#where do i find someone to look at me the way the tkachuks look at each other

[mommahughes19-23]

the way brady and matthew support and admire each other where can i find someone to love me like that.

[tkwrites]

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck  x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together? 

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing. 

Me and you  We were a strange situation  And kissing you  Felt like Christmas Vacation  An exciting place to escape  Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday  -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one. 

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before. 

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music. 

“Do you need a towel, man?” 

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”    

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed. 

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”  

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot. 

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder. 

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide. 

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.” 

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights. 

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music. 

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it. 

“Sure,” she yelled back. 

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on. 

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter. 

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it. 

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted. 

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said. 

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her. 

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it. 

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.” 

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country. 

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it. 

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle. 

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.” 

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.” 

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.” 

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little. 

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. 

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.” 

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made. 

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said. 

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.” 

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college. 

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk. 

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion. 

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants. 

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!” 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.” 

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space. 

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.” 

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue. 

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled. 

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat. 

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.  

“Sure.” 

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake. 

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi. 

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released. 

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay. 

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin. 

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted. 

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered. 

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?” 

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer. 

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach. 

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come. 

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale. 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. 

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision. 

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling. 

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn. 

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried. 

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name. 

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside. 

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank. 

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left. 

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.   

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions. 

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother. 

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot. 

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.” 

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.” 

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd. 

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained. 

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed. 

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.” 

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home. 

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.” 

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning. 

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin. 

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together. 

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.” 

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard. 

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app. 

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over. 

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet. 

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.” 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.  

“Listen, I heard you last night.” 

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?” 

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.” 

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling. 

“Is this about that girl?” 

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -” 

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her. 

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside. 

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.” 

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.” 

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something. 

“How can we help you, darlin?” 

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?” 

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?” 

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.” 

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows. 

“Is it condemned?” 

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile. 

“Did they find out what caused it?” 

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.” 

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around. 

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t. 

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?” 

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.” 

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had. 

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?” 

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note? 

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am! 

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.” 

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.  

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts. 

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?” 

Yeah, my future, he thought. 

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -” 

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted. 

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation. 

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth. 

“Someone was just here looking for you.” 

Hope started hammering in his chest. 

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.” 

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick. 

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.” 

Now he really was going to throw up. 

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night? 

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell. 

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months. 

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books. 

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory. 

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up. 

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.” 

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team. 

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said. 

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?” 

“Another team.” 

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face. 

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it. 

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess. 

“Look him up on Insta.” 

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers. 

She messaged him, hoping. 

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder. 

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life. 

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight. 

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest. 

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it. 

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2. 

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting. 

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before. 

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be. 

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks. 

“Matthew?” 

His head shot up. 

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it. 

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer. 

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green? 

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight. 

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life. 

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.  

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot. 

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was. 

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed. 

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.” 

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.” 

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked. 

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.” 

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name. 

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood. 

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true. 

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if  her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him. 

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.” 

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit. 

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work. 

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision. 

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well. 

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?” 

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen. 

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.” 

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more. 

Josh stayed where he was. 

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?” 

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long. 

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked. 

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?” 

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.” 

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.” 

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out. 

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right? 

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.” 

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open. 

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else. 

Matthew was the last at the table. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her. 

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?” 

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away. 

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?” 

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate. 

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?” 

“Eight,” he said. 

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him. 

“All for here?” 

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.” 

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew. 

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded. 

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice. 

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at. 

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal. 

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left. 

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. 

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car. 

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?” 

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. 

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?” 

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud. 

Both guys just waited. 

“But the club caught fire.” 

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…” 

“Fucked it?” Benny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’” 

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said. 

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.” 

“Why not?” 

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.” 

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams. 

“Uh, hello?” someone asked. 

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring. 

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor. 

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?” 

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. 

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down. 

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said. 

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results. 

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes. 

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?” 

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.  

“I guess so.” 

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.” 

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer. 

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said. 

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside. 

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.” 

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.” 

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.” 

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.” 

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.” 

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was. 

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?” 

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.” 

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.” 

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed. 

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked. 

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded. 

“I’d at least give him a chance.” 

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.  

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week. 

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.” 

She giggled. 

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things. 

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed. 

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.” 

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?” 

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

 A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.” 

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced. 

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.” 

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her. 

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly. 

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.” 

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him. 

She looked instantly downcast. 

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important. 

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.” 

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them. 

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.” 

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. 

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them. 

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?” 

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.” 

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.  

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said. 

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.” 

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.” 

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?” 

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes. 

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this? 

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked. 

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?” 

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. 

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again. 

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.” 

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it. 

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps. 

“Only when I think you might come in.” 

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning. 

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra. 

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs. 

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans. 

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.” 

“Can you define that a little more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…” 

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it. 

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.” 

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink. 

God, maybe they really were made for each other. 

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast. 

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing. 

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both. 

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close. 

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him. 

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other. 

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together. 

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft. 

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs. 

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers. 

There was the passion she’d been looking for. 

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs. 

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him. 

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough. 

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.” 

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again. 

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too. 

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” 

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused. 

“Please,” she whimpered. 

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone. 

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs. 

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles. 

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her. 

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body. 

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” 

“Okay.” 

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin. 

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to. 

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. 

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning. 

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.” 

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched. 

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps. 

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust. 

Body shaking, she cried out. 

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her. 

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.” 

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times. 

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.” 

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?” 

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?” 

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool. 

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room. 

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.” 

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere. 

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to. 

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling. 

“Okay?” she asked again. 

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in. 

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation. 

 God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving. 

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another. 

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot. 

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright. 

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath. 

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.” 

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.” 

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates. 

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more. 

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.” 

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept. 

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft. 

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already. 

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him. 

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better. 

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.” 

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one. 

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak. 

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint. 

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth. 

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect? 

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan. 

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close. 

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed. 

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!” 

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again. 

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face. 

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget. 

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room. 

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.” 

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home. 

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up. 

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled. 

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark. 

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed. 

Matthew nodded. 

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed. 

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date. 

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for. 

Fanciction Masterlist

[brainddeadd]

can you write about Matthew tkachuk and reader where reader doesn’t know him but she goes to him because an old man was being creepy with her so she goes to the first persone she sees asking for help

The man just won't take a hint.

You arrived at the bar with friends a few hours ago and had long since lost them to dancing and people who caught their attention. Deciding you needed a break from dancing, you made your way over to the bar, which is how you ended up in this situation. Stuck next to an older man, who's far too drunk for the 9pm time and who definitely hasn't brushed his teeth this week.

At first, he was just making the usual comments: you look hot, you look lonely, you looked good dancing.

Then came the crowding you into the bar, his body blocking off your exits. He continued to creep closer and closer, but the final straw was his hand finding its way to your thigh, gripping tight enough that it was slightly painful.

Scouring the bar for one of your friends, anyone, your eyes settle onto a tall man, with wild curly hair and kind eyes. He raises an eyebrow in question, head tilting as if to ask if you're ok. Subtly shaking your head, the man's up and moving towards you before you can blink. Attempting to pry the creep's hand from your leg, he's knocked slightly off balance as you suddenly jump up. This allows you time to move towards the man with the curly hair, who meets you in the middle, his arms winding around your waist gently, a glare being sent towards the creep.

"You ok?" His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it you didn't expect, and you find yourself being honest, shaking your head and leaning into his hold.

"He's been bothering me for like forty minutes, and then he touched me, and-" He leans back to look at your face, a frown present on his features.

"He touched you?" His voice is gravelly and you can practically feel the anger building in his body.

"Not too bad," you rush to say, but the man's already pulling you along with him, back to his previous seat.

"Brady, keep her safe for me." He's gone, and you're left in front of another curly haired man.

"Hey hun, you ok?" A woman asks, her hand resting on your shoulder gently. "We saw him bothering you, and then suddenly Matt was up and gone."

Nodding you smile at her weakly.

"I'm ok, just not used to.. that." You gesture vaguely and she nods, pulling you into her side.

"I'm Taryn, and this is Brady." She gestures to the other curly haired man. "And you've met our brother, Matt."

"I'm Yn," you smile and let yourself be lead further into the table, settling into the seat Matt once held.

"Did you come with people? Want us to find them?" Brady asks and you shrug.

"They all kinda abandoned me for guys, I think I'm the only one still here."

"Fuck that," Taryn declares, shaking her head. "You don't leave each other alone, that's fucked."

Matt chooses that moment to slide back up to the table, immediately coming to your side, chest touching your shoulder as he leans over to Brady.

"May or may not have just been told to leave, here-" he throws some cash down on the table and looks at you. "Would you like me to walk you?"

"Oh, you've already done enough for me, Matt, I'll be ok," you try to sound convincing, but he just raises an eyebrow.

"We're gonna head off, I'll make sure she gets home safely." Matt throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you away from the table and out into the fresh air outside.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," his voice is soft and serious as he speaks. "But if you don't want me to, just say the word, and I'm gone, I promise."

"No!" Shuffling closer to him subconsciously, he grins. "Thank you. For everything."

"Just did what I'd want someone to do for my sister." He shrugs but you know he means it.

You walk in silence for a moment before you suddenly remember something.

"What did you mean by when you said you were told to leave? What happened?"

"I punched him."

[jackhues]

im sorry i love delilah

imagine matthew putting her in little panthers gear for some event, and for some reason she wants to wear bobs jersey not matts and matthews like, sorry pickle you dont have a bob jersey and she goes on the ice all pouty, but then when she comes back theres a little bob jersey in mattys locker

do not apologize, i love lilah too! [takes place before the 23/24 season]

"c'mon, my del," matthew ushered her along, down the halls of amerant bank arena, and towards the locker room. "we gotta get you in your jersey if you want to be in the video."

"coming daddy," lilah gripped her stuffed panther 'kitty' in one hand, and held matthew's hand with her free one.

people rushed in and out of rooms, up and down the hallways, trying to get everything sorted for media day. delilah wanted to be in one of the challenge videos, but she was supposed to wear some sort of panthers gear if she wanted to be in it. although no one was going to enforce that rule with her, delilah wanted to wear her jersey and matthew was perfectly fine with it too.

"here, arms up please, let's get your jersey on," matthew held out the smaller 'tkachuk' jersey that hung in his stall, coming along with the other jerseys.

"can i have a bobby jersey?" she asked. "bobby played really good last time, and he gave me a chocolate today, did you know that? he's a goalie too, goalies are really cool. i think i want to wear a bobby jersey."

"aw, sorry pickle, but you don't have a bobby jersey," he reminded her. "you can wear the tkachuk jersey right now, and the bobby one when we can find one."

"aw, i wanted to wear it now," she pouted.

"matthew!" someone poked their head in the door. "matthew tkachuk, it's your turn for solo shots!"

"yeah, one second," he said to the assistant. he turned back to delilah, who'd taken a seat in his stall, and was kicking her feet dejectedly. "tell you what my del, why don't you go and help them take pictures and videos? maybe you'll convince one of the guys to give you their prize."

delilah continued to pout, but allowed matthew to lead her to where the other panthers were doing challenges and playing games as they waited their turn.

"i'll be back soon, pickle," matthew promised, kissing the top of her head.

he made his way to where his solo shots were going to take place, unable to get delilah's little pouty face out of his mind. the last thing he ever wanted to do was make her sad.

"and you're done," the photographer smiled, letting matthew leave.

his first thought was to stop by the waiting room where delilah would be, but then he remembered how sad she was... and so he took a little detour. not far, simply to the panthers' shop in the arena. luckily they had what he was looking for, and in the right size.

he stashed it in his locker, before stopping by the waiting room, where challenges and games were taking place. delilah was sitting on the floor, multiple drawings, and even more chocolates around her. apparently, she was giving out her drawings to her favourite players (all of them, but especially bob), and they all gave her chocolates and candies in return.

"hey del," matthew knelt next to her, a little surprised to see that she was still upset. usually, she got over things quickly.

"hi daddy," she responded, continuing her drawing.

"why don't you come with me to the locker room, huh? i got a surprise for you," he held out his hand.

delilah looked at him, but they both knew she'd never say no to matthew's outstretched hand.

"okay," she took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the locker room.

on the way there, matthew realized he never did anything special for her. there were no chocolates or candies or drawings in his locker waiting for her. just one simple thing, something he didn't even have to pay for.

but then delilah squeezed his hand as she followed him, and all of his nervousness flew away. this was his del, his little pickle: she'd be happy with a can of worms. this was better than that, at least.

as soon as her eyes landed on matthew's stall, she gasped. she couldn't read perfectly yet, but she'd seen that name on bob's jersey tens of times.

"is that a bobby jersey? for me?" she looked up at her dad.

"for you," matthew agreed. "you wanted one, so i got you one."

delilah tilted her head at him, unfamiliar with the idea of getting anything she ever wanted. even though matthew tried to spoil her, there wasn't much she wanted. and before matthew, there was no one giving her what she wanted. so it was still a little new to her.

but then she smiled, her toothy little grin that made matthew's heart melt every time, and she gave him the biggest hug she could. "thank you, daddy! you're the best!"

"even better than bobby?" he joked.

"hmmm, i don't know, but you're better than uncle brady," she decided.

matthew laughed, "alright, i'll take it. now, arms up, let's get your bobby jersey on."

[lfghughes]

hi!!!

could you do one with Matthew Tkachuk? Him and his girlfriend at a post-victory party, you walk away for a few seconds and a big, drunk man tries to hit on you in a rude way. Imagine a jealous and overprotective Tkachuk.

a/n: i feel like i say this a lot but this was one of the most fun things i've ever written so i hope you enjoy it. overprotective tkachuk might just be my favorite thing and yes i had to use this gif.

warning: cursing, alcohol, fighting, and slight smut mention at the very end

The boys were leading the series 3-0 and even though it was still early to celebrate because if anyone knew about making comebacks when you were down by 3 it was your boyfriends team. But you all still wanted to celebrate the fact that you made it this far into playoffs and you were one win away from going to the Stanley cup final. The pre-mature celebration was going to happen regardless and you knew if or when that final win happened you guys would do it all over again.

There were plenty of drinks going around the bar and well the Panthers team definitely knew how to get a party started here in South Florida. “Hey babe, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Can you hold my drink?” You asked Matthew and he immediately grabbed your cup from you. Not only was he great on the ice but he made a fantastic bag holder and cup holder when needed. This was something you teased him about constantly.

On your way back from the bathroom you searched the crowd and it was hard to find Matthew in the mix of all the teammates and just regular people that were out but finally your eyes landed on him. As you were making your way back to him someone caught your arm and when you turned to see who you were a little surprised because it was some stranger. When you had first been grabbed you had figured it was one of the boys trying to get your attention but not a stranger. “Excuse me sir.” You pulled your arm away and immediately felt uncomfortable because you could tell this guy had way too much to drink.

“I was just wondering if I could buy a pretty girl like you a drink?” You should have just walked away and left the conversation as soon as you could but instead you shook your head. “I’m good! My boyfriend is holding my drink over there.” You pointed out to him but you realized Matthew was not where you last saw him. Now came the nerves. “Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate ya.”

Yeah, you needed to walk away but there were too many bodies around not letting you move but before you could even try to wriggle around people you saw the strangers body get pulled away from you and your boyfriend stepped in between you two. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been saying to my girlfriend but you need to leave her alone.” You were used to Matthews aggressiveness on the ice and you had seen his jealous side come out before but this was different.

“Go mind your own business, I was just offering to buy your pretty girlfriend a drink maybe she should be more appreciative.” This was going to get bad, you could tell by Matts body language and the way he tensed up. “She is my business so step back.” That should have been enough warning but clearly it wasn’t because the guy stepped forward closer. Before you could grab Matthew and walk away fists started flying and it took a solid five minutes before the security in the bar and the other boys could pull Matthew off the other.

It was no surprise that Matthew got asked to leave and you gladly left with him because this night had clearly gone down the drain. “I’m sorry for ruining your night out.” You told him quietly as you walked to the car. He stopped immediately, stepping in front of you and placing his hand gently on the side of your face. “You didn’t do anything, that guy was an ass.” A small smile grew on your lips as you looked up at him. “I will say it was pretty hot when you got all overprotective.” You pointed out and a smirk grew on his lips. “Oh yeah? Well I guess I should get us home so you can show me how hot you think I was.”

[midnightsnyx]

could you write “I’m not jealous! It’s just that, you’re mine!” with matthew tkachuk? love the way you write him <3

thank u so much!!!❤️❤️ this is short but hopefully you like it!

His eyes have been following you all night. When you had agreed to join him with some of your mutual friends to the bar, you figured that the night would go as it usually does. You live in the same apartment so you take a taxi together to the bar but both usually leave separately but not alone. Well, usually you leave alone before Matt takes home some random girl who is always gone the next morning when you go to his apartment with breakfast burritos and coffee to help with the inevitable hangover you both have after a night out. An odd, but comfortable routine.

Tonight is different. He’s turned away every girl that approaches him but he’s watching you like a hawk, especially when a cute guy approaches you and asks to buy you a drink. You almost accept but there’s something about the look on Matt’s face that stops you. You can’t pinpoint it but it’s something akin to jealousy so you smile politely at the guy and tell him you’re waiting for someone. Once he leaves, you look at Matt and tilt your head slightly, hiding a smile when he excuses himself from the conversation he’s having with a friend and walk over to where you are sitting.

He orders another drink for himself and orders your favorite without having to ask.

“You know, it’s okay if you’re jealous,” you say cautiously, hoping you didn’t read his demeanor wrong.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says and tenses up, looking anywhere but at you.

“So, if I go find the guy that offered to buy me a drink you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“I’m not jealous! It’s just that, you’re mine!” He says, eyes widening at the admission.

“Yours?” You repeat, raising an eyebrow, watching him stumble over his words before putting him out of his misery.

“If you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do was ask.”

His eyes widen comically. “Really?”

“No,” you scowl, smacking the back of his head with a napkin. “What kind of girl do you think I am? I’d expect you to wine and dine me first.”

He grins, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear and letting his fingers softly trace down your neck before he lets his hand drop. “I know a 24 hour diner just down the street.”

“Matthew.”

He chuckles, “kidding, I’m kidding.” He’s nervous but looks at you hesitantly, “will you go out to dinner with me?”

You hop off the bar stool and offer him your hand, “let’s see what that 24 hour diner offers.”

[msmargaretmurry]

Do you have thoughts on Quinn Hughes/Matthew Tkachuk ?

oh, friend, do i!!! i feel like something not everyone knows about me On Here is that i'm a voracious multi-shipper, so obviously even though i love matthew/leon and brady/quinn a lot, i have a whole bunch of other ships for all of them that i love to rotate in my mind.

matthew/quinn is high on the list because: a) i love both of their mama's boy eldest siblingness a lot and think that would make it fun to mash them together, b) i'm such. SUCH. a sucker for a "crush on my best friend's older brother" scenario, and c) ooooh the brady of it all. feeling like they have to sneak around because it feels weirdly like they're betraying brady by hooking up but feeling equally weird about keeping it a secret from brady? oh yes. telling themselves it's fine to keep the secret because it's ~nothing serious~ and then whoops at some point it got serious? brady finding out about the secret relationship at the worst moment possible? the possibilities for family drama and friendship drama in addition to romantic drama are RICH. or, something where it starts out with quinn having some unrequited brady feelings but matthew is the one available? i have told a few people that i've always felt there was an alternate timeline version of head above water where leon doesn't come to toronto to train but matthew winds up going to boots with the hugheses anyway, and he and quinn hook up there and wind up on their own long dramatic journey to falling in love. it would have been a completely different story from HAW but i HAVE pondered it.

that all being said, i do feel a little feral about this pairing whenever i see these pictures or think about jack referring to matthew and brady collectively as "quinn's boys." i don't have a link, but that interview where quinn says that between matthew and brady he likes playing against brady better, because he loves getting to see brady and matthew is SO annoying to play against? also fuels me.

a while back i wrote this little snippet for someone on twitter — i can't remember what the prompt was, it was one of those 'give me a pairing and one word and i'll write a tiny fic' things. anyway i think it's the only matthew/quinn i have actually written, but i'm quite fond of it, so please enjoy:

"So," Quinn says, leaning against the bar next to Matthew. "Is it weird to see your little brother get married before you?"

The bartender is making Matthew yet another of the 'his' option from the themed his'n'hers cocktails, even though Brady’s drink of choice is a little too sweet and it’s starting to make Matthew’s teeth hurt. Matthew waits until he's finished, thanks him for the drink, then joins Quinn in facing outward toward the reception. It's in full swing, joyous and messy. Brady, of course, is in the center of it all, sweaty and beaming, his tie nowhere to be found.

"Nah, " he says. "We always knew he'd get hitched first. You know him, he's a fuckin' romantic."

"He’s a sap," Quinn agrees. Quinn is drinking a beer, and he’s only a little sweaty. His tie is loosened but where it’s supposed to be, his groomsman's tuxedo (sans jacket) still in good shape. Better shape than Matthew’s. Matthew does know where his tie is, it’s just not on his person. His shirt is half-unbuttoned; his waistcoat is fully unbuttoned. He is almost as drunk as he looks. Judging on the same criteria, Quinn is not nearly drunk enough.

"You look like you need to party harder," Matthew says, bumping his shoulder to Quinn's.

"Working on it." Quinn holds his beer up.

"These are stronger." Matthew counters with his cocktail.

"Those are gonna give you the worst headache tomorrow," Quinn says, but he takes the glass out of Matthew’s hand and drains half of it anyway.

Matthew grins. "Atta boy."

"Ugh."

"Yeah."

"Why are you even drinking that?"

Matthew shrugs. "I’m being supportive."

"There are better ways to show Brady you love him," Quinn says, but he says it with a laugh, so Matthew is pleased with himself. Quinn’s not an easy guy to make laugh, unless you’re Brady or one of Quinn's brothers. He offers Quinn the rest of the drink, but Quinn waves him off to go back to his beer, and they’re quiet for a moment, watching the crowd on the dance floor bounce along with an Imagine Dragons remix.

"I think it's gonna feel pretty weird," Quinn says. "When Jack and Luke get married before me."

"You’re so sure they will?" Matthew asks. Quinn gives him a look like he’s a little bit stupid.

"I’m not dealing with that while I’m still playing," he says.

"Right," Matthew says, indeed feeling a little bit stupid, because, you know, same hat. "Yeah. Yeah, I know, but I’m also like, it’s not like I have someone waiting in the wings to meet me at the altar or whatever. I’m not even close."

