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bratbarzal · 12 hours

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On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Six

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 15k

Chapter Warnings: believe it or not there's fluff in here. very very cute scenes I have to say. but obviously encompassed by angst. a fluff sandwich with angsty bread if you will. and the butter is nico's continuous pining. luke being the ultimate girls girl, wise beyond his years god bless him, the rest of the boys being soft, Nico's family being endearing, and then here we go!!! mentions of vomiting and food aversion, mentions of pregnancy & early pregnancy symptoms, I want to say there's mentions of drowning I remember thinking of the imagery and I can't remember how detailed I went with it sorry! it isn't actual drowning just like a metaphor of sorts. mentions of the birth control patch if you've ever had it you KNOW that needs a full trigger warning whoever came up with that deserves jail it's hell it's horror!! and mentions of poor parental relationships.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Five)

A/N: potentially fun fact the last scene in this chapter is maybe the second thing I ever wrote for this fic!! like as a concept/idea it was one of the earliest scenes in my head and it's one of my faves!! I've been dying to get to this part to flesh it out and figure out how to build to it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!! writing for families of real people is such an odd concept but I really like the differences in their parents lmao it's fun to write and compare the dynamics obviously it goes without saying I do not know these people lmao

I know the last chapter broke a couple hearts so I'll leave you guys to crack on! as always, never proofread, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and opinions!!! all the love in my heart to anyone who messaged me this last week on anon or not or private or whatever it may be I appreciate you so much yous have been so so kind to me and it means the world 💖

Nico

If anyone were to ever ask Nico what his favourite trait of Poppy’s is, he knows for a fact he would not be able to narrow it down. She’s a culmination of all things good, has been from the day he met her, and even the things he shouldn’t like about her, he loves.

He shouldn’t like that she’s sarcastic, quick-witted - scarily so - and sometimes says things before she has the chance to properly think about them or any problems they may cause her. He remembers his first couple of years in Jersey, when he was one of the more junior players on the team, still considered new to the country and the culture, and a lot of people had underestimated how familiar he was speaking English despite his years playing in Canada and growing up learning multiple languages. They would often default to explaining things like he wouldn’t understand, like common terms or jokes told amongst a group - and he, being too polite to correct them, had always ended up feeling like an idiot for it.

There had been one instance prepping for a media day, where he had only met Poppy once a week or so before, and she had been prepping him to be on camera, clipping his mic pack and checking the settings.

One of the other media staff, a guy called Liam who was in his second year where Poppy was in her first and had been the one she had to initially shadow, had cracked some misogynistic joke to her about how she was messing around with controls she didn’t understand just to be able to stand closer to Nico, as if he wasn’t right there or couldn’t hear him - and then when he had seen Nico’s furrowed brow and downturned lips, had assumed he didn’t understand the joke because he hadn’t laughed.

“It’s because she thinks you’re hot!” The guy had obnoxiously enunciated every word, capturing the attention of some of the more senior assistants in the room who had rolled their eyes just as hard as Nico had.

“He’s from Europe, Liam, not Jupiter. You don’t have to speak to him like he’s some alien.” Poppy had shook her head, caring so little about the fact that Liam had seniority over her, fitting the pack into Nico’s back pocket without him even feeling it, “He understands your slimy little jokes, he just doesn’t find you funny. Nobody does.”

Nico shouldn’t have liked her speaking on his behalf as much as he did, coming to his defence with her sharp tongue and cold glare, but no one had ever picked up on how uncomfortable that kind of thing made him before. The stupid jokes and the belittling tone Liam had used toward him. Poppy saw through both.

And all of her good is even better.

Poppy is positive. He has never seen her leave a room without having caused at least one smile or laugh. She’s someone he’s seen most of the guys perk up around, seek her out for help or even mundane conversation just to lighten the load, and he knows he’ll never be able to keep track of all the times he’s gone to her for a pick me up over the years.

She’s generous. Generous with her time when it comes to her friends, always making sure to maintain plans even when she’s at her busiest. When it comes to her work, staying late to help out a colleague or finish a project so it isn’t left to the last minute. With her knowledge and experience, always there for new members of staff or additions to the team to show them all her favourite spots in the area and get them up to speed with their role.

She is patient - waits around for him when he gets stuck doing media, or held behind to see the physio, and she never complains. She’ll never watch an episode of a show they start together without him, despite the fact his schedule doesn’t often allow for him to stay up late catching up, and she doesn’t moan when she gets spoiled if it’s something that comes out weekly and ends up being a hot topic in the office, doesn’t even spoil it for him out of spite. She even pauses the tv as soon as she notices he’s fallen asleep, and she’ll busy herself doing something else until she feels like he’s rested enough to drive home.

And, above all, she’s forgiving. If someone were to push for an answer, and they were to have done so before this whole mess happened, he probably would have said that was his favourite thing. It’s like her superpower - to be able to understand things from a different perspective without judgement or a major confrontation. It’s like her default process is to give people grace and make things easy, even if they aren’t entirely deserving of that way out.

She had done so with Nico, that night up on the roof. He hadn’t deserved her leniency, not entirely. He had expected he would have to grovel and beg, and he had been more than willing to do so, but she had wanted to avoid further heartache for the both of them, and had decided to move on.

And sure, she hadn’t technically forgiven him at that point for the way he had treated her, not properly, but she had put him on the path to redemption, and had made it clear what was expected to make it all the way there.

She’d gone easy on him, in spite of how much he had hurt her. She’d been patient with his reasoning, generous with her time, and had done so with an affectionate glint in her eyes that even now makes his heart warm to think about.

It’s the same glint she’d had when she’d come out of that elevator and had seen him by her door. He’d watched her take him in, eyes cast over him in a concerned assessment, and he knew then that no matter what he said, no matter how he explained what had led him to leave her that morning without a word, she would have forgiven him.

She would have found some way to rationalise what he had done, and put how it made her feel to the side in the name of moving on.

And he had seen his life flash before his eyes.

Nights of coming home to her, muscles weak, brain fogged, and she’d give him that same look and accept what little he had to offer her. She’d be patient, she’d be forgiving. She wouldn’t get mad that he didn’t have time to take her on dates or trips, wouldn’t bite back when he got snappy after a couple of successive losses and let his frustrations come between them, would resign herself to those little parts of him she’d get to herself in the summer, when he wasn’t training or travelling or trying to fit everyone else in, and would swallow down the longing for something more because she loved him.

And he couldn’t subject her to that, no matter how much she tried to fight him on it, or tried to call him out.

No matter how much he wanted to be better for her, how much he wanted her to change his mind, the one quality he loved so much was going to be their demise, and so he had relied on it to cling on to the one thing he can give her.

Friendship.

Even if she won’t accept it for a while. Even if she wants to tell him to leave, and to ignore his texts, and his calls, and his efforts to bump into her at work, she has to forgive him. It’s who she is.

She’ll forgive him and they can be friends.

Eventually.

And so with the weight of her bracelet in his pocket the whole walk home that night, Nico had decided that he could take a leaf out of Poppy’s book.

He could be patient while she came to terms with what he had done. He could be generous with the space she needed. He could be positive and push down the bubbling doubt that she’ll forgive him at all.

—

Space happens to be the one thing Nico struggles with the most when it comes to Poppy. Especially conceptualised in the way that it has become - because he can’t physically give her space, they work in the same building. They share the same friends, they end up in the same rooms, and his resolve is as weak as ever where she is concerned, especially when she’s so close, so his generosity ends up being the trait that wains first.

He will give it to himself, he has been trying. He hasn’t been texting her as much as he wants to, understanding that bombarding her with begging and pleading is not only pathetic, but could also be considered harassment. And that will do him no favours in trying to earn back her favour.

But the other night he had been up on the roof after a long day, the air cold but the evening nice, and as he looked out across the Hudson, he had remembered how Poppy had once said her favourite time of the day, and her favourite thing about where she lives, was getting to see the sunset.

On the early winter evenings, when she’d not long gotten home from work, she liked looking out her window and basking in what she had called cotton candy skies. Swirls of pinks and greyish purples behind the rows of skyscrapers on the other side of the river, all of which reflected the lowering sun in a glimmering, golden glow. He had taken a picture and sent it straight over with the thought that she might be missing it, and he just wanted to let her know.

Even avoiding him, even wanting space, he was hoping she would at least appreciate that.

The sentiment attached to the picture had read, Just in case you don’t catch this yourself. And as he periodically checked his phone for the rest of the night, he had realised she had probably turned her read receipts off.

At least she hadn’t blocked him.

Nico had, however, started to get creative when it came to work.

Unable to stifle the need to check up on her, or to make sure something happened to brighten her day, he had taken to recruiting the rest of the guys to help.

He should have known how easy it would be, his first enlistment being Jack, who he knew would visit Poppy often, anyway. Only, now he did so with a drink in hand. Peach iced tea if his trip to her office was anytime after lunch, and a hot chai with oat milk if it was before. Nico had initially suggested snacks, but Jack had ended up eating them, himself, which turned out to be useful when it came to bribing him for information.

According to Jack, she was doing okay. Cracking jokes, rolling her eyes at the stupid nicknames he would come up with, and overall she seemed like her normal self. No signs of insurmountable heartache - not Jack’s words, but his own deduction.

He had been surprised at the lack of questions from him, but Jack knows when not to push something, so maybe he had decided to go easy on Nico for now.

Timo had been making sure she was breaking for lunch, checking in every few days so it wasn’t obvious.

John and Bass had taken to calling dumb jokes out to her every time they saw her in the halls, just to make her crack.

Curtis and Dougie had signed themselves up for the mentoring sessions she had been chasing them for since the season had started.

She had been fine with everyone - she smiled, she laughed, she joked, she engaged in conversation - and it was like nothing had happened.

Only, when Nico had felt brave enough to attempt even just eye contact, she wouldn’t even look at him.

No matter how many of the guys reported back that she was doing fine, he could see it every time he looked at her.

He could see it even when he wasn’t looking at her - that teary, pleading frown she had given him as she had tried to take his hand, the resigned acceptance he had seen when she’d monotonously told him that they had made a mistake, assuming she was mirroring his own sentiments, the tremble in her lip as she had waited for him to leave with her head down at the door.

He thinks about it more often than is healthy, in situations where his focus should really be elsewhere.

Like in the gym, arms shaking as he attempts to lift more than he has in a while, and Jonas who is spotting him has to intervene before he ends up getting crushed.

Like in training, adrenaline pumping as his mind races all over the place, weaving around the defensemen and making sloppy attempts to swipe the puck until he finds himself on the weaker side of a nasty check by Luke that he can’t even argue was unwarranted.

Or in important debriefs in the small team auditorium, where one of their associate coaches, Travis, is going over team strategy before they travel to play the Canes, and he really should be absorbing all the information for such a crucial game - the potential to build on their current 2 game winning streak theirs for the taking - but all he can think about is the looming distance between him and Poppy.

They’re going down to Tampa after, and then head straight into the All Stars break. He isn’t going to see her for almost 2 weeks. Isn’t going to be able to send anyone to check up on her - not without rousing suspicion at least.

He thinks having Bratter knock on her door at home might ring alarm bells.

The distracted glance Nico casts towards the creaking door of the auditorium as it opens is instinctual and fleeting, but all his senses go into high alert when he sees who comes through it.

The guys have been right, for the most part.

She does look okay.

She looks put together - probably more than he has looked the last two weeks without her, having barely shaved and punishing himself with a borderline dangerous lack of rest - her smart casual attire is neat and co-ordinated, a buttoned up red cardigan and long, dark trousers, her hair up in a ponytail that sways with her movement, and the only indicator that she has any sort of discomfort is the slight purse of her lips where he can tell she’s chewing at the corner.

Travis has become background noise - whatever he’s saying Nico is sure he can catch up on another time - and all he can focus on is the way she watches the coach with genuine interest.

Poppy is the kind of person that gives anyone the time of day - makes them feel like whatever it is they’re saying is the most important thing in the world, and he yearns for a day where her attentions are directed his way again.

“And Poppy is here from the Youth Foundation,” Her name is one way to get his focus back, Nico’s eyes having not left her figure since she snuck in, leaning beside the door with a binder in hand. He follows as she descends the few stairs to the bottom and moves beside Travis, holding the binder to her chest as she smiles to the rest of the guys. “They have a favour to ask of anyone with some free time that you’re willing to give in your week off, she’s more likely to convince any of you than I am so I’ll just hand straight over.”

“Thank you, Mr Green,” she flicks the binder open, and Nico finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of her looking up and accidentally meeting his eyes, even for a second. “I know you guys are well overdue some time off, and we’d never usually ask so close to the fact, but we have a clinic out in Garfield on the 29th, we’ve donated a bunch of equipment and have some money to donate for the programme they have, and we were supposed to have Patrik Elias out to present it to the kids up there but he’s been held back in Czechia and won’t make it.”

Nico fights the urge to do something stupid like shoot up and volunteer straight away - if not for the fact that he’s supposed to be giving her space and shouldn’t force himself into her good graces, then for the fact his parents will be back in town by then, and he has plans throughout the week with them. Him looking desperate is the least of his concerns.

“If any of you are gonna be around, it would just be for the afternoon, a couple pictures and maybe some skating with the kids. There’s also one of those huge fancy cheques if you’re into showboating,” she tries to sell it, and earns a few affectionate snickers, but Nico knows these guys - while they’re generous people, and he loves them all, and knows they all love her, they’re exhausted, and have been waiting too long for a week of reprieve.

He kicks at the shin of whoever happens to be sat closest to him. Holtzy. Perfect. He knows he was planning to stay in Jersey. It earns him a glare, but it captures his attention enough so that Nico can level him with a stern look back.

“If anyone wants to do it, just swing by my office-,”

“I’ll do it,” Alex raises his hand after rolling his eyes and acquiescing to his captain, faking a smile Poppy’s way.

“Oh,” she doesn’t mask the surprise on her face, her lips parting in shock and eyes rounding in disbelief. She looks to Travis who just gives an approving nod in response.

And, only because he snickers in amusement, Nico kicks Dawson, too. He hasn’t sent him Poppy’s way yet, he’s overdue his turn, and it’s his own fault for laughing at Holtzy’s misfortune.

“Me too,” Dawson sighs, raising his hand as well and kicking back at Alex when he laughs in turn at him.

“That was easier than I thought, thank you guys, the kids will be over the moon with the two of you!”

Nico wishes he was the recipient of the smile she gives the both of them. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen her wear in recent weeks, and he can see the light reflect in sparkles in her eyes from all the way across the room.

That should hold him off for a bit - that little bit of warmth she gives. And sure, it isn’t directed his way, but he can settle with the fact that he’s technically the cause of it. Maybe when he’s down in Raleigh or Tampa he’ll see that smile instead of the other look etched into his recent memory.

“That’s all I’ve got, I’ll leave you guys to your meeting, thanks again!”

He watches her the whole way out, until the door swings closed behind her retreating figure, and his mind races with a surge of misplaced adrenaline for the rest of the debrief.

That’s most of the guys checked off his list, now.

Dawson and Alex are going to help her out with the hockey clinic, John and Nate have been making their way through the worlds worst dad jokes for the past two weeks to relay back to her, Jack is on drink duties, Timo on lunch, Curtis and Brendan are hopefully slowly thawing the ice with cute pictures of their kids. Jonas, Dougie, Haula, Dawsy, Pally - majority of the team have been recruited on his mission to keep her spirits up. Those who haven’t yet had a task are more than willing to play along.

All except one.

His attention drifts over to a mop of curly hair a few rows down, slumped in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, and though he can’t see his face from where he’s sat, Nico imagines it bears the same angered frown it had when he’d checked him on the ice, earlier.

Luke is pissed, even as distracted as Nico has been lately, that much is obvious, and he needs to get him on side if he has a chance of ever fixing things with Poppy.

He had underestimated their relationship, when he’d given it some thought, before. When they had been talking about Poppy that one time on the flight back from the Capitals game, and Luke had suggested she had deeper feelings than Nico had ever previously considered.

He had assumed because he’s never seen them together much, that they weren’t as close as Poppy and Jack seem to be, but he knows now he was wrong.

Luke can be reserved to most, cast in the ever present shadow of his older brothers and held to unfair standards, but he is quietly observant, Nico has noticed, and he clearly sees more of Poppy than he lets on.

He knows Luke is protective over her, that he cares more than he’ll probably ever say.

He hadn’t overshared something she wouldn’t have been comfortable with when they’d had that initial conversation about him and Poppy pretending not to be into each other. He had told Nico to talk to her, had called him out on suppressing his feelings for her and pushed him to take action.

And when he had encountered Nico with Talia in the elevator back in their apartment building, he had been disappointed.

Jack had been awkward, and evasive, but Luke had a clenched jaw and a purposely avoidant gaze.

He thinks he gets it.

Luke had encouraged Nico to pursue Poppy, and in his pursuit, Nico had ended up hurting her.

As much as he definitely blames his captain, Luke also blames himself, and Nico of all people knows how frustrating that can be.

When Travis calls time on the meeting, and the group disperse, Nico rushes down the steps as the boys flood out of the room and catches up to Luke with hastened steps.

“I need to talk to you,” Nico falls in line beside him, a hand clapped authoritatively on his upper back to guide him off his path and toward the locker rooms.

“Can it wait? I’m hungry,” Luke huffs, trying to resist the rerouting but falling victim to one of Nico’s infamous glares.

“Don’t make me pull rank,” he sighs as he yanks the heavy door open, his free hand gesturing for him to enter while the one on his back gives a light shove, “In.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the check earlier, it was a dick move, I didn’t mean it,” Luke starts as Nico follows him into the otherwise empty room, closing the door behind him and gesturing for Luke to take a seat.

“Come on, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” Nico scoffs, “You’re pissed at me. You have been since you saw me with Talia back in our building, but you’ve got the wrong idea,”

“Your personal life is none of my business,” Luke says like it’s something he’s been taught, something he’s rehearsed, and there isn’t a doubt in Nico’s mind that he and Poppy have been the topic of conversation in the Hughes household since the day he had run into them, maybe even before. Jack has been avoiding the topic like he’d never seen it happen, giving Nico a breather where he had initially thought he would call him out - but it’s becoming increasingly clear that Luke is the actual confrontational one of the two of them.

“If you have something to say to me, I’d rather you just come out with it than check me in a practice game, Hughes.” Nico sighs, leaning against the door to block Luke’s path out and staring him down until he relents. He has never thought he would be thankful for someone checking him before, especially not in a practice game, but the minor hit has given him the perfect opportunity to clear the air.

“Fine. I don’t like how you treated Poppy,” he says, plainly, “She’s supposed to be your friend, you don’t do that to someone you care about.”

“Carry on.” Nico thinks a part of him is urging Luke to argue because Poppy won’t, and he needs to have someone he can vent to - even if it’s someone who won’t side with him. He probably prefers it that way, ever the glutton for punishment.

“If you didn’t like her the same way, you shouldn’t have led her on, she deserves better than that.”

“I agree.”

“And she-,” his eyes narrow, “You agree?”

“I didn’t break things off because I don’t like her the same way, I did it because I do,”

“I hope you understand how stupid that sounds.” Luke rolls his eyes as he throws himself into his cubby, running a hand through his curls in frustration.

“I know it might not make sense, but I’m trying to do what’s right. She deserves someone who can give her one hundred percent of themselves, who isn’t away all the time and isn’t constantly stressed out of their mind or too tired to function.” He finds himself relaying Talia’s exact sentiments, and the memory of that particular conversation makes his stomach churn.

“I care about her too much to end up being the guy who can’t make her happy. I know you of all people understand that to some extent, Luke.” It’s one of the few flaws of making it to the elite level of their sport - the lack of balance between their career and their personal entanglements. They’ve both spent their lives wanting nothing but to win and succeed, and it’s always going to be difficult to come to terms with, but the cold, hard truth is that they can’t have everything without paying the price for it. Something will have to give, and it would be an injustice for that something to be Poppy. “It wouldn’t be fair to her to start something that I can’t put my all into. So, I agree, she deserves better.”

“You know what else she deserves, Nico?” Luke stands from his point on the bench, the inch between them seeming more than it really is when he’s dishing out home truths like punches to the gut. “She deserves to make her own decisions. She deserves for you to be honest with her and not let your ego get in the way of what she might want.”

There it is again. Luke letting on that he knows something he doesn’t about Poppy. Unease spreads throughout his every nerve ending.

He’s always been the one who knows Poppy. Who understands her. Who gets how she thinks and grasps how she feels.

Luke might think he does, but he doesn’t. Not like Nico.

Nico, who can’t quite fathom how he’s ended up being schooled on how to treat a woman by a 20 year old. By Luke.

“It isn’t ego,” he mutters in denial, but it’s no use. Luke is scarily prompt to retort - especially when it comes to defending Poppy, Nico knows by now. It would be endearing if it didn’t frustrate him to no end.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’re so afraid to fail with her that you won’t even try.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” He knows again that’s a pathetic excuse. Poppy had called him out on it, herself. But surely the hurt now is nothing in comparison to the hurt that could be.

The hurt that comes with the demise of an actual relationship. Of building and building and building something, putting in years of tiresome efforts only for it to be demolished just as the final brick is laid. Of the ever-growing love between the two of them wilting into something sad and lifeless.

He can take the silent treatment. He can take the avoidance.

He won’t be able to handle that.

“How’s that going for you?”

Luke isn’t trying to be mean, he knows that, but it doesn’t lessen the sharpness of his words - the truth digging into the most sensitive parts of Nico’s skin so deep that he feels like he’s bleeding out.

Nico sits down himself, no longer blocking the exit and allowing for Luke to leave of his own accord - only, the younger boy sits beside him, heaving out a prologued sigh and giving his captain a friendly pat on his leg.

“Just give her time, she’ll come around, and then the two of you can talk. And when you do, you owe it to her to be open about what you both want. If you can promise me you won’t do anything else to hurt her, I’ll promise you to stop checking you in practice.”

“Sounds fair,” Nico agrees, mustering up a weak smile to give to the younger defensemen before Luke stands up. “Sorry for cornering you.”

“You’re fine, I was being an idiot.” Luke shrugs, making his way over to the door, and only because he clearly can’t help himself, he stops before leaving. “You see how easy that was to admit?”

Nico usually has better aim, and he blames Luke’s speedy departure for the way the pad he throws hits the wall with a soft whack.

Frustration is a feeling Nico doesn’t think he has ever been as familiar with as he has been lately.

He’s frustrated as a player - the team unable to keep a winning streak to save their lives, having lost both of their games on the road last week and the mentality of the locker room dwindling with every week that passes that they don’t keep their momentum going.

Frustrated as a captain, specifically for the teammates they keep dropping to injury. Jack, Timo, Eric, Pally all dipping in and out with scratches, the roster dwindling with every passing game.

Frustrated as a friend, guilt building every time he thinks about Jack becoming more reserved in the days leading up to the All Star break, his shoulder putting him out of contention to play and the team having to send Jesper as their representative in his place.

And, it goes without saying, frustrated when it comes to Poppy - who he had hoped would be in attendance when he had elected himself to take Jesper’s place at the signing and Q&A session he had scheduled at the end of the week. When he had come all the way out to the Rock and sought her out in the Foundation offices after volunteering, he had found out she had been off sick since that day in the auditorium, so his frustrations had crescendoed to an all time high.

Even his parents being back in town hasn’t helped - his mother more observant than he likes to think, and she has been pecking away at any attempts of a cool exterior with more questions than he thinks he’s going to be on the receiving end of at this Q&A.

Nico has never been one to complain about any kind of community event, but the thought of having to spend all day plastering on a fake smile and pretending he isn’t at his boiling point is proving to be difficult.

So, when Jessica, the media admin who had been debriefing him on what was going to be posted on the team socials, had finally finished and had left to liaise with one of her colleagues, he had sent his mother, Katja, away to grab him a drink before the signing started.

He just needs a moment of quiet. Where he can self-level the anxiety that is currently crushing him like a bug, take some deep breaths, and mentally prepare for the overwhelming social interactions he is about to endure.

He wishes Poppy could be there.

He had tried texting her, just to check on her, but again, she hadn’t replied, and the thoughts have been swirling into something ugly within him the longer he has gone not knowing where or how she is.

Is she actually even sick, or is this just another attempt to stay out of his way?

The breathing clearly isn’t working, he thinks. Maybe walking might help.

Or maybe walking straight into the front of the girl who is the cause of all his frustrations might help.

As soon as he sees her, he feels guilt prick at his nerves like continuous, thick needles pushing into the flesh.

When he thinks back on the weeks before, he doesn’t entirely know if he had wanted her to look worse for wear, but as he takes her in now, he realises he hadn’t.

This is the furthest thing from what he had wanted for her.

Poppy stands before him a paler version of herself - eyes sunken, lips chapped, a slight sheen to her forehead that has caused the baby hairs around there to curl up and stick to her skin.

Her boss Elaine had said she was sick and he had selfishly spiralled into the assumption it was just another attempt to avoid any contact him, but now his chest feels heavy with a mixture of shame and worry.

She takes a moment too long to gather herself after their initial collision, and his words feel heavy in his mouth as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse, and the way she blinks up at him is slow and fatigued.

“What are you doing here? You don’t look like you should be working.”

