers in your phone. 

When Nate picks you up, the bubbles have gone to your head. You spend the entire ride back to his place with the back of your head pressed to the passenger side window so that you can grin stupidly at his side profile. 

“The girls are great,” you tell him with a silly giggle. His returning smile reeks of satisfaction of a job well done, but you don’t focus on it. “We’re gonna get dinner this week too!”

-

Although Mel takes you under her wing, it’s Heidy, Cale’s girlfriend who you instantly click with. 

She’s every bit as beautiful and kind as the rest of them, but you connect with her on a different level. It’s almost like you’ve known her as long as you’ve known Nate. She shares your love of Taylor Swift and gets your jokes and is more than happy to let you bounce future career plans off her. 

You can tell the girls have questions about your relationship with Nate, and truthfully they can get in line behind you. Sometimes, when you’re not careful, it almost feels like you’re not alone in how you feel. Sometimes it feels like you’re high school sweethearts, playing house on the precipice of a greater future. 

Nate doesn’t help it himself though. It’s you he calls on long road trips, you he pulls into a giant hug outside the locker room before driving you both home after a game. You who is invited to WAG functions as a connection to him—both informally in a social context and more formally and broadly. Things like charity toy drives and the family box at games. A part of you fears the possibility of playoffs—especially with odds so clearly in the Avs favor—and what it would mean to be so publicly claimed as Nate’s while privately remaining the way you always have been. 

It���s Heidy who you confide in. She’s always there to offer her ear, her shoulder, her opinion. And, although she encourages you to share your feelings, she also knows when to back off and let you do it when and if you’re ready. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. 

-

With Christmas comes the Better Halves Christmas Tree Auction. It’s Mel’s favorite charity event of the season, she tells you gleefully. 

“Every event is her favorite,” Suzanna says behind her back later. 

Designated Favorite Human of the Avalanche Children is usually your favorite title, but it means you have one kid hanging off of you when the girls drop the bomb on you. 

“So what are you thinking for your WAG tree?”

It’s an innocent enough question, especially when you think it’s aimed at one of the aforementioned WAGs in the family box. Only when there is no response do you look up and realize it’s meant for you instead. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Your…Tree,” someone says slowly and you shake your head. 

Your tone and words are almost as flustered as you are. “No I heard you. I’m just—What do you—Why are you asking me?”

“Well, Nate said…” 

It all comes clear. Yet again, you’re expected to play the part. At great personal cost, mind you. It’s a mindfuck and a half, having to do all the things that you do for a man you love when it doesn’t mean anything. 

Your thoughts are invaded with a tempestuous mixture of Nate and your relationship or lack thereof and yet another public acknowledgement. 

Truly, you wonder if the others in the box pity you or laugh behind your back. 

“C’mon,” Heidy says later, when the final buzzer sounds, cementing another win. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Nate’s,” you correct weakly. 

She nods and repeats his name, grabbing your arm and leading you away. 

-

You’re stewing in silence when Nate comes home. 

“You okay?” he questions upon finding you in the living room, lit up only by the light filtering in through the large bay window. 

The twitch of your eye is the only indication you’ve heard and recognized his words for a long moment. You can practically hear the gears whirring in his head, can feel the moment he’s about to speak again. 

Not wanting to give him the opportunity, you ask, “Why?” His brows furrow and his head tits and so you continue. “Why did you say I would do your Better Half tree?”

“It’s for charity…You love charity work.” Nate visibly relaxes and you understand why. He’s not wrong, engaging in charity work has been a big part of why you’re not wallowing in self pity, but this isn’t just simple ‘charity work’ and you tell him as much. 

“I love toy drives and helping at the soup kitchen and adoption events at the ASPCA. This is different, this is your WAG tree. It means something. It’s in your name, like I’m—I’m—“ you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“Everything you mentioned you do in my name.” He doesn’t seem to get it, frustrating you further. 

“It’s not the same, Nate! All those other things I do as part of the larger group. It’s all facilitated by your team and your teammates ‘Better Halves.’ Their wives and girlfriends. They’ve all made me feel welcome, but I'm not one of them. This implies that I am one of them, but I’m not your girlfriend and certainly not your wife.”

“You basically are.” The phrase has your heart jumping into your throat. Of every daydream or fantasy you’ve ever allowed yourself to slip into, you never dreamed this would be how it all went down—“Without actually being my wife or girlfriend.”

“Right.” Your voice is short and clipped, masking the hurt quickly overtaking you. You won’t cry—you’re stronger than that. So strong in fact, that you lay down a firm boundary. “I won’t do it. Get Sidney to do it or something.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, pausing and then asking, “We’re good, right?”

“Yep.” You feign nonchalance and then wish him a good night. 

The pillow holds all your tears and secrets. 

-

The incident sticks with you, despite your many attempts to shake it off. Even Heidy can’t help. She tries anyway. 

You’re not his. 

But you are. You’re his and you have been for years now. Since he was leaving for school. Maybe even many years before that. Regardless of the true beginning, it doesn’t quite matter. What really matters is this: you’re not sure it will ever have an ending, but you’re almost certain if it does, it won’t be the one you want. 

You’re his but he’s not yours. 

Part of him is, sure, but you share that part with the other residents of Cole Harbour. The other part with the team and his teammates and their families, with the fans and the haters alike. The part you so desperately want to be yours has belonged to many a woman, but never to you. 

It was a lot easier to live in the space between his childhood best friend and everything more when you were separated the majority of the year. A summer chock full of other things to do and focus your attention on to keep the longing at bay and enough distance for the rest of the year to forget how it feels to have him near without really having him. 

One of Heidy’s distraction schemes involves hitting up downtown Denver a few nights later. 

“But it’s Thursday,” you say when she shows up at Nate’s dressed up like she’s ready to hit the bar. 

“I have tomorrow off and you don’t have a job, so,” she replies. 

You frown, “Ouch.” She throws a look your way as if to not take it so personally and continues perusing your closet. “I’m not really feeling up to going out tonight.”

“Too damn bad,” she replies. “You can’t just sit here and wallow for the rest of your life.”

“Watch me,” you retort but start to get up anyway. 

She smirks and tosses some clothes at you. “Get dressed and do something with your hair. I’ll do your makeup.”

“Where are you guys going all dressed up?” Nate questions when he spots the two of you in the foyer. 

“Out.” Heidy is curt, a consequence of her not only being a good friend to you, but also her own awareness of his behavior. 

His brows knit together but he soldiers on, “Do you want company?”

“Nope!” She’s much more cheerful now that she’s handed you your coat and bundled herself up. “Don’t wait up!”

Heidy drags you out to Cale’s car, where the man himself sits waiting. You instantly feel bad—between your protesting and actual time spent getting ready, he’d been sitting a while. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” you ask as you get in the backseat. He shrugs with a rosy smile as Heidy pushes you in further and takes a seat beside you. After pressing a quick kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek over the center console, of course. 

Cale doesn’t stick around after dropping you both off—a wave, a ‘be safe’, and ‘call me when you’re ready to go home’ and he’s gone. 

You’re terrible company admittedly, mouth set in a deep frown that doesn’t crack even as you sip your drink. Heidy does most of the talking at first, blabbing away about everything and nothing. Until she sighs, slaps her hand down on the bar top and says, “You need to deal with this. Either you need to resolve things with Nate or you need to get over it, distract yourself with something or someone else.”

You nearly choke on the last of your drink. “Gee, Heidy, could you be any more subtle?”

“I’m worried about you.” She’s so earnest it tugs at your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try. Really.” 

She smiles, relaxing into the seat at the bar top. 

Just then, the bartender sets another drink in front of you. 

“I didn’t order another,” you state politely, attempting to hand back the drink. 

The bartender shakes his head, motioning to the table in the corner as he speaks. “From someone at that table.”

It’s a group of athletic men, but only one is looking your way. He’s all intense eyes framed by intense eyebrows, but the look on his face doesn’t match the intensity. It’s…intriguing to say the least. Soft but confident, and definitely interested. 

It’s not until one of the other men at the table elbows him that you realize they’re the team playing the Avs tomorrow night. 

Quickly you spin back around and whisper to your friend, “Someone from the Tampa Bay Lightning just bought me a drink.”

Her eyes widen and she herself turns around quickly to get a glimpse of your admirer across the bar. You grab at her arm and bring her back to face the bar top. 

“Heidy!” you hiss. 

“Sorry!” she replies, “What are you going to do?”

You think about it for a second before throwing caution to the wind. Putting on your flirtiest smile, you turn around a lot more gracefully this time. Raising the gifted drink, you tilt it in a ‘Cheers’ motion before wrapping your lips around the straw for a sip. He responds with an identical gesture, although with an amber colored beer bottle instead. 

Satisfied, you resume your earlier position while Heidy speaks. 

“When I said you needed a distraction that is not what I meant!”

You roll your eyes. “It’s a drink, not a marriage proposal. Relax.”

She does, until you pull her out to the dance floor with eyes only for the man across the bar. Lucky for you—and less lucky for Heidy’s resting heart rate and blood pressure—he’s got eyes for you, too. 

It only takes half a song for him to approach and introduce himself. “I’m Brayden.”

You smile and reciprocate, waiting a beat for Heidy to speak too, but she just tilts her nose up. An elbow to her side doesn’t get her speaking and so you introduce her, too. 

One of Brayden’s eyebrows raise and you find yourself momentarily mesmerized by the action before quickly explaining, “Big Avalanche fans.”

He nods slowly once, then shrugs. “Maybe I can change that.”

“Doubtful,” she says under her breath, but if you heard it, you imagine Brayden did too. 

She doesn’t thaw any, even as the song changes. Nor does she get the hint to take herself elsewhere and so you rather pointedly ask if she can go get you both another round. 

Heidy isn’t even able to get out whatever she was ready to grumble before Brayden is offering, pausing to ask what Heidy is drinking. She begrudgingly tells him and he disappears. 

“Seriously? You could have any guy here and that’s who you go for?” she asks. 

You shrug, “He’s the one I want.”

She softens at your earnest tone. “Okay.”

“Call Cale,” you tell her. “Go curl up on the couch and watch TV together or whatever you would have done if you weren’t worrying about me.”

“I don’t know…”

“Go. I’ll be fine. And I’ll text you if I need you,” you confirm. 

She sighs. “I’m waiting for my drink first.”

You laugh and pull her into a side hug. “Love you.”

True to her word, she finishes the drink Brayden brings her—even managing a ‘thank you!’—before slipping off into the crowd and, you imagine, into her boyfriend’s car. 

Brayden looks a little concerned at her rapid exit. “Did I do something to make her leave?” 

“Besides playing for the wrong team? Nah.” 

He doesn’t look convinced, but the concern fades when you wrap your arms around his neck. 

It’s all but gone when you press your lips to his. 

You dance for another few songs and another drink before your inhibitions are just low enough to drag him in the direction of the bathrooms. 

The men’s is empty when you enter, and so you flip the lock on the door and press yourself against him. 

He reciprocates, crowding you against the door with his mouth hot on yours. 

Your whole body lights up at his touch, coming alive beneath his fingertips. There are no thoughts of Nate or the predicament you’ve found yourself in, just Brayden. 

His hands are curved around your jaw, and your leg is wrapped around his waist when he pulls away. “Wait...wait.”

“You don’t want…?” You’re not drunk, just a little bit more sensitive to rejection than you usually would be. 

“No that’s—That’s not it at all. I want you, like, really want you.” He kisses you, and as good as his touch feels, being wanted feels that extra bit more. “Not like this. Not here.”

Truthfully, you’ve never been the kind of girl who lets someone hit and quit in a bar bathroom before. Or anywhere really. A part of you that you thought was long buried stirs inside of you and you realize for the first time in a long time you’re feeling something for a man who isn’t your best friend. 

Your best friend. Shit. “I have a kind of odd living situation right now, my place isn’t an option.”

“Your parents?”

You bark out a laugh that he immediately covers with his mouth. “No, they’re back in Canada.”

“Your husband? Your boyfriend?” He’s joking, but you can’t help but get the sense there’s an ounce of worry that he’s right. It’s such an inconceivable notion that Nate could ever be either to you that you laugh again. 

“No, I just live with a friend who probably won’t be understanding about a strange man in their house.” 