"Yeah, that too." Quinn finishes his beer, then looks back out at the dancing mob, his expression pinching. "I kinda wanna get out of here for a little bit. Don’t tell Brady I said that."

Outside, by moonlight and lamplight, it's easier to see the pink flush of Quinn's cheeks, the sweat staining his collar. The summer air is sticky, but it’s somehow refreshing anyway. The wedding venue is surrounded by gardens and vistas that are beautiful in the daytime but unnotable at night. They walk in silence until the thump of bass from inside fades, and Quinn clears his throat.

"I won’t," Matthew says, then, his mouth running ahead of his brain, "Yeah, come on, let's go." At Quinn’s dubious look, he sets his glass down and gestures grandly toward the door.

"I didn’t mean, like," he says, his face scrunching as he puts the innuendo into the next words. "Let’s get out of here. You know?"

"Yeah, I know," Matthew says quickly. "Me neither."

"Okay," Quinn says, and the acknowledgement somehow makes it easy not to know, a minute later, in the dark spot between lamp posts, who kisses who first. Makes it easy to recognize that the way Quinn kisses like he’s starving has nothing to do with Matthew himself, and easy for Matthew to just let himself fucking have something for ten whole minutes before they slip back onto the dance floor like they never left at all.

[youunravelme]

Hope you are okay re the medical issues you mentioned!! Just wanted to say that I cannot wait for Murphy’s Law!! Your fics are truly some of the best I’ve read on tumblr and I definitely consider you my favourite Mat Barzal writer!! Can I ask how you come up with the plots for your pieces? Maybe my imagination just isn’t great but I don’t think I’d ever be able to do it haha

Keep up the amazing work! 💞

i'm good now lol, to summarize my medical problems: i had gallstones and really bad flare ups. i'll probably have to get surgery to get my gallbladder removed at some point, but that's a problem for a later date lolol.

you're too kind!! seriously, thank you for sending sweet messages like this, makes my day/night each and every time.

now i'm gonna warn you, this is way more in depth than you probably wanted, but we both know i'm not good at being succinct.

as far as plot, maybe this isn't the best way, but it works for me. for most of the fics i'm currently writing, i think of a trope and build off that. so for this is how you fall in love, i started with fake dating and built in mommy issues and other female character's internalized misogyny and the reader's insecurity. for the first fic i wrote, head start, i wanted a childhood best friends to lovers for jack. for murphy's law, i took the brother's best friend trope and added fwb to it. for this matty tkachuk fic, i took the second chance romance with a heaping pile of suffering and angst and started writing that.

now for to all the girls you've loved before, i was projecting because i was a nanny at the time (i wasn't in love with the dad lol, in case that was ever a thought someone had) and wanted to create a world where ordinary people could fall in love with a famous person lolol my favorite disney princess is cinderella, can you tell?

for the worst wing woman, i built the story off the reader's profession and personality instead of a specific trope.

but i also use music to inspire me as well! drops of jupiter was taken from the train song but an angstier version, if that makes sense. it's nice to have a friend was inspired by seven by taylor swift.

i read a shit ton of fics (which is one reason it takes me so long to write lolol) and i find so much inspiration in just the words people are using to create beautiful stories and phrases (i'm looking at you @chewingcyanide). i think improving your writing means reading other people's work and getting inspiration from the things they're creating. i literally look at emme's (chewingcyanide, linked above) work and take mental notes at the sheer talent in her word choice, it's so evocative. or i'll look into @thewintersoldierdisaster's works and get righteously jealous of her banter and dialogue (seriously check her stuff out!).

i say all this to say there's not a wrong or right way to write and find inspiration. i think starting with tropes or songs might be the easiest, but i always shoot to make it my own. ultimately speaking, it's about writing what you love and what inspires you the most.

[bropunzeling]

I‘d love to read your commentary on „honey and a sting“, especially on scenes from Leon‘s summer in Sicily, please💙

thank u for this excuse to not do my writing that i was gonna do (i WILL do it. seattle au waits for no man. or jess.)

Once they’ve made it through the menu, Leon gets a full pour of the first wine she tried and heads outside, where there’s tables and chairs and a pergola, and a small, low wall overlooking the grounds. [i did so much googling for this sequence and in conclusion: i would like to go to siciliy. when can i go to sicily.] Leaning over that wall, she tries to take in the view. Rolling hills, lines of grapevines stretching as far as she can see; tall, conical trees fluttering at the edges of the field. [again: when can i go to sicily!!!!] It’s beautiful, the kind of place she should take a picture of, show off to all her friends and acquaintances and the thousands of strangers who follow her on Instagram.

Instead she holds her wineglass in one hand and stares at her fucking phone. [there's something about phones that like. idk it's a thing i think about a lot more in our Modern Era but also when writing a fic like this that has an inherent long-distance component. the phone as the only tether to someone. the phone as a representation of the person you can't reach (or that you are refusing to let connect to you, in the playoffs sequence). idk in retrospect the phone carried so much weight throughout this whole fic, and more as it went on!] Earlier at the house she hadn’t had time to look at Twitter or Instagram; now she can’t seem to stop, scrolling through the posts over and over. Contract signed; here are the terms. A statement: so excited to join the Panthers organization. Oh, and congratulations to Brady on his engagement. What a weekend for the Tkachuk family. [i just like the rhythm of this bit a lot! lots of choppy, short fragmented sentences. i like how it feels like reading through a feed. i also find i tend to default to shorter sentences for leon pov? idk just something about it makes sense to me.]

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The thing is. The thing is, she’d been ready to get over him. [liar] Or, not ready, not exactly, but she’d been—preparing to be ready. She thought she knew what to expect. Four games a year, sixty minutes at a time, Matthew in Calgary red and grinning obnoxiously at her around his mouthguard. Sure, she wouldn’t see him before every game; sure, he wouldn’t come over to hers, sit on her couch and pet her dog and be—but in time, she’d manage it. He’d go back to being who he was to her before 2020, before that one fucking All-Star Game and all that followed, and eventually she’d stop feeling like the walls of her chest were caving in every time she thought about him. [obviously this never could have happened the way she thought, but also i just really like the trade as a big pivot point/method of crystallization. the increase in distance making it how clear leon wasn't going to be over him, that there was no going back to the start. that she started something that couldn't be reversed a long long time ago! idk! the trade provides so much narrative richness and works as such a great fulcrum for those kinds of realizations.]

He can’t go back to who he was to her if he’s in Florida. She won’t even see him, not really. Twice in November. And he won’t be in the condo she remembers, the hall she has memorized, won’t be in the right shade of red, won’t be—

He won’t be hers. Not in the way she wants him now; not even in the small way she had him before. [i just really like this moment! again, leon forced to realize what it is she actually wanted at the time -- for what they had to keep going ad infinitum. and when confronted with the actuality that things change (and perhaps her own actions spurred that change/made it more likely to pass) she has regrets about it! idk something something we can't stay static, we are always changing? yk.]

Before she registers what she’s doing, she’s opening her contacts, scrolling down until she finds him. When she taps on his name, the call history stares back at her: June 6th, one incoming call, declined.

She hits call.

As the phone rings in her ear, she abruptly realizes she hadn’t thought about time differences. [me, the author: fuck i haven't thought about time differences] She doesn’t know where he is—St. Louis? Florida? Somewhere else? There’s no picture on her phone for her to guess from. [callback to one of their little intimacy things that i really liked where he would send her pictures of skylines] Fuck, what if he’s doing something? What if she has to leave a voicemail? What if she—

“Leon?”

Hearing Matthew say her name for the first time in months hits her hard, a fist to the stomach. She has to suck in a breath, high and whistling, just to try and get enough air to speak. [there's just something about a really difficult phone call that like. physically hits you. right?]

“Leon?” Matthew repeats slowly. “Is that—”

“Matthew,” Leon finally manages. “Um. Hi.”

“Hi,” Matthew replies. There’s another pause. “Not to be rude, but why…”

“Um,” Leon says, trying to marshall the thoughts in her head. It’s not going well. [i was trying pretty hard in this sequence through the sentence structure and repetition of details to convey that sort of frantic like---leon thought everything had already fallen apart and now it's falling apart even worse. the one thing she thought wouldn't change is changing. something like that.] All she can think about is eight years, five thousand kilometers, two games, the wrong shade of red. “I, uh, I saw. About the trade.”

“Oh.” Matthew says.

And fuck, Leon really should hang up, she really should stop—this isn’t helping, this is just making things worse, only—

“Florida?” she asks, in a very small voice. [i'm one of those people who has little scraps of dialogue and sentences in a notes app note for most wips, and this was one of them! once i made the pivot to account for the trade in the first place anyway haha]

Matthew laughs—no, not really a laugh. More like a huff of air, rough and unfunny. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I—I wasn’t going to stay, not after Johnny—and it seems like a good fit for me. So.” [obvi irl matthew has his own motivations for getting tf out of calgary (and it's fun to explore different takes on those motivations in different scenarios, obviously i go different routes in marriage bets or omega!matthew or what have you) but there is definitely more than a lil element of heartbreak playing into this one. it wasn't ALL because leon broke his heart, of course, he had more concrete reasons, but it didn't not factor in.]

“Right,” Leon says weakly. “Right.” Her stomach hurts. “It’s, uh. Pretty far from Calgary.” [pretty far from ME] And she knows, she knows as soon as she says it that he’ll see what she’s saying, that he’ll know she’s not thinking about Calgary at all—fuck, how pathetic can she be—and yet she can’t stop herself.

“Yeah,” Matthew says. “Yeah, it is.” More silence. “Listen, I’m going to lunch with my family soon, I should really—”

“No, you should—yeah,” Leon says. “Um. Congratulations. I—I hope it’s what you want.” [(a) god love an awkward conversation (b) leon trying to be supportive while working thru her feelings and just unable to conceal them? that's the good stuff for me.]

“Yeah, well, it'll be—yeah,” Matthew says. “Anyways. I, uh. I’m glad you called.” Another of those not-laughs; another punch to her gut. “Could’ve been sooner, but—well. Good to hear from you.” [would matthew have changed his mind? mmmmm i think on balance no. but also he just wants to hear from leon all the time. big in love energy.]

“Yeah,” Leon replies, before her voice dies in her throat and she can’t say anything else. [i hate writing sadness but i do love when my guys are a little sad. conundrums. but i thought this scene worked pretty well!]

[hockeyboysimagines]

Hi bestie!

Can I get a lil urban rom com with Matty Tkachuk pls🥺 with smut prompt 22？or just choose what you like

like hook up with him then find out his your new neighbour (it's corny i know but）

Luv you!

Hey bestie!

Love this request. Since I used your requested prompt in the first part I added smut prompt 19 as a little extra for you🤍hope you enjoy this!

“I know you can be louder than that”

You were still thinking about the words that your mystery guy had whispered in your ear before he gave the most toe curling orgasm you’d ever had and probably would ever have going forward.

It was both amazing and sucked, because while the sex had been incredible you had no idea who he was or where to find him. The odds of you ever seeing him again were slim to none.

Or so you thought.

What happened last night was a rare occurrence. It wasn’t often that you went wild but when you did you went WILD.

You could count the number of times you’d gone home with someone on one hand, and you’d still have fingers left. But given the opportunity you’d fill up both hands and all ten toes if it meant he was responsible for all of them. Sex aside, the most memorable thing about him was his smile. It was wide and genuine, the kind that made his eyes crinkle and made you want to smile back at him without even knowing who he was. That’s what had started it all. That damned smile.

You sighed and threw yourself down on your sofa. There was a loud racket from down the hall, and you assumed someone new was moving in, which is why you didn’t bother to check. It wasn’t uncommon to get new neighbors now and again, and while you normally would have introduced yourself, you were too busy sulking about your once in a lifetime sexual encounter to get off the sofa.

As the morning wore on the racket became almost impossible to ignore and when multiple voices now joined in, your curiosity got the better of you. Grabbing your keys and stepping into your shoes. You locked your door and as you turned the corner you collided with a person carrying a box, and both of you stumbled and the box fell, contents spills across the walkway.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry-“ you gasped, leaning down to start picking things up.

“It’s fine don’t-“

You both glanced up at the same time and your mouth fell open a little.

Your mystery guy from last night was kneeling in front of you, staring at you the way you were staring at him.

“Oh my god.” You said leaning back a little, smile stretching across your face.

“Well well. I thought this place looked familiar.” He chuckled and extended one hand, that smile spreading across his face “Matt. We didn’t do introductions last night…I don’t think.”

“I don’t know. We were both pretty trashed.” You said with a giggle extending a hand also “Y/N”

“Nice to meet you…again that is. I was kicking myself this morning for not getting your name or number last night and figured I’d probably never see you again.”

“Guess the universe had other plans for you.”

“Not complaining. So you live here I’m assuming?” He asked straightening up. He had been hot last night, especially illuminated by the neon at the bar, but in the daylight?

Wow.

He was even better looking.

He was also wearing a very tight T-shirt and even though you’d seen him in no shirt, and no clothes period, you couldn’t help but stare at the veins the went from his forearm down to his hand, and the muscles that were clearly visible through his shirt.

“I do. Guess we’re neighbors now then huh?”

He smiled and picked up the box “Guess so.”

“Well if you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar come to me first.”

“And if I need something else?” He took a step forward eyes peering into your own.

Wow we’re they blue. You’d really missed out on the fine details last night. But in your defense you hadn’t been thinking with your eyes.

“Depends on what it is.”

His eyes twinkled as he jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of his apartment.

Your heart was beating in your ears as you followed him, excitement bubbling up inside of you. While this probably wasn’t going to result in some kind of a relationship between you, it could result in some awesome, semi-regular sex that you were more than okay with.

You watched as he set down the box and closed his front door, lock clicking as he turned to you. You were backed up against the kitchen counter, the same one you had in your own apartment, and watched as he very slowly made his way over to you. He was sweaty, curly hair everywhere but he looked hotter now than he did last night, if that was even possible. His lips pushed up against yours, hands low on your waist. It was slow for just a few seconds before he swiped his tongue across your lower lip, and pushed it inside your mouth, hoisting you up on the counter. His hands came up to either side of your face, as he pulled away and came in at a different angle. You felt like you were drowning as his mouth moved heavily against yours as you let a breath escape. Your tank top strap slipped off your shoulder, exposing top of your bra. He slid down the other one, your shirt coming to pool around your waist. You let out a breath as he pulled away for a second, looking down, one hand coming to rest between your legs. You gasped, eyes moving up to meet his own, as he gently moved your underwear to the side and rubbed a small circle before he slipped two fingers inside.

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs but instead you bit your lip and let your head fall back eyes sliding closed. The sensation between your legs was almost blinding you when he suddenly pulled his hand out, and picked you up, carrying you back to what you presumed was his bedroom. You both landed on the mattress with a small “oof” and his mouth was immediately back on yours. You pulled his shirt over his head and quickly pushed his shorts down, kicking out of your own shorts and allowing him to pull your underwear down. He spread your legs apart, eyes moving up your body until they landed on your face. He slotted himself between your legs before he leaned up and whispered in your ear.

“I’m going to make you feel so good”

He pushed slowly inside of you, your back arching up off the bed. His head fell forward as he pulled out and pushed in again with a small gasp.

It was even better than last night, as you glanced down and watched the muscles in his abdomen flex as he moved in and out of you. Your reached up your hands placing one of either side of his lower back, digging your nails into his skin. He leaned forward kissing you roughly before he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pulling you on to all fours before he backed you up and pushed back inside of you.

“Oh my God.” You moaned out as he hit a spot you weren’t even aware existed, one hand splayed on your lower back. The other hand wrapped around your hair and twisted it giving it a very firm tug. The sensation of your hair being rugged and the warm friction that had built in between your legs was too much as you felt your body heat up and for the second time in 2 days, he’d given you an earth shattering orgasm that had you screeching as he pushed sloppily in and out of you. You collapsed under him and closed your eyes as he pulled out slowly and landed next to you. After a few moments he glanced over, giving you that smile that had started it all.

“I think I’m going to like living here.”

[sorryjustafangirl]

wish we were older

a/n: two fics in one week? do not get used to this lol. but in honour of his 200th assist, here is a fic that's been a wip for way too long. it's based off of angel baribeau's song 'wish we were older' and is basically 4 times matthew wished he was older and one time he didn't. also there's a little easter egg in this one let me know if you find it ;)

pairing: matthew tkachuk x gn!reader

word count: 4k+

warnings: a couple swears, one mention of sex, kids

disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction and real person fiction so if that doesn't vibe with you, please don't read! also, gif is not mine, all credit to the wonderful creator.

Most people want to be younger. In Western society, aging is one of the worst things that can happen to you. There are skin treatments and surgeries to make your skin look younger, look healthier. When you’re young, you have no responsibilities, no expectations, there’s no judgement. Most people want to be younger, but not Matthew Tkachuk. He always knew that all he wanted was to be older – to live his life with you.

one - age six

“Can we play my game now?” You whined, standing in front of the soccer net. He had invited you over to play, and as his best friend, you said yes. But you didn’t think he’d make you stand in front of a net while he scored on you over and over again.

“Fine,” He grumbled, picking up the ball. “What do you want to play?”

“House!” You grinned widely, and Matthew found himself smiling at you despite how much he’d rather be kicking a ball than playing house. He liked making you happy.

You walked over to the small playhouse that was in their backyard and explained that he was going to be at work and you were going to be home and you’d make him supper. He didn’t like house that much because there was a lot of doing nothing on his end so he tried making a suggestion.

“Shouldn’t we be married if we play house?”

“I mean, I guess, but we can just pretend we’re married.”

“No, I think we should, like, do a wedding and stuff. It’ll be fun! I can make us rings!” His eyes lit up at the idea of doing something that wasn’t sitting around and when you looked over at him, you couldn’t deny his request. You liked seeing him smile.

“Fine, we can do that. I can pick some flowers!” You went to the garden to pull yourself a bouquet while Matthew ran inside.

“Mom?” He yelled, running into the kitchen. Chantel set down the knife she was holding to look over to her oldest son.

“What?”

He grabbed a cracker for the snack board she had set out and stuffed it in his mouth. He grumbled out his words but his mom just raised her eyebrows.

With a mouthful of crackers, he managed to get out his words. “Where’s the tinfoil?”

“I can grab it for you.” She turned to the drawer next to her and pulled out the container. He went to grab it, but she pulled it back. “Why do you want it?”

“I need to make rings! Y/n and I are going to get married!”

“Really?” Matthew nodded with his chest puffed out.

“I hate to break it to you, but normally you get married to people you love.”

“I love Y/n.” Or at least he thought he did. It was what his parents had and what his grandparents had. It was liking someone enough to spend all your time together and he already did that with you.

His mom gave him an amused smile. “Well, you’ve got to be older to get married, sweetheart.”

“Then I wish I was older!”

“Don’t wish your life away son!” His dad called from the other room and Matthew sighed, grabbing the tinfoil container to go back outside to play with you where his parents couldn’t burst his bubble.

He sat down pulling the tin foil to make two tiny rings, big enough for just your small fingers. When he was finished, he looked for you and saw you sitting on the ground putting a bouquet together. He just looked at you and looked at how the sun made your hair look pretty, smiling. This was a lot better than playing house.

“Are you done?” He asked. You nodded and stood up, him doing the same. You met in the middle and he started.

“Do you want to marry me?”

You nodded. “I do.” He slid one of the makeshift rings onto your hand. “Do you want to marry me?”

“I do,” he answered, and you slid the other ring onto his finger. “Ta-da! We’re married now!”

You grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away to dance in the grass. Matthew stood back, in shock from your kiss, before softening and admiring you. Despite his dad’s words from earlier, he still wanted to be older.

two - age thirteen

“It’s Y/n! I got it!” Matthew yelled to the house as he saw your phone number pop up on the TV he was watching. He raced to his bedroom, grabbing the phone from his parents’ bedroom on the way. Your family had moved away from his, not far, but you were still his closest friend. You talked all the time at school and you always came to his games. He flopped on his bed before answering the ringing phone. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Matty?” The tone of your voice had him sitting upright immediately. Your voice was quiet and he swore he heard it crack.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No. Why do you think you’re stupid?”

You sniffled on the other end. “Charlie told me I was. And ugly too.” Charlie, aka your ‘boyfriend’. There was no label but from what you told Matthew, you both really liked each other.

“Charlie said that? Are you kidding me?” You mumbled a ‘no’ and Matthew sighed. “Well, you’re not those things. Charlie’s the stupid ugly one.”

You stayed silent. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“How can I? Charlie’s the most popular guy in Mr. Jackson’s class. And he like-liked me. Or I thought he did,” you said, wiping some stray tears away.

“How can I make you feel better?” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you.

“A hug would be nice but it’s already past my bedtime, and you have a game tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Matthew felt helpless.

“It’s fine, Matty. Thanks for listening.”

“Yeah, yeah, anytime. I mean that, call me whenever, I don’t mind.” You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, but he couldn’t shake this feeling he had – like he didn’t do his job as your best friend. That’s when he had his idea.

“Mom! Can you drive me to Y/n’s house?”

“Matthew, it’s almost time for bed and you have a game tomorrow,”

“I know but I need to go to Y/n’s right now, Mom, please! It’s important,” He pleaded and Chantel narrowed her eyes. Pursing her lips, she nodded, grabbing the car keys and opened the garage door. Matthew raced out to the car and put his seatbelt, wiggling in his seat until they were on their way to you. She had barely put the car in park in front of your house before Matthew was running towards the front door.

He knocked a few times and you timidly opened the door, peaking your head out. He sent you a smile and your eyes started to well with tears. He immediately brought you into a hug and you relished in the comfort of your best friend.

The two of you sat on your porch steps and in no time, Matthew had you laughing about silly jokes about Charlie, telling you how you’re way too smart for him anyways. You leaned your head on his shoulder and thanked him for coming over to comfort you.

“It’s nothing. You needed me and I came. No big deal.”

The honk of Chantel’s car blared quickly, and he sighed. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow after my game, right?” You nodded your head and he gave you another hug.

“Matthew! Let’s go!” He rolled his eyes at his mom, but knew she wouldn’t hesitate to get out of the car and drag him to bed. He left your porch and climbed back into the car, waving at you as you went back inside your house.

“Why couldn’t I have five more minutes?” He grumbled as his mom drove away.

“Until you’re old enough to drive yourself around on game nights, I will decide when we leave.”

He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned against the window. ‘I wish I was older’ were his last thoughts before he slipped into his dreams.

three - age nineteen

Matthew had asked you out the summer after sophomore year and the two of you had been going out ever since. He was a happier version of himself when he could call you his and he could unashamedly compliment you in public. Even when he was drafted to the OHL, it didn’t hinder the connection you had. The long distance wasn’t ideal, but he was still relatively close. Calgary was much further away.