“I’m fine.” She definitely doesn’t sound fine. “Where’s Jesper?

“Bratter went to Toronto to take Jack’s place in the All Stars, they didn’t tell you?” It hadn’t been a last minute decision, so he isn’t sure how she wouldn’t know already.

“Oh,” she frowns, and if he wasn’t so worried, he’d find it cute how she looks like she’s trying to recall a memory where that information had been relayed to her. “Yeah, I think they did. They didn’t tell me who’s replacing him, though.”

“That would be me.” He doesn’t point out that it should be obvious.

“That seems like overkill.” There’s a hint of familiarity that he feels at the quip, and Nico doesn’t know if she’s trying to crack a joke or trying to be rude - he doesn’t care, either way. When he notices her squinting against the light, he subtly shifts until she’s no longer facing it directly.

“I volunteered.” He admits, and he watches as realisation sinks in. He volunteered just to be near her, and if she calls him out on it, he’s in no fit state to deny it. Of course he did, she has barely spoken to him in almost 4 weeks, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s losing his mind a little. “I was hoping we could talk after,”

“Nico,” she sighs, touching her palm to her temple and seemingly applying pressure, pinching her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through a wave of what looks like disorientation, “I really can’t deal with this today,”

“I miss you, Poppy,” he hums, and he knows it’s an asshole move, to take advantage of the current situation, of her being sick and having lowered her defences, but he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t take the opportunity to touch her. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, strokes a thumb softly at her cheek, and tries not to think too much about the way she seems to lean into it. “I’m worried about you.”

“You’re supposed to be giving me space.” She sounds defeated, and there’s a selfish part of him that hopes she is - that she is relenting to his advances and giving in - but he knows Poppy too well to assume it’s going to be that easy.

He doesn’t even like to think about how much he has hurt her. When images of that evening flash through his memory - when he closes his eyes and sees her teary ones looking back at him, can hear how she’d fought for him to listen, to figure things out together - his chest aches in a way he doesn’t think it has before. It’s relentless, and excruciating, and he hasn’t yet found a coping mechanism that gets rid of it.

Except for seeing her. When he sees her, it lessens. When he hears her laugh from around a corner, or spots her in the halls at The Rock, talking with her co-workers or perusing one of the vending machines, he can pretend he’s okay. He can pretend that they’re just not talking because they’re both busy - not because he monumentally messed everything up with her.

And now, talking directly to her, touching her, seeing her up close - despite the difference in her usually bright complexion - he can convince himself of the same. Things are okay. They’re okay.

“I also said I still wanted to be friends.” He tries, his hand still cupping the side of her face before she shakes him off.

“Except that we’re only friends when it suits you.” She accuses with a frown, a little energy seeming to flood back into her system. “And when it doesn’t, you just toss me off to the side like I mean nothing to you.”

“That’s not true, I-,”

“I really don’t feel well enough to be having this conversation right now.”

“Then when? Every time I see you, you can’t get away fast enough. We work together, we have to see each other, you can’t avoid me forever.” He knows he doesn’t deserve to rush her. He knows he has no right to be making any kind of demands, and that the situation they’re in is entirely his doing, but he can’t help himself.

He’s frustrated.

He’s desperate.

He had thought he could give her the patience she deserves - the space she needs - but it has been proving immensely difficult, and he just wants her back.

In whatever capacity she’s willing to offer, he’ll take it - as long as her eyes meet his for longer than a second at a time and he gets to be on the receiving end of one of her heart-stopping smiles, he’ll take it.

Even if they can’t be what they were. If the texts cease, the dinners together stop, the drives home from the Rock aren’t on the table anymore - he just wants to know there’s still love between them. That when she looks at him she doesn’t only feel the crippling hurt he fears he has caused her.

“You had no problem shutting me out the last time,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at him, “It should be like second nature for you to ignore me again.”

“That isn’t fair, it’s not the same-,”

“Poppy!”

Nico has always loved the way his mother is enamoured by Poppy.

The first time they had met, she’d been besotted with her. It had been during Poppy’s first year with the team - his parents had come out quite late in the season, late enough that he hadn’t seen them in a while since the summer, and he was anticipating their arrival with child-like excitement.

Their flight into Newark had been delayed, and with them coming out on a game day, he was shut in the locker room by the time they had arrived, and he had asked Poppy for his biggest favour yet in the course of their friendship.

She had agreed to it no questions asked, no favour held over him in return, and she had pretty much hosted the two of them from their arrival at the Prudential Center to when the arena had emptied.

When Nico had reunited with his parents in the family lounge, Poppy had still been with them, waiting until she saw them off into their son’s company before leaving them alone, and he had never been more grateful to someone in his life.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he had apologised as he embraced his father, a firm clap coming down on his back as his arms wrapped around him, and he had smiled at Poppy over his shoulder. “Did you guys enjoy the game?”

“Of course we did, we had the best company in all of New Jersey,” his mother had her own arm around his best friend, Poppy’s cheeks flushing as she smiled bashfully back at him.

Nico had kissed his mom on the cheek and had given her a side hug with the arm not around Poppy before he moved his attention to his friend.

“Thank you for looking after them,” he beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her once his mother had released and giving her a little squeeze. “I owe you,”

“That’s alright. Your dad got a little rowdy in the second period, but other than that they weren’t too much trouble,” Poppy had shrugged, a mischievous smirk cast toward his father who gave a humoured scoff in return.

“You were yelling louder than me, Poppy,” he remarked, his accent thick and his tone fond. “Katja tell him.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nico chuckled, shaking his head toward his mom as she opened her mouth ready to pick a side, “I believe him, she gets creative when it comes to calling out the refs, I’ve heard it before.”

“Sorry for being passionate about my team,” she had pouted, “I’ll just sit in silence while you all get high-sticked to holy heaven next time.”

Nico had felt warmth wash all over him when he heard his dad’s loud cackle of a laugh - the kind he gave over family game nights when Nina outsmarted both her brothers, and they would turn to their father for some kind of defence, the kind of laughter filled with familiarity and affection - and had seen his mother’s crinkling eyes and dimpled smile.

“Do you need a ride home?” He had asked, swallowing down the attraction that was spiralling within him before it was too obvious to ignore. They had rode in together that morning, and he would usually drive her home if that was the case, but he had also promised his parents he would treat them to a nice meal after their long flight in.

“I’m alright, I can hitch a ride with one of the other boys,” Poppy declined, “You guys enjoy your dinner, it was really nice to meet you.”

“Nonsense,” Katja had exclaimed, a hand on Poppy’s arm as she moved to hug her goodbye, “Come with us, Nico can drop you home after,”

“We’ve been dying to hear someone tell us all of Nico’s secrets about his life over here.” Rino had joined in, egging Poppy on until she couldn’t say no.

When she had looked over to Nico, he hadn’t realised she was silently asking for his permission, too busy looking at her with a dopey grin on his face before he pulled himself together enough to nod his approval.

“Okay, yeah, thank you,” Poppy had agreed, “I just have to grab my bag from the office, I could meet you at your car in five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in five.”

Nico had watched her go off as his mother looped her arm through his, leaning into him and watching Poppy until she disappeared through the far doors.

“I like her,” Katja had a big, complimentary grin on her face when Nico looked down a little at her - and despite slipping into their native tongue, Nico had thought it would be obvious to anyone listening in what they were talking about just from the look on his mother’s face.

“Yeah, she’s great,” He had concurred, shaking her off his arm so that he could wrap it around her shoulders as they walked, and in a true show of his denial at the time, he had added, “A really good friend.”

He still remembers the sound of his mother’s knowing hum, that interaction between the four of them a catalyst for the feelings he had for the longest time suppressed.

Weeks ago, Poppy had asked him the last time he had wanted to kiss her. He’d told her about a night in a bar after the team had crashed out of the playoffs last year. A night where, in all the anguish and misery and regret, she had made him feel like he could breathe again. It was the last time he had felt overwhelmed by the urge to take the leap into something more with her.

The first time had been that night with his parents, when he’d dropped her back at her apartment after an evening of them oversharing embarrassing childhood anecdotes and Poppy sharing her own stories - ones she had of her favourite memories with Nico, and even ones without, letting his mom and dad into the strongroom that was her life before she met their son.

Looking back, he thinks that night truly would have been a catalyst for his blossoming affections if he didn’t feel the watchful gaze of his parents waiting in his car while he made sure Poppy got inside safe.

He would have kissed her, he knows it.

Instead, he had returned to the driver’s seat and tried to ignore the smug grin his mother kept sending through the rearview mirror from her place in the back seat the whole journey to their hotel.

In the years since, her affections for Poppy have only grown, and so he should have expected that she would get excited the second she saw her - he only wishes her timing was better.

“Hi, Mrs Hischier” Poppy smiles despite her discomfort, the apples of her cheeks rounding and endearment sparkling in her previously dull eyes. The energy she gives to his mother is a stark contrast to that she had just been giving to Nico. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s Katja, sweet girl, it’s clearly been too long since we have spoken!” His mother’s arms wrap around her, and he watches as Poppy’s body seems to melt at the touch, tense muscles relaxing and hand rubbing at her back. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look too good, are you feeling okay?”

She presses the back of her hand to Poppy’s clammy forehead as Nico remembers her doing so often to him as a child, gauging her temperature and casting a concerned glance over her from head to toe.

“I’m alright, I’ve just been off sick the past week, I still probably look a little like a zombie,” Poppy chuckles, dismissively, still maintaining an eyre of warmth in the way she looks at his mother.

“Not at all, as pretty as ever, isn’t she, Nico?” His mom nudges him as if he needs any prompting to compliment her.

“Yeah,” he agrees without hesitation, and he starts to feel palpitations when her eyes glance quickly over to meet his before darting away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Poppy huffs, and he doesn’t entirely know who she meant that for. “Did you and Rino enjoy your trip to Canada?”

Nico doesn’t know why he finds himself surprised by the way Poppy effortlessly recollects the information - a throwaway comment he had made to her in the back of that bar all those weeks ago of his parent’s whereabouts. Poppy remembers because she cares. She has always cared. Always listened to what he has to say, even if he thinks it’s irrelevant, and has always shown interest.

He finds himself watching her as she catches up with his mother, giving tired smiles but engaging nonetheless, the conversation flowing between the two of them just as effortlessly as it had on the day they had met - where they had conversed over dinner like they had known each other for years, and Nico had blushed every time he met his mother’s eyes from across the table.

He remembers his birthday dinner with his family at the beginning of the month, where he had sat in mostly-silence and wished for her company, and he starts to wonder if it’s always going to be like that, from now on.

If he’s always going to be longing for her. If he’s always going to feel like something’s missing if she isn’t around.

“I should go,” he hears her say, “I have to check some of the questions with the moderator and they’ll be opening the doors for the signing, soon.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” his mom presses a comforting hand to Poppy’s arm, thumb rubbing in a soothing gesture before they part with goodbyes and a promise to catch up, properly, at some point.

Nico doesn’t miss the way she hadn’t given him the same courtesy. And neither does his mother.

Her eyes narrow in his direction, and just as her lips part to no doubt call him out, a figure comes up beside them,

“They’re ready to start the signing if you are, Nico.” Jessica’s unusually perky voice rings out beside him, and he’s never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.

He hasn’t seen that disappointed glint in his mother’s eyes since he’d told her he was bringing a girlfriend home to meet her at the end of last summer, and had shown up to the house with Talia in tow.

Poppy

As backwards as it might seem to some people, the only part of Poppy’s life where she is able to seek complete solace in recent years has always been in her work.

When she had first gotten her job within the organisation - a co-op internship that covered her final year of college - she had been almost overwhelmed with pride for the first time in her life. She had always been a good student, had got into college of her own merit and hadn’t used family connections like she suspected her brother had done, and she had worked her butt off to prep for the application and interview.

And when she’d gotten the call to tell her they wanted her on the team, she had been over the moon.

She’d gotten along so well with the people she had met in the team so far, had loved their ethos and the environment at the Rock, and she couldn’t wait to build something great for herself when she got started.

She had immediately called home after accepting the position, buzzing with excitement to tell her father that she of all the alleged thousands of applicants had been accepted to work on the media programme for the New Jersey Devils, a respected establishment in one of the biggest sporting leagues in the country. She had expected he would be proud of her, too, but he had ended up heaving out a disappointed sigh, and she could hear him fold up his paper in the background before he had asked, “Hockey, Poppy? Really? What kind of success do you expect to find in such a barbaric environment?”

As much as his disapproval had hurt at that time, she credits her father’s aloofness with her happiness in her role to this day.

It turns out, she can find a lot of success in a barbaric environment if she puts enough of her heart into it.

Even back in her media days, acting as a lackey for some of the more senior guys and trudging through those first few months of hazing, she had loved her job.

Sharing insights into the team and the sport, determined to break any stigma associated with the guys who played it and all while highlighting the way it brought pride and community to her home state, she left the building every day with a pep in her step and a giant grin on her face.

And it only got bigger when she was recruited onto the Youth Foundation team. The projects she has worked on, the people she has met, the incredible things they have all achieved together - she doesn’t think she could have gotten any luckier with her career - despite what her judgemental, uppity parents think of it.

So, when things get hard elsewhere - when she spends a little too much time with her family and goes a little stir crazy, or when she gets her heart broken by the one guy she had trusted to handle it with care, and ends up fixating on the possibility of him rekindling things with a woman he had told Poppy didn’t make him happy - she resorts to her factory settings of knuckling down and putting her work first.

Which is how, in the weeks since Nico had left her apartment that horrific night, she has attached her name to every project she can pick up. She has accepted every meeting, answered every call, returned every email, all with a smile she had felt like she was forcing at first, but has started to feel real as time has gone one.

And she thinks it’s working.

She doesn’t dread coming into the Arena - doesn’t pace the length of her office to prepare herself every time she needs to leave it, doesn’t hold her breath as she turns the corners in anticipation of seeing him, doesn’t wince every time someone knocks on her door until they pop their head in and reveal themselves.

Poppy has well and truly immersed herself in her work, and she can’t even feel the rattling of the shattered pieces of her heart anymore.

She’s too consumed with other stuff. With hockey clinics, planning fundraisers, local rink openings, development programmes, the Sweep The Deck gala, mentoring sessions, preparations for the Stadium Series in the next month.

She should be exhausted.

If she actually gives herself the brain power to think about anything other than work for a second, she probably would be - but she’s turned into a hammerhead shark of sorts, and she knows she’ll suffocate in all the other feelings if she stops swimming.

If she gives even a second of her time to the constant urge to think about Nico, she’ll drown in him. In the hurt and the ache she feels when he’s even in the same room.

She has taken to pretending he isn’t there. To looking at others, immersing herself too deep in conversations that he won’t dare to interrupt, and she is actually satisfied with how she’s managed to hold herself together when it comes to the rest of the guys.

When the season had started last year, and Poppy had been avoiding Nico for the other reason over the course of those months, she had pretty much locked herself in her office during work hours, and had stayed home outside of them. She didn’t go to games, didn’t go to team events that she wasn’t working, didn’t attend birthdays or dinners or celebration trips to whatever bar could accommodate the whole team for the night. She had had stopped engaging as much with the other guys - Jack had even taken to calling her a recluse if she remembers correctly - and she’s determined not to let this mess get in the way of the great relationships she has with the rest of the guys.

If not for the fact that it would be petulant for her to take out her frustrations regarding their captain with them, then for the fact that she needs the companionship.

She needs it so much that she doesn’t run from it, or even pretend like she doesn’t like their company.

Weeks ago, if she had been coming up from the parking level with Nate Bastian, and he had tried to crack the joke, “Hey, Poppy, why are elevator jokes the best kind? Because they work on many levels,” she honestly would have scoffed and called him lame. But she had felt her lips twitching earlier in the day, and had let him boast about how he had made her smile as they walked together through the building to anyone they passed without even denying it.

The guys have been doing more for her mentality than she can ever thank them for - holding her up while her every instinct is telling her to crumble - and she couldn’t be more grateful to be a part of such a great team.

The Hughes brothers, especially. Luke, who texts her his every rambling thought sandwiched between memes and links to Tiktoks about giraffes, because he knows they make her smile. And Jack, who, despite being out of play with his shoulder, still, checks in with her every day he comes in, a drink in hand when she needs a pick me up the most, and an ever growing list of ridiculous names to call her.

His continued visits have made her grow less weary of the knocks at her door, and so when one echoes through the room as she’s replying to some emails, she doesn’t feel the stutter of her heartbeat like she would have done last week.

“Hey, Pop,” he pokes his head into her office, fingers flexed around the door jamb as he edges his way in, empty handed, this time, but Poppy can’t hold it against him. Her day is almost finished, after all.

“What, no stupid nickname today? Did I upset you or something?” She pauses typing as she looks up at him, watching him close the door behind himself as he takes her lighthearted tone as an invitation inside.

“I did have a joke lined up about Snap and Crackle, but you’ve ruined it now actually,” he rolls his eyes playfully, throwing himself down in the chair opposite hers and flicking affectionately at his bobblehead.

“Sorry,” Poppy gives a quick, bashful smile before going back to her work, tapping away at her noisy keyboard as she works her way through her inbox, “What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you’d seen Luke?”

“Not today, he doesn’t usually make a habit of coming down here though. Did he say he was gonna stop by?”

“Not exactly.” Jack frowns, a slight shrug of his better shoulder.

Poppy casts a confused glance his way, eyes narrowing as she watches him fidget in the seat. “Do you guys think the y chromosome is meant to get you out of ever giving a straight answer to something? What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Well, Dawsy said he’d seen him with Nico, and lately that means,” he looks as if he’s weighing up what to say in his head, and Poppy wishes the lower part of her desk didn’t block her legs from his so she could give him a quick kick to the shin, “Well, people usually come straight here after Nico pulls them to talk.”

She sighs.

She had figured as much, but the confirmation of it doesn’t make her heart ache any less.

She’d had her first suspicions when Smitty had shown her every picture she thinks he’s ever taken of his kids the other day. He’d sat beside her in the lounge while the team and staff had been waiting for some sort of safety meeting - one she hadn’t even got to focus much on because he had talked her ear off for almost an hour until he was finally pulled away for some other responsibilities.

And then Jonas had come by her office - something he had literally never done before. He had found Poppy working on a project, brainstorming with post-its on her cleared floor, and had waited around until she had finished - chipping in little ideas here and there for a presentation on the Learn To Play programme and using his 6’2 stature to take an aerial photo of all her sticky notes that Poppy never would have been able to get right, enabling her to clean them away and tidy up after herself before she finished for that day. It wasn’t that she minded his company, he’d actually been a massive help, but she had this nagging feeling that he would never come see her of his own volition.

Then there was Holtzy and Dawson volunteering for the hockey clinic in the debrief earlier like they were being held at gunpoint and forced into labour.

Nico has put them all up to it.

Even when he’s giving her space, he can’t leave her be.

“So what you’re saying is he’s abusing his position of power to get you all to come talk to me,”

“I don’t know if I’d phrase it like that,” Jack scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, and she only feels a slight pinch of guilt. She knows he had a habit of coming to see her before all of this, but his visits have definitely increased over the past few weeks - so, he isn’t entirely innocent, either. “Maybe he misses you?”

“Maybe he should have thought about that,” she mutters, leaning onto her desk and pressing her palms into her closed eyes to relieve the headache that’s starting to build.

Distracting herself with work had been going so well.

“You know we can’t talk about this, Jack,” she sighs, “He’s your captain, it’s not fair of me to vent about our situation to you of all people.”

“Ouch,”

“You know what I mean. If it was anybody else, I’d come to you for advice, but you guys are a team, I’m just-,”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Poppy,” Jack rebukes, sitting up straight in his chair and levelling her with a stern look, “You’re our friend. Even if Nico is asking the others to check up on you, they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t care about you. None of us want a repeat of the start of the season, okay, we just want to know you’re alright.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Poppy gives a weak smile, the kind that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “I just don’t want anybody taking sides, I know Luke’s been off with him about the whole thing,”

“That’s probably where he is now,” Jack realises, “He did get a little rough in practice before.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she says, knowing Luke and Nico had a collision earlier that had been the talk of the office all morning. “Look, I love you guys for it, but I don’t need babysitters. I just wanna move on. And you can tell Nico that, the next time he tries to force you out here with.another iced beverage just to keep me company or whatever.”

“Well, they go on the road tomorrow, so you should get some peace and quiet around here.” Jack still seems solemn at the thought of the team travelling anywhere without him, but she has tried one too many times to talk to him about it and, every time, he has shut her down. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and if she’s making a point of not wanting to be pushed on a subject, she isn’t going to do the same to him, even if her instincts are telling her to wrap the guy up in a bear hug and tell him everything will be okay. “I’ll leave you to your work, anyway, I’ll be around until the weekend if you need me, Pop. I promise I would be bringing you drinks even if he wasn’t asking me to.”

He pushes himself up from the seat with his good side before retreating back towards the door, and Poppy can’t let him go without at least attempting to cheer him up. He never usually leaves this quick, always finds some reason to hover and affectionately irritate her just a little - but she can tell he’s done figuring out reasons to linger around the arena for the day.

“I would have laughed, by the way,” she calls out to him, causing him to pause half way out and look back, a questioning brow arched her way. “Snap, Crackle and Pop would have been a good one, it’s funny.”

“They’re all funny, Poppy.”

She really is losing her mind.

As if the universe is playing some gigantic, cruel joke on her, Poppy’s promised peace and quiet while the team have gone on the road has turned into her shut in her apartment with every single curtain drawn, wrapped up under a mountain of covers to combat the shivers, and a leg poking out of them to alleviate the hot flushes - all while battling the most crippling waves of nausea she has ever experienced in all of her adult life.

She had gone home from work on Wednesday and had invited Nia around, hoping her best friend’s anger around the Nico situation had dwindled enough that she wasn’t going to harp on about it all night, and they could enjoy some movies and dirty takeout like they were back in college without Poppy having to even think about anything else.

Uptown Girls had been playing on the TV, empty containers of Korean Hot Pot had littered her coffee table, and Nia had fallen asleep sprawled out across the couch when Poppy had first started to feel off.

She had been watching Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning swirling around in the teacup ride, and had started to feel like her own living room was spinning.

She had barely made it to her bathroom before she was puking her guts up, waking Nia in the process who had spent the next hour holding her hair back before she tucked her into bed.

Poppy had called in to work the next morning. She had missed even watching the game against Carolina, could barely remember a solid half an hour of consciousness between that Wednesday night and Saturday morning.

All she remembers is vomiting, Nia checking in after work, bringing an abundance of electrolyte drinks and trying to get her to eat before she had to leave again She recalls burning bagels she had forgot she had left in the toaster, vomiting again at the smell of the burned bagels, and having a series of the most absurdly vivid dreams she’s ever experienced in her life.

All of which had one common theme.

Nico.

Dreams where she’s swimming in a large, unidentifiable body of water. It’s cold, and she is exhausted, and her limbs ache from treading water and trying to stay afloat. It’s mostly dark, sometimes lit by the moon, the reflection of which shimmers in her path to something in the distance. And she’s stretching, reaching out, desperately kicking her legs to get to whatever it is until she realises it’s him, and he’s swimming away, making it a thousand times harder on her.

Dreams of her stood at the door of her apartment, the repeated knock on the other side echoing on and on as she scrambles to look for the keys to unlock it. It’s a pattern she thinks she recognises, a rhythmic knock that only he has used before, but she can’t get the door open with all her might, and her keys are nowhere to be seen.

Dreams of their fated night together, only this time it’s like she’s on the outside looking in, watches the two of them in the throes of passion, only when she takes a proper look, he isn’t into it like she is. Or there’s another version where she isn’t herself at all. She has much lighter hair, and mutters out profanities in German as Nico presses sweet kisses into her lips and cradles her face lovingly. She’s Talia, and he looks as happy as ever when she is.

Despite the almost 3 days of round the clock sleep, she has never felt so exhausted in her life.

When the nausea fades ever so slightly, and she gets enough strength in herself to get up - to eat, to drink, to function like a normal human being, she feels sluggish and weak, and like she hasn’t had a moment’s rest in months.

Nia had been checking in, surprisingly not sick herself even though Poppy assumes her bug came from the takeout they shared - but Nia is vegetarian, so she had thought that might have explained it. She had been making sure Poppy remained hydrated, and continued to eat despite the continuous waves of nausea that kept coming back. She had done her grocery shopping, stocking her refrigerator with a bunch of different juices and smoothies, and buying her a bunch of fresh fruit, some bread, some yoghurts, pasta, crackers, plain chips, all the things that would hopefully keep her energy up and her nausea down.

And it had taken her a week to recover to a point that she felt like she could work again. She probably shouldn’t have forced herself back when she wasn’t feeling, or looking, 100%, but she had become so used to using her job as a coping mechanism, that regaining the slightest bit of her energy had her spiralling a little mentally, and she couldn’t take being at home any longer.

She had known that Jesper had his Q&A event, and had to stop by the Rock to pick up some of her files before making her way over - but that trip had proved to be more trouble than it was worth, and she had ended up getting herself all mixed up when she had returned to her office and had ended up dry heaving in the bathrooms when she caught a mix of smells walking through the hallway on her way in.