Brayden visibly relaxes, pauses, and then says, “I have a hotel room…you’ll have to be quiet though.”

“I can be quiet,” you reply, barely hiding your smirk. 

You try your best, really give it your best effort, but no one has ever touched you like he does. 

Nate doesn’t cross your mind once. 

-

You sneak out early in the morning, determined to not have a semi-public walk of shame in front of an entire hockey team. It’s almost a success until you run into his captain in the lobby. Feeling your face grow hot, you give him a little nod and escape to the waiting Uber. You can only hope he doesn’t get too much shit, telling him as much using the newest number in your phone. 

You’re not nearly as lucky, facing the firing squad that is Nate as you slip into the entryway. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see your best friend awaiting your arrival, if the several messages that popped up when you’d finally opened your phone to send the aforementioned text to Brayden were any indication. 

“Where have you been?” he asks and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“Out,” you say, calling back to Heidy’s response last night but he doesn’t accept it as easily coming from you. 

“All night?” he continues the interrogation. 

“I crashed at Heidy’s last night, what’s with the fifth degree, Dad?”

He looks like he was waiting for this moment as he replies, “No you didn’t, I talked to Cale.”

This time you do roll your eyes. “It’s none of your business, Nate.”

“It is my business if you’re under my roof,” he says, doing his best impression of your father for real this time. 

You know it’s not his intention, but your stomach drops all the same. The old feeling of guilt and shame and failure floods your veins, and you can tell he notices. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried and you didn’t answer my messages.”

“I know,” you say but the words taste bitter in your mouth. “I’m going to go get some more sleep. See you later.”

He repeats the words back at you, but you’re more focused on the buzzing phone in your pocket. 

Safe in Nate’s guest bedroom, you slip into something more comfortable, get beneath the covers and open your messages. 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Got fined

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Probably going to get chirped for a month

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Worth it though 

You: I would tell you I’m sorry but I’m not 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Me either

-

If you thought that was the beginning and the end of Brayden you would be sorely mistaken. 

Long distance flirting becomes a long distance hook up becomes him flying you out to see him. Any time you protested the latter, you’d find a non-refundable ticket in your email and a ‘please’ in your text messages. 

Fall fades into Winter and Bar Guy 💙🤍 turns to Brayden turns to B 💙. As your feelings for him grow, you find thoughts of Nate as anything other than someone-you-grew-up-with fade. 

You come clean about the ‘friend you live with’ being Nathan MacKinnon before the first time you fly down to see him, worried that your lie by omission might be a dealbreaker. Brayden only laughs, he figured Heidy’s hostility was more than just motivated by more than sports team loyalty. 

The thing about Brayden is he never makes you feel bad about Nate. He is understanding and gracious, never demanding, never unreasonable. A small part of you sometimes thinks about how if the roles were reversed, you don’t think Nate would be quite the same. 

Initially unsupportive and apprehensive, Heidy comes around, although her persistence turns from telling Nate how you feel to telling Nate about Brayden. You don’t do either, and she keeps your secrets. 

Nate being selected for the All Star Game in Vegas while Brayden isn’t brings a unique opportunity for a week straight in hot, sunny Florida. The chill of Denver isn’t quite as biting as back home, but you’re excited to escape it all the same. 

He doesn’t ask you to join him in Vegas, but you do wonder if he thought he didn’t need to. 

It doesn’t matter either way, when an errant high stick in overtime breaks his nose and dashes his All Star dreams. 

Your first thought upon seeing him bloody and disoriented on the ice is that there is no way you can go to Florida. 

It probably looks much worse than it is, the girls try to reassure you in the box, but you’re not convinced. 

Nate’s reassurances later don’t do much either. Not with his face puffy and bruised and some dried blood on his chin. 

It’s not until he assures you that his mom and sister will be coming down to Denver since they had the time off anyway that you decide for sure you will go. 

The day you leave for the airport, his pathetic form on the couch is almost enough to have you last minute cancelling on Brayden. 

Nate all but demands you don’t miss out on his account, asking that you ‘be safe’ and ‘have fun’. 

In return you hit him with a ‘thanks Dad’ and ‘take it easy’ despite knowing just by virtue of who he is as a person he will be doing the exact opposite.  

Thoughts of Nate, broken and bruised, haunt you the entire journey. They don’t fade until you’re in Brayden’s arms. Even then, it’s a dull ache that you do your best to ignore. 

Evidently you don’t do a very good job of hiding it, or maybe Brayden just knows you better than you think, because he catches on before you’ve even reached his place. 

“You okay?” he asks, gently squeezing your knee where his hand rests. 

Turning to look at his side profile, so earnest and sweet, you don’t even think of lying. 

“I’m worried about Nate.”

“I get that,” he says and you wonder if he truly does. “I’m glad you’re here with me though.”

Smiling at him, you are too, and so you try to push down the guilt and focus your attention on the man you’re with. 

You check on Nate periodically throughout the week, never getting much more than a thumbs up emoji, but at least you know he’s alive. 

Brayden wines and dines and, well, you know the rest of the rhyme. 

By the time the week is up, you don’t want to leave. It’s strange how meeting one person can change things so drastically. Before Brayden, you would never have dreamed of spending a week with another man when Nate was injured and possibly may have needed you. 

It also puts things into perspective for you. 

Really emphasizes how much additional emotional labor you put in—and were expected to—in your relationship with Nate. The lines and boundaries had long since blurred, and it took dedicating your time and energy to another man to see it. 

If Nate notices the way you pull back even further when you return, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

-

Falling for Brayden is easy. It’s a gentle float down to the ground, landing among a field of flowers to catch your fall. A stark contrast to the free fall of being pushed from an airplane at 10,000 feet by Nate. 

Where Nate’s sharp edges have cut you time and time and time again, Brayden’s curves wrap around you and hold you tight. 

When you’re not physically with him, you’re texting and calling, and when you’re not doing that you’re thinking about him. 

Neither of you make any move to define the relationship further, but it doesn’t sting like the years of being strung along by Nate did. It’s probably because while no words have been exchanged to that effect, Brayden lets you feel how much he cares for you. 

-

You’re nearly found out late in the regular season. 

Something about Tampa has started to feel familiar and safe—you try not to think about exactly why that is—and so, despite the knowledge that the boys are in town, too, you’re not as careful as you should be. 

There’s an ice cream spot near Brayden’s that you’ve taken to frequenting. As a consequence, it’s also near the arena. 

Because it’s so close, you decide to walk there, teasing him the whole way about how one ice cream cone won’t derail his nutrition plan. He’s arguing back, but you know it’s in vain because his sweet tooth and the lilt of your voice will win in the end. 

Your hands naturally brush as a result of your close proximity and you take the opportunity to link your pinkies. He smiles softly and you walk in silence for a minute until he breaks it. 

“You really won’t let me give you my jersey?” It’s a question that has come up before, but every time it does you wonder if it’s a little bit more serious of an ask than the last. 

“I’d rather die. Maybe if you were a better hockey player,” you tease, jumping back to avoid his grasp. 

He gasps playfully, thick eyebrows raising with his wide eyes. “Take that back right now.” He takes a step closer to you but you dodge his advances, sliding to the other side of the bench. 

“Sorry baby, you know I bleed blue and maroon. Wouldn’t be caught dead in traitor blue.” Not to mention you’d never ever hear the end of it from the boys if someone saw you in it. 

He fakes left and you fall for it, giggling madly as he wraps you up in his arms and scrapes his beard against your cheek. “What about just for me?” he asks, kissing your neck once and then nipping at it with his teeth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “In my bed with nothing else on?”

It’s like the already beautiful temperature rises even higher when he presses his mouth to yours. You give in quickly, pressing onto the tips of your toes to get even closer. It turns dirty quickly, his tongue in your mouth and his fingers buried deep in your hair. 

And then a familiar voice calls your name. 

You pull from Brayden like you’ve been burnt, a look of pure panic crossing your face as you realize you know the body attached to the voice. 

It’s JT and he looks like been standing there long enough to figure out what’s going on. 

“JT—“ you start to explain, but pause. There is no easy, simple explanation. There are months and months, hell years and years, of backstory and layers to even get to this point. 

“I thought—“ He appears to change his mind, stopping his thought mid sentence and switching to a question. “What’s going on here?”

“Brayden and I are, well, we’re.” It’s a struggle to explain what you are to one of Nate’s teammates when you haven’t had this conversation in full with the man beside you. Finally, you land on “We’re together.”

You don’t look over at Brayden to see his reaction. 

“How long?” is the natural follow up. 

It’s another tough question, but you decide to go with the first time you met and slept together. “Before Christmas.”

“Does Nate know?” he asks. The wild look in your eyes must give you away because he signs and says your name. “You have to tell him.”

You get that, really you do. But at the same time it’s your business what you do and who you do it with, not Nate’s. At the same time, you know it would be a really shit thing for him to find out through someone who isn’t you. 

Beyond that, you’re pretty sure right before playoffs isn’t the right time to have that conversation and you tell JT as much. “I know, I will. After the season I’ll tell everyone.”

JT looks less than convinced. 

“You know Nate, it wouldn’t do anyone any good while the season is still going on. Please, you can’t tell him.”

JT might be as aware as you are of who Nate is as a person, and he’s certainly more aware of who Nate is as a hockey player and so he agrees despite his clear hesitance. “Promise me, after the season.”

“I promise.”

When he’s gone, Brayden finally speaks up. “You want to go public with us?”

You worry you’ve said the wrong thing, starting to babble about how you’re sorry the conversation didn’t occur privately first, and how you don’t need to go public if it’s not something he wants to do when he silences you with a kiss. 

“I want to tell everyone,” he says earnestly and you kiss him again.  

JT thankfully keeps his word. 

-

Nate doesn’t watch any other team in the playoffs. 

It makes trying to catch Brayden’s games tough, sneaking out to sports bars, watching games on your phone in Nate’s guest room, even flying out to watch a couple home games during the run. 

The only supportive merch you sport is a necklace with his number, and on occasion a little blue and white lacy number under your clothes. You’re not offered a WAG jacket—whether that’s due to Brayden knowing well enough you don’t want to be that public or because your reaction to the style of jacket itself was less than positive. 

In the back of your mind you recognize there’s a chance it could come down to the teams of the boys you care for most; one Eastern Conference, one Western Conference. 

Selfishly, when the first round between the Bolts and the Leafs goes to seven, part of you hopes for it to end right there. Most of you is glad they push through. 

On Colorado’s side of the playoff bracket, they absolutely rip through everyone who stands in their way. 

You are offered a jacket with Nate’s name and number in glitter, but you turn it down in favor of a lucky baseball cap, though you do accept an unpersonalized crop from Madison. 

Some of the girls decide to travel for the away games. You have to turn them down because there are already tickets with your name on them to see Brayden. There’s no way you can—or would—miss any Avs home games, and so instead you end up being one of a handful of supporters in the likes of Toronto, Miami and New York. 

It’s a difficult balancing act as the playoffs progress in both teams’ favor. 

And then your worst nightmare comes true. The quest for the Cup comes down to your… whatever Brayden is to you and to Nate and the team you’ve supported since he was drafted and all the other people who have come to feel like family. 

Whispering to Brayden in the dark of night before the Finals begin, you tell him, “You know I support you, but…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, even though he has no reason to match your tone all alone in his home in Tampa. “I get it. As long as you still like me, you can like them a little bit more.”

You giggle, “It’s got nothing to do with liking you, you dolt.” 

“Bolt,” he corrects, and even though you can’t see him you know he’s smiling. 

“Oh my God, shut up.” You don’t mean it literally but he’s quiet for a second too long. “No matter what happens I’m proud of you.”

For two people who have never properly defined nor publicized their relationship, it might be too heavy of a moment, but his quiet thank you is laced with emotion. 

“Go to bed,” you say after another few beats of silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The first two games are in Colorado, and the boys take both at home. 

“Ain’t over til it’s over,” is both of your boys’ philosophy after the first two. 

Nate is positively buzzing, especially after so decisively winning the second, but still cautious—very aware of how quickly a 2-0 lead can turn into the end of the line and empty hands. 

Brayden is also cautious, and this isn’t his first or even second rodeo at the Cup final in as many years. You try to kiss it better in a random hallway in the bowels of Ball Arena. 