You had accepted a full ride scholarship to the University of Missouri-St. Louis, and there was no way Matthew would let you give that up just so the two of you could be closer. He’d seen you work so hard, doing homework while watching his games and reading papers until 2am on FaceTime with him. You were two years into your degree and loving it, he couldn’t ask you to leave all of that to come to Calgary with him.

He didn’t even have to ask you to come with him to see the city for the first time. School wouldn’t start for another week, and neither of you were ready for the year ahead. You’d joined the family on the plane, his hand never leaving yours (except to put your carry-on in the overhead compartment). The two of you toured the city, sharing in the mundane moments like seeing the Calgary Tower and the dinosaurs at the zoo (“What other kind of zoo has dinosaurs babe?! They move! This is so cool.”). The family all went out for dinner the night before your flight was to depart from Calgary and the whole night was spent with Matthew’s hand on your thigh. You leaned into him as Keith shared stories of baby Matthew and Brady chimed in with his own chirps. You’d all shared a bottle of wine and Matthew’s billets had given you permission to stay the night with him, as long as nothing happened. You assured them the two of you would be on your best behaviour, and even when he teased you, you shut it down. The random grown adults upstairs were enough to kill the mood.

The two of you brushed your teeth together, catching glances in the mirror, Matthew’s hand resting on your hip bone. You bumped into his side and he sent you a cheeky smile before softly bumping you back. He finished changing into his pajamas first, the Superman pair you had bought him last Christmas as a joke. When he asked why Superman, you simply replied, “Because you’re my hero Matty.” He’d never forgotten those words. When you finished changing, you turned to see him under the covers, one hand holding the comforter up, so you could snuggle in beside him.

You pressed your head against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat you wouldn’t hear for a while. His hand softly traced over your back, his other hand playing with your fingers. You slowly dozed off and Matthew was quick to follow you. It wasn’t hard when he was holding the love of his life in his arms.

The next morning, you had a hard time getting out of bed. Not just because you’d have to leave, but because Matthew’s grip around your waist wouldn’t budge.

“Matty, I have to get up, your parents will be here soon.” He groaned but released you and watched you get ready from the bed. He watched the way your hair fell naturally, the way your forehead wrinkled when you couldn’t find something, the way your eyes softened when they met his. He made grabby hands from the bed and you checked the clock. You humored him and fell back into his embrace for five more minutes.

You pulled him out of bed, pajama pants and all, to say goodbye as his parents pulled up into the driveway. They let you and him have a private goodbye, standing by the car. Matthew was quick to take you into his arms.

“I wish we were older so we didn’t have to say goodbye,” He mumbled into your shoulder. His words brought tears to your eyes and you swallowed before you answered him.

“It’s not a goodbye, it’s a see you soon.” You rubbed his back and he squeezed you even tighter. You tried to pull away but he refused, holding you for just another minute before letting go. Your hands found their way to his face, lightly stroking his cheekbones. “Listen to me, Matty. You are going to be amazing here, okay? You’re going to blow everyone away, I just know it. I’ll be cheering you on the whole time.”

He nodded and pulled you in for one last kiss. You squeezed his hand before passing him off to his parents, getting into the car beside Brady. When the Tkachuks were all buckled in, Keith put the car in reverse, starting the drive to the airport. You waved to Matthew and he waved back. You softly mouthed ‘I love you’ and he said it back. As he got smaller and smaller in the background, you couldn’t help but hope Matthew’s wish would come true soon.

four - age twenty four

Johnny became a dad. Lucic's kid started kindergarten. His cousin got married. The PT, Leila, just had her baby. It didn't help Taryn kept sending him pictures of the neighbours’ newborn asking him she was going to be an aunt.

Matthew's hands tightened on his laces and he pulled them tight enough to have white marks on his hands. He shook them and tried to ignore his teammate's coos about his newest addition. Yeah, the kid was cute but did Johnny have to rub it in everyone's faces? He sighed as he put on the rest of his equipment and left the dressing room early. He skated on the ice alone, stickhandling and shooting some loose pucks towards the net-- not that any of them went in. His mind wasn't there.

All he wanted, and all he had wanted for the past five years, was to be your husband. To have kids of his own, to be the family man like his dad. But he had to wait for that.

Matthew Tkachuk isn't an overly patient man. He's driven by impulsive decisions, his mouth running during a game before he can consciously decide what to say. He moves before he can think, his body instinctively moving, on the ice, in a fight, even as a kid he was like that. And he’d tested his patience and done his waiting.

After four years of long distance while you finished your degree, something he was so proud of you for, you were finally in Calgary with him. When you had said you wanted to get your Master's, he had all but begged you to stay in your new hometown with him. He had done four years of virtual dates and FaceTime calls, four years of only seeing each other in the offseason and Christmas because you could never get the All-Star break off of school. He'd done four years without you and there was no way he was letting you leave again.

So you applied to the University of Calgary (no surprise you got accepted) and started your program. He had wanted to propose the moment you got accepted, but he figured it would be best to celebrate the two things separately. So he waited. At first, Matthew thought it was going to be wonderful. You'd spend more time together, he'd get to cheer you on, he'd get to go to sleep with you in his arms. He was mostly right -- but the life you shared was hectic between your school schedule and his intensive regimen. There was barely enough time to plan date nights, let alone the evidential wedding that would happen when he proposed. So he waited longer.

Finally, your program finished and there was time in the world to celebrate that. School was done and you already had a job lined up that started in two weeks. He'd had enough of waiting at that point and popped the question. It was perfect and everything you'd ever wanted and Matt was just happy you said yes. You had always been the one for him but he knew he could be a bit of an asshole every now and again.

So between the engagement, wedding planning, your new job, the start of a new season, Matthew knew it wasn’t the right time for a kid, but goddamn did he ever want one.

Everyone filtered onto the ice, beginning their warmup. He mostly stayed away from the group, his mind on how he couldn't have all the things he wanted. He didn't need, or want, reinforcement from his teammates of what he's missing out on.

He stayed near the back for most of the practice, missing shots left and right, and grimacing every time Sutter’s mouth turned into a frown at him. He just couldn’t get the thought of a family out of his head. What Sunday mornings would be like, how the family photos would look sitting on top of the fireplace, how you’d look holding his kid in your arms...

Gio skated up beside him in line, letting the others go in front of them. "Chucky, what is going on?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me. What's buggin' ya?" Matt looked up at the ceiling and shifted on his skates like a little kid.

"It's just like... everyone's having kids and having a family and getting married and I just- I want that so badly but it's just not the right time for me and Y/N. I just, like, I wish I was older so I can have that, you know? But whatever, it's fine, I'll get over it."

"You don't have to get over Matt, it's normal. You're having baby fever. And I know it's hard, but enjoy the time the two of you have by yourselves. Take a spontaneous trip. Have sex with the door open. Do all the things you can't with kids. This isn't a waiting period in your life for something better, this is your life. Have some patience, alright kid?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. Thanks, man."

"Good, now can you make a goal please? It's embarrassing, Marky isn't even trying." Matt huffed and went off, picking up a puck and hitting the back of the net easily.

+ one - age thirty two

Matthew hopped in his truck and drove away from the arena. Snow was softly falling onto the windshield, but after close to fourteen years after he first came to Calgary, he found comfort in the flakes. A lot had changed since he first came to the city. After Gio was traded, he was named Captain. You had not only moved out from St. Louis to be with him, but he was now your husband.

As he rolled up in the suburban driveway, he smiled as he saw the outside lights welcoming him home. He grabbed his bag and stick, opened the front door, and gently placed it on the floor so as not to disturb his family. He tiptoed his way towards the kitchen, listening to the laughter of his kids.

“When will Daddy be home?” Cameron, your four year old asked. A grin spread across his face and he rounded the corner.

“How about right now?” Shrieks from all Tkachuk kids sent Matthew into a chuckle as Eli, your six year old, launched himself into his arms. Cameron was helped off the counter where he was sitting and you grabbed your eighteen month old, Jada, from her high chair to greet your husband. Cameron joined the group hug and Matthew took a quick moment to sneak in a kiss from you. He tickled Jada’s stomach and her giggles brought a wider grin onto his face, if that was possible.

“Daddy, daddy, can we go skating? I want to show you how good I am at skating now!” Eli asked, once he detangled himself from his dad.

“Sure, bud, after supper, alright?” Matthew ruffled his hair and he smiled, with one tooth missing. He made his way towards you at the stovetop, Cameron on his hip after making the grabby hands at him. He snaked his free arm around your waist and kissed the top of your shoulder.

“How were they today?” You leaned into his embrace as much as you could while keeping an eye on supper.

“They’re your kids so… chaotic as usual. E has been outside as much as he can and Cam spilled his orange juice like four times. He did clean it up, unlike someone’s pile of laundry from his road trip.” He blushed at your glare.

“I love you," He said in a sing-song voice.

“I love you too. The pile is now on your side of the bed so you can’t ignore it. But Jada here finally ate her banana chips, yes she did, yes she did,” you half-said-half-cooed to your daughter on your hip.

“Did she now?” Cameron wiggled in his dad’s arms so he got put down and Matthew took the opportunity to take his daughter from your arms. “Daddy is so proud of you, baby, so proud.” He lightly booped her nose and she giggled. “What about work, did what’s-his-face get back to you?”

“He did, but he wasn’t super helpful, so I’ve got to reach out to his boss and see if she can give me what I need to complete the project. Boys! Suppertime!” You got Jada situated in her high chair and Matthew helped the two boys into their chairs. He served everyone’s plates while you got Jada’s food from the fridge. After a quick saying of grace, the boys dug in and you gave Matthew another kiss before turning to Jada to help her if she needed.

“Daddy, do you know what I know?” Eli said.

“No, bud, what do you know?”

“That me and Cam and Jada are just like you and Uncle Brady and Auntie Taryn because it goes boy and then boy and then girl!” He smiled, even with some food still in his mouth.

“That's right! You are so smart.”

“I want to be like Daddy!” Cameron whined. He crossed his arms and you smiled.

“Of course you can be like Daddy. But first you have to be older," you explained.

“Then I want to be older!”

“Almost, buddy, almost. Do you want to come skating with Eli and I?” Your husband asked. When he nodded, Matthew told the two boys to go get ready and he’d be right there. Then he turned towards you and just watched you with Jada. You turned to him and after a while and tilted your head. He shook his head but you gave him a look. He stood up from his chair, collected the boys plates, before coming behind you.

“It’s nothing...just for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be older. And I realized that I don’t want to be older anymore. I have everything I could possibly want. I am the husband to the love of my life, I’m taking my two sons skating in our backyard, and I just… I don’t know, it feels really fucking good.”

“Even without a Stanley Cup?”

He bent down to be at your eye level and brought one hand to the back of your neck. He gently brought your lips to his and only broke away when Jada squealed. “I have everything I could possibly want right here. There’s nothing better than this home we built,” He whispered. He heard the boys call for him from the back door and he smiled as he went to get ready.

“Hey babe?” He turned around at your voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

thanks for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought!

taglist (join here): @heatherawoowoo @4ambagelbites @tysonjost-taylorsversion @2manytabsopen @stars-canucks @lorrmorr @fallinallincurls @plds2000 @barzysandhughesbaby

[bqstqnbruin]

94. you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before gives me matt tkachuk vibes so i’ll go with matt 😉

Happy blurb weekend!

you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before

WC: 833

Warnings: None

“Hey, who is that?” you ask Alexa, that curly haired boy standing against the wall looking cornered by the girl he was talking to.

“Uh, I think that’s Matthew, why?”

“Who is he talking to?”

“Arabella, I think.”

“Why does he look like he wants to crawl into a hole?” Matthew looked nervous, like he was about to burst from the situation he was in. He looked like a teenager who was dragged out by their mom to the grocery store when she runs into someone she knew, someone she hasn’t seen in years, and there they are standing in the bread aisle talking about all the embarrassing things he had done in the last few years.

Alexa shrugs. “I think they used to date, so maybe it’s something to do with that?”

You try to ignore it, the two of you standing in the corner of the party watching everyone get more and more drunk. There was something about the holiday parties that you went to that always involved everyone getting drunk and doing something stupid. Last holiday party, someone stole the mistletoe, another, they were moving it around constantly so that different people would spend their night kissing. You could remember one time there was some guy harassing his ex the entire night until she got swept off her feet by this really attractive guy.

You laugh to yourself, thinking about the possibility of you saving Matthew. It didn’t have to be you, but he definitely looked like he needed saving.

“You could go talk to him,” Alexa tells you, noticing that you hadn’t been paying attention to her but Matthew instead. He had looked over at you at least twice and smiled at you, before looking nervous again with Arabella in front of him.

“We don’t know each other.”

“From the looks of it, he could probably get to know you rather than be there with Ella.”

“You think?”

Alexa nods, taking your drink and gently pushing you towards him, telling you to go and save him. Be his knight in shining armor.

You get closer, trying to make it look like you weren’t making a bee line for the dude in distress. You stopped and talked to a few other friends while getting there, trying to tune in on the conversation between Ella and Matthew to see if he even needed you to be there in the first place.

“I always thought you would be with someone by now after our breakup, but I guess you just aren’t good enough for that,” Ella shrugs, not looking at Matthew as she says the shit she does.

He looked angry at that, you walking over to him. You rest your hand on his shoulder, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, but hopefully you could find it along the way. “Babe, I thought you were getting me my drink?” you pout, “I got worried.”

Both of them stand there and stare at you in awe. You look at her and introduce yourself. “Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company all this time,” you tell her, watching the anger manifest in the red on her face.

“Matthew, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. I just assumed you would be single.”

“Well, they know what they say about assuming, love,” you tell her, Matthew finally coming to and realizing what you were doing for him, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him. He lets out a laugh at your response.

“How long have you been together?” she asks.

“About four months,” Matthew finally answers.

“Nothing on your Instagram about it,” she tells you, trying to get him in some sort of ‘gotcha’ moment.

You shrug, “Not a big fan of flaunting our relationship. You know how some girls can get. They see a hot man with a girlfriend and they think they need to ruin it because there’s a little piece of them that thinks they still have a chance with him.”

Arabella was seething at this point, trying to do anything to get you two to break. You weren’t going to, and with you by his side, Matthew didn’t seem to be bending at all. She tries a few more times, trying to do anything to get under your skin before she finally gives up, one of her friends dragging her away.

“I owe you my life,” Matthew tells you, finally letting you go when she was gone.

“You looked like you were about to owe the prison system your life if she kept going.”

Matthew laughs, “Good point. But really, anything you want, I’ll do it.”

You didn’t know why you felt bold, but what’s the worst that he could say to you at this point? “How about we make your ex really jealous and you take me on a date?”

Matthew looked taken aback by your request before settling into a nod. “Yeah, sure.”

[typical-simplelove]

On Your Right (M. Tkachuk)

Author's Note: The longest one-shot I have ever written is for @raysofcrosby for @antoineroussel's Summer Fic Exchange; this is my first exchange, so hopefully, I did well. Thanks to Demi for organizing this! I truly had a blast working on this. I hope you enjoy this!! I used inspo from To All the Boys I've Loved Before and Bridgerton for this. Enjoy reading!

Summary: When you and Matthew both find yourself needing dates to individual events, Matthew proposes a plan where you both fake date. He suggests that he, who's been in love with you since the age of ten, and you, who is convinced Matthew hates you, date. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 21.4k

Warnings: the time may not coincide with the way time works, but ignore that; hatred; friends hating each other; Matthew being an ass; fake dating; mentions of sex (nothing explicit or too NSFW, though); planes; only one bed

Sitting on the patio chair of the Tkachuk's deck was exactly how you expected to spend a Sunday afternoon in the early weeks of summer vacation. For the past ten years, it's the exact way you've always spent your Sunday afternoons in the summer. It was always the same. Your mother and Chantal would be in the kitchen with the air conditioning, and your dad and Keith would be at the grill making dinner. What they would make would change, but it would usually be somewhere between burgers and hotdogs to chicken or salmon. It was always a surprise. They'd never tell the kids not wanting any complaining. You always sat in a chair with Taryn on your left and with Matthew on your right. Across from you sat your brother and Brady next to him. Keith always sat at one head and Chantal at the other. Your dad sat in the seat next to Keith, and your mother sat next to Chantal. You would always drink lemonade, and your brother would drink iced tea. You never got to drink that at home, so you and your brother would make sure to share your cups. Sometimes, Matthew would drink a pop of his choice and share it with you. If it rained, the Tkachuks would go to your home, and the seating situation was the same around your dining room table.

Chantal and your mother would insist that you kids couldn't play inside at these Sunday afternoon dinners. Sometimes, your brother and the boys would play soccer and maybe let you and Taryn join. Oftentimes, though, you and Taryn would hang out together. Sometimes, Matthew would play with you and Taryn, and you'd all play family. You and Matthew would be married parents, and Taryn would be your daughter. If your brother and Brady chose to join, Taryn would be the aunt, and Brady and your brother would be the children. Taryn always joked that life should always end up that way -- you and Matthew married with Taryn as the aunt to your children. When she'd bring up the topic, your mother and Chantal would always give each other a knowing look as if they knew something you both didn't. Your dad wouldn't say anything, but Keith would pat his shoulder, again, as if they knew something you didn't. Brady and your brother would gag and tease Matthew. You and Matthew never said anything; you both were close friends, some would argue best friends, but it didn't matter. You knew that Matthew would be someone who would always be in your life. In your life, ages 5-10, you didn't understand the notion of marriage. All you knew was that you wanted Matthew to be in your life, and if it was marriage, then so be it.

Despite expecting to be sitting on that patio chair, you never expected you'd be watching Taryn, Brady, Matthew, and your brother playing while you sat there by yourself. It wasn't that they weren't including you, but they also weren't not not including you. They all decided to play your least favorite game, and you didn't want to, so you decided to sit and watch. There's more to it, though. The school year ended just the previous week, and you and Matthew graduated from elementary school and would be going to middle school. Somewhere within the past few weeks. Matthew went from being one of your closest friends to hating you. He just suddenly decided he didn't like you. You weren't sure why, but he just stopped being your friend. You told your mother you were sick so as not to have to come to the Tkachuk's today, but she said no. She saw right through your lie. You didn't know why Matthew didn't want to be your friend anymore, but it hurt. It hurt a lot. No longer were the days where you and Matthew would pretend to be a married couple. No more were the days where Matthew would share his pop with you. No more were the days where Matthew was your closest friend.

When Chantal called for dinner, you ran to the washroom to wash your hands and sat back in your usual spot. Despite knowing Matthew's recent emotions towards you, you hoped he'd still sit next to you. You watched as Taryn returned from washing her hands and began to apologize for not playing a game you liked. You told her it was okay, it was, and watched your brother take his seat across from you, as normal. You watched Brady put the toys away and go to the washroom to wash his hands. You watched as Keith and your father put the grilled chicken on the table, and Chantal and your mother set the sides on the table. Finally, Matthew emerged from the house, but what he did next confused you. He sat in Brady's usual seat.

"What are you doing, Matthew?" Brady asks when he sees where his brother is sitting. Matthew glares at you and shrugs.

"I just want to sit next here, today," Matthew says with anger in his voice. You weren't sure why he was suddenly so angry, but the look he had as he stared at you sent chills down your spine. That's when you knew. That's when you knew that Matthew hated you. He doesn't like you anymore, and you doubted he ever would You didn’t know it, then, but you now know that when Matthew opted to sit in a different seat and treat you with anger, he broke your heart.

Matthew Tkachuk broke your heart at the age of ten.

. . .

With Matthew out of the picture as a friend, you found yourself growing closer to your other friends. One friend, in particular, became your closest friend, Shelly. You and Shelly became the best of friends and stuck together through middle school, high school, and college. It was Shelly who convinced you that it would be a good idea to move to Calgary despite your hated family friend living there.

"Shelly, I don't think so," you tell her. "Actually, I know so."

"Come on, Ynn," Shelly eggs on. "Do it for me? I'm getting married! Please, can you bring a date? Actually, it's a must thing. I'm telling you that you have to bring a date. That's the only thing I need from you."

"So, the only thing I need to do as your maid of honor is to bring a date?"

"I mean, no? But, the wedding is in two months, and most of the stuff I've needed you to do has been done. Just this one thing, okay? I think you'll enjoy it much better if you have someone to hang out with. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with him and marry him, and I can be your maid of honor."

"Fine," you grumble. "But, only because I love you."

You hang up the phone and groan. How were you supposed to find a date? You had a few work friends in Calgary, but you found it difficult to find a date. The one thing that annoyed you the most was that you had two months to find someone you liked and trusted enough to bring to St. Louis for a wedding. What were you going to do?

Now, a month later, you were standing outside one certain door you never thought you would with a plate of cookies, their favorite cookies, and angry that this was your last resort. You knock on the door of the apartment and await the smirk and comment you were bound to get.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my biggest admirer, Yn Yln," Matthew says with his signature smirk. Yup, you guessed it.

"Matthew," you grumble and walk into his apartment as he welcomes you inside. "Here are some cookies."

Matthew takes the plate from you, opens it up, and bites into a cookie. "Thank you," he says with a mouthful of cookies. You grimace at the sight and remind yourself about the task at hand. "You know, when you called me, I forgot you were in Calgary. Why haven't you ever called me before to hang out?"

"You're serious?"

"Very."

"Maybe the small fact that we've hated each other since we were like ten? Or, how about that time you spilled water down my dress at our joint eighth-grade graduation party? Or, how about that time you spilled Gatorade on my English project? Or, how about that time you told everyone we were dating when you clearly know WE WEREN'T. Or, how about that time you took my car keys and hid them at the bottom of your hockey bag in the men's locker room? Would you like me to continue? I can keep going as far as you need."

"No, no, I get the point. No need to remind me," Matthew tells you. He internally cringes at his actions growing up, but he has too much pride to apologize. "Anyways, that was when we were growing up and in high school. I haven't treated you like that in ages."

Matthew knows he shouldn't have said that immediately when he sees the glare you give him. "I have a list if you'd like for me to list it out?"

"Okay, fine, message understood. You hate me, and I hate you because of it. What do you need? You called me pretty frantically."

You narrow your eyes at Matthew. "Firstly, I did not call you frantically. I called you asking if I could ask for a favor. Secondly, I only hate you because you hate me. Third, I need your help with something."

"Okay, firstly, yes you did. Second, maybe that's right. Third, just tell me."

"Can you set me up with a teammate or a friend of yours for me to take to Shelly's wedding?" you blurt out in one breath.

"What?" Matthew laughs breathlessly, not sure if he heard you right.

"I need a date for Shelly's wedding, and I need you to set me up with someone you trust, please."