She had wanted to get some prep work done - approve the questions, meet with the photographers, catch up with Jess from Media, but she had ended up hurled over the toilet bowl for a good hour until she felt somewhat better, and was in so much of a rush to get over to the event that all she had managed to do to pull herself together was throw her hair up and hope that chomping on a breath mint wouldn’t trigger her senses all over again.

She felt like she was fresh out of The Walking Dead.

She had to get an Uber over, had sat with her head out of the window like some kind of dog to alleviate the sweat that had broken out from her rushing around, and by the time she made it - she was so out of sorts she barely could remember why she was there.

And then she had bumped into Nico.

And she hates that she had felt a little better.

She hates that she found comfort in the fresh smell of his cologne, or the soft touch of his hand to her skin. She hates that the sound of his voice had quelled the rapid thumping of her heartbeat, and that it felt so good just to be in his presence, she had almost forgotten how much she had been hurt. How much he had hurt her.

She hates how she had felt obliged to pretend everything was okay in front of his mother, the sweetest woman on planet Earth embracing her like she was her own daughter, wrapping her up in a shroud of worry and sheer maternal instinct.

And she hates how all of those feelings have lingered throughout the afternoon. As she had watched him engage with his fans during his signing, big dimpled smiles sent to tiny children drowning in jerseys way too big for their small frames, and all adorning his number on the back. As she had watched Katja as the event unfolded, eyes sparkling with pride for her son and everything he has accomplished. As she’s stood and watched him answer questions she knows the answers to like she knows her own favourite food.

Where is your dream vacation destination?

He wants to visit Costa Rica.

What is your favourite sport outside of hockey?

He loves Tennis, loves Roger Federer, a real idol for him as a kid growing up in Switzerland, but also loves soccer, which he always says with an uncomfortable twist to his lips, because his father used to play.

What does he miss the most about home?

His family. His siblings. She probably knows more about Nina and Luca than she knows about Oliver, at this point.

“What’s your favourite thing to do in Jersey when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Uhh,” Poppy watches as Nico rolls his shoulders, his face pensive as he ponders the question, “It depends when we get time off. If the weathers nice, Jersey has some nice beaches, sometimes we go in a group and hang out,” he answers, and just before he carries on, his eyes flicker over to Poppy, meeting hers and holding her gaze until she looks away. “But if it’s when we’re playing I try to spend any downtime with friends. I have some really great friends here and I think that helps me destress a little, just being around them, going out for food and drinks and stuff. Some of my favourite people I have met while I’ve been living here.”

Poppy doesn’t dare look back up, her pulse throbbing in her temples.

“Well that’s a perfect segue into the next question, who’s your best friend on the team?”

She doesn’t stick around to listen to him skirt around that answer, pushing herself discretely through the doors back into the room that the signing had taken place in and busying herself packing up what she can without any help.

She needs to carry on working, needs to stop thinking, needs to stop feeling so many things. Needs to be somewhere else, where she can’t look at him, can’t admire the way the deep brown of his irises shine when he smiles, or how one of his eyebrows does that cute little hop when he speaks for a little too long, or how she thinks she can still feel his hand on her face even though it’s been at least a good couple of hours since they had spoken by now.

She doesn’t realise how quick she’s moving around until the room starts to spin, and she stumbles a little into a table before steadying herself on one of the chairs.

“Hey, Poppy, are you alright?” The words are spoken in an accent she’s always found comforting, only the voice is different. Softer. Feminine.

She looks up to see Nico’s mom moving closer, concern causing her eyes to go round and her brows to furrow, and the soft, gentle touch of her hand to Poppy’s arm has her stuttering in her response.

“Y-yeah,” she breathes, “Just got a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure, do you need to sit down?”

“I’m okay, honestly,” she smiles, despite the way Katja’s warm, caring eyes mirror those of her son and make Poppy’s chest ache just a little. “I haven’t really eaten much today, I just got a little lightheaded, I’ll be fine once we’re done here and I can go home and eat.”

“Here,” Katja reaches into her purse, digging around before she pulls out some sort of granola bar, “I got this for a snack on my flight and didn’t eat it, you can have it to keep you going.”

Poppy can hardly decline the motherly gesture, and takes the snack with a thank you before unwrapping it and taking a cautious bite. She probably isn’t doing herself any favours, the nausea creeping up when she chews on a bit of dried fruit, and the unexpected flavour immediately triggers her stomach. She’s been sticking to crackers and dry toast, and hasn’t really eaten anything sweet in a week - the combination of the fruit and the syrupy coating making her feel so uneasy she has to sit down.

“You’re still sick?” Katja sits beside her, watching over her in the way only a loving mother could, concern etched upon her beautiful features and a tilted head examining Poppy from head to toe.

“I usually shift bugs a lot quicker than this, but I think the not being able to eat and the exhaustion is making everything worse.”

“You aren’t sleeping, either?”

“Technically I might be sleeping too much.” Poppy takes another bite, trying to put her mind over the matter, knowing that it should actually make her feel well enough to get through the rest of the event to have something in her belly. “But I keep having these crazy dreams, and they’re so vivid that I don’t feel rested at all when I wake up, even if I got enough hours in. Then I just feel anxious and it makes me more tired.”

Katja nods understandingly, a knowing smile plucking at her lips until her cheeks dimple, just like Nico’s do. “How many weeks?”

“Have I been sick?” Poppy asks, too busy trying to ignore the sickly sweet flavour on her tongue to notice the woman sat beside her shaking her head, “Just last week. I think it was bad takeout or something, combined with work stress probably-,”

“How many weeks are you into your pregnancy, Poppy?” She chuckles, a gentle hand placed on Poppy’s lap. “You don’t have to pretend to me.”

“My-,” Poppy covers her mouth as she swallows a hardly-chewed bit of granola, “I’m not-,” she struggles a little with her words, cringing at the way she can feel it going down her throat, and clears it with an awkward cough when she can, “Pregnancy?”

“Oh Goodness, I’m sorry,” Katja’s eyes widen in alarm, the hand on Poppy’s knee squeezing apologetically, “I just thought, the dreams, the sickness, the exhaustion, that’s how it started for me with all 3 of my children.”

“Oh.” At least she isn’t the only person Nico has ever caused to have such torturous dreams, she thinks. “No, I’ve just had a bug, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna clear up,” she says, her voice much smaller as she continues to speak through trembling lips, continues to grow more unsure of her words as something akin to dread settles in the pit of her stomach. “And this is like the aftershocks of being sick, or something, one last hurrah for the germs.”

“Of course,” Katja nods, giving Poppy’s knee a comforting rub before placing her hands on her own lap, a sheepish look given as she makes eye contact, the same dark eyes she’s been dreaming about looking right at her. “I would never usually assume, I swear you don’t look it, it was just my first thought when you mentioned the sleep. It just took me right back, my pregnancies were all like that. Heavy sickness, exhaustion, even in my bones I felt tired, and the dreams were crazy, especially with Nico, it was like full movies playing out in my head every night for the whole 9 months.”

“I never knew that was a thing.” Poppy has obviously heard of morning sickness. She’s heard of expectant mothers being exhausted, their bodies worn out from the oh-so-minor task of creating life, but she hadn’t ever heard anyone talk about dreams being an indicator of pregnancy.

“Babies make your body do crazy things.” She gives a reminiscent chuckle, and Poppy notices her lose herself a little in the memory, warm eyes melting with the recollection. “But at least you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Right.” The empty swallow Poppy takes next hurts more than the granola had before, the scratch of the cereal a minor irritation in comparison to the lump currently forming there. “What other symptoms did you have?”

“At the start, food was my enemy. Rino used to have to make me smoothies to get all my vitamins in. You wouldn’t think with the appetite my boys had growing up that they would have made me fear eating so much, but it was bad. I always envied the women who just had a little morning sickness.”

Poppy feels her eyes well up - more so at the way Katja’s eyes glint with pride and love when she talks about her family than anything else. It’s beautiful. Even recalling how sick her babies had made her, Poppy can tell from the look on her face that her pregnancies brought her unadulterated joy.

She remembers when Oliver’s wife, Kimberley, had been pregnant with their first son. They had lived in Jersey, still, back then, and family dinners were a staple every Friday night. They were all sat around the dining table back at the Jensen house, and Kimberley, God bless her, had misguidedly asked Priscilla what her pregnancies were like.

“Hell.” Poppy’s mom had said, sipping at her wine and looking over the glass at Oliver with a measured glare. “He gave me uneven breasts and dry skin,”

“Mom,” Oliver had grunted in disgust, a protective hand reaching out to take hold of his wife’s.

“And she,” Priscilla gave an accusatory point in Poppy’s direction, “Gave me thin hair and postnatal depression. But she evened my breasts back out, so there’s a silver lining, I suppose.”

Kimberley hasn’t made the same mistake of seeking motherly advice since then.

“And Nina made me have super-human scent, I could smell things from floors away.”

Poppy can barely look at her anymore.

After she’d spoken to Nico when he’d turned up before, she could still smell him from across the room. And she hadn’t been able to step foot in the common area in her office when she’d dropped by to pick up her files earlier, thinking she could smell someone’s microwaved food and feeling like she was about to vomit. She has only been able to nibble at dry crackers all week just to avoid eating or smelling anything that would set her off.

But that’s the bug, right? She’s been sluggish, she’s been tired, running hot all week, and her body has constantly ached, especially-

“I should get all this stuff packed up,” Poppy shoots up from her seat, thankfully able to suppress the dizziness. “I think I feel better, thank you so much for keeping me company.”

She shouldn’t hope so much that she isn’t being rude, shouldn’t expect or want Katja to hold her to high esteem, but she finds herself cringing at her quick subject change, and caring a little too much that it will make her think less of her.

Her son doesn’t want her to be a part of his life in that way, Poppy thinks, so it shouldn’t matter what Katja feels about her. Not anymore.

“That’s okay, Poppy, thank you for listening to me reminisce. It was nice. Nico usually gets too embarrassed for me to talk about stuff like this.” Katja follows Poppy up, mirroring her to help her pack up the rest of the merchandise that hadn’t been bought or signed.

“I don’t think he could ever be embarrassed by you.” Poppy chuckles despite herself, defending him like it’s second nature, even though she knows Katja wasn’t trying to put him down in the first place. He’s her son, for crying out loud, Poppy thinks, she doesn’t need some random girl he works with acting like she knows him any better than his own mother. “He probably just doesn’t want to think about ever making you uncomfortable, even as a foetus or whatever.”

Katja gives that same knowing smile she had worn just before turning Poppy’s world upside down mere minutes ago. The smile that would be patronising on anyone else, but the warmth in her eyes holds nothing but understanding and appreciation.

“He’s a sweet boy,” she remarks, proudly, “I never thought of It like that."

“Yeah, you raised a gentleman for sure.” Poppy had considered that it would feel more like a lie when the thought had come to her head, but as the words leave her mouth, she finds comfort in them.

Despite how much he had hurt her, she still knows Nico’s heart. She knows he cares deeply, knows he is selfless and warm, and loves with everything in him. He just doesn’t love her - not how she wants him to, at least - but she can’t hold that against him forever.

The words weigh a little heavier when the situation dawns on her, but she tries not to get ahead of herself. Not again.

She can’t be pregnant. That’s insane.

And she can’t rack her brain trying to remember if either of them had protected themselves with his mom sat right in front of her, she knows for a fact she can’t suppress the heat that rises up her neck at the memory - she may as well wave a gigantic flag that reads Hey, I had sex with your son!

“We’re heading for dinner when he’s finished here, would you want to join us?” Katja asks, motherly concern etched upon her features, and Poppy’s heart warms at the gesture in spite of the panic rousing in her chest.

“That’s alright,” she shakes her head, guilt plucking slightly at her with the telling of the minute lie, “I have plans with another friend.”

“We’ll be going home next week, so there’s plenty of time to catch up, if you’re free at all.”

Poppy can’t help but relent with a soft smile, nodding at the suggestion without overthinking it. She��d accidentally gatecrashed a couple lunches Nico and Katja had together in some of her previous visits, and she was always so welcoming and kind - it would hardly be putting herself out if she were to do it again. “I’d like that,”

“If you’re busy, Nina and Rino will be over for the Stadium game, don’t let them convince you to come out when I’m not there.” She jests with a pointed finger, and Poppy finds herself laughing despite her nerves.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good girl.” Katja reaches out and pinches softly at Poppy’s cheek, “Make sure you keep drinking plenty, and eating too, even if you feel sick you should try make sure you’re keeping your energy up. Try soup with lots of vegetables and bread. You can make it in a big batch and freeze it.”

Poppy can’t remember the last time her own mother had cared about her like this - not without belittling her, at least. When she’d spoken to her mom last week, had told her she was off work sick and couldn’t come over at the weekend, she had heard her roll her eyes over the phone. She’d been told that this is where eating poorly gets her, and that if she was keeping on top of her supplements and vitamin shots, she wouldn’t be so prone to illness.

Even as a grown woman, with her own career, her own life, her own home, she still feels like a berated child when it comes to her mom.

Nico’s mom makes her feel child-like in an entirely different way. In a way that’s warm and comforting, a way that wouldn’t give her anxiety every time her name comes up on her phone.

“I will, thank you for looking out for me, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Katja.”

Kindness comes like a second nature to Katja - to all members of the Hischier family she has encountered thus far - and a pang of jealousy and longing hits her at the realisation that some people have just been raised around this level of benevolence their whole lives, and think nothing of it.

Though, she knows Nico appreciates it.

Katja departs back through the doors into the Q&A with a soft smile and an enthusiastic wave, and Poppy waits until they have closed properly before she retrieves her cellphone from her back pocket.

Frustrated at the way it refuses to identify her face, she prods her fingers into the screen, typing in her passcode and swiping until she finds her calendar app.

She knows she had an appointment scheduled in December with her gynaecologist. She had been in the middle of trialling a new contraception back in October - a sticky patch that had made her bleed continuously for 3 weeks and turned her into a raging nightmare to be around - and had stopped using it despite the 6 week recommendation she had been given, figuring she’d just wait out the rough periods until her next time she was booked in and speak to the doctor about it. But she’d been so busy in the back end of last year, she doesn’t remember how long it’s been since she stopped.

Her eyes widen when she locates the appointment, clicking into the date, December 15th and reading the notes she left in there.

NEED TO RESCHEDULE!!!! busy w/ work, gynae breaks 4 xmas 22nd, comes back Jan 2nd.

She remembers the phone call as soon as she reads it. She had cancelled instead of rescheduling, knowing she was picking up extra work and would be busy until pretty much after the Christmas break. She was supposed to call in the new year. She’d gotten distracted. She hadn’t thought it was an emergency, it wasn’t like she thought she would need it for contraceptive purposes. And her periods hadn’t even been that bad since she stopped using it. Light flow, 21 day cycle, barely any cramps. She’d even been keeping a track of it, herself. She had nothing to worry about, which is probably why she hadn’t remembered to book herself back in. Hadn’t thought to start taking any other birth control in the meantime.

Her Cycle app is the next stop, flicking through the dates until she realises she was on her period after Christmas, and that the 10 or so days after that had ended were marked another colour, given another meaning.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears.

No, no, no.

This isn’t happening.

She’s jumping to conclusions.

It’s just a sickness bug from the takeout.

The dreams are just her broken heart playing tricks on her.

She isn’t pregnant.

She can’t be pregnant.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

#nico hischier #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier imagine #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier fanfiction #*writing #*oys #ok very happy I got this up like I said before very very busy with work next week #I don't want to say I won't be able to get anything up but I will be honestly surprised if I do #I will do my very best not to make yous wait tho because while I appreciate it's very obviously in the description of this fic #it's kind of left on a cliffhanger lmao #when I say not proofread I mean I typed the last word on this 10 seconds ago #to prove a point I would have this up at 4am lmao it's 4:16

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star2fishmeg · 25 days

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ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ 'ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

[30.2k] Pairing | Jack Hughes x afab!reader Summary | how does one guy go from wanting everything to do with someone, to nothing at all? Jack didn’t know what he wanted until he started losing to Trevor, but maybe that was a good thing. Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to lovers, angst, jealousy, fluff, swearing, grumpy x sunshine-ish, underage drinking, mention of mildly-dysfunctional family, hickeys, backshots, mild choking, masturbation implication, praise kink, hair pulling, making out, protected p in v, pet names (angel, sweetheart) Authors Note | this is my first Jack fic please bear with🫶. Another slow burn, sorry. This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ the spins - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]

Jack's heart stopped and he gulped. Never in his thirteen years of living had he come face to face with someone whose stare was more bone-shaking than his older brother, Quinn's. He'd never felt apprehensive about someone else, hockey eliminated that the moment he learnt to skate as a small child. Y/n L/n had been in every class of his since he could remember. In the frozen suburbs of Toronto, she lived a few houses away from his, took the same bus and could only recall two occasions where he’d seen her smile: with her friends at lunch and watching guys like him suffer misfortune. Then they were project partners for their literature class, and neither had been too pleased with the decision.

Jack slid into the empty seat next to her with a grin smeared across his face and a chewed pen between his fingers. His nerves hadn't dissipated as he had hoped, the neat formatting of her notes and their quality only made his heart pound harder. Her face didn't move but her eyes scanned his face, finishing with a stone gaze into his pretty, blue eyes. That was one thing she had to give him, his eyes were beautiful, vibrant and lined with long, thick lashes that she wished she had.

“Do you like literature, y/n?” he asked. He had far too much confidence in himself, an ego some would say. He was used to people just agreeing and following him like a prince, bowing at his words. The girls would fawn and twirl their hair, the guys dying to hang out with him. Jack was popular because he was charming, friendly and social. But he was also a teenage boy, so the world was also his territory, and everyone was just in it.

“Yes.” She squinted cautiously, grip on her pen tightening.

“Perfect! How about you do the parts you're good at, and I do the speaking? Does that sound good?”

“Sounds like a ‘get out of jail free card’, Jack. We're splitting it fifty-fifty. Drop it and let's start brainstorming.” She spat, opening his notebook for him and refusing to drop her glare.

He groaned, slamming his head onto the desk. “What do you mean ‘drop it’? Drop what? My pants? Because I didn't know you were that kinda gal-”

“-The act, Mr. Eighty-Percent Average Score. I want a good grade and you're a hockey player, you need good grades, or you'll be benched, right?” She deadpanned and started jotting down ideas in her notebook. Sometimes having a troublesome brother in hockey had benefits, but most of the time it didn’t.

“How did you…huh? How do you know that? Did Quinn tell you that? That little rat-” he jolted when her palm slapped the back of his head, not hard but enough to get him to shut up.

“What was that for? All right Sunshine, what is your problem?”

Her hand grabbed the collar of his burgundy hoodie, a fire burning in her eyes as she seethed. “My problem is some of us don't have set futures and need school, Hughes. So shut up, do as you're told and let's get this project over with so we can both go back to enjoying our lives. And get this idea that you call the shots here just because you're popular out of your head. You're no more special than anyone else while at school."

She let go and leant back, returning to her notes as if nothing had happened. Jack didn't adjust his collar. He didn't laugh, cry or yell. His cheeks burned pink with wide eyes, and his stomach doing flips. If he could replay that moment again, he would. No one had spoken to him like that before, not even his family. She was out for his blood. Some of his friends would call her unpleasant, others would disagree and say that Jack was lucky to be partnered with someone as cool as her, someone who didn’t take shit from people and got things done. They’d grown up in the same schools, of course, he’d heard the stories about y/n being voted ‘most fearless’ because she wasn’t afraid of having a backbone or watched her hit another girl because she stole her friend’s juice box. She wasn’t unpleasant, Jack would’ve done the same, and that’s why he wasn't even angry, but his respect for her peaked and intrigue bursting at its seams. But the guilt lingered. His first ever proper interaction, conversation with just the two of them (aside from small talk over the years) and he may have just fucked everything up when they were supposed to get along and cooperate. But why did he feel guilty.

“Do you hate me?” he blurted out quietly, watching her pause mid-sentence. If she was out for his blood, what did he do that was so bad? Or what had she heard?

“No,” she turned her head to face him, “I have no reason to hate you…yet. You're just annoying and stupid if you think I’ll let you sit back while I do this alone. We're doing our presentation on symbolism, by the way.”

“Am not, control freak,” he grumbled, muscles relaxing at the fact he wasn't rejected, God forbid he was rejected by someone cool, that would be embarrassing. He pulled his seat in and started copying the notes she'd scribbled for him, “but yes ma'am.”

Maybe some people aren’t meant to be. Not even as friends. After almost getting choked on Monday, Jack hadn’t learnt much from his experience. On Tuesday he spilt water over y/n’s notes, and while he profusely apologised, he was punished with silent treatment and no guidance on their project. Wednesday, she had sought him out over lunch, hoping to retrieve the notes he borrowed but as she found him at his locker, he slammed the door into her face on accident and the only thing he could do after that was slam his head into the wall, repeating ‘idiot’ to himself. But Thursday was the worst. The winters were vicious in Toronto, so attempting to navigate the ice was a task. Fortunately, the school set grit over the concrete, but over time the snow would deflate into sludge as everyone trampled over it. Y/n had been carefully making her way to the bus, trying to work with the crowd and not slip in front of everyone. Jack was late, in too much of a panic to be thoughtful. He just didn’t want to be late for hockey practice. Without looking, he’d stormed through the crowds and shoved past y/n, but he tripped and took her down with him, the pair tumbling into the sludge, soaking wet and cold through their clothes. When Jack realised who it was screaming ‘asshole!’ at him shooting daggers into his soul, he learned that his coach was, in fact, not the scariest person he knew.

Since Monday, the week was supposed to be easy after processing the partnerships, yet on Friday, y/n still found herself in her seat doing more than fifty per cent of the research while Jack talked endlessly to his friend across the classroom, laughing at YouTube references and memes that only thirteen-year-old-boys would find funny. She knew Jack was doing it on purpose, he was more than capable of contributing, she’d seen his previous presentations and other projects. Was it her? She wondered if she’d been too aggressive, too moody with him to the extent that she was just off-putting or that he found it amusing. Perhaps if she’d been a bit kinder, they would be getting along like the rest of their class, laughing and chatting with each other instead of him flinging rubber bands at his friends while she stuck her nose in her notebook, worrying about how she’d get all the work done solo (because she wasn’t holding out for hope). Truth be told, she had as much passion as a night-shift worker, not because of Jack, but who liked doing graded presentations at the start of the school year?

“Will you please turn around and shut up?” she whined, tugging on his hoodie sleeve with a tired pain in her voice, “You’re so rowdy.”

Giggling, Jack turned around in his seat, satisfied with the torment he’d caused his friends and with a wide grin. He’d taken time to reflect on their interactions, even asking Quinn what he’d do to redeem himself (after calling him the grumpiest man alive). He did come across as arrogant, he admitted to that. He wasn’t expecting her to know about the school and hockey relationship and really wasn’t expecting to be choked by his collar and humbled publicly. That’s why he decided he liked her; she was a cool girl in his world who didn’t care about who he was. He didn’t know any girls like y/n, not that she wasn’t like other girls, but other girls he surrounded himself with didn’t hiss in his face and spit his name like it was poison in her mouth.

“Sorry, Sunshine,” he saluted, continuing his part of the project in an awkward silence. Jack’s knees bounced, the air between the pair so quiet he could hear his breathing echoing in his ears, mouth itching to talk about anything but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again. He watched her from the corner of his eye, even in a neutral state she looked jarred, lips in a permanent downward fall. His friends called it a ‘resting bitch face’, but she had every reason to be a bitch to him, after all, he had pretty much embarrassed and driven her up the wall all week. He sighed, turning his attention back onto the text she chose to study, annotating parts he thought would suit the instruction she’d given him.

“I’m sorry for choking you. And snapping at you.” He whipped his head around in surprise, her eyes hadn’t moved from her notes, but her tone was soft, the softest she’d sounded to his memory. She peered over to him apprehensively, almost shocked at his silence.

He blinked twice, out of the two of them it should have been him apologising first. His lips tugged into a small smile, “I deserved it. I’m sorry for being an ass and hitting you with my locker, and knocking you in sludge and overall, just being annoying. You have every right to hate me.”

Sitting up straight, y/n’s gaze softened for the first time, “Jack, I don’t hate you. For the sake of this project, how about we start over?” she held her hand out, “Pleasure to be working with you, Rowdy. Let’s do this fifty-fifty and that way we both benefit.”

He shook her hand, his almost engulfing hers, but he thought it was cute, “You too, Sunshine. So, uh…how are we gonna do this? Because we’re kinda slacking on all grounds. Like, we know each other and where we live, and that we take the same bus, yeah, but like…not anything, uh, personal like your favourite colour.”

“Well, my favourite colour is red, I like hot chocolate with marshmallows and my favourite hockey team is the Maple Leafs.” She said, doing her best to start some sort of icebreaker to at least make conversation easier. They should have done this from the start like others would have but he was arrogant, and she was up tight. Just because you’ve grown up in the same proximity as someone doesn’t always make you friends.

Jack’s eyes lit up, “No way! My favourite hockey team are the Leafs too! Lemme think…uh…my favourite meal is steak; I love watching movies and my dream is to make it to the NHL.”