Finally accepting the Better Halves’ invitation to travel to road games, you have a good seat to Tampa taking back some momentum in game three before promptly handing it back to Colorado. 

You die and come back to life a dozen times in game four as Brayden and his team hold on. 

Game five is to be played back in Tampa, and you spend the night before the game in Brayden’s bed instead of the hotel Nate has paid for. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips early in the morning before you leave to meet the girls for breakfast. 

“You don’t mean that,” he teases, stretching out in such a way that has you considering skipping breakfast—certain teasing and interrogation be damned. 

“Good luck to you,” you amend, kissing him once more. “Your team can rot.”

His laughter rings in your ears as you leave. 

Mel corners you after breakfast, a familiar offending piece of clothing in her hands. “This could be it,” she explains, offering you the jean jacket. 

If it were any year previous, you might have worn it. If you didn’t have Brayden, you might have worn it. If Nate had offered it to you himself alongside a confession, you might have worn it. 

None of these things are true, and so you decline. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

Her smile has a twinge of sadness and understanding as she replies, “Okay.”

-

Sitting alongside the girls in the box with your cropped sweater hiding the 21 necklace around your neck, you’ve never felt more torn. 

Brayden’s captain nets one early in the first, and you’re not sure you breathe again until Nate’s powerplay evens the score early in the second. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the box alongside the nervous energy. Midway through the second, Arturri tips it in and Amalie Arena is silent. 

It stays like that for the rest of the period until you excuse yourself to grab a drink at intermission. Standing in the long drink line, you spot a little girl in a Point jersey and your stomach twists as you think about how no matter which way this ends, someone you care for will be hurt. 

That feeling doesn’t leave as you sit through a scoreless third period. The arena gets loud with Bolts fans throughout, celebrating every blocked shot and turnover. That intensity picks up in the dying seconds of the game as Brayden picks off the puck in the defensive zone. 

He rushes up the ice flanked by his linemates, but is momentarily stopped by Cale. 

He gets his stick back on the puck and your nails dig into the leather arm of the box seat. Suzanna grabs your hand, assuming it’s worry for her boyfriend and his teammates and you let her think that and hold your hand. 

Three seconds. 

Two seconds. 

He shoots right as the buzzer sounds and Darcy gloves it down like there was never a question of him stopping it. 

The entire box explodes in a chorus of cheers—there’s shouting, swearing, crying, laughter and you’re right in the middle of them all. Your boys are Stanley Cup Champions. 

Someone grabs you, and then someone else joins in and suddenly you’re in the middle of a dog pile. “They fucking did it!”

You’re so fucking excited, incredibly proud and honestly a little weepy about your favorite people finally getting their hands on their childhood dream. But, a bigger part of the organ in your chest than you want to admit aches for the downturn of Brayden’s head as he skates back to the bench. 

An attendant appears and wrangles the rowdy bunch down to the ice. You’ve got Linnea Landeskog in your arms and a giant grin on your face as your feet touch the ice.

“Down please,” she politely states while trying to wriggle out of your grasp. The second she’s down she’s running at her daddy who sweeps her up in his arms. 

And then Nate’s on you in a way that you used to long for when you were younger. He’s red and sweaty and out of breath but none of these things stop him from hauling you up into his arms and spinning you until you smack at his chest, demanding to be let down much like Linnea only minutes ago. 

He stops spinning but he doesn’t let go, staring up at you with a look he’s never given you before. You’re so caught up in the excitement of it all you barely notice, grabbing his cheeks and shouting in his face, “You fucking did it!”

“We fucking did,” he says like he can’t believe this moment is happening—whether that’s due to you in his arms or the Cup that will now bear his name no one can really say. He kind of looks like he’s about to do something stupid, leaning in ever so slightly, and so you finally succeed at leaving his arms, slipping slightly as you reach the ice once again. Brayden is watching from across the ice, a sad look on his face that you just want to kiss off. You don’t though, just pat Nate on the back once and continue moving, throwing yourself at Cale, then Burky, then Mikko.

It’s a blur of celebrations and photos with the Cup—you even let Linnea convince you to take a photo with her and the Cup, her mom remarking that it looks good on you. When you pull from your photo pose, you give her a questioning look. “A baby and a cup,” she smirks, blatantly looking over at Nate who seems to agree. 

You laugh nervously—last year that was all you wanted, the boys to win and Nate to want you in that way. Now? Now you can picture it still, you just picture it with someone else. 

Finally, you’re able to sneak away and Brayden has the same idea, telling you to meet him in a closet by the locker room. No words are exchanged as he pulls you in by your hips and kisses you like he needs it to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and you mean it. 

A crinkle forms between his eyes. “No you’re not.”

You kiss him again once, “I’m not sorry the boys won tonight, but I am sorry it was against you.”

“There’s always next year.” It’s far more flippant than you had anticipated, really you thought you’d be dealing with an upset Brayden and that might have broken your heart. 

“I thought you’d be more upset.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” he says and you give him a look to be serious. “So what, we didn’t win the Cup this season. I got you, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off, dont be stupid.” Your cheeks are hot and your eyes are wild. 

“I mean it. I’d take you over the Cup nine times out of ten.”

“What about the other one?” 

“Need to win another one for us to put our future babies in.”

“Awfully presumptuous for a hook up.” 

“This is so much more than a hook up.”

“Yeah,” you admit, sinking deeply into another kiss. 

“Besides,” he pauses, “Already got two rings.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay I gotta go. Will you come get me later?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid to ask, like he’d go into the pits of hell itself for you without hesitation. “Of course. Now go. Celebrate. I’ll see you later.”

You slip out first, making sure the coast is clear and go find the others. A Stanley Cup Champion hat is placed upon your head and a bottle of champagne in your hand. There’s a celebration in the visitor locker room and then the party moves to a local bar. 

Someone shells out the money for a few bottles of vintage Dom Perignon that you indulge in, but mostly you just relish in the happiness of everyone around you. If you’re honest, you spend a fair amount of time avoiding Nate who has a serious look every time you catch him staring. 

Shortly before midnight, you slip out of the bar and into Brayden’s waiting car. The bubbly must have gone to your head, because you forgo any verbal greeting in favor of launching yourself over the center console to press your lips to his. 

He pulls away and very somberly states, “I can’t take you seriously in that sweater.”

Looking down, you spot the Avalanche crop and laugh as you pull it off and toss it in the back. “Better?”

He hums, fingertip tracing the chain around your neck from your clavicle down between your breasts to reveal his number on the pendant. “Much.”

You sink back into another kiss before remembering where you are, who you’re with and what you’re doing meanwhile the bar you just left is crawling with people you’re not quite ready to come clean to just yet. 

“Take me home, Bray,” you say as you relax back into the passenger seat. 

You don’t have the power to bring your lover the Stanley Cup your friends were just drinking out of. All you have to offer is yourself, but he accepts it with as much gratitude as your best friend accepted the Cup earlier. 

Later, he looks like he wants to ask you to stay, and you think you look like you want him to. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter as you fall asleep next to him and somehow make it back to your hotel room in the morning with no one the wiser. 

-

Nate spends a few more weeks in Denver after the win, celebrating with the guys and riding the high of winning it all. You only spend a couple days and then move out of his house and back into your parents. 

You don’t tell him about Brayden, content to let Nate enjoy his successes. 

As a consequence, you don’t see much of him in July or August. Even when you’re both home, he’s busy with all his other friends and his family, and you’re busy with your niece and deciding on what to do in the fall. You’ve determined the best course of action is to finish your degree and then apply to a masters program in order to change your career path. 

The choice, then, is where to do so. You can stay at home, commute an hour each way into the city—supported by your hometown friends and your family. Or you can make the shift to Denver for real, with your found family and with Nate. Or…

The University of Tampa Bay has an excellent program. You know from your time visiting Brayden through the season that the university is right around the corner from Amalie Arena and Brayden’s. It’s awfully presumptuous, but you find yourself daydreaming about the possibility much like you used to daydream about a future in Denver. 

Of course, there’s an entire continent of possibilities, hell an entire world of possibilities, but these are the three most attractive options. 

There are many discussions to be had, and choices to be made. You don’t want to do either until you’ve had a chance to speak to Brayden in person, but just as Nate’s had a busy summer, so too has he. 

He messages you every morning before and after working out while you’re still asleep. Every conversation eventually devolves into some combination of ‘I miss you’ and ‘when can I see you?’ 

You do manage to spend a few days with him in the Rockies mid-July that fly by far too quickly. Every time you leave Brayden it gets harder and the implications of it all have your stomach in knots when the thought crosses your mind. 

-

It all comes to a head spectacularly the day before Nate’s day with the Cup. You’re at Nate’s, helping to prepare for the post-parade celebration when you’re called away by his sister. She wants your help deciding on which photos to display—it’s a mixture of past and present alongside an elementary school assignment two decades old wherein Nate declared his future profession would be ‘Stanley Cup Champion.’

You’re smiling, lost in the memories when Nate comes crashing into the room you’re in. There’s an indiscernible look on his face, but it reads somewhere between anger, frustration and hurt. The look on your face betrays your confusion, and it only deepens when you see your phone in his hands. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” you ask. 

His jaw ticks. “Thought it was mine.”

It doesn’t really do anything for your confusion. If anything, it deepens it. “What’s your problem Nate?”

“This! This is my problem.” He finally cracks, shoving your phone in your face to reveal messages from Brayden—under the contact name of the letter B and a heart—wondering when you plan on making the trip to Calgary to see him. Your stomach drops and your heart feels like it’s at risk of falling right out your chest. It was always going to come out, but especially as you crossed the line between sharing body heat with Brayden and sharing your secrets, hopes and dreams. 

That being said, it is a shit way for your relationship to come to light for sure, but you can’t help but feel your friend is overreacting. Sarah is looking between the two of you, panicked and frozen like she doesn’t know what to do. 

“I think your mom could use some help in the backyard, Sar,” you say gently, and she gladly takes the opportunity to flee. Once she’s gone, you turn on Nate. “I’m sorry that you found out this way, but you had no right to come in here like that. Poor Sarah looked terrified!”

He looks at you incredulously. Now that his sister is out of ear shot, he appears to have allowed himself to lean into his emotions a little more. “I have no right? What about you? Hooking up with some random guy in Calgary? Is that where you’ve been running off to these past few months?”

You know that this is probably the least important part of his rant, but you feel the need to clarify. “He’s not just some guy, Nate. His name is Brayden. And for the record, no. I wasn’t in Calgary, I was in Tampa.

He looks confused in addition to enraged, and so you put the pieces together for him. “I’ve been seeing Brayden Point.”

“You’ve been sleeping with the enemy?”

“Are you joking?” 

This is not your friend Nate. This is some angry being inhabiting the body of your friend Nate. 

He doesn’t back down. “It was between us and them in the final, pretty sure that qualifies as the enemy!” He pauses for a second and then continues, “How long have you been sleeping with him? During the final? Were you rooting for him instead?”

“Nate—“

“No, don’t Nate me. I bet you were, I bet you wanted them to win, him to win. I bet you were sitting there in the family box, using tickets I paid for, against me the whole time.”

“That’s not fair!” you try to interject, despite the tiny grain of truth to his words. It would be untrue to say some small part of you wanted Brayden to succeed, but your loyalties have always been with Nate and his team. 

“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t trust a thing you said right now. Not after this. Not when you know.” 

“Know what?” you question. 

“How I feel! About you. And me.” The blurred edges start to come into focus. He’s been acting like a man scorned, because in his eyes he is one. 

Unable to form any coherent thought, you repeat yourself from earlier. “Are you joking?”

He’s less angry now, slipping further into the hurt brewing under the surface. “It’s always been us. Since we were kids. And now you’re messing around with some guy on another team. I can't believe you!”

The tears start to pool at your waterline, but you’re too stubborn to let them fall. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You string me along for years and years and years, expecting me to play the part of your girlfriend without being your girlfriend and to wait around for you to figure it out. I am sorry you found out like this, but I’m not sorry about him. I’m not sorry about Brayden.”

He flinches at the sound of Brayden’s name, the anger clouding his eyes even further. “You want him so bad, why don’t you go to him right now?”