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

"No," you grumble out, and Matthew laughs at you. "It's not like you have a girlfriend or anything."

"Wow, look at you. Firing shots, huh?"

"Matthew, can you or can you not set me up with someone you know and trust?"

"Sure, I'll see who I can find."

"Great, thank you," you say and make your way to leave.

"Where are you going?" Matthew asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Home?"

"You just came here to ask me that and leave?"

"It's not like we're friends or anything," you say blatantly. Matthew is shocked by your words and takes a visible step back. He isn't sure why your words shocked him so much because he knows you're both not friends. He knows for a fact you're both not friends but hearing you actually say it after all these years is shocking to him.

"Right, not friends. You can leave then. You can take your cookies back."

"No, no, I made them for you. I know they're your favorite. Thanks, again, Matthew."

"Sure, sure," he says as you walk out the door. He locks the door behind you and is instantly confused why he hates that you're both not friends. He knows you’re not friends. Both his and your actions over the past years have proven it, but he thought — he actually doesn't know what he thought. As the season came to an end, Matthew had another task at hand — finding someone for you to take as a date even though he knows no one he knows is good enough for you.

. . .

Matthew was sitting at the bar with his teammates sizing them all up wondering which one would be good enough for you to have as a date. There was Noah; Matthew guesses he could be okay with you with him, but Matthew knows you could do better. There was Jacob, and Matthew knew he'd treat you well. Maybe he should ask Jacob if he'd join you as a date.

"Matthew, why do you keep staring at us?" Noah asks.

"I have someone I know who needs help finding a date for a wedding this summer," Matthew explains. "This person I know asked if I could set them up with someone I know and trust."

"Do you need a guy? If so, then go with Jacob. He'll treat your friend, right," Elias says.

"Yn's not my friend," Matthew is quick to say.

"Is she someone you’re more than friends with?" Noah asks with a smirk on his face.

"No, absolutely not," Matthew says as he vehemently shakes his head. "No, we've hated each other since we were like ten."

"Why are you helping her, then?"

Matthew just stares at Noah. Why was he helping you? You both weren’t friends, as you made abundantly clear the other day. Matthew didn’t know why he was helping you. You were a long-time family friend and by far one of the most amazing people he’s ever met. But, that didn’t answer the question as to why he was helping you. You were someone amazing, yet Matthew still can’t seem to pinpoint why he was helping you. Matthew knows that if he doesn’t help you Chantal would have his head. Maybe, just maybe, it was the small, no large, crush he’s harbored for you since you were both ten. Maybe, just maybe, he truly, deep down cared about who you dated if it couldn’t be him. “I’m not sure,” Matthew deflects knowing fully why he was helping you.

“Maybe you should strike her a deal,” Mark mentions. “You find her a date for the wedding, and she finds you a date for the End-of-Year Charity Gala.”

Matthew perks his head up towards his captain. He forgot about the Gala.

“Oh no, Matthew has a smirk on his face. What’s your idea?” Noah says suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Matthew says, not losing his smirk. He has one splendid idea that he is sure to solve both your dating issues.

. . .

Matthew: I have a date for you. He’ll come over tomorrow at 5 pm with flowers, okay?

Yn: Okay, sounds good! I can’t wait to meet him.

Matthew: You’ll love him.

Matthew knows you won’t. Based on what his plan was, he knew you wouldn’t like it. He only hoped you wouldn’t slap him across the face.

. . .

The day after Matthew texted you and said when your date would show up, you were nervous. Incredibly nervous. You hoped that, for once, Matthew wouldn’t be an ass and set you up with someone nice. You were pacing around your kitchen and 4:58 pm when the doorbell rang. You stood up straight and took a deep breath. You could do this. You weren’t going to actually date the guy; you were just going to ask him to accompany you to a wedding back home and that was it. You walked over to the door and took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Matthew?” you ask in disbelief as you lock eyes with Matthew’s striking blue eyes. You give him a once-over and notice he’s wearing a white shirt, a tight shirt that fits him way too well, and black dress pants. What was with the fancy wear? You meet his eyes again, and you’re met with his eyes full of love, happiness, and worry as they stare deep into your eyes. You’ve yet to ever see this mix of emotion in Matthew’s eyes when he looks at you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You and Matthew continue staring deeply into each other’s eyes, both not wanting to break the trance you’ve found yourself in.

“Hey, Yn,” Matthew finally says, realizing who he was looking at. He hands you the bouquet of your favorite flowers. “These are for you.”

“Oh, um, come in,” you say and usher him inside. You hate him, Yn. Stop with these emotions, you keep telling yourself. Why did he suddenly have this effect on you? Matthew walks into your apartment, takes his shoes off, and sits on a chair at your counter. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m your date,” Matthew says nervously, but you still see the love lining his eyes as you speak. You haven’t seen that look directed to you in a while.

“No, absolutely not. We hate each other, remember? Why would I suddenly bring you as a date?”

“Look, before you go crazy, just listen to what I have to say, okay?” Matthew asks softly. You nod and turn away to put the flowers in a vase. You make sure your back is to Matthew because you don’t want him to see how flustered you are by his soft tone towards you.

After placing the flowers in a vase and placing it on the coffee table, you say, “Okay, Matthew, what do you have to say?”

“You know how at the end of the season, the Flames have an End-of-Year Charity Gala?” you shake your head no, and Matthew chuckles softly, and your faith grows warm. “Well, we have one, and I need to bring a date.”

“Okay?”

“So, what if we pretend to date? Like, you come with me to the gala, and I go with you to Shelly’s wedding,” Matthew proposes nervously.

“Why would you want that, Matthew? You hate me.”

“I don’t — I couldn’t ha— you know what? It doesn’t matter. Look, you need a date, and I need a date, so why don’t we just go together and solve both our problems?”

“Matthew, I don’t know.”

“Yn, come on. What’s stopping you?”

“You hate me, Matthew,” you tell him softly, not meeting Matthew’s eyes.

Matthew sighs. He could never hate you. He never really hated you; he just had to pretend to hate you because of how he felt. When Matthew was ten, he realized that he had a crush on you. He realized he like liked you, and he didn’t know what to do about it, so he just ignored you and was mean to you. Unfortunately, over the years, Matthew couldn’t let go of those feelings, and he fell more and more for you as he watched you grow into the beautiful person you are now. Seeing you walk into this apartment with the cookies the other day, Matthew realized that he was still hopelessly in love with you. At first, Matthew thought that he could find a date for you. He could find someone who was perfect for you because everyone knows that he could never be it for you, but, as he began going through his list of friends, he realized that even they weren’t good enough for you. Matthew knew you’d never feel the same way about him, but if Matthew can have you as a fake girlfriend, then that’s what he’ll have, then. “We both don’t want to find a date for our events, so why don’t we just pretend to date, then?”

You look at Matthew and see the sincerity in his eyes. You see the longing and want for you to say yes. You’ve always loved looking into Matthew’s eyes and seeing the emotion in them. You’ve never seen this kind of emotion directed towards you. You see the longing and sadness and wishing for you to say yes; however, you also see love? You couldn’t possibly be seeing that in his eyes. Could you? “Okay,” you whisper, suddenly being overwhelmed with what you saw laced in Matthew’s eyes and facial expressions.

“Okay?” Matthew asks, confirming because he was in disbelief.

“Yeah, okay. We can fake date.”

Matthew rushes over to you and wraps you in a giant hug. “Thank you,” he whispers as he holds you tightly.

“Of course, Matthew. You had a good idea that helped us both.”

Matthew leaves shortly after with a fake girlfriend and a wide smile on his face. He only hoped that he wouldn’t fall harder for you now that he’s finally somehow got you.

. . .

Matthew came over two weeks later, one day before the Flames’ last game, to sort out the terms of your and Matthew’s fake dating ruse. You weren’t sure why you agreed to this. No one back home would believe that you and Matthew were dating. You both have hated each other for as long as you can remember. Everyone would be shocked that you and Matthew can possibly stand to be in the same room together. The fact that you moved to the same city was also a giant shock to everyone. Not a single person would believe it, but why did your heart suddenly race when you thought of you and Matthew fake dating? Why did your pulse quicken at the thought of being on Matthew’s arm at the Gala? Why did you enjoy the cheeky messages Matthew has been sending you and telling you that he was trying to “fill the role perfectly”? Why did your heart hurt when you realized it was all fake?

“I brought some takeout, is that good?” Matthew asks as he steps into your apartment. In his hands, he has a bag of food from your favorite restaurant in Calgary and another bouquet. You take the bag of food and the flowers from his hand, and Matthew goes into your cupboards to find some plates. The domesticity of the situation made your heart lurch through your chest, but you still weren’t sure why.

“That’s perfect, thanks, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile as Matthew sets the plates down on the counter. You place the flowers in another vase and put them next to the flowers Matthew brought previously that were probably ready to be tossed. “You don’t have to buy me flowers every time you come by.”

“Firstly, it’s been like two times, and secondly, let me treat you, okay? I am your boyfriend, after all, so I might as treat you as you deserve to be treated,” Matthew tells you as if he was preaching fact. He talked to you as if he didn’t hate you your entire life and only just started liking you.

“Fake boyfriend,” you correct. You want to make sure that the parameters of your relationship are clearly defined.

“You tell that to Shelly? That you and I are fake dating?” Matthew asks with a smirk.

“I told her I had a date, and I was going to tell her it was you, but she told me to surprise her on her wedding day. I’m convinced she thinks I don’t have a date,” you tell Matthew and take a bite of food. You moan in delight, and Matthew grins knowing he picked the perfect meal for you. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

Matthew shrugs, but a playful smile is a dead giveaway that he has an explanation. “I guess I just know you really well.”

“That’s ridiculous, Matthew. You do not know me at all. I’ve changed since you stopped being my friend when we were ten.”

“Hey! I did not stop being your friend. You stopped being my friend,” Matthew feigns hurt even though he knows your words are right.

“Matthew, I stopped being your friend because you stopped being friends with me.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Matthew mumbles and opting to look down at his plate instead of at you where he’d much rather be looking.

“You stopped being my friend after we graduated from elementary school. I remember that the third Sunday dinner we had that summer was the first time you stopped sitting next to me, and I knew that you were officially not my friend anymore.”

“You sure that’s what happened, Yn? Are you sure that it wasn’t you who stopped being my friend?”

“I always sat in the same middle seat, Matthew. You opted to sit in Brady’s seat instead.”

“Fine, whatever. Agree to disagree?”

“Sure, sure, even though I’m right.”

Matthew laughs at your words and shakes his head. “How we were ever friends baffles me because we are both so stubborn.”

“That we are,” you agree, and a comfortable silence fills your kitchen as you and Matthew continue to eat.

“You know,” Matthew says breaking the silence, “I do know you better than you think.”

“As do I,” you tell him not meeting his eye. You always were quite observant of Matthew despite you two not being friends anymore. There was something about him that made you want to look at him. No, it probably wasn’t because of how gorgeous he was.

“Okay, you tell me something about myself, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Yn; you just say something.”

“But I want you to tell me what you want me to say,” you tease.

“I’m starting to think you don’t know anything about me,” Matthew gives you his signature smirk.

“I’m starting to think the same about you.”

Matthew sighs and shakes his head. “How about we talk about our situation instead?”

“Our ruse?” you tease and quirk your eyebrows.

“Sure, our ruse,” Matthew says, not sure why you had that look on your face. “What is our story? We could just say we hooked up and realized that we liked each other.”

“As much as that story is believable, I don’t think that Shelly will believe that. Why don’t we go with something else? How about: I was lonely in the city and needed someone familiar, so I called you, and the rest just fell together.”

“I don’t think they’ll believe that,” Matthew says. As much as he loves and thinks it’s a good story, he’d very much rather have a bit more romantic and loving story, so Matthew can have the fake relationship he’d always wanted with you.

“Oh, come on, Matthew, it’s perfect!” you pout, and Matthew knows he’s going to bend for you because it’s you. He always bent to your will regardless of whether or not you knew it.

“Fine, we’ll use your story. How long have we been dating?”

“Why don’t we just keep it vague to minimize any questions? Should we say a few months now? Anything longer will be suspicious, and anything shorter would be weird. The most we can say is three to three and a half months because when I talked to Shelly about two months ago, she was under the impression I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

“Okay, fair. You know,” Matthew says with a smirk, “the fact that you’re able to throw together the perfect fake-dating story makes me think that you’ve done this before.”

You burst out laughing. “You seriously think that? I thought you knew me.”

“I do know you.”

“Then you’d know I’m a hopeless romantic, and the amount of times I’ve read fake dating romance novels is unbelievable. The only thing, though, is that our story won’t end up with us dating but with us maybe being friends.”

“Right,” Matthew says, and he looks down at his plate sadly realizing you truly didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, did I say anything wrong?” you apologize. You weren’t sure why Matthew suddenly got upset, but you thought it couldn’t have possibly been your words. How could it? You and Matthew have hated each other for years. It’d be ridiculous to think that this ruse would end in an actual relationship.

“No, not at all. Don’t worry,” Matthew sends you a soft smile, and your stomach does somersaults. “What about physical stuff?”

You glare at Matthew trying to figure out exactly what he was asking for in this fake relationship. “Explain because if you’re trying to sleep with me, it’s not happening.”

“No, Yn, of course not! That’s not what I meant!” Matthew replies shocked that you’d even bring up the notion. “No, I meant like holding hands, my arms wrapped around you, kissing and stuff like that. Things that couples do, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, um, I guess we could hold hands and touch each other to keep up the facade, but only in public.”

Matthew nods. “Only in public.”

You make moves to clear the table, but Matthew stops you and clears the table for you. “Sit, I’ll take care of it.”

“Matthew —” you begin.

“Nope, my fake girlfriend doesn’t need to clear her table, so sit down.”

“Maybe you should be my fake-boyfriend forever if you’re going to be clearing my table and stuff like this.”

“I mean if you’d like,” Matthew smirks and sends you a wink. He continues cleaning up by placing the dishes in the dishwasher and placing the leftovers in a Tupperware container and inside the fridge. You’re watching him concentrate on the task at hand, and suddenly, you’re drawn to his lips. You were drawn to the way he bit his lip in concentration and licked the bottom lip now and then. You watched the way he’d stop biting his lips and realize that you want to be the one to bite his lip. You wanted to kiss Matthew.

“Hey, um, Matthew?” you begin hesitantly.

“Mmm,” he replies looking up.

“Should we, um, kiss?” your eyes don’t meet Matthew’s, and you’re intent on staring at the tiles on the floor of your kitchen instead.

“I mean, sure, when we’re out in public. It’d be weird if we didn’t, right?”

“Right,” you nod knowingly and happy that Matthew didn’t realize the true meaning of your request. You look up and notice him watching you curiously. The sparkle in his eyes makes your face warm under his gaze, and you know that he’s figured out what you were truly thinking.

“Or,” he begins with a smirk, “we could practice now, so we know what to do when we kiss in front of people.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” you whisper, barely audible.

Matthew, being the pest he is, smirks at your words and asks you to repeat them. “I couldn’t hear you, baby. I need you to repeat it.”

“I think that we should practice kissing,” you say again, slightly louder, but Matthew’s shit-eating grin tells you that you’re going to have to repeat yourself.

“Come on, baby, I need to hear you loud and clear,” he walks over to you, and you shift in your seat to face him. You stand up, so you’re level with him (as much as you can be considering his height), and Matthew puts his hands on your waist. “This okay?” he asks, and you nod, but when he raises his eyebrows, you know you have to give him audible consent.

“Yes, Matthew, and I think that you should kiss me,” you tell him loud and clear. Matthew’s grin widens, and he dips his head towards yours. You put your hands around his neck, and he pulls you closer to him.

“This okay?” he asks with concern lacing his features. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.

“More than okay,” you reply and lean towards him. Matthew dips his head towards yours and places his lips softly on yours. He planned on pulling back and that being the end of the kiss, but his instincts and strong desire to kiss you stopped him. Matthew’s hands leave your waist and cup your face. He holds you forcefully but also gently. You both deepen the kiss, and your mouth separates as Matthew works his mouth against yours. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip begging to meet his. Matthew puts his hands back on your waist and pulls you close and flush against his body. There’s no space between the two of you, not a single inch of air. You both pull away after the kiss crossed the line between what your relationship truly was. You both pull away but your heads are still close to each other. You’re looking into Matthew’s blue eyes that are laced with longing and desire. You watch Matthew’s eyes glance down to your lips as you long for his lips to be on yours again.

“We have the practice, now,” Matthew says in a deep voice, almost huskily.

“That we do,” you reply softly.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Absolutely not, Matthew. I would have slapped you if you stepped out of line,” you tell him, and Matthew’s deep chuckle sends the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You take a step back from Matthew and sit back in your chair. “Maybe if we kiss in front of people, it shouldn’t be that deep and passionate.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Matthew tells you. He loved kissing you. Now that he’s kissed you, he doesn’t want to kiss anyone else. He wants to keep kissing you for as long as you would possibly let him. “Oh, that reminds me.”

“Mmhm?”

“I may or may not have let the cat slip out of the bag that I had a girlfriend, and now the team is expecting you to be at the last game tomorrow and our celebration.”

“Matthew!”

“I know, I know, I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!”

“How does it just slip out?”

“Some people asked if I had a date for the Gala, and I said I was bringing my girlfriend.”

“So, I have to go to the game tomorrow?”

“Please?” Matthew pouts. “I’ll owe you big time.”

“You already owe me big time,” you point out.

“Fine, just come to the game tomorrow? You don’t have to wear my jersey or anything, just come?”

“I’ll be there, and if you give me a jersey, I’ll wear it, okay? Or, I can just wear Brady’s.”

“No, never. Wait, why do you have Brady’s jersey and not mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Sure, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” Matthew asks as he walks over to the door. You walk with him and unlock the door.

“See you tomorrow, fake boyfriend,” you tell him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Tomorrow, fake girlfriend,” Matthew says and walks out the door. When the door is closed, he places his hands on his cheek where you kissed him. He touches his lips softly remembering how you kissed him just recently. Just remembering your mouth being anywhere near his face made him melt. Matthew was digging himself into a hole he only hoped he’d be able to escape from.

. . .

You walked up to the Friends & Family box still trying to recover from Matthew kissing you barely twenty-four hours prior. You didn’t have Matthew’s jersey to wear, so you opted for a red shirt with jeans and a leather jacket. You’ve also never met anyone on the team before, so you were scared as to what they would say.

You stepped into the box and were instantly overwhelmed with what you saw. All the other wives and girlfriends and children were mingling around, and you felt out of place. One of the WAGs walked over to you, and said, “You must be Yn, Matthew’s girlfriend.”

You nodded, “Yeah, that would be me.”

“I’m Annica, Elias’s girlfriend. Don’t worry about being nervous or whatever, Matthew is crazy about you, so we’re automatically crazy about you, too! Everyone, this is Yn, Matthew’s girlfriend.”

You stood there as everyone introduced themselves, and you maybe remembered two of those names.

“Matthew left you a jersey because he knew you didn’t have one,” Lauren, Mark’s wife, tells you. She hands you the jersey, and you look at it. Were you supposed to put it on? “You can just put it on over your shirt and leave your jacket on a chair.”

You nod. You put on the jersey and look down at the number on your sleeve. You smiled. You liked the way it looked on you.

Watching the game with the other girls was interesting and exciting. You chatted with the other women and played with the children. It was exhilarating to be in the Saddledome during a game, especially the last of the season. You haven’t been to a game in Calgary despite living there. Every time the Tkachuks came to town, you always told them you couldn’t go to the game. It didn’t feel right, but now that you’ve been to a game, you wanted to keep coming to the games. The Flames ended up coming out on top to celebrate their final game, and the arena was loud and bursting with happiness. You followed behind as everyone walked to outside the locker rooms to wait for the team. You stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. You played with your jacket in your hand just as Matthew walked out. He spotted you instantly, and his heart lurched through his chest as he saw you in his jersey. His eyes widened at seeing his number on your arm, and if possible, he fell more in love with you.

“Hey,” he says as he walks over. You look up and give him a wide smile.

“Hi,” you tell him and pull your fake boyfriend into a large hug as you whisper in his ear, “you played amazing.”

Your words send shivers down Matthew’s spine, and he holds you tightly. “Thank you.”

You both pull away and notice some of Matthew’s teammates and significant others greeting each other with congratulatory kisses. Were you both supposed to kiss? “Should we kiss, Matthew?” you whisper.

“What?” he whispers back, not sure if he heard you properly.

“You heard me, should we kiss? Everyone else is.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Would it be awkward if we didn’t?”

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Matthew doesn’t wait for your response as he hungrily leans down and kisses you. Despite kissing you yesterday, Matthew was waiting earnestly for the day he’d get to kiss you again. It wasn’t as passionate as the night before, but somehow, it was even more intimate despite being in public. You both full away flushed with the kiss, and Matthew’s teammates holler around you both. “Oh, shut up.”

Matthew leads you to his car and holds your hand. “Did you want to come to celebrate with us?” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I thought that was part of this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but not everyone is going out, so if you don’t want to, we can just head to my place.”

“We can go to your place, then.”

“Okay,” Matthew says to you and opens the car door for you. He closes the door and heads towards the driver’s side. When he gets in, he asks, “How did you get here if I’m driving you home?”

“Oh, I walked because I don’t work too far from here,” you explain, and Matthew whips his heat towards you. “What?”

“You walked? Do you not have a car?” he asks as if the notion were beyond him.

“Yeah, it was like ten minutes.”

“If you didn’t have a ride or something, I would have sent someone to pick you up.”

“I walk to work, Matthew.”

“You walk? No, from now on, I will be driving you to work and wherever you need to be.”

You giggle to yourself softly. “I have a car, but I just walk to work because it’s only five minutes.”

“No, I refuse to let you walk to work.”

“Matthew,” you say gently and place your hand on his thigh. “I’m fine, I promise, okay?”

Matthew looks at the soft look in your eyes and the anger he has dissipated. “Okay, but if you ever need a ride somewhere, please just let me know, and I’ll drive you, okay?”

“Okay, but I do have a car, you know,” you tell him, and Matthew starts the car and heads towards his apartment. Why was Matthew so concerned and angry about the fact that you don’t drive to work? You ponder the thought and are so deep in trying to figure it out that you don’t realize that you’ve reached Matthew’s apartment until he tells you so.

“You okay?” Matthew asks as you’re standing in the elevator.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“Not sure, you seem kind of spaced out.”

“Oh, no, I’m okay.”

“Promise?” Matthew asks.

“Promise,” you reply with a smile.

You and Matthew walk into his apartment, and your breath is taken away by the view of Matthew’s apartment. You take your shoes off and just stand there staring. You drop your purse and bag on the floor and walk over to the window in a trance.