“Cool. That’s a lot of weight to carry,” he nodded enthusiastically at her, “but you’re the kinda guy who could, Hughes. Anyway, what have you done for this shitty project?” she peeked at his notebook, brushing over the fact Jack was grinning like an idiot at his breakthrough. It was a start, but at least she wasn’t insulting him anymore and they were talking with their walls down, no weapons. He opened his mouth but immediately closed it, scratching the back of his neck. Her notes were always so direct and neat and his were a mess, not even he could understand what he was saying half the time.

“What the hell am I reading, Jack?” her smile dropped, and her deadpan humiliated him alone. He sunk into his chair, he did his best, he really had, but unlike in hockey, the school was a flow he just couldn’t enter. “We have a lot of work to do. Hope you’re free over lunch next week.”

“Or we could do it at my house. Do you wanna come over?”

“Not really,” she said flatly, looking him in the eye.

“Please, there’s too much happening at school and doing it at my house - or yours - would be so much better. Think about it, I won’t get distracted~”

She chewed her cheek, watching his toothy grin widen. If he weren’t a charmer she would’ve made her decision more quickly, but Jack had this effect to him where it was almost impossible to resist, whether you liked him or not. He had a point, in his home he wouldn't be hollering across the room or fidgeting in his seat. Anyway, it would be a good opportunity for them to bond.

She sighed, and hung her head, “Fiiiine. Are Sundays, okay?”

He nodded urgently, perhaps more excited than he should have been, but getting her to give in and try to hang out outside school felt like a win. He just wanted to know if her walls were always enforced up high or if it was a school thing.

The first Sunday crept quicker than she would have liked. Although the Hughes' house looked no different than hers, the dahlias in the front garden were twice as pretty, a small part of her hoped the frost would never hit them, reflecting the joyful souls of the Hughes family. Y/n stood on the doorstep, rucksack slung on her shoulder and rollerblades in her hand. When Jack had told her to bring them, she asked why but in typical Jack manner, his answer was vague, ‘Please just bring them!’, but she listened anyway, dreading what kind of ideas were running through his mind when they were supposed to be working on their project. After all, the faster they submitted it, the sooner they could return to their lives.

She lost track of how long she’d been standing there, he probably thought she’d ditched him by how long she’d been mustering up the nerves to knock but the reality of the situation, her reality, she was processing how there was no muffled noise coming from behind the door.

For a home of five, it was as quiet as a zen garden. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised; most families were quiet. She never had to look where she was going on her way home, she always heard her family before she saw them, whether outside the front door or somewhere in the house. The yelling never stopped, so standing outside Jack’s house took the weight off her chest and she could feel the September breeze in her hair.

She knocked timidly, listening to footsteps barrel through the house from the other side and a muffled ‘Quinn don’t you dare answer that!’ however when the door opened it wasn’t Jack’s excited, puppy-like self. She’d never looked at him properly, but y/n blinked twice at Quinn standing before her. He was a lot better looking than Jack made out, the opposite of Jack: dark hair, taller, broad shoulders and his eyes were a duller blue compared to Jack’s vibrant ones. He smiled kindly as Jack shoved past him, shooing him out of the way and muttering at him to leave them alone.

“I told you not to answer! I had it!” Jack whined at his older brother, pushing him to the side.

“I didn’t know you were inviting your girlfriend over, why didn’t you just say so?” Quinn teased, letting Jack move him. To him, seeing Jack so ecstatic over a girl wasn’t new, Jack had had short-lived girlfriends since he was eleven, not understanding the difference between validating attention and love yet but y/n with the hard gaze was the first girl he invited into his home. The kind of girl Quinn least expected since she didn’t seem happy to be in their home, unfazed by Jack’s playful behaviour and glint in his eye. That was new and part of him felt old seeing his little brother grow up so fast.

“She’s not my girlfriend, assface!” Jack growled, his face heating up.

“Ugh, as if.” She scoffed at the same time before fully processing the smirk on Quinn’s face. Jack girlfriend? Is that how it looked to others? A boy and a girl hanging out as children was fine but the moment, they hit their teens it meant they were all over each other. She imagined what it would be like if she were to be his girlfriend, until she caught herself in the act, what kind of demon possessed her even to have such a fleeting thought? Curiosity? Or maybe it would be funny seeing the reactions of others, seeing him with someone they least expected. Y/n’s breath hitched, heat rising to her cheeks but less noticeably than rosy red Jack who started swatting Quinn.

“Ignore him, y/n, let’s go do this project.” He emphasised to his brother.

Jack gently took her by the sleeve, pulling her into his hallway and impatiently waiting for her to slip her shoes off and leave her rollerblades before leading her upstairs. She glanced behind her, giving Quinn a shy wave which he returned as Jack led her further, weaving around stray hockey gloves and shoes on the stairs and reappearing into a simple hallway. The layout couldn’t have been more unfamiliar to her home, the walls were highly decorated with family photos, more of the boys than anyone else. Quinn, Jack and Luke, the youngest, clad in mostly hockey gear but the occasional casual photo, some even of them piled on top of each other. The landing was nothing special, a single strip with one bedroom facing the street, one next to the stairs with another opposite and the master facing into the garden, bathrooms in between.

Jack pointed to the room next to the stairs, “that’s Quinn’s room,” then to the room at the back of the house, “that’s my parents,” then to the front, “that’s Lukey’s,” and eventually ushered her to the room opposite Quinn’s, opening the door and giving her a grand reveal, “and this is mine!”

Y/n shuffled in, taking in the personality of the room. It wasn’t big, nor a box room but the grey walls made it feel smaller than it was. A double bed pushed against the wall, a desk next to it and opposite those were a chest of drawers and a wardrobe crammed snugly. It was the kind of room that someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in would have, the only elements saving it from a show home were the hockey posters and awards on the walls and surfaces, a hockey helmet on top of the wardrobe with gloves and skates scattered under the bed. But the one part that stuck out the most while she moseyed around, was the framed photo on his desk. A recent picture of him and his brothers together, void of smiles and Jack wearing the burgundy coat the day he knocked her into sludge, Quinn in the grey hoodie she just saw him in and Luke in, what she assumed, some sort of blue university fleece with an ‘M’ on the chest. She stifled a chuckle, only Jack would wear full burgundy, but it was no better than the photo of her, her younger brother and her dad at her cousin's wedding, all three of them miserable and her dad nursing a hangover (pre-drinks with the boys before the wedding was not his and the relative’s greatest idea for some of their ages). But this photo of Jack had something endearing to it, and proof that he wasn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.

Jack crept behind her, peeking over her shoulder and speaking quietly next to her ear, “We all got a copy of that one. It’s also on the stairs. Mum thinks it’s hilarious because before it was taken, Dad had us shovelling snow for thirty minutes before a two-hour evening hockey practice.”

It hadn’t occurred to her how he felt the need to stand so close to her until then, his voice practically sinking into her skin as if she were wearing headphones rather than listening to him through a speaker. It wasn’t that she hated it, it was just…new. He wasn’t smirking, his hands were in his jean’s pockets and the way his popular-kid demeanour plummeted when talking about his brothers was like she had met an entirely different person. It’s crazy how getting someone in a different environment can lower their mask. It made him loveable and the longer they stood there, close together, the less she hated the idea of being around him. It was almost comforting to share family stories, the information that anyone who hadn’t seen the photo wouldn’t know.

She nodded, her rucksack strap dropping from her shoulder and into her hand as she turned to him, looking up at his smiling face. Okay, he was a lot taller up close, or well to her at least, and he seemed to enjoy looking at her face as she swore his eyes had a sparkle in them.

“Where do you want me to sit?” she asked, casually.

For a second he thought he saw her crack. She was the only person who’d seen the photo, he’d usually put it away for safety when his friends came over since a couple of them had a thing for pillow fights at three in the morning. Letting her into his world and sharing his secrets would surely get her out of her shell, he was convinced that if he dropped his mask, she’d drop hers. He imagined what that would be like as she turned to him, and what it would be like if she looked in his eyes brightly all the time, shamelessly in the school hallways without anyone to ruin it. But her voice jolted him like he had been shaken by its shoulders and the real world was back to ground him, “Uh- right- project, you can take the desk I’ll sit on my bed. What, uh, time do you need to be home…by the…way?”

She sat on his office chair and set up her stationary, not looking at him when she replied,

“Probably seven at the latest, usually when dinner is but I can leave whenever you want me to. I’m just a few houses away.”

He grinned. That gave him a perfect amount of time to begin his plan if they didn’t spend the whole day on the project, which was likely considering his attention span went haywire in her presence. He couldn’t explain why, only that there was something about her gloom had him infatuated. Partnered projects weren’t for everyone, he knew that. He loved them, the bouncing, the company, getting away with not doing anything because he did all the talking but he also knew some people despised them entirely because of people like him, slackers, yappers, people who didn’t view them as real assessments because they weren’t pen and paper. Jack was the first and y/n was the latter, but for some reason, he wanted to be bossed about, wanted to work and perhaps see things from her world, hear her talk more.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, maybe if he showed her to loosen up, she wouldn’t get stressed over it but if he tightened up, he could learn a skill or two and they’d find a balance.

Usually after two hours of unbroken work focus, Jack would groan in despair out of restlessness and boredom, but in the two hours that passed, both parties had completed a lot. They’d managed to negotiate roles, y/n would endure the tedious theory research elements while Jack focused on analysing and piecing together their text passage and the theories she’d found. It wasn’t fun, but they’d caught up with the rest of their class and were safe, and on track. She wouldn’t have to work into the night, and he wouldn’t have to risk skipping his social life. Jack had to admit, and he couldn’t lie, that working with her, even in silence, wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. They chatted here and there about life when they let their brains rest, she didn’t insult him, and he didn��t annoy her. They found a balance, and he’d learnt a bit more about y/n, like how she couldn’t ice skate but could rollerblade, how she forgot to blink when in a hyperfocus or that she didn’t like talking too much because she’s worried, she’d overshare and weird people out. Which did hit him in the gut when she casually expressed it, because he didn’t think anyone should hold themselves back from being true to themselves.

With his notebook and pens abandoned on his bedsheets, he sat crossed-legged, watching her scribble down quick notes from a website, “So, you used to talk a lot but since your friends just…never reacted or made snarky comments, you just thought to reign it in? What do you talk about?”

“Yup. Can be a yapper in the right environment, but now all we talk about is school, the news or things they’re into. They don’t even try to give context to those who have no idea what’s going on. It’s not a big deal though, most of them are going to a different high school than me so I’ll make new friends.” She explained with a sigh, finishing her notes and swivelling in his chair to face him. Talking to him as if they were friends felt refreshing, she only got to talk to one or two people this way, and those were the two friends going to the same high school as her. Neighbours would say that she and Jack should’ve been friends from toddlers since they’d grown up together on the same street, same kindergarten, same elementary and now coming to the last year of the same middle school but Jack was an outdoors kid always participating in some sort of sport with the other kids, y/n preferred the indoors, quietly finding hobbies and watching from the window. The only reason they’d recognised each other in elementary school was because Ellen had once dropped by to gift her mum, flowers as a thank you for something, and Jack happened to be with her, y/n locking eyes with him as she was walking through the house.

“Well, you can always talk to me, I’ll be your friend. We’ve known of each other for years, our mums help each other garden for God’s sake so we’re not completely strangers…” he fiddled with the chewed pen in his lap, “besides, I have two brothers and some…unique friends, nothing you do or say could weird me out.”

She sat in silence, watching him struggle to make eye contact with her for the first time like he was nervous about what she would say. He was probably expecting her to chew him up, brush him off but he had a point. They had been neighbours their whole lives, and if she played outside more, they would have been better acquainted. But her middle school friendships were fickle, and immature, in their eyes, she was the weird kid and only because her interests differed slightly, and more people gravitated towards her, girls and boys alike. And when that happens in a friend group of eleven to fourteen-year-olds, you’re the odd one out, people get jealous and there’s only so much artificial solidarity to go around sometimes. So, she changed and tried to scare people away so she could fit in again and survive and it worked. Until Jack Hughes wiggled his way into the picture.

Why is Jack talking to you? You know I like him.

That’s so unfair!

Befriending your friend's crush? Low y/n, so low.

“I appreciate your kindness, but that’s a terrible idea.” She deadpanned, leaning back in the chair, a pang of regret striking through her upon seeing his shoulders slump.

He looked up with confusion written on his face, “What, why?”

“Because you’re Jack Hughes. Popular, charming Jack Hughes who everybody wants to be friends with. And I’m miserable y/n, my friends would throw me to the curb if I started hanging out with you suddenly. Actually, they would accuse me of betraying them and think something is going on between us. Petty shit.”

“But I like miserable y/n, you’re not even miserable. But why would it be a betrayal? Unless your friends got a crush or something-” the pieces clicked in his head, “-oh. I see. Well, think of it positively, would you rather have a group of friends who make you have to pretend to be miserable or have one friend who actually makes you miserable?”

She tried so hard to suppress a giggle but seeing him gesture to himself when making humour of the conversation made it impossible and she let the giggle out. Only Jack could say that, and it be funny, as self-deprecating as the joke was, it came from a good place. Jack’s head however emptied, and his chest exploded, a giddy feeling jerking his nerves hearing her giggle because of him (and not because he was getting punished or dumped in the hallway). He didn’t fuss over it, he didn’t want her to stop because he’d brought her guard down, so he giggled with her.

“I guess I would rather have one friend that makes me miserable.”

“Correct answer!” he mused, all project work was abandoned, and it was clear to them both that they were done for the day. “Well, now we’re friends, do you wanna go play street hockey? That’s why I asked you to bring rollerblades, we’re gonna hang out.”

“So, doing the project was just a front for getting me to hang out with you?” she began to pack her stationary into her rucksack while he pushed his onto the floor. He’d clear it up later if he remembered.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded proudly, “I thought that if we hung out, we could get to know each other better, do something fun.”

He was almost falling off his bed in excitement, waiting for her to agree and play with him. Was he this eager with everyone? No one had ever been that desperate to be friends with her, most people weren’t that desperate. She opened her mouth to decline, but he’d spent the past two hours forcing himself to focus on their schoolwork, do as he was told, and listen to her intently even though she knew he was getting restless and bored, she owed him at least an hour of her time.

“Okay, but only for a little bit. I’m not great like you so go easy.” A smile was all it took for Jack to leap up, take her by the sleeve, drag her through his bedroom door (almost knocking Luke over in the process) and into his hall again.

What was supposed to be just an hour, so she told herself, turned out to be three hours of non-stop street hockey. Two beaten-up goals outside his house and two laughing teenagers clad in gloves and rollerblades, hockey sticks hitting each other for the plastic ball that dragged and rattled across the concrete. Neither had been keeping track of the time, they were too engrossed in trying to beat each other, especially y/n, who forced Jack to go easy on her just so she could at least have a chance.

It wasn’t often she got to participate in something like street hockey with someone, a lot of her social life was talking and not a lot of experiencing. She didn’t even hang out with her brother like the Hughes boys did, but her brother was far more interested in golf or playing FIFA with his friends or causing trouble at school. When they were younger, she and her brother used to spend hours playing basketball in the garden, so much so that eventually the hoop fell off and that was the end of it. Or they used to play video games together, getting so competitive in Wii Sports that her brother would start crying if he lost. Those were ephemeral days stuck in a memory loop, but playing hockey with Jack freed the same adrenaline rush that made the world feel brighter and hopeful like living for yourself was worth it.

She closed in on Jack’s goal, readying herself to take the shot, sheer confidence across her face until he swooped in and blocked the shot, stealing the ball from her possession and skating towards the other end.

“Jaaack,” she groaned, “you’re such a dick, I almost had that!”

His triumphant laughter echoed through the neighbourhood as he closed in on her goal,

“You don’t sound so happy, Sunshine, why don’t you come to show me who’s the boss, huh?”

She clicked her tongue playfully, getting a burst of energy as she approached Jack. She could have knocked him out of the way, blocked his shot, or broken any of the standard rules but she was having the time of her life and Jack hadn’t stopped smiling since she agreed. Y/n tossed her stick to the side, dropped her gloves and grabbed the back of his hoodie, pulling herself closer to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, sending them both crashing to the floor, equipment scattered but both players laughing and playfighting, rolling and wrestling until their stomachs ached from laughter.

At some point in their roughing, y/n’s fist hit Jack square on the cheekbone, hard. Sitting up straight, legs tangled, they stared at each other like they’d seen ghosts, her heart stopping in her chest. She didn’t mean to hit him, not for real, but on reflex she unclenched her fist and held his face in her hands with a delicate touch as if he were glass, her fingers holding his jaw as she inspected his cheekbone for any bleeding. She may have thought nothing of it, just protocol for when someone got hurt, but Jack’s cheeks blazed, hands becoming clammy, and he thought he was going to lose his breath at how gentle she was with him. If getting injured was all it took for her to look at him with soft eyes and obtain all her attention like a prize, he should’ve broken his legs a while ago. His world paused, the sounds of nature and cars faded out into a silence and his heart skipped eight beats at once. He’d had girlfriends, but he’d never had skin contact with one. Never held a girl’s hand before and never had his face held by one. She was like a drug, the second she cradled his thumping face, he never wanted her to let go. Maybe it was because he liked the attention because it was new and exciting or maybe the endorphins rushing through him altered his state of mind too much and confused the difference between enjoying her touch and pain relief.

“I’m okay,” he said just above a whisper with a fond look, “it’ll just bruise at most.”

She nodded, letting him reassure her before a grin crawled onto her face, arm snaking around his neck and held him in a headlock, grinding her knuckles mildly into his head and ruffling his hair. Even though he wished on all his lucky stars that the moment would never end, getting noogies from her was just as euphoric if it meant her giggles gave him just as much of a bliss escape as the scratching of ice skates did in hockey.

“If you say so, Wack Hughes.” She rolled off and sat on the concrete opposite him, catching her breath, both bodies panting with flushed, chilly cheeks and undoubtedly bruises and grazes on their limbs. That’s what they got for not looking properly for knee and elbow pads.

“Can I have your number?” the words erupted a lot quicker than he expected them to, he borderline felt like he came across as a desperate man at a bar hoping to strike gold, “So, uh, we can text when to meet up…for the project and stuff…yeah.”

She sighed dramatically, “If I really have to.”

In all instances, all universes and every other life after his current, Jack wished the project would never end. He was just beginning to get somewhere with forming a liberating friendship where he was just Jack, the kid from class.

Jack had been right, but he wished it had been a cut because the bruise over his cheek was diabolical. A beautiful purple and blue bruise next to his eye, not quite a black eye but the cheekbone was close enough. Quinn and Luke teased him relentlessly the Monday morning over breakfast, even though the middle Hughes explained it was an accident while playfighting and not because he pissed her off.

School was worse. At first, his friends taunted him about it, and how the ‘pretty boy wasn’t so pretty anymore’. Jack was just relieved that nobody asked him how he got it, they all assumed it was hockey and he would have too if he was them. At least a bruise wasn’t as embarrassing as when he broke his leg but there’s only so much teasing you can take before it starts becoming boring, and all week he had heard the same comments and the same giggling. He didn’t blame y/n, she didn’t do it on purpose but her packing a punch was not on his twenty-fifteen bingo card.

Sunday rolled around again, Jack and y/n only had a week left until their project was due and while y/n had her hand fisting her hair, the words on her screen blending and almost sending her into cardiac arrest, Jack had zoned out long ago. Silence filled the Hughes’ dining room, both bodies void of willpower as they entered hour three of their study. On the bright side, they were over halfway done, opting to pull the presentation aesthetics together last as that was the easy part. The hardest part was trying to condense twenty-five slides into ten at most.

Luke was home with them, keeping out of their way but giving them a glance as he meandered into the kitchen for a snack. He may have been twelve and starting to enter his pre-teen years of figuring himself and the world out, but what he did know was that the house was quieter on Sundays. That’s how he knew y/n was over. He stood quietly in the kitchen, peering over at his brother and y/n in deep thought from the breakfast bar, wondering how someone had tamed Jack within two weeks. Yes, they spent almost every day together so the chance of them getting to know each other better that way wasn’t off the table, and the quality of friendship isn’t determined by how long you’ve known someone. He’d never seen Jack sit so still, he wasn’t even chewing on his pen, just staring at his laptop screen and notebook while he feared y/n might yank her hair from her scalp if she gripped it any tighter. Luke pulled two glasses from the cabinet, filled them with water, and set them in front of the two. He then disappeared back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cookie jar before returning and placing them on the dark wood next to the water. Y/n’s hand fell from her hair and raised her head to meet a smiling Luke. They’d never spoken, but he liked it when she came over, especially when he’d watched her tackle Jack to the ground a week prior, of course.

“Thanks, Luke. You really didn’t have to.” Y/n’s voice suddenly filled the room and pulled Jack out of his daze, his attention immediately landing on the glass of water and cookie.

“It’s the least I could do for someone who can keep Jack on his leash.” Luke chuckled lightly, making his way back into the living room.

Jack waited until he left to whip around to her, making her flinch at the speed, “You’re friends with my little brother easily but not me? I’m taking that as an offence.”

“He didn’t tell me to do the entire project by myself while he got to do the easy part.” She jested, poking her finger into his chest. Call them Punch and Judy with the way they bickered. “He also didn’t pull me into sludge.”

He wrapped his fingers around her hand, holding it gently as he rolled his eyes, “Okay, well, fair enough. At least it was Luke.”

“Why? Scared I’ll fall hopelessly in love with Quinn and his dark curls and brooding personality,” she leant forward with a smirk, watching Jack’s eyebrows knit. She’d done it, found his button to press and she loved every ounce of adrenaline that raged through her, “that’ll I’ll hang out with him instead?”

His tongue poked his cheek, their faces inches away and for once it was him sulking while she taunted him. Yet, the grip he had over her hand stayed loose, even when she continued to prod him, but he knew she could feel how sweaty his palms were from the panic that rattled him, “Yes! Kinda, maybe! I don’t know!”

She stopped, her smirk dropping and his breathing becoming heavy. Their gazes met as she licked her lips, their faces were so much closer than she had thought, and a warmth spread up the back of her neck. They said nothing, their eyes searching each other for answers to unspecified questions. His bruise had healed better, it wasn’t a deep purple anymore and a yellow tint started peeking through, although she was sorry for hitting him, there was a small, amusing element to the story. She lowered her hand, but he didn’t let go. Never had she expected Jack to feel in competition with his brothers over anything but hockey, but his heart hammered in his chest the longer their stares lingered, terrified for the worst-case scenario.

“Wait, for real? You think I would do that?” Jack nodded shakily, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was ridiculous, his hormones getting mixed up and fluctuating over a girl he’d only started being real friends with, but he felt like they’d known each other longer by how thin the air felt between them. Was that allowed? Was there a rule about being friends with someone? If so, he yearned to break it, after all, he’d been friends with some guys for three years and knew nothing about them, barely hanging out with them outside school. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not Quinn specifically, I don’t know, like, we just started being friends and like, ugh, I don’t know.” He truly couldn’t describe the nagging feeling of a thorn that stabbed him in the side, he’d never felt it before, but he hated it. She was his friend and only his, Quinn and Luke weren’t allowed to swoop her away. Y/n was just his friend, no more sharing friends between them, they could keep that to hockey but not school. He’d do anything to keep it that way, even if it meant brawling with his brothers like when they were kids or even other kids at school. He just wanted to freely be friends with someone on his own, sick of being surrounded by friends who had their own, separate friend they could run to, rely on, cry, laugh with, and escape to their own isolated paradise with. He wanted a person.

With a gentle nod, she noticed the warmth engulfing her hand. They peered down at their laps, pulling their hands away quickly and awkwardly finding chewed pens and hoodie strings. The first time he’d held a girl's hand, and it was because she was riling him up, and she’d never had a boy hold her hand before so the heat in her neck flushed to her face.

“Sooo,” Jack started, the tension crushing him, “what do you like to do for fun? You already know I play hockey and we did that last week; we should try something of yours today.”

Her muscles relaxed and she pondered. What did she do for fun? It was one of those moments where suddenly she forgot everything about herself and became the most boring person alive, nothing coming to mind. She didn’t consider herself nearly as exciting as Jack. She wasn’t an athlete, or an entrepreneur, and didn’t do any thrilling things over the summers. How are you supposed to sell yourself when you just enjoy staying at home and chilling?

“Uh…I dunno. I like doing origami, I guess. Not really as intense as street hockey but I find it relaxing.” She ripped out a blank page of her notebook, tearing it neatly into a square and effortlessly folding the corners and sides. He was mesmerised, she made it look easy and Jack convinced himself that he could do it. Pulling the head out, she placed a swan in front of him. To create what sat in front of him more than muscle memory, it was time and patience. “For you. I’ll teach you step by step.”

She tore out two more pages into squares, giving one to him, “Fold the paper diagonally to create the centre line, then unfold,” she demonstrated as she spoke, allowing him time to catch up, “refold the sides to the centre line and flip the paper over, doing the same as we just did. You should have a skinny kite shape. Bring the bottom corner to the top, middle corner and fold the tip of the bottom corner we just folded, down to halfway.”