“Nate—“ You’re not sure he knows what he’s saying, what the implications of all he’s said really are. What it would mean if you left for Calgary this afternoon. What it would be like if you weren’t there tomorrow to join in his celebrations.

“Go.” When you don’t move he speaks again. “Get out of here.”

He hasn’t raised his fists or even his voice, but you do as he suggests. Calmly, begging the tears not to fall, you walk right out of his house and get in your car and you drive. 

Brayden picks up when you call while driving, and there’s a ticket in your inbox before you’ve even made it home. 

A short layover in Toronto—and with nothing but the clothes on your back and a small carry- on—later, you’re sinking into Brayden’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head where it’s buried in his chest. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaving hundreds of words unspoken in your gratitude. 

The kiss he pressed to your lips and the way he says ‘Anything for you’ tells you that he understands. 

He’s got his own place in an affluent suburb of the city, and you’re grateful for the fact that you won’t have to see anyone else with your puffy, bloodshot eyes. 

The last time you’d cried this hard, it had been over the loss of your childhood dog. Nate had been there then, flying in after a late game to hold you while you cried. Maybe you had misunderstood his feelings for you, missed the signs he thought he had laid out so clearly. Maybe that would have mattered a year ago. 

It doesn’t, now. 

Not when Brayden’s arms feel like home. His warm gaze feels like the sun. His kiss and his touch feel like heaven on earth. His love feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Your world nearly stopped in Nate’s living room, but it resumed spinning here in Brayden’s bedroom. 

You’re curled up on his chest while he soothingly runs a hand along your spine when you tell him. “I love you.”

His hand stills on the middle of your back, but you don’t panic. Your mind and heart are clear and in unison. He doesn’t make you wait long, cupping the back of your head and tilting your head back ever so slightly so that your eyes meet. 

“Yeah?” he asks like maybe he needs the validation. 

“Yeah,” you reply, giving it to him. 

The grin on his face might be worth everything you’ve been through. 

You squeal as he flips the both of you, ending in a position where his arms bracket either side of your head in order to keep from crushing you with his full weight. 

“I love you,” he repeats, kissing every inch of your exposed skin. 

Tangling your fingertips in the hair at the nape of his neck, you say it again and again and again. It’s a chant and a ritual, told between sighs and moans and whimpers. He strips you of your clothes, taking you apart piece by piece and then putting them all back together. 

It is intimate and sweet as he takes you to the highest peak, hearts and limbs and minds all intertwined. There is no doubt, no insecurity, no hesitation. All of the love you have to give is reflected back at you. You and Brayden are two sides of the same coin, destiny and fate and all the good forces in the world have brought the two of you together. 

That’s why when, in the dark of his room later, you say yes when he asks you to move in. 

-

Despite the apparent suddenness, your family is more than supportive of you and Brayden. Though that may be because he charmed the pants off all of them the following week when returning to your childhood bedroom to pack your things. 

Your niece is delighted when she learns that Brayden’s “job is hockey!” as she so sweetly declares, requesting he win her a Cup too. 

It reminds you of Nate and how you haven’t heard from him. You don’t reach out either. 

Your time in Calgary is short, punctuated by the bittersweet news that although many of your credits will transfer over, you’re not able to start college classes at the University of Tampa until the second semester. 

“Now you can come with me on all my road games,” Brayden says when you tell him. 

“Fat chance.”

Training camp sneaks up on you both and before you know it, you’re making the permanent move into Brayden’s bedroom and his life, publicly this time. 

The Tampa WAGs are sweet and welcoming, but you find yourself missing the Colorado Better Halves. That’s probably why you agree to dinner with Heidy the first time in the season that the Avs are in town. 

You make plans to meet at a cute spot downtown near the arena. 

The minute you spot Nate waiting outside, you start to turn around. Not so much as an Instagram like since the day before his day with the Cup and now he’s at one of your favorite restaurants in Tampa like everything is okay?

“Wait,” he says and for some reason you do, pausing mid turn. “I’m sorry.”

That’s enough to have you turning back around to look him in the eye as you scold him. “Really? I haven’t heard a word from you in months and that’s what you have to say?”

“I know,” he says. 

“You were really shitty Nate! You knew how I felt and apparently felt the same way, but you just took advantage of me and my feelings for you for years! And then, you made me feel like trash for falling for someone else.”

“I know,” he says again. 

“Can you say literally anything other than I know?” you say exasperatedly. 

“I—“ he starts and stops with the look you give him. “I don’t have a good explanation for the first bit. You’re right, I’ve been taking you for granted for a long time. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared to lose you if we ever crossed that line.”

“I get that,” you reply. “Why do you think I never said anything either? I’m less mad about that and more mad about you being a giant asshole about me meeting someone.”

He nods. “I know. I was jealous and hurt and I lashed out and hurt you too. I never meant for it to get like this, but the longer it took for me to reach out and apologize the harder it seemed. I am really sorry, and I’m happy you found someone who treats you the way you deserve.”

It’s a sincere apology and one you’re certain he means. Beyond that, you just miss your best friend and so you throw yourself at him in a big hug. He’s startled, but very quickly wraps his arms around you too. 

“Things aren’t magically okay, you really hurt me, but you’re my best friend and I’ve missed you so much. There’s been a million times where something happened and I wanted to tell you about it, but couldn’t.”

“You’re my best friend,” he says. 

Nate scores a goal during the second period of the game but it’s not enough for the Avalanche. 

Brayden comes home the clear winner to find you curled up in his bed. First he undresses and then he slips into bed beside you. 

“Glad you made up with Nate,” he says, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Glad you won,” you reply, feeling the way his lips curve in a smile against your neck and knowing he’s about to say something stupid and cringe. 

“In more ways than one, baby,” he laughs, caging you in with his arm as you struggle to get away from him and his bad jokes. “In more ways than one.”

Despite the way you playfully try to escape his clutches, the truth is you feel like you’re the real winner. 

[senditcolton]

First off, I am sorry this is so, so, SO, late. But I will let you know that I did read it the day/day after you posted and I was silently screaming while curled up in the corner of my loveseat. (Also, about two days before you posted, I was driving, thinking about the exchange and I had this sudden thought of “OH, what if it’s Colton and Cassie!” and I’m very happy that it was!!!)

Now, to more in-depth screaming:

Colton does have such golden retriever energy

Their banter is so good

God, I’m smiling so big and we aren’t even a fourth of the way through

I am always in awe of your writing: I feel like I’m watching a movie because the way you describe everything is so clear and beautiful!

AND THE WAY YOU DESCRIBE THEM AND THEIR REALTIONSHIP! I LOVE!!

“Universal grandpa sounds” I love that! It’s so… real, y’know?

THE WAY THEY ARE BOTH SO IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER!!!

“Cassandra Constantinou’s soul was beautiful too.” Excuse me while I pass away.

LOVE IS LIKE HOME, LOVE IS LIKE GRAVITY, JUST THE WAY YOU DESCRIBE LOVE!!!!!!

CASSIE’S CRYING, COLTON’S CRYING, EVERYONE’S CRYING, I’M CRYING. IT’S JUST SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!!

Okay, so, um, if you couldn’t tell, I love this. I love this continuation of Colton and Cassie’s story and I cannot thank you enough for writing such a beautiful story for little old me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

something just like this - epilogue 2 l c. parayko

Thank you to the ever wonderful @antoineroussel for arranging the Winter Fic Exchange 2023 <3

I was given the lovely @senditcolton as my giftee - Colt and Cassie are back and they're bringing the tinsel!

Big thanks to @laurenairay for giving it a read through for me as I'm severely out of practice. I would also like to apologise to any native Greek or Italian speakers, as I am neither and I'm having to rely on good old Google, which I appreciate doesn't quite capture the nuances of the native language. This has also been very loosely proofread so if you see any typos, you didn't :)

Warnings: alcohol mention, proposal

Word count: 5.3k

If you're new to Colton and Cassie, you can check out the first installment of this series here

Cassandra Constantinou had gone home to New York for Christmas for as long as she had lived away from the city. Every year she would pack herself a small bag and brave the hustle and bustle of St Louis Lambert International to make the short plane journey home to Brooklyn. Even after meeting the love of her life in the form of a 6 foot 6, Canadian, golden retriever of a man named Colton, Cassie would still head home for Christmas and be back in St Louis for New Year. Colton didn’t mind, of course, as his schedule had always been less than favourable and he would never begrudge Cassie the opportunity to be with her family; but he would’ve been lying if he said that he’d never thought about what it would be like to wake up beside her on Christmas morning - although he supposed it would be like any other morning, except with added tinsel.

This year, though, things were going to be a little different and Colton Parayko couldn’t have been happier about it.

It was pure luck, really, the way things came about. A fortuitous bounce with scheduling meant that the Blues would be playing at home between Christmas and New Year and Colton couldn’t help but take advantage of the opportunity in front of him.

It had started out as a completely innocent suggestion one late-October evening as the two of them shared a bath together. The wine had been flowing, as it so often did when he had some time off the next day, and conversation had steered towards the upcoming holiday season. Cassandra had already made sure her annual leave was in place to ensure she had the maximum amount of time with Colton, all that was left to do was break the news to her family that she would be spending Christmas in St Louis.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Colton murmured against Cassie’s shoulder.

“Sounds ominous,” she replied with a grin.

“Your parents could come here for Christmas.”

Cassie immediately shifted to look Colton in the face.

“Here? In St Louis?”

“I mean, that is where we live, yeah,” he teased.

“I thought you said you wanted a quiet Christmas?”

“I did”

“Inviting my parents to stay would be the complete opposite of a quiet Christmas,” Cassie countered. “You might even say that it would be a very, very loud Christmas.”

“You don’t think it would be fun?” he asked with a smile.

“I think it would make you reconsider our relationship.”

“Come on, Cass,” he reasoned. “It’s not like I’ve never met your parents before.”

“That was different,” Cassie contested. “We could escape to Manhattan and spend the day sightseeing when we were there in the summer. Besides, Christmas is a completely different beast. It’s like they go full Gremlin over the holidays. It’s complete insanity.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Colton shrugged. “They could bring your nonna.”

Cassie took a long, drawn out sip of her wine and Colton could almost see the cogs turning as Cassie relived every single Christmas she’d ever spent with her family. It’s not as if Colton was suggesting the entire Gamberini clan make the trip to Missouri, which would decrease the craziness factor by at least ten, but it would still be a far cry from the peaceful, relaxing Christmas she had been envisioning.

“Besides,” Colton added, pressing a soft kiss to Cassie’s shoulder blade. “Kind of wanna see what an Italian-Greek Christmas is like. I bet the food is amazing.”

Cassie shifted completely and turned to face Colton, setting her wine glass down on the side table and climbing into his lap.

“Your nutritionist will kill you,” she smirked, running her fingers through his shaggy hair.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Colton’s eyes were sparkling in the low light of the room and he was wearing his signature easy grin that Cassandra loved so much. It was effortless, then, to give in to his request and she couldn’t help her own smile that formed on her lips as she thought of her parents and her nonna sitting at their dining table laden with food and wine. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ll think about it,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

“I’ll start looking for flights tomor-”

Colton’s words died on his tongue as Cassandra claimed his lips for her own and his thoughts were filled with nothing but how good it felt to have her body pressed into his.

*

There was only one other time that Colton had seen Cassandra completely morph into her mother and even then, it was something that he hadn’t realised had happened until he went to visit Giovanna and Hector during the summer. There was something about impending visitors that seemed to trigger Cassandra’s Gamberini genes and not a single cushion or candlestick could be out of place. The first time this had happened had been in early April, when Colton’s parents came into town and he’d come home from practice to find her half hanging out of the second floor window as she tried to clean the glass. The next day she had been up a ladder cleaning the ceiling light fixture in the entryway. Both of these things he’d seen Giovanna do during their summer visit and the resemblance between mother and daughter when it came to household cleanliness was startling, even down to the headscarves they would both wear, presumably to keep their dark hair out of their eyes as they worked.

When Colton arrived home with the groceries Cassie was in the middle of vacuuming. It had been three years since Cassie had come into Colton’s life like a complete force of nature and he still found himself being completely struck by just how beautiful she was, even during those everyday moments of mundane domesticity. He knew just how much of a cliche that was, of course, but as he watched her in a pair of leggings and one of his old university t-shirts that swamped her frame, with her chocolate hair piled high on top of her head and wrapped in one of those bright silken headscarves, he found that familiar feeling of warmth spreading through his chest like a shot of whisky on a cold day. She was singing to herself as she pushed the vacuum along the hardwood floor, Colton could tell by the movements of her mouth to the music the loud drone of the Dyson was competing with.