“Yn, you good?” Matthew asks, confused about your actions.

“It’s just so pretty, Matthew,” you say and reach for your phone in your back pocket and take a photo. Matthew can’t help but smile at your actions. Sure, the view was pretty to him, but he saw it each day, so it wasn’t as special to him. Watching you take in the view, though, gave Matthew a new insight into how pretty the view truly was. Maybe, just maybe, Matthew was staring at you, looking beautiful with the dim lighting of his living room and wearing his jersey, instead of the view, but it didn’t matter. It was beautiful, and if he was talking about you? Then, so be it!

“I’m just going to get changed real quick, okay?” Matthew asks. He didn’t want to leave you standing there alone, but he knows he won’t be comfortable in his suit. “I can stay if you want.”

You giggle to yourself. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but —”

“Go,” you push Matthew in the direction of his room. “I’ll be fine.” Matthew looks behind him once more to you; you give him a pointed look, and Matthew walks to his room to change.

You settle yourself on the couch and sit there staring at the TV stand. On it are sitting picture frames with photos of Matthew’s family and friends. One photo, in particular, stands out to you. You get up and walk to the photo and smile at it. You pick it up and stare at it. It was a photo of Brady, Taryn, Matthew, your brother, and you. You don’t remember the photo being taken but it was around when you were six or seven. You were sitting at the table in Tkachuk's backyard before dinner. Matthew was sitting on your right, as he should, and with Taryn on your left.

“Find anything interesting?” Matthew asks as he walks out. He walks over to you and rests an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m surprised you have a photo of me sitting here,” you tell him and look at him.

“Why?” Matthew furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“I just, I don’t know.”

Matthew walks over to the couch and sits. You place the photo back on the stand and join him. You sit next to him on your right, and Matthew, again, rests an arm around your shoulder. “I have photos of the important people in my life.”

Matthew turns on the TV and begins flipping through Netflix. He selects one of your favorite movies, and you’re surprised he knows it, but then again, Matthew seems to know more about you than you realized.

As the movie continues, you and Matthew move closer and closer together to the point where you’re cuddled into him and your head moves in sync with Matthew’s breathing. The warmth that Matthew’s body exudes and the pattern of his breaths put you to sleep. When Matthew notices you’ve fallen asleep, he doesn’t want to wake you, so he tightens his hold on you and grabs the blanket that was sitting over the couch (he silently thanks his mom for making him put it there), and he places it on you. He softly kisses your forehead with a soft, ”goodnight, Yn.”

. . .

The next morning, after you’ve woken up, eaten breakfast that Matthew made for you, and left for the day, Matthew was on his way to the Saddledome for the exit interviews of the season. It didn’t end the way the team wanted, but they fought tooth and nail until the last game, and they should be proud of that.

As Matthew walks into the locker room, he has a soft smile on his face of pure bliss.

“So, what did you and Yn do last night?” Noah teases when he sees his teammate. “You’re never one to turn down a night out.”

“I didn’t go out because Yn didn’t want to. I think she was overwhelmed with meeting everyone, and I just wanted her to be comfortable.”

“Wow, Matthew, look at you maturing for the better,” Mark teases. He was waiting for the day that Matthew would meet a girl and act this way for her.

“Whatever,” Matthew rolls his eyes.

“Matthew’s in looooove,” someone teases and everyone else laughs in response. Matthew, again, just rolls his eyes in response. He had no other response.

Matthew only wishes that the person he was in love with was him, too.

. . .

You’re standing outside Matthew’s apartment door with your dress in your hand with a bag of the things you needed to get ready over your shoulder. You took a deep breath. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you were. You were about to ring the doorbell, but Matthew opened the door first.

“How did you know I was here?” you ask as you walk into his apartment.

“I mean, I had to buzz you into the building, so I was waiting for you,” Matthew says as if it were obvious.

“Oh.”

“You can shower first. I probably take less time than you to get ready, so you can shower first.”

You nod. “Okay, can I hang up my dress in your closet?”

“Yeah, of course. What color is it? I probably should have asked before, so that we could match.”

You smile. “It’s a lavender color. I doubt you own anything lavender.”

“My mom bought me a lavender dress shirt for Christmas, so, yes, I do own something lavender.”

You giggle to yourself softly and head into his bedroom to hand up your dress. You walk into his washroom and set your things there. “Thank you, Matthew.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “I left you towels and stuff. Just let me know when I can shower, okay?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re suddenly at a loss for words. What was it with Matthew?

After you showered, Matthew told you that, if you were comfortable, you could use the washroom as he showered. You told him it was fine and began styling your hair just as Matthew was showering. You were halfway done when you heard Matthew turn off the water. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he grabs the towel from behind the shower curtain. You try to calm your breathing as you watch Matthew step out of the shower with the towel wrapped low on his hips and his broad shoulders and chest lined with water droplets. He stands next to you and begins to moisturize his face. You feel your face warm as you stand next to him.

Matthew walks out of the washroom, but he stops at the door and turns to you. “I’ll get ready in my bedroom, and you can get ready here. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll let you change in the bedroom.”

“Thanks, Matthew.”

“Sure,” he says and takes one step out of the washroom before stopping again. “Hey, yn?”

“Yes?” you turn to him.

“Your hair looks really pretty.”

“I haven’t finished, yet,” you point out.

“Fine, but I know for a fact that you’re going to look so incredibly beautiful.”

. . .

You put on your shoes and look at yourself once more in the mirror. You observe the way you look and take a deep breath. You take your steps out of the bedroom, and Matthew stands when he hears the clack of your heels. Matthew takes a deep breath, getting ready to see how beautiful you will undoubtedly look.

“Hey,” you say and stand in front of Matthew. You smile, and your breath stops when you see Matthew. He’s wearing a lavender shirt that matches your dress with a black tie, jacket, and pants. His clothes fit him perfectly, and it displays his body just the way clothes should.

“Hey,” he replies, and his breath stops, too. You were beautiful. The lavender gown hung on your body perfectly, and it accentuated each and every curve of your body perfectly. The color brought out your eyes, and they shone in the light. The dim light of Matthew’s apartment reflected off the design and details of your dress that Matthew knew he was going to be speechless when the light of the ballroom truly lit you up. “You’re beautiful, Yn. Gorgeous, yn!”

“Thank you,” you say bashfully and walk over to your fake boyfriend. You place your hands on his chest and straighten his tie. “You look amazing, too, Matthew.”

Matthew’s breath is shallow as you run your hands on his chest. His heart is beating through his chest, and he knows that he’s going to have to use all his energy and brainpower not to stare at you the entire night. You stop and rest your hands on his chest. “Ready to go?” you ask.

Matthew audibly swallows at your touch. “Yeah,” he says in a low voice. He takes your hand and leads you towards the door. “Did you want to put your stuff in your car and drive home, or do you want to just stay the night and drive home in the morning?”

“Can I stay the night?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Matthew won’t admit it, but he wanted you to stay the night.

As Matthew drives to the location of the Gala, he continues taking peeks at you. He isn’t sure what he’s done to get someone as beautiful as you as his date, but he’s thanking any and every higher being for blessing him with you.

Throughout the entire night, Matthew has to force himself to leave you for moments every now and then to do his job. It was difficult. He wanted to be right by your side and show the world how lucky he got to be right next to you. You were the star, and Matthew was one of your many admirers. When Matthew wasn’t talking to donors and was right next to you, he found it difficult to speak. When you’d ask a question or make a comment, Matthew would take a few seconds to reply because of you. Your laughter, your smile, and your perfume were intoxicating, and Matthew wasn’t sure how he would make it through the rest of the night.

Annica wanted to grab another drink from the bar, so you went with her. Matthew, reluctantly, removed his hand from the small of your back and watched you lovingly as you went off with Annica. When he lost sight of you, Matthew finally turned his attention back to the group at the table.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not whipped for her and in love with her,” Elias says.

“Matthew not in love, who?” Noah jokes.

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew says. It didn’t matter if he was in love with you because you weren’t in love with him.

“Look, the minute Yn comes back, Matthew is going to put a hand on her, either on her shoulder or on her back, smile down at her, and pull her close to him. I guarantee it,” Jacob says. He was watching the two of you interact the entire night, and he knows that this will happen as it happened every time you and Matthew got separated.

“I see your point, and I raise you with this: he’s going to lean down and kiss Yn on the forehead,” Johnny adds.

“I see both your points, and I raise you with this: Matthew’s going to look at Yn, and she’s going to look at him, and they will both smile widely at each other,” Elias points out.

“Are you guys betting again?” Mark asks as he settles himself at the table as he’s making his rounds.

“Kind of. We’re trying to figure out how Yn and Matthew are going to act when she returns,” Noah explains.

“Oh, drop the subject,” Matthew says, annoyed.

“I’m not sure what has been said, but I guess that Matthew will be so enthralled by his date that everything in the world will fade away,” Mark says, “because that’s what a person in love does.”

“Look, I’m not in love with Yn, okay? Can we just drop the subject before Yn and Annica return?” Matthew replies exasperatedly.

Everyone agrees, but they all know that they will be monitoring your and Matthew’s actions when you return. Just a few moments later, you and Annica are returning to the table with a refill of drinks. You settle in next to Matthew and place a glass of wine down for you and a glass of beer for him.

“You were empty, so I got you a refill,” you tell him.

“Thank you,” he says to you and places a hand on the small of your back where it was before you left. You lean in further to him, and Matthew smiles down at you as you engage in conversation with Mark. Matthew places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you look up and smile at Matthew who smiles back at you. Elias mentions Matthew’s name, but Matthew is too soaked up in your presence to notice. The group is shocked. Every single one of them guessed correctly what Matthew would do when you returned.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Mark begins, “I’m going to go ask the Mrs. for a dance.”

Elias and Annica leave, too, and head to the dance floor. You stand there awkwardly wondering if you and Matthew should dance. Matthew leans his head towards yours and whispers, “Do you want to dance, Yn?”

You look at Matthew and nod with a smile. Matthew takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. He takes one hand in his and the other rests on the bare skin of your upper back. You place your other hand not in Matthew’s on his shoulder and move close to him. You both sway to the music that’s playing. As you both continue to dance, Matthew’s hand draws soft patterns on your skin sending electric shocks through your body. As the song comes to an end, the bubble you and Matthew found yourself in slowly pops, and you return to reality. It didn’t matter how special dancing with each other was, you were both not truly dating. You were living a lie, and you knew it would hurt when, one day, the ruse was over. You only hoped that you could salvage your feelings and not hurt your heart too much. You weren’t sure, though, what you were trying to save your heart from.

. . .

“Ready to head home?” Matthew whispers into your ear as you’re talking with some of the WAGs. You nod and say goodbye to the ladies. Matthew wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders as he notices you’re cold and takes your hand in his. “Thank you for being my date.”

You smile. “Thank you for taking me. I had a lot of fun.”

“I had a lot of fun with the beautiful person as my date.”

“Oh, beautiful person? Who may they be?” you tease.

“They’re you, of course. The most beautiful of people.”

“You flatter me, Matthew.”

“You deserve all the compliments in the world, Yn,” Matthew squeezes your hand and opens the car door for you. You smile in gratitude as he closes the door and heads to the driver's side. You smile in happiness at the evening you had. Matthew intertwines his hand with yours as he drives. With the late hour and the comfort of Matthew’s hand, you feel your eyes drift closed. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you did.

“Yn? You have to wake up; we’re back at my apartment, now,” Matthew says softly as he strokes your face softly to wake you.

You slowly open your eyes, and your lips quirk up at the sound of Matthew’s soft voice. You nod and move to get out of the car.

“No, no, I’ll get the door for you,” Matthew interrupts. You’re too tired to argue, so you just let Matthew rush out of the car to open the door for you. Matthew leads you back to his apartment and ushers you into his bedroom. “You can sleep here, and I’ll take the guest room.”

“No, Matthew, I’ll take the guest room,” you interject.

“No, Yn. You did me the biggest favor by coming as my date tonight, so you can take my bed.”

“Matthew —” you were going to point out that you were taking him to Shelly’s wedding, but he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Yn, just take the bed, okay? You can grab a shirt and sweatpants to wear to bed.”

You nod, and Matthew walks out of the room with clothes for himself. He closes the door quietly behind him as he heads to the guest room. His one wish was that he was sleeping in that bed with you instead of you there alone.

. . .

“Yn, come on, we have to go,” Matthew says, standing in your kitchen and waiting for you to be ready to leave.

“Just give me a moment. We’ve got quite a bit of time, still.”

“You know, you’re the one who told me I had to be here at exactly this time, Yn, so you should be ready to go.”

You walk out of your bedroom lugging your suitcase and purse. Matthew rushes over to you and takes your suitcase out of your hand. In the process, Matthew’s hand brushes over yours, and you hear your heartbeat in your ears as the heat rushes to your face. “Let me just make sure that all the windows are closed and that I unplugged everything.”

When you return and are completely ready to go, you lock the door to your apartment and head to Matthew’s car. He opens the trunk to place your suitcase in, and as usual, Matthew opens the car door for you.

“You know, you don’t have to always open the car door for me, right?” you tell him.

“Just doing what any boyfriend would,” Matthew points out. “Fake or not.”

“Right,” you say. It’s been a while since you or he pointed out the fakeness of your relationship, and you almost forgot. Almost. Matthew turns to you and opens his mouth to say something, but he isn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. How is he supposed to ask if you’re upset that he pointed out that you were both fake dating despite that being the obvious title between you two? You reach to turn on some music to try to ease the awkwardness in the car. You put on Taylor Swift, and Matthew groans in response.

“You know the way Taryn and I were growing up; I can’t believe you’re shocked.”

“I thought you’d show me some mercy, you know as your boyfriend?”

“I show zero mercy.”

. . .

Going through checking in and security was a breeze. You got on the plane fine just, but the nerves immediately hit as the pilot announced that the doors were closing. Your leg begins to bounce up and down, and you begin to fiddle with your fingers. Matthew glances down at you and notices your nerves.

“You’ve been on a plane before, right?” he whispers.

You nod. “Just scary sometimes.”

He nods and places his hand on your thigh causing it to stop bouncing. You feel all your nerves suddenly dissipate. “I’m here, okay? Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you whisper back. Matthew lifts the armrest between you both and scoots closer to you. He pulls you into his side, so you’re leaning against him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and Matthew takes your hand in his.

“It’s not a long flight. You’ll be okay.”

. . .

“Hey, you have to wake up,” Matthew whispers as he strokes your head softly. Your eyes flutter open. You didn’t realize you fell asleep on Matthew during the flight. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you yawn.

Matthew smiles softly at you. “You slept through the flight, so that’s good.”

“Oh, we landed?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, let’s get off this plane, what do you say?”

You grab your purse from under the seat in front of you, and Matthew grabs his carry-on from the overhead bin. He packed significantly more than you because he wasn’t flying home with you. Matthew would be staying in St. Louis until he flies back to Calgary for training camp.

Matthew extends his hand for you, and you take it. He walks into the aisle first with one hand holding his bag and the other behind him holding your hand. You both exit the plane and head towards customs and baggage claims.

You take a deep breath once you’re in line for customs. You knew this day would come, but you didn’t realize the nerves that would come with it. Would you be able to survive this week with Matthew?

. . .

“You go in first and get us settled; I’ll pay for the taxi,” you tell Matthew when your taxi pulls up to the hotel.

“Nope, you go in; I pay,” Matthew counters.

“Matthew —”

“I am your boyfriend, no? Just let me do this.”

“Okay,” you relent softly and head into the hotel with your luggage in tow. You head to the check-in desk. There isn’t a line, and you get your room information and key quickly. You meet Matthew at where he’s standing and lead him towards the elevator door. You both wait for the elevator in silence and walk inside in the same silence. You lead him towards your eighth-floor room and walk inside. “I made sure to request two beds, so we don’t have to share.”

“Smart,” Matthew says. You unlock the door and walk inside. You groan when you see the layout of the room and what it contains — one bed.

“Oh,” you mumble. “Only one bed.”

“What? Oh,” Matthew says as he stands next to you.

“Let me call down and see if they have another room for us.”

Matthew nods. He was frozen solid at the thought of sleeping next to you. He watches as you walk over to the phone and call down to the front desk. You tell them your issue, and Matthew watches as you furrow your eyebrows in frustration. You end the call with a “thank you, it’s no problem” and look to Matthew.

“What’s the verdict?” Matthew asks.

“They have three wedding parties staying here and no extra room with two beds for us.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Matthew suggests.

You shake your head. “We’re both adults. I’m sure we can sleep in the same bed without any issues arising.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Matthew breathes out. His throat is dry and the words are barely forming on his tongue. You nod towards Matthew and begin unpacking. You hang up your dresses in the closet and line your shoes against the wall.

“Make sure you hang up your suit, so it doesn’t get wrinkly,” you remind Matthew as you head to the washroom to unpack your toiletries. Matthew nods and does what you say. He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly so nervous and clammy, but he figures it’s because you are both going to be sleeping in the same bed. You both move in sync with each other as you settle into the hotel room. Once Matthew has finished, he settles on the couch and turns the TV on. You awkwardly get on the couch, and Matthew chuckles at you.

It would be a restful night, right?

. . .

After meeting with the rest of the bridal party and making sure everything was perfect for the rehearsal the next day and the wedding the day after, you head into your hotel room and see Matthew sitting on the bed.

“Hey,” you say as you get ready to shower.

“How were your preparations?” he asks.

“Not bad. I’m tired, but it’s all worth it if Shelly gets the wedding of her dreams.”

Matthew nods.

“I’m going to take a shower and then go to bed; if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Matthew replies as you head to the washroom to shower. While in the shower, you did everything in your power to prolong your time there because you knew that when you finished, you’d be going to sleep. You’d be going to be sleeping in the same bed as Matthew.

Once you’ve showered and gotten ready for the night, you walk out of the washroom and see Matthew standing next to the bed.

“I pulled out the blankets and stuff when I heard the tap turn off,” Matthew bashfully tells you when you notice the bed. “I figured you’re tired and stuff, so I was trying to help.”

You smile softly at the man. “Thank you, Matthew.”

He nods at your words. “What do we do now? Should we call down for more pillows and make, like, a pillow wall?”

“Um, I don’t think we have to do that. It’s big enough where we probably won’t get in each other’s way.”

“Yeah, probably,” Matthew lies. He isn’t sure if now is the right time to mention he’s an active sleeper and moves around a lot. “You can get in first.”

“Okay,” you say and move towards the bed. You get under the covers and sigh at the comfort of the bed. You lay on your back, a position that isn’t the most comfortable for you. When you’re done, Matthew gets under the covers, and he, too, lays on his back. You don’t think it’s the most comfortable for him, either. You lean over to turn the lights off, so the entire room is cascaded in darkness. “Good night, Matthew.”

“Night, Yn.”

You both lay there in awkward silence and stare up at the ceiling. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to talk to each other until the other fell asleep? Was it okay to face each other as you slept? What happened if you woke up in a compromising position? Would your friendship (was this a friendship?) be awkward? What would the morning be like? How awkward would it be? Should you be thinking about the fact that Matthew wasn’t wearing a shirt next to you? No, you shouldn’t be, but here you are thinking about Matthew’s bare chest.

You took a deep breath and hoped for sleep to easily overcome you.

Thankfully, it did. You fell asleep, and when your alarm went off, you were surprised you slept through the night. It was one of the best nights of sleep of your life. The pillows and blankets exuded this comfort and warmth that cocooned you and made it easy to fall asleep. When you opened your eyes, you were shocked by the sight in front of you. You blinked your eyes to make sure you weren’t still dreaming. Nope, you definitely weren’t dreaming.

Matthew Tkachuk, your fake boyfriend and boy who has hated you since you were ten, was cuddling you into his chest. Not only that, his arms were wound tightly around your waist with your forehead comfortably on his chest. Both of your legs were intertwined with each other, and your arms were grasping his waist. No wonder you slept so well.

“Oh, good morning,” Matthew says quietly. You look up at him and notice that it looks like he’s been up for a little bit.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask.

“Wow, no good morning? I’m hurt,” Matthew pouts.

“Good morning, Matthew; how long have you been awake?”

“About half an hour?”

“And you didn’t wake me knowing we were sleeping like this?” you say annoyed and slowly pull away. Once you’re fully out of his grasp, you wish you remained in his grasp. Matthew’s body exuded this comfort and warmth that made you happy and comfortable. You wished you could return to Matthew’s hold and embrace without it seeming weird.

“You were very comfortable, it looked like, and you seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and I figured you’d be more upset if I woke you, so I didn’t. Are you upset that I didn’t wake you?”

You ponder over his last question for a moment. No, you weren’t upset that he woke you. “No, it’s okay. I just slightly overreacted.”

“No need to apologize. You reacted just fine.”

You nod. “I have to get ready for wedding stuff, but we can go down to get breakfast together.”

“Yes, whatever you say,” Matthew replies and watches you get out of bed and towards your suitcase and washroom. Matthew wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was up for hours. He got up hours before because he was warm and needed to turn the AC up higher, but when he realized the situation you were both in, Matthew refused to get up. When else would Matthew be able to hold the person he’s been in love with his entire life who doesn’t love him back?

. . .

“You have the rehearsal tonight, right?” Matthew asks from outside the washroom as you’re doing your makeup. He walks over to the dresser and begins looking at the jewelry you’ve laid across it.

“Yeah, sorry that I can’t bring you. It’s a small thing with just Shelly’s family and bridal party. That means, though, that our big fake dating debut will be tomorrow at the reception,” you say from the washroom. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m having dinner with my parents at a restaurant around the corner. I know you said that you have a ride to and from where you have to be, but if you need a ride, just call me, okay?”

You smile to yourself from the washroom where Matthew can’t see you. There was something about his concern that made you smile like crazy. “Okay, Matthew. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he begins. “I am your boyfriend after all.” He mutters under his breath the word “fake” with a scowl. He hated being just your fake boyfriend.

You begin to pack your things back into your toiletries bag so as not to leave a mess, and you walk out of the washroom. “How do I look?” you ask when you’re in full view of Matthew. He immediately looks up from where he was staring at your necklace, and his jaw drops.

“Wow, you — I, wow! You’re gorgeous, Yn,” Matthew says with wonder and awe in his eyes. You take your hands and place them on the hem of your skirt and look down. Matthew walks over to you and takes one of your hands and twirls you. You giggle in response, and Matthew catches you with his hands on your waist. “You’re beautiful, Yn.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. Matthew places a soft kiss on your forehead and takes a step back to admire you.

“I get to be your date tomorrow? Aren’t I the luckiest guy on the planet?”

You giggle again and make your way to the dresser to put on the necklace sitting there. It’s a matching necklace you and Shelly both bought at the age of 18. “Can you help me put it on?”