Jack’s tongue poked out from his lips, his brows knitted as he concentrated hard, watching her fingers move intensely and carefully copying. His folding wasn’t as neat as hers, but he understood what she was showing and he hadn’t completely screwed it up yet, but he was a lot more heavy-handed than she was, too used to using all his strength rather than none of it at all.

“Good boy, you’re getting it. Okay, now fold what you have in half, but outwards, away from you, not inwards, like this,” she folded the paper as instructed, “and gently pull the neck up and head out. See, a simple swan.”

Jack’s face brightened, his lips twitching into a smile as he pulled the head out of his - messily folded - origami swan. He knew she’d gone easy on him, and he was frankly grateful that she hadn’t tried to teach him something overly complex because he did not want to deal with Ellen yelling at him to pipe down in front of y/n. Y/n didn’t need that, didn’t need to see or hear that. Jack may not have been an empath by any means and may not be the kind of guy to psychoanalyse people but Quinn had taught him to think carefully before he asked questions. Of course, he wondered why y/n never asked if he wanted to go to her house instead, but when he talked with Jim about it, he said there’s usually a reason, and sometimes people don’t want to talk about that and would prefer to just accept the offer, and that by offering up their home could be one of the nicest things he’s done for her.

Y/n set her swan in front of him, his hands delicately inspecting the precision as if it belonged in a museum, “How can you do this so quickly and neatly? What else can you make?”

“Practice, I can make cranes, frogs, bats, foxes, stars.” She giggled, watching him compare the two swans and setting them next to each other, “You can keep both mine, from me to you.”

Jack grinned. It wasn’t much at all, but having a homemade gift held more value than anything money could offer. It was made specifically with him, and she gave it to him, willingly, as a souvenir. He shoved his pens into his pencil case, stacked his books and closed his laptop, sliding the pile across the table. Surprised, she began packing her belongings into her rucksack, they were done with their project according to him. In his defence, they had achieved more than they thought. He turned, resting his cheek in his palm with a burning intrigue glowing in his eyes.

“Oh, uh, I guess I like graphic design…that’s kinda my hockey. Just making sports posters or posters in general really. I’ll show you, my favourite.” She opened her laptop again, searching through the files while Jack scooted closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her chest tightened at the noise that slipped from his throat when the file loaded, an electrocuting excitement radiating from him as his jaw dropped and eyebrows raised. It was the coolest thing he’d ever seen, last year’s baseball schedule graphic that he thought was significantly better than the one the team had originally posted. Upon hearing his chain of compliments, she opened more files, discovering their common interest in sports and the odd TV show. He didn’t have many creative friends, he was part of a dominantly sporty crowd, in fact, anyone who had creative abilities fascinated him and he would argue that they deserve just as much praise as athletes. It wasn’t easy producing ideas and visions let alone executing them.

The more Jack raved about her work, the more files she pulled up and explained with her full chest and he swore he saw her eyes light up the same way his did when he talked about hockey. So, he let her talk. He asked questions about inspiration, the origins of her hobby, her favourite aesthetics and future plans, works in progress and if she would want a future in graphic design too, all in which she answered for hours before the clock hit seven and they had to call it a day with bittersweet smiles like they wouldn’t be seeing each other the next day.

Good times fly fast. Is what someone would say if they were having fun, but the past week had not been for y/n and Jack. In the last week before their project was due, they had crammed a week’s worth of work into three days, their deadline being Thursday. Lunches were spent in the library, copying and formatting into their presentation slides, and then trying to condense, and condense and condense more into ten overall slides. If they hadn’t worked during class and at the library, they knew they would have failed and with Jack’s hockey schedule, they had no other option. They didn’t hate it, spending lunches together became the best part of their days, that little buzz in their stomach making the mundane classes easier to bear.

The actual presenting part started awful when the PowerPoint wouldn’t load, then stabilised as Jack did most of the talking but then almost hit the fan when y/n stammered almost every time she spoke (which wasn’t her fault, some people can’t cope with public speaking). However, they had submitted, presented and they were project-free until May.

Y/n didn’t expect to see much of Jack anymore, she wasn’t sure what would happen next after they had no project. She didn’t pay attention to her classmate’s presentations, her eyes zoned on the wall and her shoulders slumped in her seat. It was sort of…upsetting that it was over, not hanging out with Jack again. Would her friends be happy? Absolutely, the competition was over but during the three weeks, they hung out constantly, what others thought mattered less and less until she smiled more with him than she ever had with them. What she and Jack had was real.

Jack’s eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together, he couldn’t bring himself to be happy, the bleak expression on her face pulled at his heart too aggressively. It couldn’t be over, he didn’t want it to be over. It was not going to be over. He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket, eyes flicking to the teacher who was too engrossed in the assignment, and he typed quickly before stuffing the device back.

Wack Huh🤕 my house sundays? i think my mum wants to cook us dinner as a reward u can meet my hockey friends 2 they r coming 4 the wknd

Feeling her pocket vibrate and glancing at the teacher, she replied under the table.

Sunshine💪 Will be there ofc Are these the unique friends? Bracing myself

She smiled, looking to her left subtly to see Jack practically kicking is feet. All was not lost.

When Jack said his friends were unique, she wasn’t expecting three boys to be staring at her like meerkats when she entered the living room. At least he didn’t lie. She expected three dudes chilling on the sofa, with drinks and playing video games but instead, she was met with the short one and one with long-ish hair wrestling on the sofa with Mario Kart abandoned on the TV and Jack and the third with dark hair trying to pry them off each other, Jack babbling something about irritating his parents again. It was Quinn who’d answered the door again, apologising for the noise and again she had looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. The noise was something she was used to, especially coming from teenage boys, if Jim and Ellen didn’t get involved, it would be okay. When she stepped into the living room, calling Jack’s name, the three other boys shot up and snapped their heads with wide eyes like they’d never seen a girl in their lives.

Jumping off the sofa, he stood beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and his thumb caressing comforting circles, “Y/n! This is Cole,” the short boy waved, “Trevor,” the boy with tanned skin and long-ish hair winked, blowing a kiss, “and Alex.” The dark-haired boy gave a kind, welcoming smile. They were Jack’s unique hockey friends she’d heard many stories about over the last few weeks, like how someone hid Trevor’s towel one time and he could only wait until everyone had left the locker room before changing, or how the four of them thought it would be a good idea to hold arms and spin in a circle while on rollerblades and then let go, so all four of them went flying in different directions but it was Cole who ended up, not only taking out a couple but falling into a bin. Or how Alex tried to impress a girl by belching the alphabet but instead she slapped him.

“Do you like Mario Kart, y/n?” Alex asked, to which she nodded.

“Don’t get too cocky, she can pack a punch. Got that Trevor?” Jack sneered, holding her closer to his side and pointing to his almost-healed bruise.

“That was one time!” Trevor groaned, taking the controller he’d launched previously. “Don’t listen to him, angel. He’s just mad because he sucks at everything but Chel.

Only Jack had given her a pet name before, especially not one on the first meeting or one like angel. Jack had nicknamed her when they met, but ‘Sunshine’ suited her at the time, a jab at her doom and gloom. Angel, though? That hit different, that felt personal, aimed at her looks alone.

“Mmm sure, at least his towel stays in one place, Trevvy.” She quipped, stepping into the room.

“Jack! Why would you tell her that?” Trevor grabbed a sofa cushion, and swung it at Jack’s face, “Angel, that does not happen often but if it means you call me ‘Trevvy’ again, it so can.”

The sun began to set earlier in the autumn. After a morning of violent Mario Kart matches and rough play in order to cheat, the five of them settled on the two sofas in front of the TV, this time watching The Amazing Spiderman and two empty bowls of popcorn and mugs that once homed hot chocolate.

Jack’s eyes struggled; his energy burnt out from a weekend of non-stop moving but he refused to sleep in fear he’d fall onto Trevor’s shoulder. The last time he did that, he woke up with marker over his face and a cock on his cheek, but God, were his eyes heavy. Y/n repositioned herself, bringing her knees away from her chest and stretching them with glorious relief. Said relief was fleeting as she felt a weight drop onto her thighs, peering down to see Jack’s head lying comfortably, body curled up in the spot he was sitting in. She bit her lip, what the hell was she supposed to do? Leave him? Push him off? What did it mean, did friends normally do this? But his hair looked so soft and silky, it always did. It always looked good, even after he’d finished gym class. With a hitched breath and trembling hand hovering over his head, she ran her fingers through his hair with a feathery touch, nails massaging his scalp. If his heart hadn’t been thundering just trying to find the courage to lay on her lap, it was now exploding like fireworks at her touch lulling him into a slumber. Her fingers running through his locks sent euphoric sparks through his body, addicting, heavenly, he never wanted to move from the spot. He wouldn’t bring it up though, he didn’t want to talk about it, and it become painfully awkward and never happen again. That moment before he drifted off was Jack’s paradise.

Ten months of sitting with each other on the bus, sharing classes, and lunches, failing to beat the dating allegations and teasing. Forty Sundays were spent at the Hughes’, playing video games, street hockey, boardgames with the brothers, gardening with Ellen, listening to Jim’s life stories and sharing secrets in the confines of Jack’s bedroom.

The summer before they started high school, Jack begged y/n to join his family at the lake house for the summer, the boy got on his knees and everything. Of course, she wanted to go, why would she reject going to this lake house she heard so much about? Her parents were the part she worried about, and if they said no, she’d make them regret it, taking her away from her happiness like that. And perhaps they would have, followed it up by giving the speech about it being unfair to her brother. But to her surprise, they were pretty much ushering her out the door. What she didn’t know was that Ellen had swung by and her mother agreed it would be good for y/n. Thank the stars for Ellen Hughes coming in the clutch there. Finally, a summer spent away from arguing and moaning about being grounded.

She’d never seen a lake house in person, and it was better than she imagined, bigger and fancier than some haggard shack. Growing up near enough in the city never gave her chances to see the open country much, let alone large lakes surrounded by well-kept homes thriving in pride, green to be seen for miles and most importantly no pollution and constant rumbling of cars. It was the perfect place to escape to.

The Hughes’ lake house was gorgeous, pale blue with white accents, flowers and hedges (kept in pristine condition by a gardener) lining the drive and bedded outside the front, long driveway where Jim’s truck and Ellen’s Toyota estate were parked up, said drivers unloading the suitcases while Jack explained the home to y/n: five bedrooms, a games room in the basement that looked out into the garden, back porch above the basement, docks at the end of the garden and their boat, a beautiful bowrider with bow seating and the back deck with a U-shape layout. The way Jack spoke with excitement bouncing around his body made all sorts of butterflies flutter inside her stomach, jubilation radiating from his smile as he pointed to the windows, informing her whose rooms were where.

“Also, Mum said you get the spare room with Cole and Alex, which sucks because I was hoping we’d be roommates. So, if they try anything funny, let me know, okay? Though, I trust you’ll hit ‘em if they do. But my room’s only next door.” Jack placed his hands on her shoulders with a stern tone, searching her eyes for reassurance. He had half expected his parents to reject the idea, his friends were with him after all and three boys in one room never turned out peaceful. Ellen and Jim knew that first-hand.

She chuckled, “I will, don’t worry. Besides, those two are the least of your worries.”

Trevor’s laughter roared from the truck and the two peered towards him before looking back at each other. Jack slumped with an exhale, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe I lost rock-paper-scissors. I love Trev and all, but he doesn’t stop talking. Y/n he talked the whole way here!”

Y/n’s laugh settled his nerves as he nuzzled into her shoulder. There were now going to be seven of them that summer, and hopefully for many more to come, getting any time alone with her would be a battle to the death. That may have been their last quiet moment together for that day, so she wound her arms around his torso, stroking his hair until Ellen called out for them.

Only a week had flown by, and Jim had already started to regret his decision to let three boys tag along, the worst part being one sunny day and the other six raining, trapping everyone inside. That was one week, two cases of a blocked toilet, four ice packs to Trevor’s head from doing somersaults off the boat (on the one day it was sunny), six trips to the corner store for popcorn restocks and seven days of y/n, Quinn and Luke almost being knocked over by wrestling matches or whacked with a pool cue (Alex and Trevor almost lost their lives when they hit y/n square in the head). So, when the sun seeped through everyone’s blinds on Monday morning, Ellen and Jim pretty much slammed every bedroom door open, threw breakfast on the dining table and told the teens to make the most of the sunshine outside.

Michigan was usually sweltering during the summer, cooking the seats and giving bare skin a fright when the leather latched to it, something Jack fell for every time. With the water calm and the lake hushed to birds singing their songs and neighbours heading out towards the country club, Quinn started up the boat. He’d only had his licence a year but if there was anything he knew just as well as hockey, it was the lake. And tuning out the irritations he was surrounded with, unfortunately. Cole, Alex and Luke lounged at the back, watching Trevor groan at Jack ditch him and dart back into the house, leaving him to heave a cool box through the garden and down the docks in which his best friends could have aided him with, but they were too busy hollering banter at him and Quinn, well Quinn chose to pretend like he hadn’t noticed. He was glad it wasn’t him for once. Whatever Jack needed was more important, clearly.

Jack dropped the cool box handle abruptly and spun on his heel, letting Trevor’s voice fade back out into the distance as his feet slapped against the wooden flooring inside the house. When he and Trevor reached the back porch, y/n wasn’t there waiting for them as she had insisted, and the thing about y/n is that when she said she’d be there, she would be there without fail. Besides, she was more important than Trevor carrying that cool box on his own.

He knocked on the spare room door twice, calling out her name and waiting for her voice. Instead, she opened the door slightly, her head peeking around the corner with red, puffy eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong? Was it the guys?”

She shook her head, refusing to let him open the door further and stop him. He’d never felt so useless in his life, she was right under his nose, crying and he hadn’t been there to soothe the tears away. All he wanted was to reach out and press her into his chest, let her sob into his t-shirt, pet her hair and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he was shut out, stuck between a barrier that he couldn’t seem to break through.

“Sunshine, please let me in…” his voice was small, sympathy on his face and slowly she pulled the door back, allowing him to shuffle in and close the door behind him. When he turned around his jaw almost dropped, but his cheeks sold him out completely with how hot they flushed. When he saw her crying, he assumed that she was hurt, or that she’d received a nasty text or something that was not what he was faced with at that moment. All that ran through his mind was, ‘Fucking Christ.’ His body betrayed him then, so badly. His eyes raked her up and down, not in the way a predator seeks its prey but in the way that he had no idea what he should be trying to fathom.

“I look awful. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Was all she squeaked. Jack shook his head eagerly, stuffing his hands into his swim shorts and stood next to her, encouraging them both to face the wall-length mirror.

“I think you look…” he swallowed, throat suddenly dry and he shifted his weight, “Good.”

Of course, he’d seen women in bikinis before, in music videos, in magazines, in adverts, at the beach and lake but this time it was different. Y/n was a real-life girl who stood next to him in a bikini that showed more skin than he’d ever thought about. She looked more than good, she looked pretty, stunning but the latter were lumps stuck in his throat.

“You think so?” she asked, staring at them both in the mirror, removing her hands from covering her body. Jack never looked any different. She’d only ever known him to have abs or abs in progress. He was an active guy, she expected it, but it didn’t mean she didn’t find it drop-dead attractive, struggling to swat away the thoughts of touching the dips in muscles and smoothing her hands over his shoulders. He hummed in response, just two teens taking in their bodies as if they’d never seen them before. Growing up sucked sometimes. “I wish I had your slutty little waist.”

She broke into a contagious smile, one that seemed to calm whatever was making his shorts uncomfortable and chest tight, “And I wish I had your nice tits but here we are.”

“Tits only look good in bras, Jack. Gravity betrays them.”

“That's okay, I love a good album drop.”

She smacked his chest jokingly and giggled, “You're such a perv.”

“Hey, I'm saying you look hot!” He raised his hands in defence, the lump in his throat shrinking but biting his tongue.

“Not just me.” With her arms folded over her chest, she teased him, pushing her chest together and smirking when his eyes shifted quickly.

Jack stepped closer to, y/n spinning to face him as his figure loomed over hers, close enough to hear each other mumble crystal clear, “Oh? Then who else?”

Gazes falling back into each other, smirks painted on lips, the message was evident but getting each other to admit such secrets was their favourite game to play, especially with high stakes waiting for them, now impatiently, outside on the boat.

“I don’t know, Trevor’s cleaning up well lately.” She cocked an eyebrow. Behind his sleaze grin, he loathed the name that ruined his moment. Why was he on her mind when they were stood, alone, on a friendly flirtatious rollercoaster that kindled his puppy love craving for giddy sparks in his tummy? Instead, all he felt was that horrible thorn stabbing in his side again. “But you’re not too bad yourself, I guess.”

“You little- c’mere,” before she could wiggle away, his arms locked around her waist, pulling her flush into his chest as she squealed, “that wakeboard is calling us.”

Squirming, Jack threw her over his shoulder, opening the door and taking them both down the hall. She laughed the whole time, “I can't wait to watch you fall off again.”

Cole and Luke piped up like little meerkats when Jack and y/n closed in on the boat, y/n still cackling over his shoulder. He plopped her down on the deck, stepping into the boat first just so she could hold his hand while she joined them. There was no way he was letting anyone else have the privilege of having her hand enchant theirs.

“Looking sexy, angel.” Trevor hollered, way too loudly for how close they all were. Jack did his best to hide his irritation, but he let a deep huff slip and perhaps he glared a little too harshly at Trevor, who only winked.

“You too, Zegras,” she thanked him, sitting next to Jack, thighs touching. “You been working out lately?”

“You could say that. Been hittin’ the gym.” He flexed his bicep, “Was hoping you’d notice. Wanna come take a feel?”

“And get your cooties? No thanks.” She chuckled, watching Trevor slouch back in the seat with defeat.

Jack’s muscles tensed and he lay his arm on the seats behind y/n. His friends received a message that day, one loud and clear yet when Cole, Alex and Trevor, all gave each other scheming looks, Jack knew he screwed up.

They started high school, lost friends, made new ones, got introduced to social constructs for the first time and the anxieties and insecurities that came in the package. What trend was in this week? People were wearing makeup now? When did people start filling out and getting taller? Everything was changing, everyone was changing and suddenly the world seemed so small and terrifying to walk in. Of course, the scariest part of it all was the cliques. They say they don’t exist in real life, that they only serve as movie elements, but they very much did happen in real life and y/n found herself at the centre of it all. Being friends with Jack brought out the best in her, and it wasn’t middle school anymore, nobody knew who she was and better, nobody knew Jack, only by association with Quinn (which wasn’t all good, he was always going to be Quinn’s little brother). Grumpy and grim y/n was part-time, and she let people in, made friends who didn’t care if she was friends with Jack and Jack being Jack attracted a crowd. Y/n went from being a middle school nobody with fickle friends to rather popular for all the right reasons with a tight circle. And her best friend, Jack Hughes.

Another Sunday, another afternoon spent laying on his bed watching Netflix while snuggled in his hoodie. They took their usual position, y/n sat against the wall with Jack’s head on her lap, fingers running through his hair. Although the episode played in the background, both silent and still, her attention droned on him. He’d grown so much over the year. He was taller, and broader, he’d started working out more and every time they hugged, or she held onto his arm, she felt the growing definition. His hair wasn’t as blond anymore, it morphed into a dirty-blond, on its way to brunet shortly but that wasn’t the most noticeable change to her. Jack had grown out of his baby fat, his jaw one of the sharpest among the boys in their grade. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his striking eyes and whirlwind personality. He still followed her like a lost puppy, dragging her and jumping around her, glued to her hip, and she’d grown to love it.

She hadn’t realised that the episode had ended and been paused, Jack rolling over onto his back, gazing up at her. She continued to stroke his hair, the silence between them comforting as he got lost in her eyes. He’d found his person and so far, he’d let nobody take that away from him. But he, like everyone, had that sinking feeling looming inside him. One day, she’d like another boy, and they’d start dating and he’d have to share his precious time with him. Sharing with his brothers was awful enough, but watching Luke try and teach her how to play Chess spread warmth through his heart, and he’d never laughed so hard seeing her and Quinn get borderline violent during Uno (she almost lunged over the table), so that wasn’t so bad. But at school, that was like trying to hit a puck with a mop: impossible. Boys would like her, see her in ways he did, but also ways he’d want to punch them for, and he would be the masculinity-threatening-boy-best-friend.

“I always wondered why mum lets us do this. Hang out in my room with the door closed.” He said with his voice low, or as low as it could go without breaking and squeaking.

“Maybe my aura is trustworthy.” She chuckled, his eyes closing as her nails raked gently over his scalp. “You mean she didn’t give you a lecture?”

“Damn, think my mum likes you more than she likes me. But yeah, it was basically her telling me to not get you pregnant, which was fucking crazy for a Monday, but I was expecting to be told to keep the door open so they could see what we were doing. Y’know, that kinda shit.” When they’d stopped hanging out in the living room due to background noise disrupting their shows, Ellen had pulled him aside one evening and given him a thirty-minute lecture on trust and not getting girls pregnant as teenagers, but also the importance of using protection, not that either of them were going to have sex, they were only fifteen. He groaned and avoided eye contact the entire time, wanting the ground to swallow him when Quinn heard the entire thing and told Luke. Of course, she was basically telling him that she trusts him to not get y/n pregnant if they were moving to his room. They may have used his room to do their project many moons ago, but that was different, it was once before Jim found out and purposely cleaned the dining room table (which had been on his to-do list for too long) so they could work there instead, even though they were thirteen going fourteen at the time. “Don’t your folks worry about things like that? Like for all they know, we could be fucking right now.”

She laughed as he opened one eye. She hadn’t mentioned a lot about home, but at some point, she would have to spill the secrets about it. It wasn’t that her parents were bad people, no, not at all. They were supportive and loving, but her younger brother, who was in Luke’s grade, was a rebel without a cause and made it difficult for her parents.

“They’ve got bigger problems than what I’m doing,” she said, giving him a smile but she knew he was desperate to ask why she never asked him over to hers. She overheard Jack and Jim talking about it one afternoon as she was walking past. They were getting out Jim’s truck and she just happened to be on her way home from the store. It wasn’t that she was ashamed but exposing him to screaming and arguing wasn’t a promising impression at all. “My brother’s a pain in the ass, bad in school, bad reports, near suspensions, violence. My parents just want the best for him but all he does is get hostile, and then my parents start yelling and then everyone’s arguing with each other, avoiding each other, awkward dinners. He’s supposed to play hockey, but my parents can never get him to go to practice more than twice a week, hence I knew about the school grades and hockey relation. I just don’t like hearing the yelling all the time and I don’t want people to know about it.”

“Do my parents know about it? They seem to talk with yours a lot…”

She pushed the hair off his forehead, thumb rubbing circles over a bruise from his helmet, “Probably, I don’t know.”

He thought carefully, both eyes opened and steadied on hers before he opened his mouth to speak, his voice soft, “You’re always welcome here. My home is your home.”

Just as his dad had told him, offering up your home could be one of the nicest things to do for someone and hearing his words made her stomach fuzzy as a spark of adrenaline surged through her. Should she just do it? Was it okay? What if he pushed her away? Fuck it, what was the worst that could happen, he was too charming to pass up the opportunity and maybe she’d be the first to do it.

She leant down, the other hand’s fingertips lightly ghosting his jaw as she placed her lips to his forehead, giving his flushed skin a sweet, chaste kiss, “Thank you, Wack.”

His jaw dropped, bug-eyed but blooming with ecstasy at the foreign sensation driving through his body and fogging his mind. He couldn’t resist temptation and broke out into a cheshire-cat grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and cheeks burning pink. He felt like the happiest man alive. She was still his person.

Homecoming turned out to certainly be a night to remember, in more ways than one. A good few weeks or days, she wasn’t really paying attention, of grand proposals like it was prom, many couples chained together like it were to be their wedding night and the everlonging hope that someone would ask her to be his date. The assumption was that everyone wanted to ask the popular girls, because they held this social value, clout that they had no idea about, making them highly desirable to be seen with at homecoming. Because anything could happen after homecoming, right? Kisses, sex, teens saying they had sex when really their dad caught them making out on the driveway. For a group of popular girls, only one had been asked to be a date, and she would have a magical night to add to her memories.

At first, she thought with her whole heart that Jack would ask her, but then he asked another girl who she didn’t even know. She waited weeks and even had a jumpscare dream that Quinn was forced to take her out of pity. She physically cringed at that, as hot as she found him. Jack was positive though and reassured her that someone would come, there were loads of guys in their grade, one of them was bound to ask her, ‘You’re y/n! Why wouldn’t someone ask you? You’re the coolest and funniest! He’d be stupid to pass you up!’. He tried his best to wingman, he really did, and he thought he’d hit the bullseye with a guy from his gym class.