Cassandra felt Colton’s presence before she saw him, she always could. She didn’t care how insane it sounded but the house always seemed to feel different when he was around, like the walls themselves were alive and warm and breathing. She turned and caught him disappearing into the kitchen, his arms laden with grocery bags. She shut off the vacuum and followed him, turning down the stereo as she went.

“Hope it wasn’t too busy?” she asked as she began to put the groceries away.

Colton pressed a gentle kiss to her hair as he passed her on his way back out to the car.

“Nah, it was okay. I figured we’d go out and get the lamb for the Christmas dinner together though, if that’s okay? I had a look while I was out but honestly? I had no idea and it just… I don’t know, it’s important to your family and to your dad and I just wanna get it right.”

Cassandra’s whole expression softened at that, because even though this kind of thoughtfulness was something she’d come to expect from Colton, it always managed to knock her back a bit all the same. She took one of his large hands in both of hers as she looked up at him.

“Of course it’s okay, γλυκέ μου. We can go this afternoon if you like?”

“Is that not going to be too hectic for you with doing the airport run?”

“We should be fine, their flight doesn’t get in until 7:10.”

“Thank you,” Colton said sincerely, his eyes on Cassie’s.

“Hey, I should be thanking you,” she replied with a little shake of her head. “It means so much to me that this matters to you as much as it does and I really, really appreciate you and everything you’ve done today. I know it was a late one for you last night with travelling back from Winnipeg and all and you’ve been a huge help.”

“We’re a team,” Colton said matter of factly but with a gentle smile and a softness in his eyes as he surveyed Cassandra. “And you’ve completely blitzed this place. It looks beautiful, πουλάκι μου; the tree, the decorations, all of it.”

“I think I just need to set up the guest rooms and we’re about ready.”

“Leave the groceries to me then,” Colton pressed gently. “I’ll make sure everything gets put away.”

“You got everything on the list?”

“I did,” he assured her with a smile, holding up three fingers on his free hand. “Scout’s honour.”

His grin widened at the little laugh Cassie gave him as she let go of his hand.

“I’ve got it all under control here,” he continued. “Just let me know what you need me to finish off down here and I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“The floors need cleaning but I think that’s about it.”

“Mop the floors, got it,” Colton affirmed. “And once you’re done in the guest rooms I’m gonna run you a nice hot bath, yeah?”

Cassie smiled at that and she was certain that Colton Parayko may just be the most thoughtful man she’d ever met.

*

It was official: Cassandra and Colton’s fridge was fit to burst. How Colton had managed to squeeze everything in there, Cassandra would never know but she was sure that he must have been a world class Tetris champion in a previous life. The amount of food that was in their house was, frankly, obscene, even by Mediterranean standards and Cassie wasn’t sure there were enough hours in the day to actually cook it all. She made a mental note to ask Colton if any of the rookies were without a dinner on Christmas day, she’d be a meals on wheels service if it meant getting rid of it all.

Colton was cooking in the kitchen as Cassie tied the laces on her sneakers.

“It smells amazing, λατρεία μου,” she called out, pulling her coat on and wrapping a large scarf around her neck.

“That’s because it’s one of your recipes,” Colton laughed from the kitchen as he began seasoning the steak.

“I don’t cook steak as good as you though,” Cassie countered as she appeared in the doorway, a small grin playing on her lips. “You always season it perfectly.”

“But I season it exactly as you’ve written it down.”

“Must be all the love you put into it then,” she grinned, going up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You heading out to the airport?” he asked as he set the meat to one side to rest.

“Mhm.”

Colton washed his hands before turning to Cassie and wrapping his arms around her, his eyes soft as he surveyed her. She looked tired, he noted, the kind of tiredness a lot of people get in the run up to the holidays, but the stress that had started to make a home in her features in the weeks before she finished work for Christmas had melted away and that was something, at least. He was determined, then, to make sure that he gave her a Christmas to remember for all of the right reasons.

“Drive safe, yeah?” he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“Always do,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll call you when we’re on our way back.”

With a chaste kiss to her lips, Colton let Cassie go, walking with her to her car and waiting on the driveway until he saw her car turn out of the street and disappear from view.

*

Cassie shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited at arrivals at St Louis Lambert International. Mercifully, the flight in from LaGuardia was on time and providing that the wait for the bags wasn’t too long, she’d clocked that she could be at home with a glass of red wine in hand within an hour. She watched with a smile as families were reunited for the holidays with shared embraces and happy tears, and in some strange way it had almost made her homesick for New York City. It had been the first time that Cassie had been on this side of arrivals when seeing her parents (it had always been her doing the travelling, after all) and she couldn’t quite work out if it felt wrong because she was missing going back to New York for Christmas or because it was simply a new experience. ‘Wrong’ was probably the wrong word for it, she thought, because Christmas with Colton felt good and right and like a dream, but it still wasn’t quite thirty people shoehorned around a hodgepodge of dinner tables (of varying heights) and chairs, gesticulating wildly and shouting over one another to be heard. Although Cassandra supposed that nothing really could ever come close to that experience.

She cast her mind back to the Christmas of 2006, the year her Baba’s family came over from Greece to celebrate the holidays. Her Nonno was still alive then and she found herself completely awestruck at how he seemed to come to an unspoken understanding with her Papou, despite the two men not speaking each others’ languages and them both having limited mastery of English. The two men would often sit at the dining table, drinking coffee and playing cards, while occasionally making ‘universal grandpa sounds’. It was also the closest Cassie had seen her mother come to a nervous breakdown, but that was also to be expected when both Cassie’s Nonna and Yiayia were trying to assert dominance in the kitchen. There’s nothing quite as terrifying as two Mediterranean women trying to cook different types of food for Christmas in a small kitchen in an apartment in Brooklyn. She distinctly remembered that Christmas being the loudest yet and how both her parents uttered the words “never again” as they waved off her Yiayia and Papou at the airport. Her Greek grandparents hadn’t been back to America since and while Cassie knew that a large part of that was due to them getting older and their health not quite being what it was, she also suspected that it had a lot to do with America not being Greek enough and the fact that it snowed near enough every day they were there.

She wondered what Colton’s Christmasses were like back home in Canada and if they had any traditions and immediately thought about how they might be able to incorporate those into their cross-continent celebrations. Cassie knew there was turkey involved, though, owing to the fact there was one lounging in her fridge back home. It would be the first time either her or her parents would be having turkey for Christmas, the meat of choice usually being veal or lamb, and Cassie wondered how her Nonna would take it.

As if on cue, Cassie’s eyes found the little frame of her beloved Gioia Gamberini, with her parents close behind. Cassie called out to her Nonna, whose eyesight wasn’t quite what it once was, as she seemed to scan the many faces at arrivals. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of her Nonna’s face breaking into the biggest smile as she finally laid her eyes on her beloved granddaughter.

“Cassandra!” she beamed. “Vieni qui. Lascia che ti guardi.”

Cassandra enveloped her Nonna into a hug, stooping to match the old woman’s height and staying there as her grandmother took Cassandra’s face in her hands.

“Ancora bello,” she smiled. “Sei raggiante di felicità. Ti sta ancora trattando bene?”

“Sta cucinando in casa mentre parliamo,” Cassie replied with a grin.

“Bravo ragazzo.”

“Fammi entrare. Smettila di tenere Cassandra per te,” Giovanna interrupted as she opened her arms for Cassie. “There’s my baby.”

Cassandra found herself being bundled into her mother’s arms, kisses being placed all over her face while her Nonna continued to tell her how beautiful she is. Giovanna eventually pulled back to survey her daughter with keen eyes.

“Let me look at you, make sure he’s feeding you right.”

“Mama-”

“Good, good. Still a little on the thin side but we’ll work on that,” Giovanna nodded.

“Can I please hug my daughter now?” Hector asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Cassandra ducked out of her mother’s embrace and stepped right into her father’s waiting arms.

“Cassandra, Λουλούδι μου.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “You look healthy, happy.” Hector’s eyes were shining as he looked at Cassie, “Was the drive here okay?”

“All painless,” Cassie assured him. “Traffic wasn’t too bad and Colt is cooking dinner as we speak so we’ll be able to eat when we get back and then we’ll give you the grand tour of the house.”

“Two house moves in as many years, Cassandra,” her mother replied as they waited for the luggage to come onto the carousel. “You must be crazy.”

“Thankfully I wasn’t in the old place long enough to accumulate clutter and Colton’s didn’t have much either. I don’t think we realised how little furniture we had until we moved into the new house. We definitely gave our bank accounts a hammering getting the new place furnished.”

“You should have said, Cassie,” he father scolded gently. “We could have given you some money towards furniture.”

“That’s really generous of you, Baba,” Cassie said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “But Colt and I had it covered.”

“We’re very proud of you, you know,” Hector replied. “All your hard work and now you’re seeing success. It makes my heart happy. All my life I hoped that you would have a wonderful life and that you would have all the things that I didn’t and now here you are.”

Cassandra swallowed the lump in her throat down and pressed a soft kiss to her father’s cheek.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you and mom, you do know that, right?”

“Oh please,” Giovanna interjected. “You’ve worked damn hard for this, we just fed ya and clothed ya.”

“Well, I appreciate the feeding and clothing all the same,” Cassie laughed softly.

It took another 15 minutes for the bags to appear and further 15 to get everybody seated and settled in the car. Cassie had swapped her Mercedes coupe for a more practical SUV around 8 months prior and Hector quickly busied himself with testing out what all the different knobs and buttons did on the centre console. Cassie called Colton on the way home as promised and before long she was pulling the car into the driveway, the Christmas lights on their porch twinkling in welcome against the dark December night.

*

It was a little after 8am when Cassie stirred the next morning, head a little fuzzy from the bottle of red wine she’d had the night before. ‘Nonna’s doing,’ she thought to herself. ‘I never could say no to her’. She smiled as she thought back to dinner the night before; the little look of pride on Colton’s face as her father praised his steak, quickly replaced by one of boyish sheepishness when Nonna Gioia started to wax poetic about how handsome he was. Her mother had helped Colton clear the table and soon enough everyone had retired to the lounge to drink wine while Dean Martin played softly in the background just for Nonna.

Cassie cursed the empty bottle of Barolo in the kitchen as she dragged herself out of bed, the space where Colton slept already empty and cold.

‘He’s been up for a while, then,’ she thought.

She pulled on her robe as she exited the bedroom, the undeniable smell of eggs and bacon wafting up the stairs and along the hallway to greet her. She could hear her Nonna’s broken English, followed quickly by Colton’s rich laughter and she couldn’t stop the smile from tugging the corner of her lips upwards until it was a full grin.

“What mischief is going on in here, then?” she asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Nonna was telling me about how you used to run around her apartment naked, eating olives,” Colton grinned.

“I would like to clarify that I was three years old at the time,” Cassie countered, hiding her face as Colton laughed again.

“What’re you talking about? You still do that now.”

“Oh my god,” Cassie groaned. “Can you not?” She turned to her Nonna and pointed a finger at her, “Mi piace quest'uomo. Non spaventarlo.”

Nonna merely cackled and took another sip of her coffee, paying no heed to Cassandra in the slightest.

“Non c'è modo di spaventarlo,” Gioia shrugged. “Ti ama troppo.”

Gioia gave her granddaughter a knowing look before shuffling out of the kitchen to sit in the armchair in the orangery to watch the birds outside.

“She’s a riot,” Colton smiled as he continued preparing the eggs.

“She is,” Cassie agreed, pouring herself a coffee before refilling Colton’s mug. “No sign of my parents yet?”

“Your mom is reading her book in bed with her coffee and your dad went out for his morning walk. Think he wants to scope out the neighbourhood.”

“God, he’s so nosey,” Cassie huffed out a laugh. “You should have woke me up, I coulda helped with breakfast.”

“I tried,” Colton teased. “You were out cold, mouth open, snoring.”

“Liar.”

He simply laughed in response, cracking another egg into the pan as Cassie hopped up onto the counter beside him.