Matthew’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he soaks you in and your request. He nods and takes the necklace gently from you. You turn around, so your back is to him, and Matthew places the necklace around your neck. He fiddles with the clasp and whispers a soft “there you go” when he’s finished. You turn around and look into his eyes.

“Thank you, Matthew,” you say nervously but hide it with a smile. You’re not sure why you’re nervous, but you suddenly are. Maybe it was the intimacy of the act Matthew just performed for you. “Have fun with your family tonight.”

“Have fun at the rehearsal! Text me when you’re on your way back, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply as you slip on your shoes and make your way towards the door. “Night, Matthew.”

You walk out the door before Matthew could respond. “Night,” he says even though it’s pointless. In his head, Matthew is replaying the vision of you walking out in your blush pink dress and how beautiful you looked. Matthew knows that whoever gets to be the one to call you their girlfriend will be the luckiest person in the world. He only wishes he were the one.

. . .

Matthew walks into the restaurant his family picked, still reeling from how beautiful you looked. It was at that moment when Matthew saw you when he realized he was truly gone. Matthew has dug himself into a hole that he knows he’s never going to get out of. Now that Matthew has experienced you as a date, in his arms in his apartment, at one of his games, kissing you, and sleeping next to you, Matthew knows that no one else will compare to you. He knows that when this ruse is over, he will be heartbroken beyond repair. Is he choosing to do something about it? Nope, not at all because to him, if he can have even a little bit of you, even if it’s under the guise of being fake, then he’ll take it.

He sits at the table his parents and siblings were already at and greets them. It’s not even two seconds after he sits before they all corner him about dating you.

“So, you and Yn, huh?” Brady smirks.

“Don’t start, please,” Matthew warns.

“I’ll start, then,” Taryn prompts. “I can’t believe you finally got Yn to date you after you’ve harbored a crush on her for all these years and hated her.”

“Can we not?” Matthew asks.

“Nope, not happening, we are going to question you about every single detail. Who knows, maybe you two will be the next ones to get married.”

“Okay, Taryn, take a step back,” Keith chuckles.

“I think you should take a step forward,” Brady prompts. “Considering how head over heels Matthew has been, Taryn’s right.”

Matthew just rolls his eyes and sighs. “Can we just order and have a normal meal, please?”

“This conversation isn’t over yet,” Taryn warns, and Matthew just rolls his eyes.

After deciding what to eat and ordering, Taryn was true to her word and began to question Matthew about his dating life. “How did it start? What was your first date like? Did Yn slap you when you first asked her out? I need details, Matthew!”

“Did you ever consider that Yn and I want privacy about our relationship?” Matthew snaps.

“Right, but this is the weirdest pairing ever, so I feel like I should get something out of you,” Taryn defends herself.

“There isn’t much to say. A few months back, Yn called me saying she needed a familiar face because she was homesick, so we met up. We realized that we liked each other and here we are.”

Chantal gives her son a curious look. That was the exact statement and explanation that you gave her when she called you a few weeks after she found out about you and Matthew. Either that was the reality of the situation or you both practiced this many times. Chantal thinks it’s probably the latter because she knows her son. She knows that if you and Matthew were for real, then he’d be telling everyone how much he liked you.

“That’s it? I thought there’d be more! Something more romantic or something,” Taryn pouts, and Matthew just shrugs. He wishes he could have made a more romantic story for how you both started dating because that’s what you deserve, but you wouldn’t have any of it.

“I agree with Taryn,” Brady adds. “Yn, as we know, is a hopeless romantic. I’m surprised you haven’t stepped up your game to match Yn’s romantic side.”

“Look, maybe we do have a romantic relationship, but we just want to keep it private,” Matthew growls.

“Alright, let’s just let the topic go,” Chantal interjects and inserts an out for Matthew. “Will you be sitting with us tomorrow?”

“During the ceremony, probably because Yn is part of the procession and all that. I’m not sure during the reception, though, because I think it’s open seating.”

“Okay, that’s understandable,” Chantal says just as their meals arrive. Matthew lets out a sigh of relief. He was able to keep the story about your ruse straight and evade any questions that could poke holes into the story. He could only wish that what was happening between you two was real.

. . .

Just as Matthew was getting interrogated by his family, your brother and Shelly were on their way to interrogate you. It was after the rehearsal, and everyone in attendance was at the restaurant catching up. Your brother walks over to you and whispers that Shelly wants to talk to you. Being the maid of honor, you figured that she needed help with last-minute wedding preparations. You weren’t expecting an ambush.

Your brother leads you to where Shelly’s sitting, and you expect him to leave. However, when he sits right next to you with Shelly across from you, you know that you’re getting interrogated.

“Don’t you have to go be with your pregnant wife?” you ask your brother pointedly hoping to get out of the conversation.

“No, she wants this information as much as I do,” he retorts.

“You and Tkachuk?” Shelly shrieks. Some of the other guests turn to the commotion but turn away when they see it’s only the bride getting excited about something. “I always knew he had the hots for you, but I wasn’t sure if he’d ever do anything about it. Wow, I’m impressed it didn’t take more time for it to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Matthew never had the hots for you. This situation was purely platonic and aiding each other's social calendars.

“Oh, come on,” Shelly rolls her eyes. “You have to have known that Matthew was crazy in love with you in high school.”

“And that explains his treatment of me?”

“It’s what insecure guys do when they crush on someone who is way out of their league,” your brother explains. “For what it’s worth, you are way out of Matthew’s league, and the only reason that I haven’t confronted him is that I know him. But still, Matthew? Why him?”

“How did it start? Is he a good kisser? Does he make you smile like crazy? Is he the super romantic boyfriend that you’ve always wanted? Is he good in bed?” Shelby begins but is stopped by your brother making a disgusted look. He definitely didn’t want to think about you and Matthew sleeping together. “Sorry, I forgot you were here.”

“It’s alright,” he grumbles, and Shelly throws you a wink knowing that she’d ask you about this later.

“The other questions are still valid, though.”

“It started because I was homesick. I realized that I missed home and needed a familiar face, so I called Matthew. From there, we realized that there was something there between us,” you explain hoping that your brother and Shelly would accept the story.

“More like you finally realized it,” Shelly corrects. You were about to contradict her words, but wouldn’t that break the facade you and Matthew have built? “What about the rest of the stuff?”

You shrug.

“That’s it? There’s nothing else you can say about it?”

“I like keeping my relationship private,” you say softly hoping it came across as confident despite the guilt you felt lying to your brother and best friend.

“Sure, and did this happen before you and I talked about bringing a date to the wedding?” Shelly questions further. She knows that if you liked someone and were crazy about them, then you’d be talking about this person constantly. She isn’t buying the story.

“We started talking before, but we made our relationship official shortly after your call,” you lie, again. You make a mental note to tell Matthew this so that when Shelly did interrogate him, he’d have that information.

“But you insisted you didn’t have anyone to bring as a date,” Shelly points out.

“You also called me if any of my friends would want to bring you,” your brother points out smugly. You glare at him and kick him under the table.

“I wasn’t sure if bringing Matthew would be like cheating because I knew he was invited to the wedding,” you quickly retorted. Would that be enough to have them lay off you?

“Sure, sure,” Shelly begins. “Look, if your relationship is of convenience, you know, for pleasure, you can say that.”

What? “What?” you and your brother speak at the same time. She wasn’t interrogating you because she thought you and Matthew were faking. She thought you and Matthew had a friends-with-benefits relationship! Somehow, that calms your nerves and helps you relax.

“Oh, so it’s a real relationship,” Shelly says with a grin. “I was wrong?”

“Yes, it’s a real relationship,” you laugh.

“I mean, if it were a pleasure-seeking based relationship, then I’d also be okay with that because you do need to make yourself happy,” Shelly winks.

“Okay, I’m done here,” your brother immediately gets up and walks over to his wife. You and Shelly both giggle.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“That’s good. I have to get back to bride duties. I know that I was shocked when you told me you were dating Tkachuk earlier and didn’t react the way you wanted me to, but I only did it because I don’t want you to get hurt. He treated you like crap when you were in high school, and I don’t want him to go back to that version of himself. You seem happy, though, so ignore me.”

Shelly kisses your forehead and finds her fiance. You knew you weren’t going to get hurt because what you were both doing was merely for show. You both weren’t actually dating, so there were no feelings to be hurt, but one thing stuck out to you. Matthew liked you in high school? You weren’t sure why that unsettled you so much, but it did. Why would he have treated you like crap if he liked you? Would you and Matthew hurt each other? What happens when you both end this ruse? You know you’ll miss the way Matthew could always put a smile on your face and bring out giggle after giggle from you. You’d miss the way his smile or hand in yours would make your heart burst and make you warm inside and out. Were you on the path to getting hurt?

. . .

As Keith and Brady are arguing about the bill, Matthew and Chantal step outside to wait for them, and Taryn is in the washroom.

“So, you and Yn?” Chantal begins.

“Mom,” Matthew groans.

“I find it funny that the story that you told tonight to us is exactly what Yn told me a few weeks ago.”

“It’s what happened, so it makes sense that Yn told you the same thing,” Matthew lies.

“Yeah, but it was the exact same story, Matthew.”

Matthew looks at his mother, and he knows that she’s read through fabrication. “We both needed dates for things, so we thought we’d pretend to date to make it easier on both of us,” Matthew mumbles.

Chantal looks at her son and sees the forlorn expression on his face. “But you like her.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, mom,” Matthew says sadly as if he finally realized the hopelessness of the situation.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

“Because, mom, it’s like Taryn was saying earlier and why it shocks you so much. I treated Yn like crap when we were growing up, and I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“But you love her.”

“I never hated her; I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Chantal admits. Her heart breaks as she watches her son run his hands through his hair sadly as he admits to feelings. “I haven’t seen you both around each other, but who knows, maybe Yn does feel the same way.”

“No, I know for a fact she doesn’t. It’s okay, at least I have this,” Matthew says. Keith and Brady walk out of the restaurant at that moment with Taryn close on their heels. Keith slaps Matthew’s back and asks what Matthew was talking about. Matthew shrugs it off with a curt “nothing.” Matthew didn’t want the rest of his family to know about the reality of his dating life. He also knows that you’d rather not let that information come out.

“On Sunday, you and Yn should come over for dinner,” Chantal suggests. “Like tradition.”

“I’ll ask Yn,” Matthew answers.

“It’s not a request, Matthew,” Chantal says and walks with her husband. Well, then you and Matthew are going to dinner at the Tkachuk’s on Sunday.

. . .

The next morning after the rehearsal, you had to force yourself to pull yourself out of Matthew’s embrace. You’ve both woken up in the same entanglement as the morning before, but this time, you liked it. You enjoyed the warmth and comfort his hold produced. You groan as you get out of bed and walk to the washroom in the cold away from Matthew. You had to be up early to get things ready for the makeup artist, hairdresser, and photographer. You briefly washed your face and brushed your teeth before throwing on a pair of leggings and your “I Do Crew” t-shirt that was made for you. You grab your dress, shoes, and jewelry before heading over closer to the bed to grab your phone and purse. You place everything down and kiss Matthew on the forehead. You smiled at how peaceful and cute he looked as he was still sleeping.

If only it were real.

. . .

When Matthew’s alarm went off a few hours later, he moved closer to your pillow hoping to hold you for a little bit longer. When his head hits your cold pillow, Matthew’s chipper mood deflates when he realizes you’re not gone. He knows that you had to leave early for wedding preparations, but it still hurts knowing that you weren’t there to wake up next to him. In the past few days, Matthew has gotten used to waking up next to you. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do when you both return to your normal lives and he can no longer wake up next to you.

. . .

“Well, you look nice, Matthew,” Chantal says as Matthew sits in the row next to his family. Matthew straightens his tie. His leg is bouncing up and down in nervousness. Chantal observes her son from the corner of her eye and smiles at his actions.

“Have you seen Yn yet today?” Chantal leans over and asks. Matthew shakes his head no; he was nervous to see you. Matthew got a glimpse of your bridesmaid’s dress, and he knows you’re going to be just as beautiful, if not more, than the night of the rehearsal.

Matthew and his family continue to chat quietly, and everyone in the crowd abruptly ends their conversations as Shelly’s groom heads to the front of the aisle. In a matter of seconds, the orchestra begins to play the “Wedding March”, and everyone turns their heads to the aisle awaiting the procession. The groomsmen process down the aisle and take their places. Following the groomsmen are the bridesmaids. As each woman processes down the aisle and takes their places, Matthew is confused when he doesn’t see you among them. Matthew assumes, though, that because you’re the maid of honor, you have something special to do.

Matthew’s suspicions are confirmed when you walk down the aisle in your blush, floor-length, off-the-shoulder dress with your right hand holding the hand of the flower girl and your left hand holding a bouquet. As you walk down the aisle, Matthew is entranced by you. He stops breathing and blinking as he watches you. He watches as you lead the flower girl to her place and stand behind her. When everyone’s attention is turned to Shelly and her father walking down the aisle, Matthew’s attention is focused on you. He knew you were beautiful, but you were beautiful. There isn’t any difference between the two words, Matthew knows, but the latter word somehow means more. Matthew keeps telling himself it’s the dress, but he knows it’s not just the dress. It’s the person wearing the dress. It’s the way your face glowed from happiness at the new couple and the makeup you had on. It was the way your hair flowed impeccably in the breeze. It’s the way you looked amazing in that dress that had Matthew frozen. You were the most beautiful person Matthew has ever seen, and he didn’t want to look away.

When you catch Matthew’s eye, he swears he died and came back to life. You smile softly at him, but he doesn’t do anything. He just stands there staring at you as the officiant continues to talk. Chantal notices you trying to stifle a giggle and turns to her son to see if he had anything to do with it. When she sees Matthew just staring at you, she elbows him.

“Smile at her,” Chantal directs. That, it seemed, was what finally took Matthew out of his trance. He blinks and takes a deep breath right before sending you his signature smile. You shake your head playfully when you notice that Chantal had to remind him to smile and pay attention. You turn your attention back to the ceremony happening right in front of you as the officiant directs everyone to sit. You also try to ignore the hole it feels like Matthew (and the rest of the Tkachuks) were burning into the back of your head.

Because you were the maid of honor, you were one of the official witnesses and had to stand behind the bride. Through it all, Matthew was watching you. He was captivated by you, enamored by you. You met his eye a few times and had to force yourself not to laugh as a blush overcame his face and he turned away. Taryn, thinking that the next wedding she’d be attending was between you and Matthew, was watching the interactions between you two. The first time she watched you looked constipated as you tried to hide a giggle, she knew Matthew was the reason. After the second time, Taryn made sure to keep an eye on Matthew, too, so he could watch his reaction. Normally, in relationships, Matthew was confident, cocky, and full of himself. He was always the one to make the person he was dating speechless, shy, and look away bashfully. This time, though, you were the one in control, overtaking Matthew’s usual position. This time, Matthew was the one who was smiling bashfully and looking away whenever you’d meet his eye.

Taryn noticed that you stopped turning your attention to Matthew when the vows began to focus on the bride and groom. That doesn’t mean, though, that Matthew was paying attention to the happy couple. He was still watching you.

“Hey, Matthew,” Taryn leans over her mother and whispers.

That seems to take Matthew out of his trance as he rolls his eyes at his sister's words. “What?”

“Stop staring at your girlfriend. You’re trying to get her to marry you, not run away from you.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Matthew doesn’t say anything except to stare ahead. This time, though, he doesn’t place his eyes on you. No, he places his eyes on the couple hoping to get his family off his case. He didn’t want to face the reality of the situation that Matthew wasn’t trying to get you to marry him despite him knowing you were the one. He hoped to ignore the true reason why Matthew was here as your date and not as a family friend. During the rest of the ceremony, Matthew doesn’t look at you once. He opts to look at the couple, the officiant, or the beauty of the outdoor venue. He hopes that by not looking at you, Matthew can escape the reality that he’s in love with you and you, it seems, are not.

When the ceremony ends and the couple walks down the aisle, you and the rest of the wedding party are getting ready to take photos during the Cocktail Hour. You try to make your way to find Matthew and see him because you missed him, but every time it seemed you had a chance, he was busy or was avoiding you.

Eventually, the Cocktail Hour was over and everyone was heading into the location of the reception. After you’ve made your rounds, you look around to see where Matthew was or your brother. You weren’t sure who you were going to sit with, but you were hoping to sit next to Matthew, though. You weren’t sure why Matthew was in a sour mood, but you knew you caused it. You only hoped he wasn’t too mad at you.

“Hey, you look beautiful,” Brady says as he walks up to you. He is holding a fresh drink in his hand, so you assume he was coming from the bar.

“Thank you,” you murmur, wondering if Matthew was around, too.

“Matthew, don’t you think so, too?” Brady says, and you turn your head to where Brady was directing his question to.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes lock with Matthew’s. You see anger in his eyes and are suddenly worried that Matthew is truly upset at you. However, Matthew’s face softens when you send him a soft smile, and the anger leaves his face.

“Are you sitting with us?” Brady asks.

“Of course, she’s sitting with us,” Matthew says and walks over to and wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s my girlfriend.”

You smile and let Matthew lead you to where his family is sitting. Matthew pulls out a chair for you to sit in, and he pushes it in for you. Matthew takes the seat next to you, and you’re suspicious that it was Brady’s when he grumbled about sitting in the chair next to you. Immediately upon sitting, Matthew places his hand on your thigh and scoots his chair closer to yours.

As the night carried on, Matthew never took his hand off your thigh, and he constantly whispered in your ear asking if you were okay. If you needed a refill on a drink, Matthew always went to the bar to get you a refill and insisted you shouldn’t have to get up. He always returned by placing the drink on the table and placing a kiss on your forehead.

When he returned with your third or fourth refill of the night, you smiled at him as he sat down and told him, “You know, I’m starting not to hate you anymore.”

Matthew looks at you sadly at your words. You still had animosity towards him? He thought he’s been working so hard to change your opinion of him, but it seems it's just barely working. You notice the strain and sadness in Matthew’s pout and wonder if you did something wrong. You place your hand on his thigh and look into his eyes. The minute your hand touched his thigh, Matthew was fine. It didn’t matter what you said because he knows he cares about you, and he knows that deep down, you care for him, too, despite your words.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’m sitting next to the prettiest person in the world; why wouldn’t I be okay?”

You smile at Matthew’s words and rest your head on his shoulder. What were you going to do when you and Matthew no longer could be like this? You knew you were going to miss it.

. . .

As the reception is nearing the final hours, everyone’s moods have turned more casual and laid back, including you and Matthew. Both of your chairs were right up against each other with you leaning heavily against Matthew with your head resting on his chest. His hand was wrapped around your shoulders and was rubbing small patterns on your shoulder. You and Matthew are talking to Brady and Taryn when a slow song, one of your favorites, begins to play. You perk up slightly, wondering if you should ask Matthew to dance with you.

“Hey, Yn, isn’t this one of your favorite songs?” Brady instigates.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it is,” you reply, and Matthew looks down at you softly.

“Do you want to dance, Yn?” Matthew asks. You nod and slowly pull away so he can lead you to the dance floor. You and Matthew position yourselves so that your hands are resting just below his neck with his resting on your mid-back. You both sway to the song, and you’re both entranced with each other’s eyes. As the song continues, Matthew’s hands slowly rise up to the bare skin of your upper back. He begins to stroke soft patterns on your skin, and it sends chills up your spine. You pull yourself closer to Matthew to try to use his warmth to evade the chills. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

As the song comes to an end, Matthew licks his lips and leans his head towards yours. He pulls his head back slightly. Was this appropriate? He didn’t have the chance to further contemplate kissing you because you pulled away and led him back to the table. His one true regret that evening is that he didn’t kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you badly, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and tell you how much he loves you.

He knows he’s dug himself into a hole he will never get out of.

. . .

“What are you doing today?” Matthew asks as you’re getting ready for the day. Based on his tone, you know something’s up, and you have to agree with whatever it is.

“Why?” you ask nervously.

“Would you want to go to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner? Like pastimes?”

You turn to face Matthew and smirk at him. “I feel like I don’t have a choice here.”

“My mom said that I had to bring you, no negotiations, so yeah, you have no choice.”

You laugh. “Okay, I can go to your parents’ for Sunday dinner, but I know my parents and brother won’t be there. They have plans tonight.”

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day, then?” Matthew asks knowing he wants to spend the day with you.

“I’m going to visit some friends from high school; what are you doing?”

“Just hanging around. Nothing much.”

“Okay then, why don’t I meet you back here, and then we can head over to your parents’ house?”

“Perfect,” Matthew says and turns away from you to go shower. On his face, he’s wearing a wide smile. He only hoped that you were just as excited as he was.

. . .

Unlike when you were growing up, you didn’t stay outside with the boys while Chantal and Keith got dinner together. This time, you and Taryn were in the kitchen helping Chantal cook while Brady and Matthew were out at the grill helping Keith. Now and then, you’d look out the backyard window and notice Matthew. Sometimes, he’d meet your eye and wink at you, and your face would grow warm. Or, sometimes, he wouldn’t be looking at you, but you saw him turn his head away as if he was just looking at you. Sometimes, he didn’t notice you looking at all, and you loved watching him interact with his dad and brother.

“He seems lighter when he’s around you,” Chantal comments after noticing you and Matthew staring at each other for the gazillionth time that afternoon.

“How so?” you ask.

“He’s nice,” Taryn says blatantly.

“Taryn,” Chantal scolds, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not wrong,” she defends.

Chantal rolls her eyes. “All I’m trying to say is, you guys are good for each other. It’s about time you both realized the dynamic you both have after years of animosity between you two.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll finally be sisters,” Taryn jokes, hinting at the possibility of marriage. The smile on your face fades as you remember that you and Matthew aren’t dating. The smile fades knowing that you and Matthew wouldn’t ever get married, and when this ruse was over, many more people would get hurt than you both anticipated.

“Anyways, let’s go eat, yeah?” Chantal approaches. “Taryn, you put the salad on the plate and tell the boys we’re ready. Yn, you can help me scoop the other sides, okay?”

You were about to take the potato salad out to the table, but Chantal grabs your shoulder lightly and signals you to hold back for a moment.

“Just know, Matthew cares deeply for you,” she advises. “At the end of the day, he’s crazy about you; don’t forget that.”

You don’t have the words to say anything in response, so you just nod. Chantal seems to think you fully understand her words, so she walks out to the backyard. You don’t. What could she be talking about? Did she know that you and Matthew weren’t dating? You thought you both put up a pretty good act.