Y/n sat at one of the tables pushed to the side, cheek resting in her palm while she watched the couples and groups dance under the warm lighting of the gym. The committee settled of a Great Gatsby theme, with dim lighting, a red carpet at the entrance, extravagant balloons and chandeliers covering the ceiling, gold accessories, red tablecloths and a photo booth. Nobody had asked her along with her friends, she wasn’t originally going to attend, claiming to Jack that, ‘It was just a stupid dance, why would I go?’ but there she sat, alone.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, 21:30. Two hours had been long enough for attendance, surely, and clearly nobody was dying to see her. With a sigh, she stood up, patting down her outfit and began to make her way towards the doors. She took one final gaze into the crowd of swaying and hands roaming bodies, the sea parting briefly and the world fell silent. Standing frozen, her eyes widened slightly, lips parting as she locked eyes with him. He was blatantly staring right back at her, like she’d caught him red-handed in the act. Jack stood amongst the crowd, alone, hands stuffed into his suit pockets and looking the most handsome she’d ever seen him. Like a moth to a flame, their legs moved on their own, weaving through the crowd with lips slipping into smiles the closer they became to each other until they stopped chest to chest, joining the sea of bodies. As if on cue, the once upbeat music lulled into a soft and slow song, the accent lights dimming until the chandeliers projected perfect amber droplets around the gym.

Jack held his hand out, “Will you dance with me?”

She didn’t need to speak, her hand melted into his as he pulled her into his chest, gliding his hands to her hips while hers looped around his neck, swaying in perfect sync to the music. He looked so good, too good, or maybe he always looked like that, and it was only then she was letting herself accept it. The way his thumbs caressed her hips made it too easy to seek comfort in him, gentle and thoughtful, not ghosting but not bruising. The perfect pressure that made the pit of her stomach warm and tingly.

Jack’s heart exploded repeatedly in his chest, like she was the cause of his death yet also the healer. He hadn’t expected to see her alone that night, he really believed she’d be swept off her feet so when he caught her just before she slipped away, out of his reach, he was five seconds from bursting through the crowds, without a care for who he pissed off, they didn’t matter. When her hands touched his neck, the only thing he felt like doing was hugging her tight and close, to run his hands over her to feel the fire burn through him all over again, and again, and again. That addicting kind of burn, the kind that kept him warm. He just never wanted her to let him go, didn’t want to become an infirm flame.

“Thought you weren't coming to this stupid dance?” his voice husky, quiet, not to kill the mood for others but his playfulness seeped through.

A wave of confidence washed over her, maybe it was destiny they’d found each other, “It was stupid because I didn’t have a date. But I guess it's not so bad anymore. I get to dance with a pretty guy.”

“I was about to ditch until a pretty girl agreed to dance with me.” He chuckled.

“You think I’m pretty?” Her smile dropped slowly, and her eyebrows raised. Jack swore he saw the stars in her eyes then, glittering under the lights and just them two in the world.

“Always.” He murmured. Her lips twitched up when his smile never faltered, ever since they met, he always looked at her like she’d hung the stars out for him. “I’m sorry nobody asked you to be their date. I thought- I’m sorry, I thought Ryan would. Guess he pussied out.”

He knew he should’ve talked to her, asked her if anyone had asked her yet, if Ryan from gym class did go through with it, but guilt bit him in the gut. That’s what he got for neglecting his best friend, focussing on a girl he met four days prior, and he paid the price by watching her heart break before his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” she cupped his cheek, feeling him melt into her hand like putty as he leaned down, “but I’m flattered you assumed I would have one. I came with my friends instead, but I lost them.”

“If it helps, my date ditched me too. Pretty much as soon as we got here.”

Their gazes steadied on each other, her hand glued to his face and showing no sign of moving away as he closed in on her lips. She stood on her tiptoes, attempting to close the gap with hot, trembling breaths tangling and lips inches apart. Heartbeats raced at a million miles per hour, hammering in their ears with what felt like electricity transferring between them with how giddy they were. It was just them in the room, their world and everyone was just existing. Lips ghosted, eyes fluttering closed as they took the final leap.

Until Jack pulled back, and instead let his lips meet her forehead for a gentle kiss. Yet the thrill remained, smiles shone brightly, and eyes still sparkled under the chandeliers. His mind screamed at him, screamed insults and profanities for not thinking clearly, face flushing pink as his smile poorly hid his embarrassment. Y/n wanted to run, but her feet refused to move, heart too swept up in the moment.

Winters in Toronto bit hard. Froze anyone to their core, nothing but one big duvet of snow covering every building, road and car for miles, taunting the poor civilians who had to wake up extra early just to shovel their driveways and lay layers of grit on the footpaths. The only real redeeming quality for it were the Christmas decorations plotted around people’s front yards and lights wrapped around fences and trees, hung on porches and bushes. Perhaps the Christmas spirit too, when people decide to be just a little bit kinder than normal or suddenly feel the urge to see every family member they know, or huddle inside and watch films by the fire all day with hot chocolate and puzzles. The best of all, Christmas break. A house with no parents for days and freedom to do whatever you wanted.

Unfortunately for y/n and Quinn, there was no huddling in the warmth or sleeping in. The two eldest siblings were promptly enforced to shovelling duty in the AM so their parents could make it to work on time. Thick coats zipped to chins and hockey beanies pulled down to the eyebrows. Y/n’s dad was an early riser, so she never had too much to shovel at six-thirty in the morning with headtorches, but since she was already up, she trudged her way down the road, shovel in hand and surprised Quinn by aiding him. Both gave each other a mutual look of disapproval at their parent’s decision, why were they the ones being punished?

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” He was so kind, too kind, and such a softie with the way he smiled though his face felt numb.

Y/n tipped a pile of snow off his driveway, “Wasn’t like a was sleeping anyway, teamwork makes the dream work.”

He chuckled with her, both shovelling the last pieces of snow before huffing and high fiving.

“Hey, we’re heading down the rink this evening, you wanna join? Jack’s dying to teach you how to skate, won’t shut up about it.”

At seven-thirty in the evening, the rink was exactly where y/n had found herself, her hands clutched in Jack’s as she attempted to skate like a newborn giraffe. His practice wouldn’t start until eight, and he was determined to get her skating on her own by the end of the public session. Kind of. Part of him had a longing to skate side by side with her, her arm looped with his as they glided around the ice in a perfect sync, yet the other part melted into a puddle when she clung to him for stability, she was just too cute when she concentrated. How could she rollerblade but not ice skate? It was the same thing, almost.

“I got you, don’t try and walk, trust the blades and push. I won’t let you fall; I promise.” He instructed, intently watching her feet move and progressively start gliding yet also trying to not tumble backwards. “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”

His words repeated in her head like a verse, a greed for success shining at the end of a dark tunnel, she would learn to skate eventually. Even though she was barely skating, she laughed the entire time, deep down knowing Jack was doing a lot more dragging than he was letting on, he just wanted her to be happy and have fun.

“You think you can try on your own? I’ll still catch you.” The shock and horror on her face when he let go sent a shockwave through him, y/n was hard to rattle, courageous as they came sometimes and he never thought ice would be her enemy. He found it somewhat amusing, watching her wobble like a baby deer, cautiously moving one leg in front of the other and her arms reaching out to him just for him to slide back, like she was chasing him.

“Jack this is terrifying!” she cried, but not seriously.

“No no, you’re doing fine, look! You’re skating!”

“Barely!” She straightened her hunched posture, bending her knees like Jack had shown her and caught his burning eyes. He did have confidence in her, real, genuine confidence that she wasn’t a lost cause. So, the ambition grew, pushing with more power, using her hands to drive her stride instead of looking for him and by seven-fifty, she could just about skate in one direction.

With one hefty push, she threw her hands up in victory, forgetting about stability and purposely falling into Jack, who caught her by the waist and cheered with her while spinning in a circle with smiles that ached their cheeks.

“I did it!”

“I told you so, Sunshine!” He pulled her onto her feet, hands holding hers tight and cosy, looking at her like she was the most beautiful diamond of the batch, “When I’m out there with the big shots, I’ll take you to the family skate, and the whole world can see us, I swear.”

“Sounds good to me! You better be winning games though!”

“Duh! I have a practice game today, and if I win, I think I deserve a thank you for being your coach.” Although he was only joking, she’d known him long enough to know he was also being dead serious.

“Alright, I suppose. What do you want?”

He pretended to think hard, rubbing his non-existent facial hair on his jaw, “Mmm, I think if I win, I would like a kiss, right here.” He pointed to his cheek. He knew goddamn well what he was doing, the boy craved affection and attention and he knew she was willing to feed it to him.

She agreed, short-circuiting for a second at his wishes but not entirely opposed to the idea overall. He was cute, and she did wonder what it would feel like to kiss a boy and her friends had all done it so why wouldn’t she? The final call for changeover buzzed and vibrated the walls, public skaters leaving the ice and the hockey coaches entering to set up. Jack led y/n off, taking her skates off for her and bidding her a temporary goodbye with a squeeze before she left to sit in the lobby.

On the way through to the locker rooms, an arm plonked itself around his shoulder, “Lil’ Hugh, that uh, girl you were with, she’s real cute. She got a Snapchat?”

Shrugging his arm off, he continued walking, “Not for you, Chris.”

“Oh~,” Chris was his teammate, and unfortunately someone Jack could never find a middle ground with. He thought he had superiority since his father was a former professional hockey player, “Is she your girlfriend? That why?”

Jack turned the corner and entered the locker room, ignoring Chris’ comments and gossip but his fuse shortened every time Chris opened his mouth. Y/n wasn’t some girl to rotate around the team, he’d sworn to himself that she’d never go near the team ever. She was his person; she and hockey were separate, and he hated how badly his jaw tightened whenever her name left someone else’s mouth. All he wanted was to scoop her up in his arms and tell her how much she meant to him. He knew, oh knew painfully well how down bad he’d fallen for his best friend already.

Y/n almost dropped her phone when the doors to the lobby swung open to a Jack bundling through them at some inhuman speed. She whipped around, standing up to open her arms, catching him with a stumble. The cheesy grin on his face meant one thing, and it was that Jack was about to claim victory for the second time. With a playful eye roll, she cupped his jaw, little fires tingling over his skin and igniting more goosebumps than the cold could. Her lips softly met his cheek, giving it a sweet peck before he engulfed her in a bear hug.

Sixteen was such a socially vital age to be turning. Everyone had crazy sixteenth birthdays it seemed. She remembered Quinn’s well, he’d thrown a house party and when she found out she was invited, surprised was an understatement. Some guy had managed to get his hands on alcohol, and at least half the guests got tipsy, except this one girl who threw up in the garden. She knew that because it was her and Jack who’d hosed it down before Ellen and Jim got home the next morning. It was also her and Jack who’d nursed Quinn’s hangover and cleaned half the house for him, safe to say that it was a party people remembered.

Now it was Jack’s sixteenth, he hadn’t planned to celebrate socially until the weekend, savouring the actual day to have at home, just the two of them watching a marathon of The Mighty Ducks in the living room although spent most of the second movie eyeing up the present and card on the coffee table in front of them. Pausing the TV, he took the card between his fingers, slicing the envelope with his nail.

Y/n bit her lip, in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she struggled to sit still in anticipation as he pulled the card out. His eyes lit up, carefully holding the handmade card between his fingers, admiring the poster of himself in the format of his favourite video game cover (‘chel’/NHL). Pestering Ellen for photos was worth it after all, the edit looked almost real. No store-bought present could come anywhere close in value to the card in his hands, and the long message handwritten inside made his chest swell and tummy do somersaults like it was going to explode. Placing the card on the coffee table, he reached for the present, looking back at her for the go ahead before tearing the paper to shreds over the floor.

“Thank you so much, Sunshine.” He tackled her back into the sofa cushions, fingers gripping the marshmallow-scented cologne he’d mentioned one lunchtime.

“Anytime.” She fished for the remote, hitting the play button and accepting the fact that Jack had no intention of moving off her, nuzzling his head into her chest as if he couldn’t have been any more obvious to her. She didn’t mind, it was only Jack, and the weight was comfortable and brought a sense of security. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers carding through his hair until the sound from the TV slowly droned out, pairs of eyes fluttering closed, and they drifted off.

While passing by, Ellen’s heart swelled. In the years y/n had joined their lives, she’d never seen her rowdiest son so calm and hooked on someone like Jack was to y/n. Ellen never told Jack or any of her boys, but back when the kids were only young, Ellen and y/n’s mother hoped they’d become friends just as the l/n’s and the Hughes’ had, enrolling them in the same schools their whole lives just to ensure that if all ended badly, they’d still have someone in their lives. They always assumed it would be y/n and Jack hitting it off being the same age, but little y/n seemed to enjoy little Quinn’s personality more, likely due to being the eldest and always having a louder younger sibling disgruntling them, hovering all the same with that childlike fascination that there’s someone else living in their home too. But kids grow up and the heartbreaking part of being a parent was watching kids grow apart from each other until they were nothing more than neighbours and strangers on the same street, the kid from class until they’d completely forgotten that at one point, they were friends.

She draped a blanket over the two, carefully prying the cologne box from Jack’s hand and placing it on the coffee table and turning the TV off. To say that she was riddled with joy as a mother was nowhere near as descriptive as what she felt inside, even spotting the card y/n had made Jack just made her want to tear up. It wasn’t easy finding solace in someone, but as his mother, she knew that no matter who he dated, how many girls he dated, none of them would ever bring the peace of mind y/n had and unfortunately for that poor girl, y/n would always be his number one priority, whether Jack knew it himself or not.

People change ages and they also change mentally and emotionally with it. His sixteenth weekend social turned out to be one of the best nights of his life, not a great one for y/n (she was on drunk Jack duty after once again, beers had been smuggled in). She knew that one day, she would be second to Jack, he’d raved about girls to her day after day, his confidence never wavering when it came to his feelings. It started with Nicole when they were thirteen but nothing ever came of it, Talia at fourteen whom he had his first kiss with under the bleachers, he dated Emma when they were fifteen and he took her to homecoming, only for her to ditch him then dump him a month later and at late fifteen, Jack started dating Kenna but at sixteen they had recently broken up, yet Jack was still stuck on her. She never understood why, not because she was upset or jealous, but Kenna wasn’t ever clear with him whether she liked him or not, but Jack seemed to be into whatever it was. Above all those girls, he told y/n about every single one of them in crushing detail, calling until the silly hours of the morning like a lovestruck teenager. Y/n kept her crushes and boyfriends on the down low, they weren’t anyone’s business anyway. Jack had only met one of her boyfriends, and the air that day was as awkward as it came, behind Jack’s forced smile his shoulders tensed and jaw locked, poor Miles sweat like a pig for the whole interaction. But she couldn’t date Miles for long, couldn’t lead him on like she felt something real for him and after four months she called it off. He thought it was due to Jack, which would have been any guy’s default answer, but Jack had no idea about it until a week after. The worst part for Miles was that y/n didn’t shed a tear, she’d cried over Jack more.

Y/n and Jack stood outside his friend, Liam’s, house. Music thumping, echoing into the street outside and colourful lights strobing from the windows with teens seeping into and out the house as they pleased. It was the most college looking party they’d seen, but Liam’s parents were on the wealthier side, and they had a large enough house to host.

“Wack, I have a really bad feeling about this,” Y/n said, holding onto Jack’s arm. Her hand squeezing around his bicep made him all kinds of jittery inside.

“It’ll be okay, yeah? If you wanna leave, either come find me or give me the signal.” He smiled, giving her forehead a quick peck, “And if you can’t find me, find my friends, you’re okay with them, right?”

She was, she’d hung out with them on occasions and had classes with a couple of them. They weren’t on a level of friendship like Jack was with them, but they were the kind of friend where you’d still be relieved if you saw them in an unfamiliar place.

With a nod, they entered through the crowds, snaking through bodies to find Liam and the rest of Jack’s group. In a house swamped with people she knew, y/n had never felt so small and alone, clinging to Jack’s arm like she didn’t belong there at all. She could hold onto his arm the whole night and he wouldn’t have minded; his number one fear was losing her entirely or being unable to help her in a time of dire need.

After an hour of being at Liam’s, her vice grip on Jack’s arm was surrendered as soon as her friends arrived. Liam was only really friends with one of them, but the more the merrier, right? The level of tea that had been spilt while she and her friends dominated the sofas was astronomical, y/n had updated her mental filing cabinet of high school gossip completely, a full reboot and she’d contributed heavily to it. ‘Anyone who claims they don’t gossip is the biggest gossip’, that was their motto.

Her friend, Rachel, leant closer into their huddle, “Guess who just arrived? Kenna!”

“Kenna? As in Kenna who started dating Miles? That’s fucking bold.” Sarah gasped, the group’s eyes widening.

“Huh?” y/n choked on her beer, “They’re dating? Why?”

“Right!” Kylie’s posture straightened, her mouth falling in disbelief, “Though, I heard from Josh that Miles was super bummed when y/n/n dumped him, so maybe he’s in his revenge era?”

“Bold of him to assume I care about what he does.” Y/n sipped her drink, scoffing slightly.

“Really? Lily, the blonde one, said that Owen told Liam that Kenna and Jack had broken up and Kenna was so pissed about it because apparently Jack dumped her for y/n/n, which we know isn’t true because Jack and y/n/n aren’t together!” Jonie exclaimed. Y/n hated how her heart sped up, there was no way she was the reason Jack left the girl he was crazy about for her.

“That’s further from the truth,” y/n piped up, “Kenna dumped Jack a week before his birthday outside my locker, think she was upset that he planned to spend his birthday with me and not her. Fucking Cam was there too. I dumped Miles way before that.”

“Oh my God, maybe Miles thought you dumped him for Jack and Kenna assumed that you two were canoodling? Like, ‘Hey, sorry but I love my bestie more than you, you’re second place’ which is understandable, it’s normal.” Kylie raised. All drinks had been set by feet and the huddle tightened, the conversation just got juicy.

“One, never say canoodling, two, hold up. Why would Miles date Kenna to get back at y/n? And vice versa?” Rachel asked, the group subtly glancing across the room at the two victims of their night.

“Shit, Kenna knows Jack’s crazy about her and probably knows he hates Miles. It’s for the chase. Poor Wack.” Y/n rested her chin in her palm, her friends looking at her with sappy eyes hearing her use the nickname.

“You two are too cute.” Kylie cooed, y/n rolling her eyes. She despised that comment with every fibre in her body. Nobody broke her heart more than the comments about how cute she and Jack were, nothing fed delusions and false hopes more. Jack liked Kenna, and that was final. In no universe would she and Jack be more than friends, as much as that tore her heart out of her chest. Maybe some people aren’t meant to be.

As if they’d summoned him, Jack shoved his way through the crowds to the sofa and stood with panic in his eyes, “Sunshine, I need your help, like now.”

Jack dragged her to a corner of the living room, away from the majority of the crowd but not isolated entirely. When Jack said he needed him, she hadn’t expected the following sentence at all. He’d seen Kenna and Miles, and he’d fallen into their trap, and she felt nothing but sympathy for him.

“So, Kenna thinks we’re, like, a thing so I need you to kiss me.” He begged, y/n stood frozen, “Please, y/n, you know how crazy I am about her, I’ll make it up to you.”

She almost shook her head and walked away, but the way he flashed his puppy eyes and clutched her hands in his, she couldn’t resist. He was so adamant that by Kenna seeing them kiss, she’d come crawling back to him in some sort of jealous fit of rage. Kissing Jack would screw things up, y/n knew that. She knew that it may have not meant anything to Jack, it would fog her feelings and mind too much and she’d never be able to look at him the same way again. But they were best friends, they were supposed to be there for each other, and his happiness was her number one priority.

“All right, pretty boy,”

Her hands cupped his jaw, his lips gracing into a smile. He wasn’t supposed to feel excited; he wasn’t supposed to feel restless with adrenaline surging through him and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the way he melted into her palms and his hands embedded on her hips, pulling their bodies closer. He dipped down, closer to filling the gap between them as eyelids fluttered closed with hot breaths bouncing off each other's cheeks. The house of bustling teenagers yelling to each other over throwback songs and cheering from beer pong muted and everyone they were once surrounded by felt like they had disappeared into the void as just the two of them heard heartbeats pulse in their ears. Just Jack and y/n, y/n and Jack. Their lips pressed together, a thrilling voracity unleashing, and his tongue swiped her lower lip. She was only going to live once, and even though she’d never made out with anyone before, if she wasn’t great at it, at least it was only Jack. She opened her mouth, his tongue darting in with a fervent desire. With one hand sliding to his nape, tugging on the hairs and ripping a groan from the back of his throat, one of his hands left her hip and slid up her spine, pressing her body closer into his chest. She followed his lead, tongues lapping at each other in a rousing frenzy, like something they’d been dreaming of doing for months and getting it out of their systems turning them feral for the taste and affection. All the little touches, hugs, afternoons spent cuddling on his bed, time cooped up in each other's company with no proper understanding of their feelings finally bursting into fireworks.

He pulled back, chests heaving as they caught breaths with half-lidded eyes speaking more words of yearning than either would admit before Jack dove back in, deeply kissing her slowly, tongues roaming mouths and moans vibrating through chests as they physically couldn’t stop themselves from drinking in one another.

Perhaps they’d kissed a bit too long for it to be fake, kissed a bit too well for it to be a show. What they did was that dreaded limbo between a mistake and the experience of a lifetime. When they had pulled away for the final time, hands leaving each other hesitantly with sheepish smiles, Kenna stormed out the room, y/n and Jack watching her with giggles. The pair turned to each other and high-fived with strained hearts and trampled feelings being stuffed to the pits of their minds as they’d tried to forget the kiss ever happened. Not that they could, no, there was too much intent behind the way they touched, too many sparks between their lips for it to not mean anything at all. It meant everything to y/n, her first proper French kiss and when the world tuned back into play, she ascended to the heavens with pure elation. She hoped he felt the same, the way he kissed her had too much desperation and emotion behind it to all be just an act.

Another two hours drowning at the party, another three cheap beers and she just had to break the seal, and wetting yourself at a party was not what anyone wanted in their teenage years. She splashed her face, doing her best to keep herself away, perhaps another hour and she’d go lug Jack home. Fixing her hair and outfit, she slipped from the bathroom, exhaling before entering the lion's den once again but when she turned the corner, her stomach dropped to the pit and shattered into shambles. She was so wrong. She knew it was a bad idea and she should have stayed strong when he raised the idea because then she wouldn’t be watching Jack lip-lock with Kenna right in front of her. She had to remind herself, repeat it like a mantra to drill it into her skull, they were just best friends at the end of the day. Jack was into Kenna, and she knew that, but it should’ve been her standing there. It was her before Kenna, why did he like her anyway? She was hot and cold, on and off with him, one day they were snuggled up and the next y/n was the one cradling Jack through his rambles. Kissing Jack had always meant nothing, yet she deluded herself that it meant everything. With watery eyes, she took a sharp breath and kept walking, B-lining for Jack’s friends at the beer pong table. Anything to take her mind off the invasive fantasies being abolished. Getting drunk didn’t sound all that bad anymore.

“Hey, y/n!” Liam called as she approached, his t-shirt collar damp and stained, “You good?”

“Yeah, was wondering if you needed one more player?” she lied, hiding any drop of hurt behind her teeth.

They split into even teams, re-setting and refilling the red solo cups to the brim and playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who started. Liam won, lining up his aim and watching the ping pong ball bounce over all the cups, the other team (y/n’s team) letting out sighs of relief. The next guy took his shot, the ball landing in the cup and the round continued, y/n forgetting about Jack the more beer she threw down her throat.

One round quickly turned to two in the heat of the thrill, the beer slowly running low and so Liam pulled out the vodka he’d stashed away from the rest of the party. The vodka had one hell of a kick compared to the beer, the burning satisfying as it fell down her throat, yet it was the perfect remedy as the more cups she drank from, the less Jack entered her mind. Until the room started spinning and nausea hit her like a brick.

“I’ll be right back; I don’t feel so hot.” She tapped Liam’s shoulder, stumbling as she turned away.

“Shit,” Liam wrapped his arm around her shoulder, stabilising her, “hold on guys, be right back.”

Liam guided her to the bathroom, sitting down next to the toilet with her. She shook her head at him and leant over the bowl, panic rushing through him as his hands pulled her hair away from her face.

“It’s all right, ‘atta girl,” he soothed. He shouldn’t be the one with her in that state, she needed someone close and that she trusted, and Liam wasn’t sure if she was entirely okay with him seeing her in such a disastrous state, but if he left her, Jack would tear the place up.

She stopped retching, tears falling down her cheeks as she sobbed out hoarsely, “Just wan…ted to forget…saw.”

Meanwhile, Jack hung in the garden with a group of girls, Kenna and her friends, re-telling a half-exaggerated story from the summer when Owen blundered over to him and gripped him by the arm, spinning him around to face him.

“Hughesy! Your girl's not holding up so good, she played beer pong, Liam took her to the bathroom.” He explained hurriedly, watching Jack’s face screw up, brows knitting deepening on this forehead and suddenly the girls weren’t important anymore.

“And you left her there?!” he hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but his fight or flight kicked in and he shrugged Owen off, storming into the house, “Thanks anyway.”

Jack’s ears blocked out his classmates swear at him as he burst through the house, pushing his way to the bathroom like the place was on fire, swinging the bathroom door open and halting when his eyes laid upon y/n slumped against the cabinet, Liam sat opposite her.

“I got her, go. Thanks for keeping an eye on her.” He let Liam squeeze past before locking the door. Jack crouched in front of her, his chest tightening at her tear-stained cheeks tinted red, his palm resting on her cheek.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said softly, y/n nuzzling into his hand with opening, puffy eyes, “why’d you drink so much?”