“I figured you could use the lie in.”

“That wine was like rocket fuel,” Cassie groused as she nursed her coffee mug. “Why aren’t you hungover anyway? You drank just as much as I did.”

“Faster metabolism, maybe?” he shrugged.

“Life is so unfair.”

“Go sit with your Nonna, I can handle it in here,” Colton said gently.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” he assured her. “Go catch up and talk about me in Italian.”

“Oh you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Cassie teased as she hopped down from the counter.

Colton gently grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his body, bending down to press a soft kiss to her lips. Cassie grabbed his tshirt gently with her free hand to deepen the kiss, giving him just enough before pulling away with a grin.

“Get outta here,” Colton laughed breathlessly, watching with a coy grin as Cassie sashayed out of the kitchen.

*

Once breakfast had been served and eaten, attention could turn to the most important order of business: the food. Christmas Eve had always been an important day for Cassandra and her family; it was the day where they would spend time together in the kitchen, making panettone and christopsomo, baklava and, of course, pasta. Colton was certain that he’d never seen so much food in all of his life and he knew that he was going to need to enlist the help of his teammates to eat it all. In fact, he reckoned that there was enough food prepared to do Christmas dinner three times over.

Giovanna had prepared a lasagne for dinner, which again was washed down with copious amounts of red wine and Colton watched with teary eyes as Cassie and her father sang traditional Greek carols in the living room once the dishes had been cleared away. It was easy then to get swept along in his thoughts about what he hoped his life would be like next year and the year after that and even in ten years’ time. One thing remained constant in these thoughts, though and that was the woman sat beside him, cheeks flushed from her red wine buzz and eyes sparkling even brighter than the lights on the tree. Colton wanted this with Cassandra for the rest of his life, he was sure of it and he couldn’t help but feel blessed that the most important people in her life, the people in that living room with them both, had accepted him into their family. It was big and bold and both the same and unlike his own in so many ways, but it was hers and it was perfect. She was perfect and as he pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead, just as he’d done many times before, his mind wandered to the little box upstairs, hidden inside of a pair of socks in their dresser.

*

There was a certain stillness in the early morning that Colton had learned to appreciate over the years. Plenty of early rises during his hockey career meant that it didn’t have quite the same sting as it used to and he often used those moments of calm and quiet to prepare himself, both mentally and physically, for the day ahead. This morning was different though, he had nowhere to be and he almost cursed himself for waking up so early on Christmas day, like a child excited to see what Santa had brought. But then he paused and looked at Cassie’s sleeping form beside him in bed and he was thankful, thankful that he would get to spend those extra hours he would have been sleeping just appreciating what he had and the woman who looked so at peace. His eyes roamed the gentle contours of her body beneath the duvet until they settled on the chocolate locks that had half fallen into her face, her Mediterranean features set in a soft stillness that made his heart swell in his chest like a rising tide. She was beautiful to Colton, yes, but it was the kind of beauty that went beyond the surface. Cassandra Constantinou’s soul was beautiful too.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could muster and went to the dresser that stood opposite the end of the bed, opening his sock drawer and looking for the gaudy elf stockings socks that Cassie had bought him for Christmas two years prior. He rooted about at the bottom of the drawer until he pulled them out, unable to ignore the slight tremble in his hands as he did so. He unballed the socks, revealing a small velvet box, which he took before closing the drawer. He stood for a moment with it in his hands, so small within his large palm and yet weighted like a neutron star with promise, commitment and everlasting love. It hit him then, like a rogue wave and he found his eyes brimming with tears as he looked at Cassandra, still sound asleep in their bed. He wondered if she knew just how her gravity affected him, how she pulled him in so effortlessly and kept him there. He wondered if she knew just how much he loved and worshipped her, how proud she made him, and how much better his life was for her being in it. He hoped she knew all of that.

He took a deep, settling breath and walked towards Cassie’s side of the bed, kneeling beside it and using one of his hands to brush her hair out of her face while the other gripped the ring box tightly. His smile was soft as she stirred, her eyes finding his immediately as they opened.

“Merry Christmas, Cass,” he whispered, earning him a sleepy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Colt.”

Cassie smiled at the rhythmic feeling of Colton’s hand stroking her hair before furrowing her brow slightly.

“What time’s’it?” she asked.

“A little after 6,” Colton grinned as Cassie groaned.

“That’s so early,” she grumbled. “God you and your early riser bodyclock.”

“I promise it’s for a good reason,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Cassie sat up in bed slightly. “And what’s that then?”

“Wanted to ask you something,” Colton replied, a nervous smile playing on his lips. Cassie only nodded and so Colton took a deep breath before speaking again. “Cass, you are literally the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, kind, generous, so damn funny, God, you make me laugh every single day. I’ve never met anyone with as much spark and passion as you and it’s there in literally everything you do. You’ve taught me so much and I’m just… so thankful for you and grateful to have you in my life.”

“Colton,” Cassie sniffled.

“And I love your family. I love how they’ve made me feel so welcome and like I’m a part of it.”

“You are, Colt,” Cassie replied softly, a rogue tear escaping her eye and rolling down her cheek. “They love you.”

“And I love you, more than anything and…” Colton took another breath, holding out the small box to Cassandra for her to open it. “I want this with you for the rest of my life.”

Cassandra wasn’t sure at what point she’d stopped breathing, but all the air was knocked out of her lungs as she opened up the box to reveal a beautiful trilogy ring that seemed to sparkle even with barely any light in the room, as if it was starlight incarnate.

“Cassandra Giulia Constantinou, would you make me the happiest guy in the world and be my wife?”

Cassandra could only manage a nod as the tears streamed down her face, happiness washing over her like a river breaking loose from a dam. Colton’s arms were around her next, warm and safe and familiar as he sniffled against her hair, his lips planting flowers against her to crown her head.

“I love you,” he murmured into the chocolate strands of her hair. “I love you.”

Cassie pulled back a shade to get her eyes on his, both pairs shining with matching tears of joy.

“I love you too,” she whispered softly.

He took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger, his eyes never leaving the expression of pure happiness that was etched onto her features, before cupping the back of her head and pulling her in for a deep kiss. Cassie’s hand came up to cup his cheek, bringing him closer still as she poured herself into the kiss, their tongues dancing together in the way that only they knew how. They parted only when their lips were swollen and their chests heaving, Colton resting his forehead against Cassandra’s as he held her.

“How long have you been planning this?” Cassie asked softly after a few moments.

“A while,” Colton admitted. “Although deciding to do it today was only a recent decision. Your dad and I did a lot of talking when you weren’t around.”

“You asked my Baba?” Cassie sniffled, the tears back once more.

“I really like and respect your dad and it’s only right that I ask for his permission to marry his only child and daughter.”

“God, you have no idea how much that will have meant to him,” Cassie choked as she fought to keep her tears at bay. “And to me.”

Colton kissed her forehead softly before helping her to her feet and putting her robe on her.

“Come on,” he said softly. “There’s some people who want to celebrate with us.”

He led her out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the top of the stairs, her mother, father and Nonna waiting for them at the bottom with the champagne already poured and not a dry eye between them.

“I thought you chicken out,” Nonna teased Colton with a grin.

“Chicken out of marrying this one? Never.”

Cassie looked up at Colton, smile brighter than the ring on her finger that glittered like sunlight on fresh snow, and cupped his face, pulling him in for a chaste kiss and murmuring against his lips.

“This has been the best Christmas ever.”

[senditcolton]

Oh my gosh, hi! Sorry, my reblog/comments are late but I will have you know, I read this the day you posted it and I was smiling and giggling into my pillow at 1am. Now that I’ve had time to put my thoughts in order, below is some more in-depth screaming.

First off, I have never felt like a fic was written FOR ME more than this one. I swear. Like, either you really did your research or it was just luck but I don’t care what the answer is because, I just love every bit of this. I’m from Colorado, I know all of these places, I’ve done a few of these activities, (I fucking LOVE the Tattered Cover) so it just felt like home to me. (I am more partial to CSU and Denver Zoo Lights but that doesn’t matter :P)

I also cannot believe this is your first time writing for Tyson. You captured that goofy sunshiny personality that I love about him perfectly! And also, Tyson was built for the friends to lovers trope and you can’t tell me otherwise. And also this included another one of my favorite tropes: “it is requited, they’re just idiots”. Like every moment when they almost kissed? The whipped cream on the cheek! Under the trees in the botanical gardens! Outside the locker room (I was about to jump into this story just to slap JT for ruining the moment)! “I could kiss you right now”! Like, I was smiling but also yelling at them to JUST KISS ALREADY.

And then that last part, at the ice-skating rink! My heart was just butterflies the entire time. I loved all the little moments; Tyson tying their skates, the teasing and the lightheartedness and the fun, and then Tyson catching them to stop them even if it meant he might get hurt?!? “I always have you”!?!? I was literally a puddle. And then finally!! They kiss and it’s romantic and perfect and I could picture it so clearly in my mind. UGH!!!

So, overall, this was amazing and romantic and lovely and perfect and I’m running out of adjectives to describe it because I just love it that much. 

Thank you. Like, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

Four Times Tyson Almost Kissed You And One Time You Actually Kissed Him

it’s finally here!! i apologize for the delay with this fic, my brain totally froze while writing most it, but i’m really happy with how it came out. this is part of the winter fic exchange that @antoineroussel is hosting and i had the pleasure of writing for @senditcolton​ !! i hope you love this fic as much as i enjoyed bringing the idea to life. also, this was my first time writing for tyson which was a lot of fun as well!