Opting to try to enjoy the evening, you place your worries to the back of your head and walk out to the patio. Just as you’re placing the potato salad on the table, Brady is placing the grilled corn on the table, too. Taryn’s already taken her usual seat, and because it’s a smaller crowd, Chantal has taken the seat where your brother would normally sit. Following tradition, you sit next to Taryn, and Brady takes the seat next to you. Keith has taken his seat and says that Matthew has gotten to grab a refill of drinks for you and him.

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls to his brother from behind you. You perk your head up and turn to see Matthew glaring at his brother.

“What? No! Go sit somewhere else. I’m already sitting here,” Brady says in retaliation and annoyance. He shakes his head and mutters a comment to you asking how you put up with him. You stifle a giggle knowing that the look in Matthew’s eyes was of determination, and the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“Brady, I said, move,” Matthew says more forcefully.

“Why can’t you sit somewhere else? You never sit here.”

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls again.

“Why don’t you sit here, Matthew?” Taryn asks, trying to diffuse the situation. It was clear that Matthew wanted to sit next to you.

“No, I want Brady to move.”

“I’m not going to,” Brady is firm in his words. “Seriously, Yn, how do you deal with him sometimes?”

You don’t say anything, but Matthew does and is still incessant on Brady moving. “Brady, move and sit somewhere else. I want to sit next to my girlfriend.”

Brady stands up and stares at his brother. Looking at Matthew’s face, Brady knows that Matthew won’t give up on his endeavor, so Brady sighs and proceeds to get up. Brady goes and sits in his old normal seat, and Matthew sits next to you. He places a glass of water on the table for himself (he already had one beer but was driving, so he had to be safe) and lemonade for you. “Thank you, Brady,” Matthew says softly once he’s situated.

Brady grumbles in reply and mutters about how annoying Matthew was. You place your hand on Matthew’s thigh and lean over to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t have to force Brady to move, you know. It’s fine if we don’t sit next to each other.”

“It’s not fine,” Matthew whispers into your ear. “I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend, so I was going to sit next to my girlfriend.”

You open your mouth to say how it was all a ruse but decide against it.

“Shall we eat?” After observing her two sons spar over a seat and Matthew melt as he whispers into your ear, Chantal finally says.

Conversation, as everyone eats, varies from the wedding from the previous night to Taryn going to college to the upcoming season to your job. You loved how normal it was and how it was like before. It felt like before you and Matthew turned ten started hating each other. It was like when you were both young and the idea of marrying each other was still a thing. It was the way life was supposed to be had Matthew not started hating you at the age of ten. As you were both eating, Matthew always had a hand on you. Whether it was on your thigh or around your shoulder, Matthew was always touching you, and his family noticed completely.

“You know, when Matthew told us you were both dating, I was truly shocked. I was surprised you would ever go for him, Yn, considering you are way out of his league,” Brady says out of nowhere and tries to get back at his brother.

“Brady,” Keith warns.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Taryn points out, not realizing the true intentions of Brady's words. “As much as I love you, Matthew, Yn is completely out of your league.”

You notice Matthew stiffening up next to you, and you place your hand on his thigh to try to calm him down.

“I’m just surprised you even gave him a chance considering Matthew hated you for like half your life.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Taryn looks up at her mother and shrugs in confusion.

“I never hated, Yn,” Matthew defends. “I’m not sure where you guys are getting that from.”

“How about the fact that — ow!” Brady is stopped as Chantal kicks him under the table. An awkward silence fills the table as everyone finishes up their meals. What did Matthew mean when he said he never hated you? His actions definitely showed it. Did he still hate you? All these questions swirled in your head as Taryn volunteers you and her for clearing the table. You move in autopilot as you clear the table still trying to figure out the meaning of Matthew’s words.

“I’m sorry for my comments out there,” Taryn apologizes. “I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell her with a smile. “I wasn’t offended, but I think Matthew could use an apology more than me.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s got thick skin, and it’s not like I said anything he didn’t know.”

“Mmm,” you say, not sure how to respond.

“I’ve never seen Matthew so protective over someone before. Is possessive the right word? I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s ever been like that. If he would challenge Brady to something and wouldn’t immediately get his way, then he’d just drop the subject or physically fight Brady. He didn’t do either of those things. There’s something about you, Yn, that brings out a different side to Matthew,” Taryn points out as she’s rinsing the dishes, and you place them in the dishwasher.

“Interesting,” you say, again, not sure how to respond

“It’s a good thing. You’re both good for each other.”

. . .

You and Matthew say goodbye to Chantal, Keith, Brady, and Taryn two hours later and head back to the hotel you were staying at. Chantal couldn’t understand why you guys didn’t just stay with them before you flew back to Calgary the next morning. You weren’t sure how to explain that you’re not dating her son, and you needed some time to unwind and not have to be Matthew’s pretend girlfriend for extended periods of time.

As you’re driving to the hotel, you and Matthew sit in silence. Now and then, Matthew would shift in his seat in discomfort. You could tell he was still upset from Brady’s and Taryn’s comments. You reach your hand across the center console and place it on his thigh. You hear Matthew’s breath halt at the touch, and you’re confused at the sound.

“Matthew, are you okay?” you ask softly. “Don’t take Brady’s and Taryn’s words too seriously.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Matthew, don’t,” you interrupt as he stops at a red light. He turns to you, and his heart melts at how the lights on the street illuminate your face. He nods at your words, and suddenly, he wasn’t sad or frustrated anymore. The drive continues in silence, but your hand doesn’t leave his thigh. You have one lingering thought, though. “Matthew?”

“Mmm?” he asks.

“What did you mean when you said earlier that you didn’t hate me?”

“I didn’t realize there was anything to say. I don’t hate you,” Matthew says blatantly.

“Yeah, but you did hate me.”

Matthew laughs sourly. “Why do you think that even though I’ve told you that I didn’t hate you?”

“You were such a pest to me after we turned ten.”

“That didn’t mean I hated you, Yn.”

“Then why were you such a pest?” you ask.

“Because I had a giant crush on you when we were ten.”

“You had a what?” you asked, shocked, as Matthew drives into a parking space.

“A crush when we were ten,” Matthew answers and walks out of the car. He walks over to your side and opens the door for you. You step out of the car still reeling for his confession. “Don’t worry, Yn, I don’t have a crush on you anymore, so don’t worry.”

“Good,” you reply quietly. You aren’t sure why you are so upset at Matthew’s words, but you are. Did you have a crush on Matthew, now?

. . .

You’re standing in front of the mirror placing the final touches on your makeup and hair as you get ready to fly back to Calgary. You vaguely notice Matthew sitting in the chair behind you. You figured he was looking at his phone or watching the TV that was on. You lift your eyes to glance at the boy in question. Just as your eyes meet his face, Matthew looks up, and his eyes land right on yours. You stop moving, too entranced in his gaze. Matthew sends you a soft smile, and you mirror his smile. He sends you a wink, and your eyes instantly dart away from him. You continue getting ready, and you try to ignore the heat that rushed to your face and the rapid beating of your heart.

. . .

“I brought pizza and beer, is that good?” you say as you walk into Matthew’s kitchen. It was his first night back in Calgary since you said goodbye at the airport after the wedding, and he wanted to spend the night with you.

“That’s perfect,” he says and takes everything out of your hands.

You take your shoes off and walk further into this apartment. “Oh, looks like you cleaned.”

Matthew looks around the apartment and scratches the back of his neck. He turns to you, and you see a slight blush lining his cheeks. “Yeah, well, no one likes to live in a pigsty.”

You raise your eyebrow at his words. “What version of Matthew is this? The high school version of Matthew had the most disgusting bedroom ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew rolls his eyes and throws a napkin at you. You swat at it and begin to giggle. Matthew takes a piece of pizza and places it on a plate for you and opens a bottle of beer for you. You take it out of his hands with a soft “thank you” and walk over to his kitchen table. He places his plate and beer on the table and places his hands on your hips; your breath catches in your throat at his touch, and Matthew swears his heart started to beat a hundred times faster at the sound. He guides you towards the couch. “We’re sitting on the couch to eat.”

“But, Matthew,” you say after regaining your voice. You watch him grab his beer and plate from the table where he placed it and sits next to you.

“Nope, we’re not at Yn’s house. We’re at Matthew’s house, so we eat on the couch when we’re having a movie night.”

“Matthew,” you begin again.

He shakes his head as he takes a sip. “Don’t. I can’t eat this once training camp and the season starts, so let’s just enjoy it, okay?”

You nod and take a bite out of your pizza. Why did your breath hitch out of your throat when Matthew touched you? He’s touched you before, but why was it different this time?

. . .

“How about these?” Matthew asks as he holds a bag of chips in front of your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t like that flavor, and I already bought a bag of chips.”

“Maybe you should buy them for me, this lovely person who you forced to go grocery shopping with you.”

“That is not what happened, Matthew, and you know that,” your point out.

Matthew walks over to you and entraps you from where you’re standing at your shopping cart. He places his hands on the bar on your sides so you can’t move. He leans his head towards your ear and whispers, “Then tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened,” you murmur, trying to hide the fact that Matthew’s actions and words were sending chills down your spine.

“But I want you to tell me,” he whispers again into your ear.

“You showed up at my apartment just as I was about to leave,” you swallow before continuing, “and you insisted on coming with me, and here we are.”

“I don’t recall that being how it happened,” Matthew says against your neck, and the vibrations warm your entire body. You figure if Matthew was going to mess with you in the middle of the snack aisle at the grocery store, you might as well do the same. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face closer to yours. Your lips are micrometers from his, and you can tell that Matthew is nervous.

“That’s exactly how I remember it happening,” you say against his lips and with each word you said, your lips touching Matthew’s. Out of instinct and preparation for a kiss, Matthew places his hands on your waist, and you smirk, knowing you have him right where you want him. You run your hands up through his hair, and Matthew’s hold on you becomes limp. You lean closer, if possible, to him, and Matthew thinks you’re going to kiss him. Just when you would’ve leaned forward and kiss Matthew, you pull back and escape from where Matthew has you entrapped. You’re standing a few feet away from him, and you notice Matthew still in his trance. “You coming?”

That seems to take him out of his trance, and he nods and pushes the shopping cart to follow you. Matthew isn’t sure what happened, but he knows that whatever did just happen sent Matthew to heaven.

. . .

“What are you wearing?” Taryn asks you when you sit down next to her.

“Oh, this old thing?” you say, pretending to be oblivious.

“Matthew’s going to hate it considering you’re his girlfriend, who the Flames are playing, and what you’re not wearing.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You are such a pest like Matthew. No wonder you guys are so good to each other,” Taryn rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky we won or you’d have hell brought down upon you,” Matthew says when you’re standing outside the locker room after the game.

“I didn’t know you knew the devil personally,” you joke.

“Why did you have to wear Brady’s jersey, Yn? The day that I play the Sens, you are wearing the wrong brother’s jersey.”

You shrug but have a knowing smirk on your face. “I felt like it.”

Matthew groans when he sees Brady walking over to you and him. “Nice jersey,” Brady smirks.

“Thank you. Too bad you guys lost.”

“Seriously?” Matthew’s mouth’s agape.

“Oh shut up, you know I cheered for you when you scored,” you say and link arms with Brady as you head towards Chantal and Keith. “It worked. I pissed him off,” you whisper to Brady.

“You guys are so weird,” Brady chuckles. Matthew just stands behind you and Brady and is trying to figure out what just happened and how he’s going to get back at you.

. . .

When you showed up to the Senators-Flames game wearing Brady’s jersey, Matthew knew he had to think of a way to get back at you. After a week-long road trip and coming home at 2 am, Matthew wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. He also wanted nothing more in the world to see you and to get back at you. When he got in his car to drive home, Matthew realized he had the perfect plan to get back at you. He knows that something you value deeply is your sleep, so because you messed with something important to Matthew, he was going to mess with something important to you.

Matthew drives to your apartment from the airport and parks in the parking spot next to your car. He isn’t sure why he thought you didn’t have a car and why you don’t drive it to work, but here your car is. He walks into the lobby of your building and waves to the nightguard working the night shift. He takes the elevator up to your floor and walks up to your door. He takes a deep breath and begins to aggressively ring your doorbell. He hopes that you wake up and none of your neighbors do.

The ringing continues for twenty seconds before you realize it’s not your alarm. You sit up for a few moments when you realize that it’s someone at the door. When the ringing doesn’t stop, you get worried that something’s wrong. You rush over to the door and open it. “Is everything okay?” you blurt out before noticing who’s the one ringing your doorbell.

“No, I have a very important message for you,” Matthew says with a smirk grazing his face.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” you’re worried now. You’re still barely awake, and if you were, you probably would have noticed the smirk on Matthew’s face.

“It’s an important message. Ready for it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me!”

“Hi.”

“Hi? That’s it? Matthew, you rang my door like a lunatic and made me worry that something was seriously wrong. What’s wrong with you?”

“You wore Brady’s jersey to my hockey game.”

“So you decide to pull this shit?” you’re angry now, and Matthew realizes he made a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I also wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

You sigh and pull him into your apartment. “Then call me instead of halfway giving me a heart attack.”

Matthew nods and follows you into your apartment. He puts his bag down by the door and takes his shoes off.

“I’m going back to sleep, but you can change and shower in my washroom and join me when you’re ready. I’m not staying awake; I’m too tired.”

Matthew is shocked that you’re doing this. Matthew woke you at 2 in the morning just because and you’re opening your home for him despite it. Matthew will never take your friendship for granted ever again.

. . .

“Matthew, are we still fake dating?” you ask out of nowhere. It’s been months since the wedding, and you weren’t sure if you and Matthew still had that title. Recently, you both had been hanging out together, but it didn’t seem like “dating”. It was “friend” hangouts, and you were both disappointed and happy with it.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew asks. He doesn’t want to fake date you anymore; he wants to real date you, but he isn’t sure if you want that, too.

“Because,” you hesitate.

“Because, why?”

“I went out with some friends the other night and this guy was hitting on me, and I turned him down because I didn’t know if we were still under the ruse of dating.”

“Oh,” Matthew says dejectedly. “Don’t worry, if you see him, or anyone else, who’s hitting on you, then you can say yes. We, as of this moment, are just friends and no longer fake dating.”

You nod. “What do we tell people? Like, Shelly or your family?”

Matthew shrugs. “We realized we were better off friends. We went from the extreme of not being able to be around each other to the extreme of always being around each other and realized it doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” you say. You weren’t sure why you were so upset with Matthew’s response.

After the conversation, you head home about an hour later with your head still reeling from Matthew’s words. Just friends, he said, but you didn’t want that, did you? You wanted Matthew in every way that you could. You wanted him next to you when you woke up and when you fell asleep. You wanted good morning kisses, good night kisses, and just kisses in between that. You wanted Matthew because you liked him. You wanted Matthew because, in the months of fake dating, you fell for him. You fell for Matthew Tkachuk, the one boy you never thought you’d fall for, and the one boy who doesn’t want you like that.

. . .

You went out with Matthew and the team to celebrate another win. This time, you wore Matthew’s jersey, and you swore Matthew’s smile grew wider when he saw you in it. The celebration at the bar thus far has been fun. You weren’t sure if the team knows you and Matthew “broke up”, but it doesn’t matter because Matthew was still being touchy with you, and you hoped that you were hiding your feelings for Matthew well.

“I’m going to go get some refills for us, okay? Same drink for you?” Matthew whispers into your ear. You visibly shiver at his action, and you know Matthew noticed. You nod, not trusting your words. To try to ignore how you’re feeling, you immerse yourself in conversation with the group. It works, you think, but when you look up and see the back of Matthew’s head, your heart begins to beat rapidly. You needed to figure out how to get your emotions in check if you’re going to continue to be hanging out as friends with Matthew.

“So, you and Matthew have been going strong, huh?” Annica says when she notices you staring at Matthew. You snap your attention back to the woman. Matthew must not have told the team that you and he “broke up”. You guess that would be a weird conversation to have. You doubted Matthew said something along the lines of, “Yes, we broke up, but I’m going to keep bringing Yn around. Why? Well, we were never really dating, and now we are just friends. Yeah, it’s weird, but just go with it.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” you reply, hoping that Annica didn’t read too much into your words.

“I can tell he’s crazy about you and that he —,” Annica is interrupted by Elias bringing her another glass of wine and conversation changes. You look back at Matthew to try to figure out the meaning of Annica’s words. Just as your eyes land on Matthew’s head, he turns around, as if sensing your gaze, and meets your eyes. He smiles at you, and you instantly feel the tears falling from your eyes. You try to blink them away, but when Matthew begins to rush over to you, you know that he noticed. You excuse yourself from the group and rush out of the bar.

“Yn, yn,” Matthew calls out to you. He catches up to you with his long strides and places his hand gently on your shoulder. You turn to face him and feverishly wipe the tears away. “Yn, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“I didn’t know we cry over nothing now, but thanks for letting me know,” Matthew jokes, but it doesn’t do anything to make you feel better. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be your friend anymore; it just hurts too much to be your friend when I want more,” you blurt out and walk away. Matthew is too stunned at your words to follow after you. You want more? Since when? Matthew doesn’t come to his senses to chase after you until you’re getting into your car to drive home. What does he do now?

. . .

“Yn, yn, yn, I know you’re in there,” Matthew yells as he aggressively knocks on your apartment door the next day. “Yn, please. I just want to talk to you.

You angrily stalk to the door and open it. “What, Matthew? Maybe you should have taken a hint when I didn’t open the door the first eighteen times you knocked on it.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk, so it doesn’t matter if I was knocking on your door for hours, I’m going to talk to you.”

“Matthew, there’s nothing to say,” you tell him through gritted teeth hoping not to let it show how much you wanted to cry at that moment.

“Like hell, there’s nothing to talk about,” Matthew aggressively replies as he runs his hands through his hair. “You can’t just say that and leave, you know. You’ve had me going crazy, Yn!”

“Well, it’s not like you feel the same way or want the same thing,” you mumble, looking at the ground.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this since I was ten!” Matthew replies incredulously.

“But you told me you didn’t like me anymore!”

“That’s because I thought you didn't like me like that.”

“Well, I do like you like that, Matthew.”

He takes a step closer to you and looks into your eyes. “That entire time we were fake dating? I was imagining it was real. I was doing everything in my power to make it real so that I could have that experience of being with you because I thought I’d never had a chance with you. Like my parents said, you are completely out of my league, so I was extremely honored that you ever wanted to fake date me.”

“I don’t want to fake date you.”

“I don’t want to fake date you, either,” Matthew chuckles.

“Oh, good,” you reply and look down at your feet. “I want to be your real girlfriend.”

Matthew laughs at your words. “That’s what not wanting to fake date means.”

“Oh, right,” you giggle at yourself.

“So, if I put my hands on your waist and kiss you, is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile and place your hands on his face to bring him closer to you. Matthew smiles at your words and leans his head towards yours. You both softly placed your lips on each other before deepening the kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss you both shared, but it was the first time you kissed each other with your feelings on display. You both deepen the kiss, and Matthew pulls you into him. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you giggle at the small moan that leaves him. His moan and your giggle cause you both to pull back. Matthew gives you a pointed look.

“Great, our first kiss ends like that.”

You giggle again. “It’s not our first kiss, Matthew.”

“Still,” he pouts.

“Don’t worry,” you tease. “There will be many, many kisses in our future.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Matthew says with a grin and pulls you in for another kiss.

The get-together wasn’t perfect or what anyone expected, but it was your story, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[so-writing]

On Christmas, you tell the truth. 1/2 - Matthew Tkachuk

On Christmas, you tell the truth. But, at the same time, breaking up is hard to do.

*

December 3, 2020

Your nerves had you up earlier than usual and fussing around the kitchen like a crazy person. You were scrubbing counters that were already clean and constantly switching out the mug you were going to pour your coffee into as soon as it was done.

“Calm down,” you told yourself, “everything is fine.”

Apollo, the young German shepherd the two of you had recently adopted, could sense your anxiety and he was dancing around the kitchen the nearly the same as you were.

“Buddy,” you knelt down and scratched his ears, “I’m sorry. When dad’s home I’ll stop being a nutcase, I promise.”

Matthew Tkachuk was not someone you’d just started seeing. It was the complete opposite, actually, because you’d been together for almost three years. It was, however, the first time in your relationship that you went multiple days with no communication.

“Everything is fine,” you told yourself as you locked the door behind you and headed to your car to pick Matt up from the airport.

I know you haven’t landed but I’m on my way there now.

He didn’t respond, obviously, but you still couldn’t shake the weird vibe you were feeling as you drove to Calgary International Airport. The airport was spacious and it took you a few minutes to reach the arrivals gate where Matt’s flight would deplane but you managed to find it pretty quickly and tucked yourself into an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room.

Here, Matty, can’t wait to see you.

Matt’s plane eased up to the gate and you did your best to keep your nerves in check as the passenger bridge stretched out to meet the door. You kept your eyes on the entrance to the airport, anxiously waiting for those gorgeous curls and beautiful white smile to appear.

When the passenger bridge began to fold up and pull away from the plane, and Matt was nowhere to be found, you began to panic. What the fuck was going on? Where was he?

Each time you called him, it rang once or twice before going to voicemail. Finally, on the fifth try, you got a response. Matt didn’t answer his phone but he did send a brief text message.

I’m not coming back yet, and I’m not coming back to you at all.

It felt like your heart stopped, like it fell out of your body and you were looking at it laying on the dirty airport floor as it struggled to beat and bled all over the carpet.

What happened?

He didn’t respond right away, giving you just enough time to run to the nearest bathroom and lock yourself in a stall before you fell apart.

This just isn’t working anymore. Honestly, it hasn’t worked in a while.

“Oh,” you said out loud, “that’s hilarious, Matthew.”

You did your best to keep your voice down but the love of your life had just ended your years long relationship via text message, so fuck it.

“It’s so funny that I’m actually laughing,” you weren’t, nearly sobbing was an option though, “because I’m pretty sure you fucking proposed to me last week, asshole.”

“Uh, miss?”

The voice of a stranger pulled you out of your episode, “what?!”

“Are you okay?”

“Definitely fucking not,” you sank to the ground while wiping the tears and ruined makeup from your face.

“Can I do anything?”

“Kill my fiancé? Well, he’s an ex now. Can you kill him anyway?”

“I can’t really do that, but I can walk you to your car or help you get a ride if you’d like?”

This stranger was showing you more kindness than Matt had of late and you couldn’t help yourself from crying again as you pulled yourself off the ground and exited the stall.

“Thanks, sorry, I’m so sorry, thank you so much for being nice to me while I throw a tantrum like this.”

“I’ve seen worse, miss, let’s get you out of here.”

His name was Nolan and he worked on the evening maintenance staff at the airport. He had been married to his high school sweetheart for three years and they had a baby on the way. He was kind, kinder than most people would probably be, and you were more than thankful for it.