“M’was sad.” She uttered out, pulling her knees closer to her chest with a fuzzy head and weak jaw.

“And why were you sad?” his thumb rubbed her cheek, guilt building in his stomach. She was in dire need of him, and he wasn’t there. The evil voice at the back of his brain refusing to let it slide, howling it at him, ‘You weren’t fucking there! It’s your fault!’.

She lulled her head up straight, red, sleepy eyes staring into his, “Because…you kissed me,” she slurred, sniffing, “and I liked it, and I shouldn't have…because you kissed another girl. So, it meant…meant nothing.”

You kissed me and I liked it. It rang through his head like a parasite. Actions have consequences, his dad had always told him that since he was a child and he was finally realised that he didn’t just mean in hockey, but in life. Not only had he messed up his own feelings but now hers too and it was all his fault. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he just wanted to night to end, the moment to pass and a new day to begin where everything went back to normal. Where he could hug and hold her without thinking about a future where she was more than his best friend, where he wouldn’t be squatting on a bathroom floor, holding his drunk y/n’s head in his palm while evidently displaying the fact she had been crying because of him, even worse that Liam had seen her. Even worse that she felt the need to drink until she puked just to get it out her head.

“You’re drunk, y/n. You have no idea what you’re saying.”

She raised her hand and gripped his wrist, “I’m drunk, not stupid. You’re annoying…and annoyingly pretty. It’s not fair! Why dont guys like you like me!? Why do guys like Miles like me, he’s so…so lukewarm.”

She tried to stand up, wobbling but he caught her, his arm snaking around her waist as she put her weight into him. He would always catch her.

“You deserve better than guys like me, Sunshine.” He unlocked the door, walking with her through the foyer until they left out the front door, “The guy who wins your heart will be so lucky.”

It was midnight by the time they’d managed to trek home, y/n sobering up as they walked, leaning her body weight less and less into him but they walked hand in hand the entire way. Although it was nearly mid-May, the nights were still chilly, and both regretted not wearing jackets.

Jack walked her to her back door, her head still a bit fuzzy and his heart aching tremendously. Neither said a word, they gave each other a slight nod but to her surprise he planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he spun on his heel and left out her back gate.

Life moved on since the party and neither Jack nor y/n bought it up either, the whole event just seemed to fade into a memory vault. Yet too many nights of overthinking, too many hugs that lasted too long and sex dreams after the kiss just kept the feelings on a loop. But enough time passed for them to sit in Jack’s room at the lake house during the summer, chatting like usual and laughing at stupid jokes. Somehow, y/n had convinced Ellen and Jim to let her share with Jack, her point being that sharing with boys was awkward (even though she, Alex and Cole got along perfectly, harmonious to be absolute) and Jack couldn’t bear Trevor’s brutal snoring for another year. So, they let y/n take the mattress on Jack’s floor, emphasising the ‘no funny business’ rule once again.

Jack tossed and turned in his bed, shorts hiked up his thighs from wiggling so much, sheets twisted and his mind refusing to sleep. He tried flipping his pillow, turning the fan on a colder setting, and counting sheep but he couldn’t stop thinking.

“Jack, stop moving.” She whispered from the floor, irritated at the rustling.

“I can’t sleep knowing you have to sleep on the floor.” It wasn’t a complete lie, “Sleep here with me.”

Opening her eyes slowly, she gulped. He wanted her to share his bed? Even after they made out and she confessed her darkest secrets about it to him? He muttered a ‘Please’ before she threw her duvet off and slipped into his bed, Jack shimmying over next to the wall. They laid on their sides, facing each other with nothing but the whirring fan filling the silence. He tried to keep his eyes steady, to stop them from wandering to her collarbones and cleavage but why did she have to wear a tank top to bed? Was she trying to kill him? The bikinis during the day had him sweating and retreating to his room early to deal with his uncomfortably tight shorts as it was. What was she doing to him?

“Did you mean it? Did you really like it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She knew exactly what he meant, the only thing they hadn’t been talking about. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I liked it too. I don’t care if people know we kissed, by the way. I wasn’t ashamed. I just didn’t want to make things awkward, so I didn’t bring it up.” He placed his hand over hers on the pillow, as if to hold it.

She smiled at him, “It’s okay, as long as we’re cool.”

He paused and gazed into her eyes, admiring how they shimmered under the moonlight that seeped through his blinds. “You’re a good kisser, dunno if anyone’s ever told you that.”

“You too,” she giggled, “when did you learn how to make out?”

“Honestly, I winged it. That was the first time I’ve made out with somebody but I’m glad it was you. You were a lot better than she was.”

“What happened to her?”

Jack exhaled, taking his hand off hers and his arm winding around her waist instead, tucking her into his chest. Y/n’s arm snaked around his torso, the two intertwining and slicing the thick atmosphere that once separated them. With that action alone, y/n knew his answer, she was the only woman back in his arms again. As it should have been. As it should be.

The weeks before the annual lake house trip was always the most hectic. So much packing, cleaning, laundry and sorting out car and bedroom arrangements. Ellen and Jim had to spend almost two days brainstorming on how everything would work efficiently and make everyone happy. The more summers that passed, the more they got used to their big group and they didn’t mind anymore. What was supposed to be a one-off turned annual but giving the kids fond memories of their childhoods and adolescence was all that mattered. However, Jack had started dating a girl called Tabby from school which meant for weeks on end he pestered Ellen to let her join the lake house. Of course she was wary about space, but she didn’t want his teenage moods to ruin the summer. The settlement was final, Tabby could join for a week, but she had to find her own way there since their cars were full. Or so Ellen hoped. It wasn’t like she hated Tabby, she barely knew her son’s new girlfriend, but she hoped y/n would still be on the invite and if Jack wasn’t going to relay the message, then she would. She just prayed Jack still remembered he had a best friend.

Saturday nights were Jack’s turn to wash the dishes, even if he complained every time. It was good training for when he got older and would have to do it anyway. Quinn would do his part without question, Luke too, but Jack moved at one-hundred miles per hour, everything else was far more interesting than chores. Especially Tabby, the girl he thought he’d fallen in love with, thought about all the time, wanted to spend the little moments with.

Luke entered the kitchen, two plates in his hands and he placed them next to the sink, Quinn following with the last one. Jack scowled, placing a wet plate onto the drying rack. Both Luke and Quinn gave each other a side-eye, nudging each other’s ribs behind the middle’s back, silently gesturing who would speak up first.

Luke rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “Is y/n coming this summer? She better be, Jack.”

Jack shrugged, placing another plate to his right, “If she wants to.”

“Does she know that?” Quinn prompted, folding his arms over his chest.

“…probably?” Jack’s voice was far too dismissive to his brothers, like he didn’t even care at all, hadn’t even thought about it. Quinn’s tongue poked his cheek, Luke exhaling.

“You’re such an ass, I’m texting her.” The youngest exasperated, his dirty-blond curls bouncing as he pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers typing rapidly.

“Mum’s not gonna let you and Tabby share your room, by the way. That only works with y/n/n.” Quinn was his big brother, it was his job to tick his brother off, have the last word and assert that he was in the right.

Jack placed the final plate on the drying rack, roughly pulling the rubber gloves off and swung around to face his siblings, eyebrows knitted into a deep ‘v’, “You guys suck! Why can’t you be supportive?” He snapped, voice echoing through the kitchen and dining.

“You’re not seeing the point, Jack.” Luke kept his voice calm, even though his knuckles gripped his phone until they were white, “We don’t care if Tabby comes or not, we care if y/n is. And I just invited her so some friend you are.”

Quinn was almost shaking, seething as he hissed, “Don’t forget who was here first. Goodnight Jack.”

He shook his head with disappointment, turning and leaving the room, Luke tailing behind him. The clock ticked in the silence that swallowed Jack, his breathing heavy and rattling in his ears as his eyes caught sight of the photo on the wall. It was from last summer, a group photo of the usual suspects around the fire pit, wrapped up in hoodies and blankets with hot chocolates in their laps. The lawn chairs had all been taken, so he, y/n and Trevor sat on the log, y/n huddled between the two boys with their arms thrown over her shoulders. The same distaste coating his tongue as it did in the moment, something about how close she and Trevor had been that summer. The only thing making it better was how she fell asleep in his bed, in his hold and how she also was not ashamed of kissing him.

But he had a girlfriend now, so why did it still hurt to think about y/n?

Seventeen was such a floodgate age. You were in love with living and so dearly connected with souls, afraid to get old but at the same time you were so inconsolably fragile. Y/n’s stomach twisted whenever she saw Jack and Tabby together. Slowly, day by day, she watched him drive further into the distance while she was left in the rear-view mirror. She couldn’t control him; he was free to love and live how he wanted but didn’t think she would be easily replaced. At least she was the first to make out with him, the first to cradle him while he cried, fall asleep with him on sofas and beds, tell him he was pretty but now she was lucky to receive a text back. She hung out with Luke more than him since Tabby entered the picture. She played street hockey with Luke, watched movies with Quinn, FaceTimed Trevor, played games with Cole, texted Alex, spent Sunday’s shopping and took long drives with her friends instead. It was starting the feel like the older they got, the further apart they became. So much so that she found herself texting Cole, Trevor and Alex more than Jack. Hell, they thought they texted her more than they did Jack.

Trevvy R u lake housing this summer? Pls say yes cuz ik jizzy’s got his new girl and ur always no 1 y/n <3 You’ll have to take that up with Jacko, depends if I still have a place in his heart I just say yes to the invite I hope so tho I miss you and the boys Trevvy U’LL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART ANGEL We miss u 2 I’m gonna be so pissed if ur not I wont go. Omg u can come to me!!!! y/n <3 Thanks Twevvy But gross no thanks You should still go tho like don’t let me get between friendships Trevvy Ur so mean to me :( Dw Tabby already did that We r y/n/n supporters in this house <3333 y/n <3 Lukey’s invited me!! But snore in my ear and I’ll rip your balls off <3

She was just about to fall asleep, a new excitement flushing now she was officially going back to the lake house and away from the house for another year until her phone flashed. Her brother had only become worse, and she started getting used to the Hughes’ getaway home, that was the scary part.

Wack Huh🤕 I was gonna call u but its late but im sorry Ik this is poor of me to say over text but it cant wait. Im sorry for kinda just leaving u behind now im w tabby. Idk what was wrong w me but Q and lukey opened my eyes and after thinking i realise ive been a dick abt it. Im sorry for not hanging out with u as much and for not texting or calling, im sorry i haven’t been sitting with u at lunch either. Im gonna go back to how things were w us. Im sorry for not inviting u to the lake sooner and that luke had 2 do it. I do want u 2 come ur my best friend ofc i do, i need u. I wont let it happen again, im so sorry sunshine i love u and u’ll always be my no 1 u were here first <3

She really didn’t know how to feel. There was no distinctive feeling but as he’d said, they were best friends, and she needed him too and it did hurt. It stung like a bitch but not forgiving and giving him a chance would have stung more.

Sunshine💪 Thank you You’re forgiven but i miss you so please don’t let it happen again. Idc if you’re with tabby or not as long as you’re happy but you have friends too that love you more than any girl could

Tabby had arrived at the lake house a week after the Hughes’ and honorary Hughes did. She wasn’t a stranger to his brothers and y/n, but Trevor, Cole and Alex had never seen or met Tabby (only knew the name) so when some girl rocked up at the door, the three suddenly got the memo that Jack’s girlfriend had come to join him on their adventures, and avoided her like the plague, subtly. Y/n, Quinn and Luke, all had given each other looks, knowing that they wouldn’t see Jack for the week.

So, when Jack yanked y/n into his bedroom one afternoon out the blue, shock slapped her around the face. He closed his door urgently, eyes wide in a panic, his clothes skewed over his room, and he stood skittish in front of his mirror, dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.

“Be honest, do I look good?” he asked her, biting his nail.

Y/n blinked, processing how she’d never seen him so unsure of himself. Wanting to impress someone was natural, but Jack’s confidence usually never wavered, especially around people he was comfortable with.

“Stupid question. You look great, possibly the cleanest I’ve ever seen you.” She stood next to him, like they had done years ago when she cried over a bikini.

He fussed with his collar, spinning to face her, peering down at the way her eyes softened, “Really? Good, I’d be so lost without you. Why am I scared, y/n? It’s just a date.”

Her eyebrows raised. Date? Since when did he start planning dates? It couldn’t be helped when you could be in love with your best friend, that slither of jealousy choking her neck. Y/n swatted his hands away from his collar, straightening it out and patting it flat. Her hands slid to his chest, smile tugging on her lips as his hands moved in autopilot to hover over her hips, fingers barely ghosting the fabric of her (his) hoodie.

“Because you want to impress her. It’s normal, you want her to keep liking you and get to know her more.” She replied gently, watching the way his eyes glued to hers in a trance.

“You always know what to say, Sunshine,” his voice was deeper than last year, chest firmer and as much as she knew she had to stop enjoying her hands on his chest, she couldn’t back away, “s’one of the things I like about you.”

Thank the stars he’d closed his door, because if anyone had seen them standing almost chest to chest with hands in places they shouldn’t have been for just friends, the hurricane that would have broken loose would have been disastrous. Yet neither moved, thumbs rubbed circles over fabrics and thoughts spiralled, the same devilish thoughts from Liam’s birthday party. How soft lips looked, how pretty and handsome they’d become, how sharp jawlines were and how alluring eyes had become. Touches igniting the fires than tingled over skin all over again. The aroma of marshmallows that had her dying to bury her nose in his neck. That stupid cologne. How dare he wear it for a woman that was not her. The scent that triggered waterfalls of memories and feelings; him sleeping on her chest, her tucked under his arm.

“You smell really good, almost familiar.” She mumbled with a smirk, batting her eyelashes at him sinfully.

His lips quirked, “Marshmallows? I wear it when I need you around.”

To school, to hockey, to family functions, to parties, to dates, whenever she wasn’t there, the cologne was. It was his own reassurance, comfort. When he’d neglected her before summer, every time he wore the cologne, the smell would bring a longing, a sense of emptiness and he never figured out why. He didn’t care if anyone liked the way it smelled, unless it was y/n. Always y/n. Only y/n.

She slipped her hand to his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes gradually as he dipped down, wetting his lips. The action felt familiar, the attraction like a Siren’s song as their noses bumped hesitantly, breaths hitting cheeks and lips ghosting, sparks shooting through nerves and through bodies and hitting the fight reflex. She titled her head up, millimetres away from closing the gap and warmth pooling into her lower stomach. He wanted to kiss her again. Again, again and again. Recreate their night all over again and she needed to taste his tongue. But as their lips barely met, his door handle rattled and opened hastily. Jack let her go and y/n pushed him back, both stepping away and creating a sensible distance between the two of them, cheeks flaring at the realisation that they shouldn’t be left alone.

Tabby poked her head through the door with a smile, “Jack, are you- Oh hey, y/n! Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry I just needed to…ask him something…I’ll, uh, go now. Have fun!” She fumbled over her words, pulling her sleeves over her hands and slipping past Tabby, stumbling into Cole in the hall.

After leaving Jack’s room in a hurry, she hadn’t a clue where she was going until her legs took her to the back porch, sitting on the porch swing. The sun set in in the distance, the orange and pink hues cascading down the sky and the lake’s water twinkling. She sank back into the cushions with a gentle swing, eyes fixated on Trevor, Luke and Alex playing swing ball down on the grass. There was peace, nothing but quiet for once. She closed her eyes, relishing in the breeze and movement of the swing until the seat dipped next to her. Opening one eye, she was met with Quinn’s comforting figure. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat and swung next to her, watching the boys below hit the tennis ball with too much aggression for what it was worth.

“You know he’s just gonna keep breaking your heart, right?” He stated, gaze maintaining on the boys.

She suspired, a bittersweet smile on her lips and eyes, “And I’ll let him every time.”

Quinn’s heart sank, he’d watched his little brother obsess over her for years, talk about how pretty and cool she was, beg for her undivided attention and fear that she’d like his brothers more. The dramatic switch up hit like a brick, and if it was tough on him, y/n must’ve been feeling one hell of a storm inside. He scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leant her head on his shoulder, sniffing.

There was nothing romantic about the gesture, they’d known each other for so long it was more comforting in a brotherly way. At one point she may have had the tiniest crush on Quinn, but spending every week with him normalised his presence and spending more time around Jack made the feelings jump from one brother to another.

“Try not to think about him, hang with the others instead. You’re allowed to have friends too. Jack’s just annoying, remember that.” He reassured, attempting a light-hearted sprinkle of humour.

Boat days were always highest priority, even if waking up was difficult. She’d slept well for once, considering she was sharing the basement with the boys. She could have shared the spare room with Tabby, but from the kindness of her heart, she let her have the room to herself as she was considered the guest, and because y/n felt awkward. Besides, pillow fights in the basement hit different and Uno when you’ve got to be quiet turned out to be funnier than it should have been. The basement was just the vibe, kitchenette under the stairs, glass sliding doors out into the garden, pool table in the middle, fireplace with a scoreboard on the right side of the doors and a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV on the other side, bathroom in the corner.

Y/n wasn’t as upset as she’d thought she would have been, seeing Jack and Tabby together. Trevor had consoled her beforehand that she was welcome to join him and the other two on shenanigans if Jack was, in his words, ‘being a dick’. But she wasn’t upset when they all headed out into the lake, Jack and Tabby cuddled up together on one end of the deck while the other hooted and hollered at y/n tearing it up on the wakeboard.

“Lookin’ hot, y/n/n!” Trevor called, pulling his phone out.

“When did you get so good!?” Cole’s eyes almost falling from their sockets in surprise.

Tabby and Jack were in their own bubble, chatting with arms around each other while blocking out the laughter from the others. Though, Jack’s eyes couldn’t stay on his girlfriend for long, they seemed to flicker between her face and the way Trevor caught y/n as she stepped back onto the decking, handing her the towel before it was Luke’s turn. Something about seeing y/n with the guys just irked him.

The second time Jack found himself licking his teeth was on Tuesday night. The usual suspects circling the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and chatting until their eyes became heavy. Tabby was deep into sharing a story with the group, but it fell deaf on his ears, and apparently y/n’s too. She’d also apparently decided that wearing Trevor’s hoodie was more comfortable than his. Her melted marshmallow had bumped Trevor’s, and the pair were trying to unstick them while suppressing giggles as to not be rude to Tabby. Usually it was himself and y/n trying to stifle laughter.

Wednesday he’d taken Tabby to a flower show she’d been interested in. But the biggest mistake he’d made was opening his Snapchat to find, via Alex’s story, that his friends, brothers and y/n had gone down to the go karting track without him. In the video was Cole and Trevor pulling up, both boys flashing the camera a wink before he heard y/n voice ring out from behind the camera.

“That was so hot, Alex send me that.”

“You could just ask and we’ll do it again.” Cole’s voice muffled by his helmet.

“You do know your way to a girl’s heart, Caulfield.”

He had a girlfriend, why was he seething over a few banterous comments? It happened all the time, they were friends! It meant nothing!

Wednesday afternoon, only a couple of days left until Tabby had to leave and instead of planning how to make her days special, Jack watched his best friend teach Trevor, Cole and Alex how to shotgun a beer from the porch. They all laughed harmoniously, like seventeen-year-olds should, alcohol spraying everywhere when someone didn’t quite make it but grabbing another can from the crate Jim bought them as a treat.

“Tabs, you wanna go join them? It’ll be fun! Y/n’s super cool, she’ll teach you better than I would.” He interrupted his girlfriend, who was mid-ramble about a concert she was dying to see.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I don’t drink, but I’ll stay here and watch!” Tabby politely declined, she was too kind, but disappointed when she realised that Jack hadn’t been listening for the past five minutes.

He stayed, sitting back into the cushions and resting his arm over the back of the bench, eyes still blankly staring at his friends below.

Lukewarm beer pooled down Cole’s throat; his free arm raised in the air as he’d finally been able to successfully shotgun without the drink exploding over himself. The other three cheered, only Trevor left to gain success. He tossed the can around in his palm, puncturing the bottom with the key and tilting his head back only to have it spray over his face and t-shirt, his friends bursting into fits around him.

In an instant retaliation, he turned to the nearest person and held the can towards them. Beer sprayed over y/n’s t-shirt and hair, earning a squeal from her that rang through the yard.

“The fuck, Trev!” She swatted his arm away from her, grabbing his can and sticking it to soak Alex instead. Alex ran, only to have y/n chase him with the drink as it rinsed his clothes.

“You bitch!” It was his turn to take the can and chase Cole, who screamed the loudest blood-curdling scream as the others cackled, holding stomachs and dodging the firing line.

The evening Tabby bid her goodbyes before Ellen drove her to the airport was the worst moment of Jack’s teenage life. He’d barely seen his friends all day, making Tabby’s last day special before helping her with her bags and giving her a kiss goodbye before he watched his mum’s car drive down the road. He would have joined if his assistance wasn’t needed at the barbecue. Watching his girl leave wasn’t the worst part, it was what came after that.

He ran his fingers through his hair and stood in the foyer, strangely absent of that empty feeling when good times come to an end, that longing when you don’t know what to do with yourself. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to hurl himself into y/n’s arms, tuck his face into her neck and feel her fingers rake through his hair, tugging gently through the knots while she vented about how stupid the characters in a movie were. But he couldn’t. Was that…wrong? To want such a thing when his girlfriend just left. He wasn’t going to be a cheater, y/n would never forgive him if he did such a thing to anyone, and he wouldn’t forgive himself either. He loved Tabby after all, and clearly y/n loved Trevor’s company better.

Shuffling through the house and onto the back porch, Jack froze, the light in his eyes dimming, his jealousy growing from a thorn in his side to a leash around his neck upon watching his friends play basketball on the patio. Y/n shot the ball into the hoop, circling the rim before falling in. Trevor and y/n jumped for joy around a defeated Alex and Cole, y/n leaping into Trevor’s arms as they hugged in celebration. Jack grit his teeth, that should have been him spinning her around, holding her waist. But no, it had to be Trevor, his other best friend.

Actions have consequences, they said. And what they said was right. But Jack still hadn’t entirely grasped that concept entirely. To him, he was being replaced, that y/n didn’t want him anymore now he had a girlfriend.

After Tabby left, the basement dwellers moved to the spare room, but y/n didn’t retreat to Jack’s. He had half expected her to, but he ended up laying alone, ignoring the texts from his girlfriend and scrolling through photos of himself and y/n, wondering what life would be like if he didn’t have Tabby.

It wasn’t often y/n woke up in dire need of a drink, especially in the middle of the night. She also didn’t mean to hang around in the kitchen for too long, but the moon just shone beautifully, almost enticing her into her own little world. So much so that the footsteps against the floor startled her, fear running, thinking the worst-case scenario that either Jim or Ellen were about to tell her to go back to bed. But it never came. Her eyes met his in the reflection of the glass and she turned to face him calmly, a small smile on her lips seeing his blue eyes focus on her for the first time in a while. Jack’s body urged; legs restless as they just stood listening to the kitchen clock tick in the dark. Her feet concrete to the ground, with tears welling in his sullen eyes, swift like the breeze, his arms encased around her shoulders, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. Y/n hummed, winding her arms around his torso and listening to the way his heartbeat slowed. Jack could be told a million times that he’d hurt her, but the only way he’d realise was to feel it with his own heart.

“You guys are seeing what I’m seeing…right?” Cole asked, adjusting his seating when the leather starting stinging from the heat.

Y/n, Quinn, Luke, Alex and Trevor replied in unison with ‘yep’ and ‘yup’, the group blatantly staring at Jack and his new girlfriend sitting at the bow of the boat. After last summer, Tabby had broken up with Jack a couple of months later, something about just not being a fit for each other. Of course, Jack was devastated, but not as much as he thought he’d be which showed a lot about his feelings, but life moved on normally. He still had his best friend, and he still had his family. He still had his constants, especially that constant feeling like he was in competition. Regardless, it wasn’t long until he was laying on y/n’s lap, telling her all about this girl, Ari. And as everyone had assumed, Ari joined their lake house summer for a week.

“It’s kinda freaky, do you think he realises?” Trevor added, y/n shaking her head at him.

“Either he doesn’t and he’s really stupid, or he’s done it on purpose. I mean come on, she and y/n look so similar.” Luke said, overly thrilled that he was considered cool enough to be part of their group activities fully.

“Should I be flattered or worried?” y/n blinked at the couple, noting the familiar bikini Ari was wearing, “I wore that bikini when I was fifteen. He fumbled so badly when he saw it.”

“Don’t blame him, angel. Had me gasping for air.” Trevor chuckled, y/n slapping his chest.

“Yo,” Alex spoke up, the group turning to him, “I think Jack may be into y/n but just doesn’t know it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, kid’s into Ari and all those other girls he talks about. Don’t give me false hope.” She scoffed, folding her arms. They all glanced back at the couple and then at each other. It wasn’t like she was hiding the fact she liked Jack, in fact, she didn’t have to because it had been obvious since they were kids. If anything, they were all rooting for them.

“No, he has a point,” Quinn eventually piped up, pulling the boat to a stop and swivelling to face the back deck gang, “ever since you were fourteen, he’s been obsessed with you. Like all he would ever talk about. That kid would have never completed that project if you hadn’t been his partner and choked him.”