gif by @barzzal​

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 8.7k

~~~~~

Out of all the things that were bound to happen throughout your college career, the very last thing you expected was to meet an NHL player and become best friends with him. But during a weekend shift at the team store at Ball Arena, one of the odd jobs that you had to make some extra cash to pay for school, Tyson walked in looking to get two new jerseys for both his mom and younger sister. 

His bright smile full of sunshine and the way he got shy asking for your help because “you’re a girl and know what they like” won you over within seconds. You found out that it was his first full season with the Avalanche thanks to none other than Nathan MacKinnon who practically insisted Tyson came to play with the team. He’s unbelievably sweet and kind, plus it doesn’t take you long to recognize that his laughter is contagious. 

As you’re considering which jersey to get for each of the two most important people in his life, Tyson asks questions about you and seems genuinely interested in learning about everything from what you’re studying at CU Boulder to what your usual Starbucks order is. When the decision is finally made and he’s checking out, giddy with anticipation of sending the gifts home, you feel a tug of sadness that this is probably all you’ll have with him.

Except it isn’t. Tyson asks for your number since he admits he’d like another friend, especially someone outside the team, since he’s still new to Denver. You can’t say no and want him in your life as well. And that’s the beginning of arguably the most amazing friendship you’ve ever had.

Keep reading

[senditcolton]

The “first time full read-through, no breaks for commentary notes, initial reaction” words out of my mouth were….

AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!! HOLY FUCK!!!!! ALEX!!!

Now, here is the slightly more coherent and detailed commentary:

I would 100% absolutely refuse a blind-date based on name alone. There are some names that are just cursed.

“He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his armpit and you squeal at his actions with a giggle.” The already instant chemistry that they have!!! You just know this is going to be filled with yearning!

Um excuse me? Grad school applications??? Alex, if you put that detail in for moi,, I love you even more than I already love you which is like… a lot.

“… to which he gives a reassuring squeeze on your neck when you talk about the anxieties that come along with the process.” The physical intimacy just in this first moment is sooo good!

“Your eyebrows knit as your head turns towards Pierre because you are very much not his girl…” Why are you getting so defensive?? Is it because you want to be his girl???

OH you can already tell that they are so in love with each other!

Ah, yes. The “no details perfect mystery guy”. I can already tell where this is going…

“… that twinkle in your eye Pierre’s all too familiar with starting to shine. The one that knows the alcohol is starting to get to you and reminding him that it’s his time to start drinking to keep an eye on you.” IM SORRY?! The fact that he picks up on the little things?! TO TAKE CARE OF HER!!!

“You shoot off a text to your group chat, letting them know that you made it and that if you go missing it’s one hundred percent on them.” I feel that this is the true mood before any blind date.

“It’s quiet for a brief moment after that, both of you unsure on the exact reason why your mutual friends pulled this stunt.” Love that is so obvious to literally everyone else is my jam!

“So, I had an idea.” “Because that’s always good.” THE BANTER!!!

“Luc, did you finally get the balls to ask your girl out?” YOUR GIRL!?!??!

“You’re surprised with the lack of chirps made at your expense and even more surprised no one’s even batted an eye where Pierre’s pale hand is lightly resting on your thigh.” My god, it’s because it was so obvious before. This is the epitome of the best trope: ‘it’s requited, they’re just idiots’

“So, you guys’ finally got together, huh?” FINALLY!?!?!?!

“His large hands splayed across your back warm you, his fingers trailing over the delicate stitching of his number and name on your back. When he pulls away, words remain unspoken between you as he lips press to the crown of your forehead. His lips stay there for a while, both of your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling of his lips on you.” UUUGGGGHHHH. SOFT!!!!

“Over the duration of your friendship, you quickly learned that physical touch was the best way to comfort him in these moments.” Fuck yeah, learning your partner’s love language!

“It’s kind of funny you think, the way your hand is in the way of his driving ability” And yet, he DOESN’T LET GO!

The fact that they just intrinsically know each other!!!

Getting her clothes, being in bed together, watching TV together, falling asleep with one another… just… the sheer amount of casual intimacy is driving me INSANE!

He bought the dress!!?! At this point I was just like, girl you better marry, or at the very least kiss that man!

Tying his tie! There’s that easy casual intimacy again!!!

“He holds his finger out in front of you, letting you blow the lone eyelash off. Your eyes close as you do so, and when you open them, the first place your eyes land are on Pierre’s lips a few inches in front of you. Next thing you know, his eyes are closing and his neck is tilting downwards as his lips land on yours in a soft, sensual manner.” My heart is literally doing somersaults right now.

YOU’VE ALWAYS HAD ME!?!?!?!!?! THAT’S IT, I’VE DIED, I’M DEAD.

So, overall, this is me currently:

ALEX! This was so amazing and perfect and literally everything I could have asked for in a fake-dating Pierre Luc Dubois fic. What I did to deserve this amazing fic written by such an amazing friend I will never know. So, yes, catch me screaming about this for... probably the rest of my life! I am seriously thanking whatever energy it was that paired you with me on this fic exchange and just paired you with me in general. You are 100% one of the closest friends i have here and this is just... like.... I have completely run out of words because it was that fantastic!!!!

Now That I Need You - Pierre-Luc Dubois

a/n: thank you to @antoineroussel for organizing the summer fic exchange!! i had so much fun writing this and being a part of the writing community here as a whole. sooooo without further ado, @senditcolton here is your fic!!! i practically screamed when i got paired with you bc i was so excited to write for someone i genuinely consider a friend 🤍 hope you love it!

synopsis: yours and pierre’s friendship is one that’s always causing whispers to float around the room and eyes to be rolled whenever you both shut those comments down. what happens when the both of you have had enough of those comments? (title from where are u now by justin bieber)

words: 7k

“Aliyah, I am not going on a date with someone named Matt,” you groan, throwing your head into your hands.

“Why not? I haven’t even shown you a picture of him!” She exclaims in response.

“Because, all Matt’s are horrible,” you deadpan to your friend who rolls her eyes in response. “Seriously, have you ever met a Matt that wasn’t a dick? Or annoying? They truly live up to their stereotype and are unapologetic about it.”

Aliyah is quiet at that, tight-lipped as she tries to navigate how to get you on a date, with anyone at this point.

“You know how I feel about you guys setting me up on blind dates anyways, it’s getting old.”

You’re right, she realizes. As you’ve been going on a blind date a week at this rate, none of them turning into a second date or even into a friends with benefits situation. There’s an understanding on why she, and all of your other friends, want you to get into a relationship, but you’re more than fine with always being the fifth wheel and going home to an empty apartment. They don’t necessarily see that though - how you’re not even thinking about how you’re always the only one dateless at your bi-weekly brunches, or at Jets games, or how it’s always someone’s else’s boyfriend picking you up on your girls’ nights.

Keep reading

[senditcolton]

First things first, I saw you post the lyrics and was so pumped to read the fic that it was inspired by because I love this song. And then it turned out to be for me?!?! Aaaah! Now, to the screaming:

The amount of times I gasped in disbelief during this argument scene!

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!” OH NO HE DIDN’T!

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to.” YOU TELL HIM MAEVA!!

Maeva and her dad! Oh, I’m loving their closeness already!

I’m sorry, how did you know my parent’s personalities and infuse them into Maeva’s?

Ah, the blessings and curses of small towns.

NATASHA!! “I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family.” I’M CRYING

And apparently so is Maeva

Oh, that is so beautifully sad – leaving Sidney behind also meant leaving everyone else that was a part of her life behind too.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.” HM, maybe not the best way to start this conversation, Sid.

Oh, they’re just both so stubborn and it’s infuriating but also perfect!

Ah Nate’s here to… save the day? I don’t know but I’m thankful he showed up.

THE WAY EVERYONE IS JUST SO PROTECTIVE OF HER! MY HEART!

“Not at a wedding she knew she would never have.” OH OUCH! I didn’t even think about that!

“I love you, Maeva.” (what follows are the exact words out of my mouth) Oh, god, fucking hell!

The kiss and then the springing away and aaaahhhh!

I’ve searched for you everywhere!? It was always you!? I can only hope no one else has your heart!?

Oh, Sidney still thinking about hockey at a time like this! (but it was also very welcomed because we needed a little laugh break in there)

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop.” AAAHHH!!

Like, they are both so stubborn and determined, both in their heads and their hearts, and that seemed to be their biggest downfall but now turned out to be their biggest strength!? I LOVE THAT!

I REPEAT: SCREAMING! THIS WAS WONDERFUL! FALLING TO THE FLOOR WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE!! (see below) THANK YOU!!!

I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton​’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

~

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

~

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

~

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

~

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

~

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

~

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

[senditcolton]

AAAAHHH CELLY!! MY FIRST ROSS FIC AND IT WAS EVERYTHING! I love love LOVE this!!

(as always, in-depth screaming below)

This is like the third drunk Vegas wedding fic that involves me in some capacity (second one written for me and I wrote one myself) and I will NEVER get tired it!!

Fixing a hangover by staying drunk – can’t argue with that!

Yeah… bachelorette party the day before a wedding is a recipe for disaster (blackout marriage not included!!)

THE FACT THAT ROSS BOUGHT AN ACTUAL DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING – that should’ve been a sign right there that there was something more under the actions

Understandable that the first panic is that you cheated with one of your friend’s boyfriends and not the immediate concern being the fact that you’re WEARING A WEDDING RING! Granted, the latter is – weirdly – a little less complicated.

Relief at seeing your ex-boyfriend in your bed. Yeah, that would be an interesting sensation

THANK FUCK!!

“Was that what he was worried about, being an accessory to infidelity” to be fair babe, so were you before you realized it was Ross – which she realizes. GOD THEY’RE BOTH SO IN-SYNC IT’S LOVE!

I love how the time-crunch of the wedding just pushed back the whole figuring things out. It’s like “we truly don’t have time to unpack all of this”

“Waking up next to me was really this bad, huh?” OH ROSS HONEY NO!!!

“And let their imaginations run wild?” “What would be so wrong with that?” Very true because I can almost guarantee that if my friend told me she spent the night with her ex, I wouldn’t even THINK they drunk married each other. I’m not that imaginative!!

IT ALREADY FELT STRANGE TO NOT BE WEARING THE RING??!!

“Just fell into some bad habits.” SO CHEEKY I LOVE

Giggly drunk at a wedding with someone that you definitely harbor feelings for!! The dream iswtg

“You had always found a calmness with Ross, even in the most chaotic moments” might be part of the reason you drunk married him.

“We didn’t make a sex tape, did we?” No. Well… almost.

OF COURSE MILES WAS THE WITNESS.

“I think this makes you my wife” AAAAAHHH HE’S SO CUTE!!

IT’S!!! ALWAYS!!! BEEN!! YOU!!

This was just so fun! The exemplified idea of "drunk actions, sober thoughts" especially because of how CALM Ross was about everything!! Oh, he wanted to marry that girl!!! AND HE FINALLY DID!

They need to have a wedding that they'll actually remember STAT!!

;; Waking Up In Vegas Dedicated to @senditcolton for their birthday bingo

Summary: When you wake up in Vegas after a wild night you can't remember, you wake up with 2 things: a hangover and a wedding band on your finger. Birthday Bingo Tropes: Slow Dancing. Drunken Confessions. Exes to Lovers. Accidental Marriage. “What Are We?” Inspired By (The Hangover/Waking Up in Vegas by Katie Perry). “It was always you.” Kinks & TW: implied heavy drinking (to the point of blacking out), implied sexual relations (no actual depiction of sex) Word Count: 3.7k+ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE! I hope this is a nice little treat to celebrate your day!

My God, you thought as you let out a low groan. The morning sunlight was bright as it filtered in through unfamiliar curtains. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, a moment of panic as you failed to recognize your surroundings. This wasn’t your bed. This wasn’t your room. Your entire body tensed, but just as quickly, you calmed. It wasn’t your room, but it was your hotel room. Sighing, you buried your face into the hotel room pillow and welcomed the regret that came with the symptoms of your hangover. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and your body felt heavy as it became heavy with what you were sure would become a hangover from hell if you let it. 

There wasn’t a problem a few early morning mimosas couldn’t fix - at least, that was what you hoped. You had a long day ahead of you. One of your closest friends was getting married and your only regret was letting the maid of honor plan the bridal party for the night before the wedding. Worst of all, you had gotten so drunk you didn’t remember a second of it. 

You lay there in the bed, your eyes fixated on the digital clock on the bedside as you tried to piece together the night before, but it was all a haze after you, the rest of the bridal party and the groomsmen had all gone out for dinner. You had parted ways after a round of shots, the plans for the night different for both the bride and the groom. The food was delicious, not that you wanted to taste it again, but you could feel the bile burning at the back of your throat, threatening to start your morning with your head in a toilet bowl. 

Choking back a gag, you brought your hand to your mouth and rubbed over thirst lips, only to freeze at the feeling of something foreign against your skin. Drawing your hand back, your eyes narrowed. You examined it from wrist to fingertip, gasping loudly at the discovery that there was a ring on your finger. But it wasn’t just any finger, it was your left ring finger and on it was what looked like an expensive diamond ring.

“What the fuck!” You shot up in place, your hair a mess and the blanket falling away from your body, only to shock you further when you found yourself in clothes that weren’t your own. 

Reaching down, you pull the front of your too-big shirt away from your chest, feeling the film of an image or some kind of lettering across the front. “Locker room official?” you read out loud, the words leaving a bad taste in your mouth. You shouldn’t have been wearing anything locker room official. Especially because you were single, more so because the groomsmen were all the groom's teammates, new and old. Your stomach flipped, vomit creeping up further and further in your throat as your mind panicked: Which one of your friend’s boyfriends had you crawled into bed with in a drunken stupor? 

On the verge of tears, you looked from the shirt to the other side of the bed where a body began to stir. A moment of panic surged through you like a bolt of electricity, but then there was a calming wave of relief. One that you were sure you shouldn't have had when you discovered that you had spent the night in bed with your ex boyfriend. But things with Ross, they had always been different. 

Your breakup had been mutual, coming after his trade to the Colorado Avalanche. You weren’t going to leave your family and your career in Tampa just to be with him, especially since your relationship was so on-again-off-again. The two of you were practically a light switch. Which was why you still agreed to be in the bridal party, all the while knowing he was going to be standing on the other side of the altar celebrating the love of your close friends. But now? Now you were both hungover, and couldn’t remember how you had both ended up in your bed with a ring on his finger–and where the hell did he even get his shirt if this was your room?

Your head hurt more and more with every racing thought, and it only throbbed further when Ross’ words broke through the strained silence of the air. “Is that you?”

“Ah huh,” you nodded slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighed out, his relief only enough to put you completely at ease. 

You wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed next to him. To pretend that this was just a one-night stand with an old flame. But it was more than that. At least you were pretty sure it was, because the ring on your finger was telling you that you married him. 

Your entire body surged with the force of a gag at the back of your throat. You were going to puke. 

Pushing off the bed, you threw yourself from it. Your legs wobbled under the weakness of your hangover, but with rushed strides and only a minor collision with a console table, you made it to the bathroom just in time to collapse down in front of the toilet and bury your head inside it. You wretched over the porcelain and watched as what little contents that were left in your stomach from the night before spilled into the water. It wasn’t much, which told you that you had thrown up probably countless times before you had crawled into bed the night before - or, hell, very early that morning. 

When your body could do nothing but heave, you pushed up from the floor and reached out for the support of the bathroom sink. The sound of running water might as well have been the clap of thunder in your ears that sent your head pounding further. Yet, you let it run until the water was ice cold and splashed it on your face, hoping that it would be enough to shock you back to your senses. But when you looked in the mirror, all you could focus on was the ring. 

You needed answers. 

Marching back into the room with a sudden feeling of sobriety, you reached your hand out with only your ring finger extended for him to see. “What is this?”

Ross groaned as he sat up in the bed, the blanket falling away from his bare chest as he reached up to rub at his bloodshot eyes. “What is what?” he finally asked as his hands fell away from squinted eyes, only for them to widen at the sight in front of him. “Is that a ring?”

“Yup,” you nodded, trying to keep your composure. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re seeing someone?”

You wanted to stomp your foot like a child. Was that what he was worried about, being an accessory to infidelity? It left you scoffing, though it had been your own worry before you had rolled over and discovered it was him laying next to you.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone,” you said through grit teeth, “I was single until, well, until I woke up this morning and found this ring on my finger. Ross, we need to figure this out, like right now-” 

You cut off your own words as your eyes fell on the clock beside the bed and for the first time since you woke up. You both had thirty minutes to reach the venue to begin your day with both the bride and groom. If the two of you were going to figure out anything, it was going to be in the back of a taxi. 

According to Google Maps, the Green Valley Ranch was twenty-eight minutes from the Bellagio Hotel. And by the time the two of you had made your way down to the street and hailed the taxi, your thirty-minute window had quickly become fifteen. Minutes ticked down as the taxi drove through traffic, and while you wanted nothing more than to focus on the problem at hand, you distracted yourself by making yourself look less hungover than you felt. Both you and Ross chugged water in the back seat to wash down painkillers you could only hope would take the edge off. Eye drops met tired, unrested eyes and made them brighter and you forced a brush through your messy, knotted hair, hoping to greet the stylist with something a little more manageable. 

As you grew closer to the venue, your heart started to pound against the shell of your chest. They would have noticed you weren’t in your room. Your hands came up to hide your suddenly flushed face, a trembling breath shaking through your entire body. You wanted to let out a frustrated cry, your tears beginning to burn at your eyes, but you choked it back hoping that Ross wouldn’t notice, but he did. 

“Hey,” Ross’ voice was soft as he reached out to take your hands in his. Slowly, he pulled them back from your face, your eyes glistening wet on the verge of tears as you looked at him. “What’s got you crying?”

“What are we going to tell them, Ross? They're going to ask where we were, why we came in together, what happened last night-” Your voice broke, a single hand leaving Ross’ comforting hold to rest over your lips, trying to stop a sob as it choked at your throat. 

“Waking up next to me was really this bad, huh?” Ross asked, his eyes dropping to the space between you. 

Your stomach sank. You hadn’t meant it like that. 

“Ross,” you spoke his name to get him to look back up at you with those bright eyes that were left sullen by your words. “Seeing you next to me this morning was a relief I can’t even explain to you,” you sighed out. “But we don’t know what happened last night. And this is the only clue,” you said and twisted the ring around your finger. 

“Just tell the truth of what we know,” Ross offered, “tell them you were with me, and we can leave the rest out until we figure out what exactly happened last night.”

“And let their imaginations run wild?” You scoffed. 

“What would be so wrong with that?” Ross laughed out as the taxi stilled. 

You had arrived at the venue, yet you remained still, stoic in your seat. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Ross paid the driver, your finger still twisting the wedding band in circles on your finger. The last thing you could do was wear it inside. It would bring too many questions that you had no answer to. Holding your breath, you pulled the ring off your finger. You didn’t know how long it had been there, but it already felt strange when it was gone. Chewing on your bottom lip, you reached back to your necklace. You could hang the ring hand from it for safekeeping, but Ross was quick to reach out for it in your hand. 

“They’ll still see it there,” Ross spoke, his words still soft. 

His hand encompassed yours, his gentle touch taking the ring from your hand, and you watched as he took off his chain that had a cross that hung down low between his pecs. It would hide there, beneath his button-down dress shirt and tie that would match your dress, out of sight from everyone. Which is exactly where it needed to be. 

“Thank you,” you muttered as you both got out of the taxi and threw yourselves right into the chaos. 

There were two tents tucked away on the property, just out of sight from the reception. One for the groomsmen and the other for the bridal party and both were quiet until you entered the tent. You could hear the boys hollering at Ross next door, but you could barely hear them over the bombardment of questions from your friends. 

“There you are-”

“-we were so worried about you!”

“-where did you go last night?”

“-we thought we lost you-”

It was a harmony of voices that had you raising your hands up and smiled a small smile that was anything but innocent. “Oh, you know,” you hummed, your voice so close to breaking, but you hid it well as you found the mimosa that had been beckoning to you since you woke up that morning. You sipped it with a coy smile, “just fell into some bad habits.”

The girls squealed from each of their stations. Some were getting their makeup done, others their hair, and all were in their dresses. And you were still on the verge of vomiting, the mimosa only beginning to ease the morning of chaos and confusion. 

That chaos only amplified as you stripped down and one of the other bridesmaids helped you into your dress. It was a pale dusty rose pink gown, the perfect one for a summer wedding, and it fit the natural curve of your body perfectly. It was enough to make your fake smile a little more genuine. The hair stylist styled your hair in loose curls because there was no time for anything more, and the makeup artist completed a subtle and natural look to match the rest of the bridesmaid. It was the pampering you had been looking forward to since the bride had asked you to be part of the bridal party. But you could only focus on one thing: What really happened last night? 

You had hoped the first sip of alcohol would have triggered a flood of memories, but you were left with nothing as you stepped into your heels and followed the bridesmaid out of the tent and into the procession line. 

You linked arms with Ross, his touch both familiar and strange. Trying to focus on the aisle ahead, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, wondering if the same questions were running through his mind. Had he remembered anything? Was he thinking about how the ring felt against his chest, the same way you could feel the emptiness on your finger? 

Staring a little too long, Ross caught you, his smile growing at your cheeks burned red hot. His arm reached across his body and found your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze before the two of you took to the aisle. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony; the love shared between two of your closest friends, but it was Ross who kept all your attention. You shared coy smiles and lingering glances throughout the ceremony. Those only became laughter and lingering touches the moment the reception started. It was then, when bottles of champagne flowed freely, that you quieted the barrage of questions that lingered in the back of your mind. You could finally focus on your friends, the food and the speeches - enjoying every second of it until you were called up onto the floor to join the first dance. 

You loathed dancing. 

You had never been good at it, and tripped over your feet more than you could keep rhythm, but the champagne gave you the confidence you needed to meet Ross out on the dance floor. The touch of his hands found your waist with ease, sending a jolt through you. You became hyper-aware of every move, every touch, and every step of your feet from one side to the other as the two of you swayed on the dance floor. 

A step to the left. 

A step to the right. 

Stumble.

Ross tried to catch you, but he was tripping over his own feet, too. His smile pressed into your hair, his laugh warming your neck as your body tried to steady yourself on the dance floor. But even as you stood still, in the embrace of his arms, the room spun around you. You laughed harder, Ross’ weight leaning into you as he struggled to find his balance. He was just as drunk as you were. 

“Come outside with me?” Ross spoke into your hair as the song ended and applause rumbled like thunder throughout the room. “I need to get some air.”

“Yeah,” you nodded as you looked up at him with a soft, dreamy smile. 

You had always found a calmness with Ross. Even in the most chaotic moments, but as he led you off, away from the party and off to the patio, your heart raced. The two of you hadn’t been alone since this morning, and while you were no longer hungover, alcohol consumed the both of you differently than it had that morning–and you hoped that this was a night you would remember. 

You lingered by the door as you watched him reach into his pocket and lit a cigar. You kept your space, letting the cold night chill of the night consume you as you tried to avoid the smell of burning tobacco. 

“Com’ere, I got something you might want to see,” Ross waved you over. 

You didn’t move. 

“Shit,” he cussed, “sorry. I forgot.” Ross tapped out the cigar on a railing nearby before laying it down flat. He would return to it later, but for now, you got all his attention. Well, you and his phone. 

He pulled it out of his pocket, the glow of the screen illuminating his face as he sorted through his open applications before he found the one he was looking for. His gallery. “Here, take it.”

You looked up at him, his expression unreadable as you reached out for the phone. “We didn’t make a sex tape, did we?” you asked him, a lump forming in the back of your throat. 

Ross only laughed, his head shaking from side to side as you took the phone from his hold. Your joints felt like gelatin as you scrolled through the photos on his phone. Shot after shot, you lived your forgotten night as if for the first time, but in reverse. The pictures started quite lewd, just short of pornographic taken in the privacy of the hotel room. Then with a single swipe you were in the hotel elevator, your back to the camera and Ross’ hand on your ass and creeping so close to the hem of its skirt. It was after one more swipe you found the pictures that explained everything. 

The background of the photo was one of those cliche, stereotypical Vegas chapels. The ones where an Elvis impersonator read out your vows to the room of strangers that were waiting for their own turn to be wed. But in the pictures, there was no sign of Elvis. Just you and Ross, drunk and kissing and married. 

Your eyes shut for a long moment as the pictures confirmed it all. Right down to the signing of the papers, right down to the witness, Miles Wood. 

“He knew this whole time and didn’t say anything?” You asked, your mouth agape, “he didn’t try to stop us?”

You paced back and forth in disbelief, your thumb coasting through the last few photos that captured everyone drinking, partying and even playing in some fountains on the strip. But the highlights of it all was your trashy, cheap Vegas wedding. 

“To be fair,” Ross started with a shrug as he took his phone back, “he was still throwing up in the tent when we got here. I don’t even think he remembers what happened last night.”

“What did we drink last night?” You half laughed, half sighed as you stepped into Ross, your arms wrapping around his middle so effortlessly as your cheek came to rest on his chest. You listened to the beat of his heart as you gripped at the breast of his coat.  The position you two found yourself in wasn’t easy, hell you didn’t quite understand how it all happened, but it had, and now the two of you had to face the repercussions of it. 

“Ross,” you said his name softly, your words barely above a whisper. “With everything that’s happened-” just speaking brought you so close to feeling as if you were going to puke, you needed to ask him. Being married wasn’t just something you both could ignore. “What are we?”

You peeled back from him just enough to peek up at him through thick lashes and you saw Ross’ small, almost shy, smile. “I think this makes you my wife.”

Your jaw slacked. How was he so calm? Was he seriously smiling when it felt like everything was spinning out of control? Your mouth opened further to question him about it, but you couldn’t think of the right words to say. What could you say to the man you had always loved but had completely abandoned the idea of being anything more than a casual fuck? The man that was now so suddenly your husband. 

With no words, you watched as Ross reached up and loosened his tie. It hung lazily around his neck as he worked the first two buttons of his shirt free and pulled his chain from where it hid beneath his shirt. Carefully, he undid the collapse and let the ring slip into the palm of his hand. It glistened there for a moment, before he was reaching out for your left hand. HIs touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he slipped the ring back into place on your finger. 

“It’s always been you,” he breathed, leaning in to press a firm kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to speak. “Drunk me just had the balls to do what I couldn’t.”

“Ross,” you breathed out, as you felt his breath spread over your cheeks, “you’re drunk right now.”

You both were. Which is why the two of you couldn’t stop yourselves from laughing, breaking the tension that seemed to hang in the air since you had woken up that morning. It left you at peace in the embrace of his arms as you reached up and knit your fingers in your hair, and smiled as you pulled him in closer for another kiss. 

Maybe it was crazy, maybe it was impulsive, but, as you stood there as Ross’ wife, everything felt right. 

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvo , @couldawouldashoulda50 , @hagelpoint-3821