“You choked Jack?!” Alex and Trevor’s jaws dropped in disbelief, Quinn, Luke and y/n throwing their heads back and laughing.

“When do you think he’ll realise that y/n’s actually the love of his life and always has been, like girl’s willing to let him break her heart every year.” Luke jabbed, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“I have an idea,” Trevor smirked, arm falling over her shoulders and pulling her into his side, “you guys in?”

From the get-go, Ari knew she’d never be number one in Jack’s heart. She shared classes with the two since they were freshman, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d seen the way they looked at each other with hearts in their eyes, the way y/n shone like the sun around him. She always envied their friendship, so when Jack asked her out, she didn’t hesitate but the guilt that ate her took the pleasure from it all. It wasn’t fair in her romantic mind. But she did love Jack, he was just oblivious and if it meant Ari had to break her own heart, she was willing to do so for love.

Ari poked her head out the patio doors, spotting y/n on the porch swing and smiling. She sat next to her timidly, mustering up the words while y/n stuck her nose into the novel she was reading.

“Y/n? Do you mind if I join you?” Ari’s voice was sweet, quiet compared to the rest of the lake house group.

“No, you’re okay. Something up?” Her eyes never left the pages, she wasn’t really reading them, just avoiding eye contact.

“Well, um, is Jack always weirdly protective of his clothes? He’s never offered a hoodie or anything and I was worried it was me?” she asked, recognising the blue sweatshirt y/n wore, Jack’s blue USA Hockey sweatshirt.

“I don’t think it’s you, he has this weird thing where he likes them to smell and fit a certain way. Or it was a gift.”

“Weird guy. Does he also not vibe with pet names? I called him ‘babe’ and he screwed his face up! I thought I said something wrong!” Ari just needed to prove her theory. Theory that she was not the one he loved, but the one who just needed to fill the gap.

“I’m not sure, actually,” y/n closed her book, looking out into the garden while she thought, “he’s not used to things like that, I guess. He might warm up.”

“But you call him ‘pretty boy’ or, or ‘hotshot’ and he doesn’t seem to mind. Is there a difference?” Ari knew she was starting to slip, sounding more upset than she had meant to, more accusing and she knew y/n wasn’t a bear to poke.

“I also call Trevor ‘sexy’ and ‘gorgeous’, Cole ‘cutie’. He’s your boyfriend, ask him. If it upsets you, you should tell him because he won't take a hint unless it's hockey, believe me.” She turned to face Ari, surprisingly calm, “Like this one time, we were at a party and this girl had just been dumped, and we kept nudging him to shut up and that it wasn’t the moment for jokes, but he didn’t get it. Literally had to slap my hand over his mouth for him to take the hint.”

Ari smiled and nodded, thanking her and getting up to leave while y/n opened her book. Data collected and conclusions made. The ambush was odd, especially the questions asked but y/n was in no position to think too deeply about it. Ari and Jack’s relationship wasn’t her business anyway.

With the sky clear and weather warm, the golf course swarmed with country club members of all ages, kids learning from their parents to the retired living their best lives with a three o’clock beer.

The usual suspects hung around their current hole, poking fun at Cole’s terrible shot. Y/n also wasn’t the greatest golfer, Trevor was teaching her that day how to play as they went along, claiming to be the best golfer of the group.

She stood by the tee, correct club in hand with her feet shoulder-width apart. Trevor tried his best to explain what to do but the complex terms he used just made the whole thing more confusing. He stood behind her, arms around hers with her back to his chest, guiding her hands to the positioning on the handle. He walked her through the process, voice rumbling in her ears.

“Relax, imagine I’m Jizzy.” He whispered, breath hot on her neck.

“No, I might cum. Besides, he’s got Ari.” She was glad she could make crude jokes with people, and if anyone was going to find it funny, it would be Trevor.

“Jack would have my head right now if he were here. No way would he enjoy watching this.” He muttered playfully.

“Yeah, but he sucks and isn’t here, so less talking more teaching, Yappy.” She giggled.

Jack’s phone flashed, the Snapchat notification that Luke had added to his story filling his screen. While Ari left for the bathroom, he unlocked his phone, desperately opening the story. Luke barely ever posted to his story; he knew they’d gone out but where was a mystery.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He grumbled, grip tightening on his phone upon seeing Trevor Zegras with his body wrapped around y/n’s teaching her how to play golf. That was supposed to be him. He was supposed to teach her golf so they could go out and do it together. Until then, he thought the only way to have your heart broken was by being dumped or rejected, but for the first time he understood how y/n must have felt all the times he made an empty promise. It shouldn’t have bothered him; it shouldn’t have made him seethe but there was only so much he could manage before he was going to snap. The more summers that passed, the closer she got to his friends and even closer to Trevor and she never pushed him away, like she was doing it on purpose.

Then it clicked. They weren’t together, so she was allowed to do as she pleased. She wasn’t confined to a relationship like he was. When he was off the table, she’d retreat, let him go with a bittersweet smile, stay away from causing confusion, but when he was a single man again, she’d be there, smiling when he’d curl up in her arms like old times. Ari may have been right. He called her insecure when she’d raised the issue that she did not believe that Jack loved her the way he thought he did. They’d argued about it, about how y/n had clothing and pet name privileges over her, how she knew he was looking at her over dinner, fire pits, boat days, that he only talked about y/n and never her and the worst topic of all, how y/n was the only woman Jack would allow in his bed. To Ari, the signs were all there. Y/n was not just Jack’s best friend, he just didn’t know it. And it wasn’t y/n’s fault, she’d done nothing wrong. In that moment, Jack realised that if he didn’t wake up, he would lose the woman he loved the most.

Y/n slowly and softly placed her glass onto the draining board, trying her best to not make a noise because everything was louder at three in the morning for some reason. Three days had passed since golfing, since Ari went home, since the room arrangements changed again. Three days passed and Jack hadn’t made a peep to anyone.

She sighed, stepping back and hoisting herself onto the island counter, watching the waves in the distance twinkle like a sheet of glitter under the moonlight, the memory of last summer fading back into existence when she’d been watching the moon and Jack snuck up on her. Nothing hurt more than watching yourself slowly drift apart from someone you’d spend every second with. She missed his laugh, the playfighting, when he’d fall asleep on her, pull her into his chest and hug her longer than friends should. She missed the way he’d kiss her forehead, curl up on her lap, his scent and as much as she hated to admit it, his attention, his wandering hands up and down her spine and hips, eyelashes fluttering against her neck and that one open mouthed, shamelessly lewd kiss when they were sixteen.

“Hey, Sunshine,” his raspy voice echoed in the dark, the window just barely illuminating the room, “can’t sleep either?”

She peered over her shoulder to the boy leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms folded over his bare chest and basketball shorts hanging off his hips. Even dishevelled he looked attractive. He pushed off the doorframe, ambling around the island until he faced her, leaning against the sink and blocking her view of the moon. Y/n shook her head at him, kicking her legs slightly just to occupy them from the suffocating gap between them, like a wedge had been jammed to keep them apart.

“I’m guessing you miss Ari too much to sleep…” she mumbled, voice above a whisper but not loud enough to wake anyone.

He hung his head before he responded, “I've been thinking about you a lot lately. About us,”

“Me too, Jack. About if we’re still friends…” she wet her lips, “because you haven’t spoken to me in over a week, haven’t really spoken to me properly for the past couple of years actually. So, what’s up, hotshot? Where did I go wrong?”

Jack let out a shaky breath and kicked the wedge that separated them away. Hands meeting the cold marble of the island counter and he stood between her legs, eyes coming directly in line with hers.

“I was supposed to teach you how to play golf. It was supposed to be an us thing.” He kept his voice low as she watched his gaze skip between hers and her lips, his hands shifting closer to her bare thighs. “And instead, I found out, via Snap, that you found a new best friend. I’m okay with you and Trevor being friends, but any closer and that’s off the table.”

“We’re just friends. You were busy and that was the only time slot open. What’s it to you?” She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. She’d never seen him like that, his forearms tensed and poison dripping from his words, but she truly did not understand what the big deal was. If he could go off all merry with his girlfriend, why wasn’t she allowed to hang out with her friends? They were also being cast aside like she was, so it was logical for all of them to band together and enjoy their summer either way. Plus, they were eighteen, they were getting too old to hold grudges against people, throw tantrums about whose turn it was to play with who.

Jack’s hands roamed along her thighs tenderly, hooking under her knees and opening her legs further apart, pussy throbbing at the sudden action. Excitement puddled in her stomach when he smoothly pulled her to the edge of the counter until they were close enough to hear their breathing, “I don't like sharing, especially not with hockey guys. You’re my person.”

“And I always will be,” he’d always been clingy, the king of her personal space but this was a whole new ground he marched on, it was territorial with how firm his stare was, how tight his shoulders and jaw held. She could feel the bubbling heat radiating off his skin, a green-eyed demon flaunting around his shoulders. After Kenna, her envy died into acceptance, but he never accepted that one day she wouldn’t be just his anymore. Not because he had that toxic twang to him, he was just protective of the girl that put up with him happily, blended with his family well, picked him up when he was down, tamed him when he was wild, choked him humble when he was arrogant. He didn’t believe that she deserved any harm or heart break after making his life so much more euphoric, “Jack, are you…jealous?”

“I dont know, why dont you go ask Trevor, you two seem close lately. Practically tangled in each other by the looks of the photo. Wouldn’t be surprised if you two fucked too since you’ve been all over each other.” A vein pulsed in his neck sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t have found it sexy, there wasn’t anything attractive about being accused but he looked so hot with how defined his biceps were, how his veins popped on his arms and hands.

Her lips twisted into an amused smile and titter, “Oh my god you are! You’re being ridiculous.”

He pushed away from the counter, taking a sharp breath and running his hands through his hair before turning back, hands slapping on the counter either side of her, “So you two did? Is that where the hickey came from? Did you go see him? Fuck my best friend because you weren’t getting attention?”

She only grinned at him. Before summer, she and her friends took a weekend break to New York for Kylie’s birthday, indulging in cute cafes and activities but somehow, Rachel had managed to get them all invited to some random frat party where alcohol was obviously on the table out in the open. She didn’t remember much from the party, but she did remember hooking up with some guy and waking up in her B&B with a purple blotch on her neck. She’d managed to hide it from her parents, but she thought Jack too, but she should have known that nothing slipped past Jack and when he’d asked her about it, he pieced the worst case - and dramatic - scenario together: New York? Trevor was in New York. Girls trip? Weekend away? Funny business, because Trevor was obviously the only man in New York.

“Oh jeez,” she rolled her eyes, “that really was a girl’s trip, Jack. You saw the photos.”

“You’re avoiding the question, Sunshine. Work with me.” He still hadn’t raised his voice, whether because he was trying to keep quiet or because he’d never raise his voice at her didn’t matter.

“Because you’re jealous, I can have sex with who I want, I’m not yours and I never was so why does it bother you so much?”

He sighed in defeat, hanging his head and resting in on her shoulder while his hands locked on her hips. Y/n didn’t touch him, didn’t speak, let him control his hammering heartbeat and get himself thinking straight before he’d say something he’d regret. She wasn’t mad at him; she couldn’t be mad at him even after he’d accused her of sleeping with Trevor. It wasn’t that deep, he was just jealous for reasons she wouldn’t know until he took a breath, calmed and confessed.

Jack went back and forth on what he would say. Worst case scenario was she never spoke to him again. Best case scenario was she reciprocated. His thumbs rubbed circles over her shorts unconsciously, as if seeking comfort by finding home on her hips. They’d always find their way to her hips, there was just something that took the weight off his shoulders and she never pushed him away.

He looked up wearily, chest rising and falling and palm cupping her cheek. She melted into his touch, the beacon of hope that she wasn’t upset. That she still wanted him. Her lips still looked as soft as they always did, inviting and waiting to be blessed and bitten. Eyes waiting on him, half-lidded and searching for reply. He couldn’t be a coward forever, too many times they’d been interrupted and too many times he’d wished he’d just gone for it, followed his heart.

With his hand tangling in her hair, he leant in, closing the distance between their pining selves, lips meeting for a bruising open-mouthed kiss. Y/n unfolded her arms, enlacing around his shoulders, pulling him in with a low moan emitting from the back of her throat when his tongue lapped hers the way it once did. He kissed her with a desperate yearning, slowly and sloppy, hand on her nape as lips connected and disconnected, tasting each other’s toothpaste with little mewls slipping through from the pleasure embracing them.

They pulled back, panting but hands remaining latched onto each other, “I'm in love with you. That’s why it bothers me. And I think I’ve loved you since the day you punched me in the face. And I’ve wanted to kiss you again since we were sixteen.”

She smirked. That was so hot, so goddamn hot of him to do with impatient passion driving him into a confession. She wondered what else he would do with enough provoking, what other feelings would he give into, “That all you got? I bet Tre-”

He kissed her roughly again, just as messy with twice as much appetite in the way his tongue danced with hers. Her hand slid to his hair, tugging and pulling a groan from him while his toyed with the hem of her shirt, his hand moving from her hip, gliding underneath the fabric and feeling up her waist and curve of her spine. They pulled away again, but he didn’t give himself much time to catch his breath before attaching his lips to her neck, leaving butterfly kisses down the column until she moaned in his ear. He nibbled at the spot at the base of her neck, biting and sucking on the skin, leaving a purple blotch in his wake. Y/n held his shoulder tight, continuing to play with his hair with a rousing desire coaxing her core and pussy, begging for attention as his body was just so close. Jack’s hand slipped from her hair to join the other under her shirt, palms groping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, with his lips assaulting her neck, nipping and suckling little red blossoms over the skin as if leaving his mark. Not that she minded, she finally got to be his girl, years of painfully watching from afar and hurting her own feelings rewarded with his tongue running over the spots where he sunk his teeth into her.

“I wanna fuck you so good you won't remember his name.” He grumbled into her ear, planting a kiss underneath her earlobe and sending jolts through her veins. She let out a whimper, aching for friction between her legs as he kneaded her tits like dough, feeling the smirk on his lips whenever he could get her to submit to a whiny, pathetic noise.

Letting go of his hair, her lips pulled into a devilish grin and fingers wrapping around his neck, pushing his head from her neck and squeezing at the sides. He huffed in surprise, cock twitching in his shorts and hands dropping from her chest to her hips again. He really hadn’t thought she’d be into anything like that, but he should have guessed since he caught a glimpse of Deja vu. It had been too long since they really talked, did he know anything about her anymore? Apparently not, but it wasn’t like he…disliked it.

“Do it,” she loosened her grip with honey lacing her voice, sliding her hand to grip his shoulder, “do it, Jack. I’m on the pill. Show me who I belong to.”

The fire lit inside him and without any ounce of hesitation, he was back to tasting her lips, fingers kneading her thighs and inching up underneath her shorts. He pulled them to one side, brushing his knuckle over her clothed clit, erection hardening with the way she mewled and ground her hips into his fingers. He toyed with the elastic of her underwear, pulling them to one side and ran his fingers through her folds, coating his fingers in her slick as they slipped through smooth.

“This fucking wet? For me?” He whispered into her lips, middle and ring finger landing on her clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in firm circles as she clung to his shoulders, relaxing into his chest and panting in his ear.

“Yes,” she sighed, “don’t stop, feels good.”

She left languid, messy kisses over his neck, biting when she’d pull a groan from him. No man had ever made her cunt ache to be filled like Jack could. The merciless cries to be filled and stretched out and it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamt about it, thought about it when he’d parade around shirtless and adjusting his swim shorts. Dreams do come true though, her message fell loud and clear into his ears, and his fingers that toyed with her clit sank into her cunt, warm, spongy walls taking him perfectly. Her jaw slacked, a winded breath replacing an elongated moan that would’ve got them caught.

“Mor…more,” she puffed, her nails digging into his shoulder muscles when his fingers plunged in and out faster, eyes rolling back when they curled into her. He bullied his digits at a fast but steady pace, knowing he’d hit her keen spot when her nails pierced into his skin and her hips rolled to meet his pace, arousal seeping from her.

He threw his head back closing his eyes, he slipped in her better than he’d imagined, he could do it every day, all day if she’d let him. The sheer salacious yearning that washed over him not enough to tend his fantasies. He needed more, to be inside her, feel his cock be squeezed and hugged as if his life depended on it. Needed to hear his name leave her mouth when he fucked her. His y/n, his person. No, it wasn’t just fucking, he wanted to love her, let the world know who makes her feel good.

“Fuck this.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out, taking them into his mouth and sucking them clean with low, erotic moans of satisfaction. She whined at the loss of pleasure, pouting and darting back to know why he suddenly stopped only to feel heat rush through her and pussy throb at the sight of Jack pulling his cock out his shorts. With a couple of blissful strokes and lustful gaze boring into her, he lined himself up, y/n placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him consent.

It wasn’t her first-time having sex, but it already felt better than the last. He pushed himself in slowly, y/n nuzzling into his shoulder as he disappeared into her until bottoming out, gummy walls hugging him with a sensation resembling ecstasy fogging his mind. She broke into a smile, he felt so perfect, stretching and filling her in all the ways she’d hoped and wanted. His pace started gradual, rocking his hips, watching his cock sink in and out with shaky breaths, hands gripping the globes of her ass.

His pace quickened, her whines muffled by his shoulder, the only sound that mattered to him, “You feel incredible, can’t help myself, y/n.” Rocking into rutting, his cheeks flushed red, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut as his craving tormented him as if he had committed the worst sins of all.

“Fas-faster, Jack, fuck,” her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her heels together and inhaling his scent as he hit deeper angles. She struggled to keep her voice down, if only she could really let go and let him hear how much she enjoyed the wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of her sopping folds. His hips thrusted harsh, each fast stroke dragging whimpers every time he hit her cervix, sweat forming on his brow and sticking their skins together.

His fingers laced in her hair, yanking her face from his shoulder with a mewl and bearing her neck to the open, her eyes squinting closed as he admired his artwork cascading over her skin from earlier. Her cunt ached for him, relished in how he pounded in and out, in and out, squelching echoing into the kitchen. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to, y/n? I wanna hear you say it.” He rasped.

“You,” she croaked, breasts pressed flush against his chest. She only wished she had taken the t-shirt off to properly feel his skin cling to her, “you, Jack! I've wanted to do this for so long,”

Her words triggered an animalistic burst of energy, hips thrusting desperately. She’d wanted to feel him fuck her all that time and never said anything. He thought about how many nights she’d spent with her fingers inside herself, moaning his name and cumming at the idea of him. “Takin’ me so well. Made for me.”

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, slightly louder than she had intended but Jack’s mouth reattached itself to her lips, his grip in her hair falling slack as he kissed her deeply.

“Trevor couldn't make you feel like this, could he?” he growled, her pants hot on his cheeks as she batted her eyelashes at him, tits bouncing with every consuming buck into her. Her mouth opened to respond, no words falling out except small cries of elation and the pit of her stomach feeling a surge of heat spill into it, like a knot tightening on the verge of snapping.

His hands massaged her ass roughly, all those days of watching it fit snug in the little bikinis and it was finally in his clasp. The days of containing himself when she’d wiggle on his lap and clueless to how painful his raging erection was. Letting every pornographic fantasy that kept him up at night out in erratic, mouth-watering thrusts on the kitchen island of all places.

Y/n’s eyes snapped open, the warm and pleasant euphoria in her pussy suddenly cold and empty when Jack pulled out abruptly, pulling her off the counter all-together and harshly spinning her, back against his chest and voice husky next to her ear, “Bend over, sweetheart.”

With a coy smile, she did as she was told, sticking her ass out into his crotch and tits chilly and squished against the marble. He smoothed his hands over the curves and with his finger pulling her shorts and underwear to the side as before, shoving his cock inside her harder and faster.

“Oh shit-” she moaned in a hoarse breath, “Please fuck me, fast and hard. Make me cum, Jack! Wanna cum!”

Biting his lip at her demands, lust glazed over his eyes, “Fuckin’ tease.” Wrapping one hand around her throat, he tugged her back flush to his chest, pelvis bulling into hers as a rapid and feral pace. The only sound bouncing off the kitchen walls being the melody of skin slapping and short, high-pitched whimpers.

“That's my girl, make such pretty noises for me,” his stomach contorted, burned, he couldn’t let himself cum yet, she felt too good it couldn’t be over too soon. Fingers slipping down the front of her panties, he circled her swollen clit, her head falling back onto his shoulder as his grip around the sides tightened. Sensual, needy pleasure seduced her senses, choking on her saliva in spurts of whines. Pent up feelings and emotions encasing her into a paradise of raw, sloppy sex with her best friend. “Who do you belong to? Whose pretty pussy is this? Who treats you like the goddamn beauty you are?”

“Pussy belongs to you, belongs to you Jack, you,” her head lulled against him, his grip ever so slightly loosening. The knot building began to falter, harder to hold and keep tight the more he rutted with a brutal stamina. “M’gonna cum, please let me cum.”

He pulled his fingers from her clit, hand splaying over her stomach as his thrusts became sloppy, languid but deeper and exhilarating. His other hand dropped from her throat, sliding down her chest to grasp her tit as his hips burrowed into her from behind. He wasn’t far off, the pool of heat ready to overflow, pussy clenching around him tight.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, Sunshine. So fuckin’ perfect,” a strangled moan escaped her lips, heat dripping from her cunt and down her thighs, muscles relaxing into Jack’s body as he held her like a ragdoll against him while he made his last few thrusts, chasing his own release with soft grunts. He shuddered, jaw slacking and flooding her with warmth.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He pressed gentle kisses to her jaw, a ring of thick and hot cum soaking his cock. The kitchen fell back into an eerie silence, just heavy breathing and the clock hands reminding them that everything was louder at the unholy hours of the morning and that they both should hope no one heard them, or at least say nothing if they did.

He released her throat, arms winding around her midsection, nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck while his cock remained nestled comfortably in her. One of y/n’s hands lay over his on her stomach, the other reaching up feebly to pet his hair. They stood like that for a moment, catching breaths in a pleasant haze, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. As satisfying as the high was, as warm as his embrace was, she couldn’t let the thought go. They hadn’t found closure before they lunged for each other, did she let a taken man drive into her or not. The last thing she wanted was to be the other woman, it wasn’t fair on Ari. Sweet kisses littered her neck and up to her jaw, his lips laying the final on her temple before resting his cheek against her hairline.

“What about Ari?” she whispered, staring out into the abyss of the house, “What are we supposed to tell her now…”

“Nothing. S’just you ‘n me now…” a weight fell off his chest, finally saying it out loud, making sure it wasn’t a dream. The afternoon Ari left, she’d given him a poetic speech, a much needed one to drill it into his head that everyone was seeing what he wasn’t accepting or letting himself accept. Ari had grown up alongside them too, she’d seen their good days, their bad days, the days Jack pined over her, the days y/n pined over him. She told him to think about who he loved more and always had. Reminded him that love is a constant that sometimes falters, but always bounces back in the end. And that only person constant in his life was y/n. No matter what happened, she was always there, even if it hurt her watching Jack with someone else. And now, he got it. “I love you, a lot. Always have. Just not sure how you feel.”

“You’re so stupid. You think I kissed you to make your ex jealous for shits and giggles? Let you spend hours rambling about how in love you were with those other girls because I didn’t value your happiness?” she gave a small, airy giggle, “Let you make empty promises that broke my heart repeatedly and still let you cry in my arms? Let you fuck me in your kitchen, and you don’t know if I love you? Jack Rowden Hughes, I fell in love with you the day you told me that your home is mine.”

“Thank fucking God,” he breathed, craning his neck to capture her lips into a passionate and earnest kiss, no tongue, no teeth just souls connecting. They may have not pulled out and cleaned up yet, time was moving and getting closer to four thirty, but in their world, everything froze and felt as if the universe had fallen into place.

He pulled away, forehead leaning into hers, “You’ll come watch me play, right? In the NHL?”

“I’ll come watch you fall.” She pulled him into another sincere kiss and for a moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

It was October when Jack made his NHL debut for the New Jersey Devils. She was there on draft day; she was there afterwards, and she planned to always be there. Y/n had made it to university for graphic design, coincidentally close to him which worked in their favour. He always joked about how even after she graduated, she could work for the Devils social team, and he’d get on his knees and beg if he had to.

The crowds were always loud in the Prudential Center, a sea of red and black, chants and cheering with elation for another game. The team entered the ice for warmups, skating in laps, manoeuvring pucks with skilled hand work, and shooting practice before the game started. Y/n could have sat in the family room with the other wives and girlfriends, but when she’d mentioned her weekend plans to her university friends, they’d asked if they could tag along for the experience. So, there they were, screaming and waving at the players, offering trades for pucks and falling in love with athletes, into the realm of hockey men. Jack didn’t need to look hard; he could spot her for miles even in a crowd where everyone looked the same. After taking a couple shots at the net, he stopped in front of her and her squealing friends, tapping the top end of his stick at her and throwing a puck over the plexiglass. There really was no time like the present. All Jack’s nerves faded when she clasped the puck in her hands, looking back at him with a smile and a nod. It was just Jack and his girlfriend, y/n, now against the world.