“This one’s mine,” you spoke as you unlocked your car with the key fob, “thank you for this. You’ve been kinder and more accepting than you know.”

Nolan listened to you pour your heart out about Matt as he guided you through the airport to the parking garage without saying a word or passing any judgement. Lm

Thank fucking hell for people like Nolan.

“I just have one question, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, what is it?”

“Why is it that our relationship was solid only one fucking week ago with my family on goddamn Thanksgiving and all of a sudden he’s now willing to end it all? Like honestly, what the fuck? Why the fuck would he do this?”

“I.. I couldn’t tell you, miss.”

“Why would he propose, Nolan? If he knew he was going to end it, why the fuck would he ask me to marry him?!”

He said nothing and you suddenly felt guilty for unloading your bullshit onto a complete stranger.

“I’m sorry, Nolan, I’m so sorry. I’m just, I’m fucking going through it.”

“I know,” he was solemn, “if I were you, I’d demand answers. As far as I know, you don’t propose to someone you really love only to end the relationship a week later, just my two cents though.”

He wasn’t wrong, and it was in that moment that you realized you were more grateful to a complete stranger to anyone else in your life.

“Thanks, Nolan.”

“You’re welcome, good luck.”

You watched him walk away before unlocking your door and jumping into the driver’s seat.

“One more thing,” Nolan shouted across the parking garage, “make him pay for it.”

***

November 26, 2020, Thanksgiving

“We’re going to keep this to ourselves, right?”

“Of course, babe. None of my family knows your nutritionist so we’re good to eat whatever the fuck we want with no consequences!”

Turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, stuffing and everything else Thanksgiving sat on the table in front of you both.

“I am going to eat until I explode.”

It was the second Thanksgiving with Matt, but the first one you spent together and with your family.

“Matthew,” your mother asked, “more mashed potatoes?”

“Yes, ma’am, always.”

“Anything else?”

You didn’t miss the brief look shared between your younger sister and him before they returned their attention to the table.

“Not yet, ma’am.”

Matt was entirely too proper, always calling your mother ma’am, but she found it adorable and didn’t discourage it.

“Are you guys done with the fancy shit? I want pumpkin pie!”

Everyone at the table laughed but you were too fixated on your father cutting up the pie to notice your mother, sister and Matt making stealthy moves behind you.

“Here,” your father handed you a plate full of pumpkin pie, “let’s eat on the porch?”

“Sure.”

Snow started to fall in the most perfect way. Big, thick flakes fell slowly as they landed in your hair and on your pie.

“Dad, we should go in, it’s snowing.”

“I know, not yet though. Just wait.”

The two of you continued to eat your pumpkin pie on the porch as the snow fell around you. When your pie was gone and your hair was nearly soaked with snowflakes you started to protest.

Your words caught in your throat when you turned to go back inside and saw Matt standing just outside the door in the most dashing suit you’d seen him in yet.

“Can I have a minute?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Absolutely fucking yes. Matthew Tkachuk could have a million fucking minutes and if he asked for more, you’d gladly give them to him.

“I suppose so.”

He stepped out into the snow and your eyes caught the snowflakes falling into his curls.

“What’s going on, Matty?”

“Well,” he dropped to one knee and pulled a ring box out of his pocket, “I was thinking about proposing.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely yeah.”

He gently grabbed your hand and pulled you off the porch and down into the yard. Snow was falling heavily but it only added to the moment.

“You are my person, my girl, my everything. You are it for me, always have been.”

You were both wet from the cold snow but there wasn’t a time in your life you’d felt warmer. It was always obvious to you that something about Matthew was different than all your other relationships, but this clinched it. This was the real thing and this was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?”

***

December 15, 2020

If someone knocked on your door right at that moment, and you actually willed yourself out of bed to answer, they would probably think you were a homeless person squatting in a disgusting apartment.

Thank god for contactless delivery.

The kitchen sink was full of dirty dishes and the counters were cluttered with empty takeout containers. There were random articles of clothing spread throughout every room in the apartment and your bedding hadn’t been changed or washed since you returned home from the airport the day Matt ended things.

You showered everyday but it never actually made a difference because you didn’t bother to wash your hair or clean your body, opting instead to lay in the bottom of the tub and cry while water poured down over you.

It was pitiful. You were pitiful but you didn’t care. The only thing that had been keeping you sane was Apollo and even he got tired of your misery. You had asked a friend, Avery, to keep him for a few days while you got yourself together but a few days turned into a few weeks and when she finally called around to ask what was going on with him, you took a few more blows to the heart.

“I know you’re going to be mad at me,” she sighed on the other end of the line while you braced yourself for whatever it was she was going to say.

You could take it, probably, “but I reached out to Matt.”

“For what? Why?”

The sound of someone else saying his name made your stomach hurt, and the thought of someone in your life speaking to him while you weren’t had tears sliding down your cheeks once again.

“Babe, Apollo is not my dog, I love him, but he’s not mine. You’re not in a place right now to care for a dog and since he is also Matt’s, I figured maybe he could come get him.”

“He can’t. He’s not even in Calgary.”

“Babe, he is in Calgary. He can’t have stayed in St. Louis this whole time, there are games between now and Christmas.”

Matt was back in Calgary and he never bothered to tell you or come home? As far as you were concerned, he still fucking lived in your apartment and it definitely showed because all his things were there.

“Well, that’s news to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So what’s happening? Is he coming to get Apollo? Does he not want him anymore? What?”

She was silent for a moment before speaking slowly, carefully planning what to say.

“He’s coming to get him but he asked me not to tell you when because, well, he didn’t go into detail or anything but he doesn’t want to see you.”

Another hot knife sliding across your skin, another wave of tears and this time, for the first time, anger.

“Tell me when he’s coming to get my dog. Tell me right now, you are closer to me than you ever were to him, Avery.”

“I know.”

“So tell me, now.”

“He left about twenty minutes ago. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d come over here and confront him and you’re not ready for that.”

“You don’t get to decide that. He’s back in fucking Calgary and we haven’t even spoken! This is his home and he hasn’t bothered to show up here! Where the fuck is he even staying?!”

You felt your voice rising as anger flooded through you. She was obviously right, you were definitely not ready to see Matt but it felt so deeply personal and painful that he was back in town and hadn’t bothered to even show up to gather his things or offer you any type of explanation for the current events.

I don’t know where he’s staying, he didn’t divulge that information and I wasn’t going to ask. Fuck, I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you, I would never do that. I did it because I don’t want him to see you like this. I don’t want him to see you still so broken while he isn’t at all. It isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right,” you squeezed your eyes shut to stop another wave of tears from falling, “what am I supposed to do though? He’s back here and now he’s got my--our--dog and I'm just nothing to him. I’ve never felt so fucking small, Avery.”

The two of you spoke for a few more minutes and she convinced you to meet her for breakfast in the next couple of days because you ‘needed to get the fuck out of both your head and your home.’ You said goodbye to her and placed your phone face down on the kitchen counter as you pondered over the conversation.

I don’t want him to see you still so broken while he isn’t at all. It isn’t fair.

He wasn’t hurting at all? Probably because he was fucking thriving with whoever the fuck it was that got in the way of your relationship. She was probably skinny and beautiful with perfect skin and flawless hair and a credit score of 850.

It isn’t fair.

No it wasn’t, it definitely wasn’t fucking fair. Matt dropped you like a bad habit on fire and you got no reason as to why it even happened in the first place. He owed you something, whether it be the legitimate reason or a lie entirely, he owed you. You’d been together for years and he had just placed a gorgeous diamond on your left hand with a look in his eyes that read forever. What had happened to change everything?

***

December 24, 2020, Christmas Eve

“Merry Christmas, Apollo,” you waved a new dog toy in the air, “wherever the fuck you are, because you’re definitely not here.”

Twenty one days had passed since Matt ended your relationship and you still hadn’t had any contact with him. He was probably home in St. Louis now, but he’d been back to Calgary since you last had contact because of hockey. Three weeks alone in your ‘shared’ apartment and it sounded like it was just the first of many to come.

You missed him. You missed Apollo. You missed Matt. You missed your past and everything that came with it. Roadies were nothing compared to this. It had gotten pretty obvious that he wasn’t coming back, probably ever, and you needed to pick yourself up from the ground, dust off, and move on.

It didn’t feel right putting up the big tree that you and Matt usually decorated together while dancing around sipping wine and listening to Christmas music, but you couldn’t abandon the holiday entirely. The sparse, cheap two foot christmas tree you bought last minute and hastily decorated felt like enough that year.

Christmas wasn’t truly Christmas without a classic movie, and you were too focused on the television in front of you to hear a key turn in the lock.

“Hello?”

The sound of a man’s voice had you jumping off the couch and screaming louder than probably necessary.

“Whoa, whoa, sorry.”

He held his hands up in defense and it wasn’t until you realized who it was that you let your guard down and stopped yelling.

“Johnny, what the fuck are you doing here?! It’s Christmas eve!”

“I’m here to grab some stuff for Matt.”

“On Christmas eve? He’s probably not even in town.”

Johnny looked to the ground as he hovered in the doorway. It was the second time you guessed Matt wasn’t in Calgary and it felt like it was also the second time you were wrong.

“So he is in Calgary then? That’s surprising, he’s such a family man.”

Johnny winced at the tone of your words before breaking his silence and surging forward.

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair as he pulled you into a tight hug, “I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking right now.”

It felt good to finally get the tiniest bit of closure. Johnny wasn’t Matt but maybe he could offer some kind of explanation, you’d take anything at that point.

“Why are you here, Johnny? Why isn’t he? Why hasn’t he come home yet? What is going on? What did I do?”

Word vomit fell past your lips faster than you could stop it but it was the first, tiniest bit of line Matt was throwing for you and you were definitely taking the bait.

“I can’t answer most of that, but I can tell you that he’s been staying with us and that Apollo is good, really good. He’s such a happy dog.”

“I know, it’s like he takes after his parents, oh wait..”

“Shit, I'm sorry. This is weird and I don’t like it. Matt’s staying at mine though, and he’s fine.”

“Of course he is. Is he ‘new girl fine’ though?”

“I’m not supposed to be on your side, but yeah, he’s that level of fine.”

“Holy fuck.”

Holy fuck. You collapsed into yourself and began to sob while Johnny broke your fall and helped you to the ground, holding you while you sobbed into his jacket. If Matthew was already with someone else, there was no way they weren’t communicating when he asked you to marry him. There was no way he wasn’t emotionally, and maybe physically, cheating on you.

“How long?”

He shrugged his shoulders and pulled you closer, “longer than you want to hear. I know you don’t want to hear any of this but I'm tired of lying for him. He shouldn’t have proposed to you.”

If you didn’t want to disappear into a black hole before, you definitely did now. What was the point anymore? The man you trusted and loved and planned to spend the rest of your life with had been fucking around on you and lying about it. You weren’t sure how long you sat on the floor and cried to one of Matt’s closest friends and teammates but when you finally started to get it together, you asked the real question.

“Why are you here, Johnny? It’s Christmas eve, you should be home with your wife. What did he send you to get?”

“The ring. The better question is for you though, why are you still wearing it?”

“I don’t know,” the diamond sparkled on your finger, “I guess I was hoping for the best.”

The ring Matt had picked out for you was beautiful, more beautiful than you could have imagined but it felt fake and cheap now, almost like it was given to you based on a total lie.

You weren’t going to give in so easily. If Matt wanted his precious ring back, he would have to man up and come get it himself. He wasn’t going to get away with sending someone else to do his dirty work and ride off into the sunset with his new girl.

“If he wants it, he knows where it is. He can come get it himself, he knows where I live. Once upon a time, he used to live here too. Will you remind him of that?”

You and Johnny spoke for a little while longer before exchanging goodbyes. He went without the ring and you were left alone wondering who the fuck Matt had left you for.

Do not ask other people to get their hands dirty just so you can keep yours clean, Matthew. It’s all for nothing because they were never clean anyway, you fucking cheater.

You had no idea whether or not Matt had blocked your number, but you were so pissed off and hurt that you didn’t care. He had no problem leaving you in the rearview mirror so you matched his energy, deciding to call him out on his bullshit.

***

December 25, 2020, Christmas

It would’ve been easy to go home to your parents, who happened to live only twenty minutes away, and spend the holiday with them but you weren’t exactly up to it. Johnny’s surprise visit and the news he shared broke your heart even more than you already thought was possible.

Matt didn’t respond to your text, but it was delivered and read a few hours later, so he at least acknowledged it. How nice of him to not block your number, what a kind soul.

Determined to keep wallowing in your own pity, you googled ‘sad christmas movies without a happy ending’ and started with the one people thought was the most miserable and started working your way down the list.

At about 9pm, your phone rang and when you saw who was calling, your breath caught in your throat.

Chantal Tkachuk.

Other than Johnny, who was kind of forced into it, no one in Matt’s life had reached out to you since before the break up. You were close to both Matt’s younger sister, Taryn, and Brady’s long term girlfriend but neither one of them made any attempt to see how you were doing. They were obviously Matt’s people before they were yours, so it made sense, but it still hurt a lot.

The Tkachuks had become a second family to you and not only had Matt ripped himself away from you, he also took them too.

“Hello?”

You couldn’t stop the waver in your voice and she definitely heard it.

“Oh, honey,” she instantly went into mom mode, “how are you?”

“I’ve been better,” you were openly crying now, once again.

“I know, and I'm so sorry. I really don’t know what happened.”

“Me neither, because everything was fine and we were engaged and the next thing I know, I’m waiting at the airport for someone that isn’t going to show up and i’m getting dumped through text message.”

Chantal was silent for a few moments and you could feel tension easing itself into the phone call. On one hand, you’d been like another daughter to her for several years now, but Matt was her oldest son and she was always going to take his side regardless of the situation.

“I don’t even know what to say right now, I'm just so sorry. Whatever he was thinking or going through, he shouldn’t have handled it the way he did. He shouldn’t have proposed if he wasn’t ready.”

It flew out of your mouth without a thought and you immediately regretted it, “you mean he shouldn’t have proposed if he was cheating?”

You weren’t talking to just anyone, you were talking to Matt’s fucking mother, stop speaking so candidly, “oh my god, Chantal, i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I can’t exactly be mad at you for it, I don’t know for sure if that was what was happening but based on the timeline of events, assumptions can be made.”

That was the most you were going to get out of her and you knew it. She was wording her thoughts delicately to avoid using ‘cheating’ and her precious son in the same sentence. It shouldn’t have, but like everything else that was fucking happening, it hurt.

“I still shouldn’t have said it, not to you. I’m sorry.”

The call got kind of awkward as she brushed off your apology and began asking you about your life and how you’ve been, like her son hadn’t ruined your fucking life.

Did you have a good holiday? No. Do you have any fun plans for New Years? No. How has work been? I’ve been calling off a lot because I'm constantly having a breakdown.

“I know things are tense and weird right now, but I’m still here. You can always reach out to me if you need anything at all.”

It wasn’t true, but you thanked her anyway. You knew this was probably the last contact you’d have with Chantal Tkachuk. The word goodbye felt heavy on your tongue but you said it anyway and ended the call.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered into your once happy, now empty apartment.

***

December 31, 2020, New Year’s Eve

“I’m glad you’re coming out with me tonight.”

“I don’t know why I am, you gave my dog away.”

“Shut up,” Avery gently punched you in the shoulder, “i’d still have him now if I didn’t. Besides, it’s not like I threw him out on the street.”

“Yeah, I guess, I wonder how he likes his new mom.”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about Matthew tonight. Tonight is about you and moving on. Moping time and feeling sorry for yourself is over.”

“Does it have to be?”

“Yes.”

In the spirit of new beginnings, Avery chose a bar neither of you had ever been to. It was a little more high end than you expected but it was a nice change of pace. With the exception of work and running to the grocery store, you’d barely been out of your place in almost a month.

Avery made sure your glass was never empty as more of your friends joined the party and you mingled with them and strangers alike. You had to admit that it was nice to get out of your head and spend some time around people that actually care for you. You’d been spending so much time thinking about the one that didn’t that you’d been taking for granted the ones who did.

Midnight crept closer and you were pleasantly tipsy and enjoying yourself quite a bit.

It was nowhere near perfect but this evening, surrounded by your friends and drinks and excitement, was almost ok. It was the first time in a month you felt whole and even a little bit excited about what was to come in your future.

You decided you were going to start looking for a new place to live as soon as you woke up the next morning and a few of your friends were even coming over to help you start packing later in the day.

No one was openly saying it was time for you to move on, but they were hyping you up in such a way that it only felt right. Finally.

“Three minutes to midnight!”

Someone out of sight shouted and you froze, because you knew that voice and if Brady Tkachuk was here at this bar in Calgary that meant one thing.

Turning in the direction his voice had come from, your eyes desperately scanned the rooftop in search of him, hoping he would be with just his brother and teammates and that what you actually saw wasn’t real.

It was real though, it was too real and the sight of them together made your stomach hurt. You did your best not to think about what she might have looked like, but seeing her in the flesh had you spiralling. This girl, Matt’s new girl, the one he had completely abandoned you for, really didn’t look any different than you did. It was almost worse than her being your complete opposite. You couldn’t focus on her too long though, as usual, Matt’s presence alone commanded your attention.

You hadn’t seen him in such a long time. His curls had gotten longer and he had more facial hair and you hated how good he looked in the sleek black suit he was wearing. You’d never seen it before and it was another knife to your heart to realize that he’d gone out and bought new clothes instead of coming home to get his own.

“Let’s go downstairs, come on,” Avery had seen him too, “this is not going to happen.”

Throwing back the contents of your champagne flute, you thrust it into her hand, “of course it is. This was bound to happen right?”

The liquid courage running through your veins and stopping your brain from thinking rationally had taken control and you were marching over to Matt before anyone in your group could stop you.

“Well if it isn’t my roommate, so nice to see you’re back in Calgary. I’m glad you got home safe, where have you been staying? Because it’s definitely not been our apartment.”

The tone of your voice was sharp enough to cut glass but Brady was in front of you before you could get a reaction from Matt, “this is not the place. Please, go back to your friends.”

“I think I’ll stay here, actually.”

Stepping around Brady, you made eye contact with your ex for the first time since he left. He looked a lot less worried and a lot more smug than you’d hoped.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The crowd around you began chanting the countdown to the new year but you stayed in place, refusing to be the one to break eye contact first.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Avery was beside you now and begging, “come on please, let’s get out of here?”

“Four! Three!”

“He’s going to fucking kiss her in front of you,” Brady shouted over the chant, “listen to your friend, you don’t want to see!”

“Two! One!”

You won the battle, but not the war, because Brady was spot on. When Matt’s eyes left yours they met those of his new flame and their lips connected.

“Happy New Year!”

It probably should’ve hurt, like everything else he did in the last month, and maybe it would at some point, but anger had taken control at that point.

A bitter, hollow laugh crawled up your throat, “you’re such a dick, I can’t believe I’ve been wasting all this time moping over you.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been so hurt over a guy who broke up with me over a text message and was too much of a coward to face me that he just literally never came home. Nice suit by the way, you’ve got a closet full of them back at my apartment.”

While strangers around you were celebrating, no one in your bubble said a single word. So you kept going.

“I don’t have your ring on me,” you turned your attention on the girl attached to him briefly, “he proposed to me actually, but if I did I’d throw it off the side of this building. She’s above used merchandise. That’s why you wanted it back, right? So you could give it to someone else?”

Matt kept silent as you hurled accusations and insults at him but his face had fallen considerably and it wasn’t until a soft “can we please go?” came out of his new girlfriend’s mouth that you stopped.

You were done, completely and entirely, with Matthew Tkachuk.

“I’ll actually remove myself from the situation, let you lovers enjoy your night. Happy New Year, bud, take care, hope to see you never.”

You crowded into an Uber with Avery and a few others, everyone excitedly cheering you on for standing up to Matt. It felt good, better than you thought it would, and you didn’t even cry.

Your phone vibrated with a text message that you definitely didn’t expect.

Didn’t think you had that in you. Not mad at it though and definitely glad I got to see it. Take care of yourself, bud.

***

January 3, 2021

You knew he was coming, he’d finally reached out to you to let you know, but you were a ball of nerves anyway. The last time you saw Matt, you were screaming at him on a crowded rooftop bar while everyone around you celebrated the new year.

Your liquid courage carried you through that evening but you’d been sober since, so seeing him was going to be really fucking weird. Not just weird, seeing him was going to make you sad. As much as you didn’t want to be, you couldn’t help it. You weren’t over him yet.

“Come in,” you were quick to respond to his soft knock on the door, “you still live here, Matt, you don’t need an invitation.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be quick, just here to get my stuff.”

“Cool.”

Cool? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, that’s how you respond?

You shook off your nerves but gave him space as he made his way into the bedroom and began to pull his clothes from your shared closet.

“We should probably go through this together,” he called out as soon as he entered the bathroom, “we shared a lot of bath stuff.”

“Sure, i’ll be in shortly.”

This was it. You’d said it plenty of times before but this was really, truly it. Your relationship with Matthew Tkachuk was coming to a close and the only thing left between the two of you was this apartment.

You slowly wandered into the bathroom and stood next to him while the two of you began to separate your bath products.

“Should I leave this body wash?”

“No, I know how much you like it, keep it.”

“You sure? I know you like it too.”

“I know where to order it from, but I'm pretty sure you don’t.”

“Shut up, it’s like, Lucky or something, right?”

“It’s Lush, Matty.”

“Yeah, Lush sounds right. So does that.”

“What?”

“Matty.”

“..What?”

“Matty sounds right. It sounds even better coming from you.”

Hold the fuck up.

There was no goddamn way he was going to try and appeal to you like the sad ex when he was the one who cheated! No fucking way!

“Yeah? That’s interesting, because ‘i love you’ sounds pretty good to me but you couldn’t honor that, right? Actually, instead of Matty, I should’ve called you a cheating, lying asshole.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Call you out? Make you accountable for your actions? Fuck you, Matt. Get your shit and get out. I don’t want to see you again.”

He listened, and he left. Goodbye, Matthew.

***

March 21, 2021

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“About Matt?”

“No, I'm not interested in anything to do with him.”

“You might like this.”

“I probably won’t.”

Your relationship with Matthew had been over for a long time and you were finally past him. There was no need to bring anything up from the past.

“His girl has been cheating on him, like the entire time they’ve been together.”

“I told you I didn't care. I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about him.”

“Sorry,” she scrambled for the right words, “I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Don’t fire me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, get back to work though, the Palmer wedding isn’t going to plan itself.”

“On it, boss!”

You chuckled to yourself, Matt had never been the one to prove himself to be a decent human. As much as you didn’t want to hear any update on his life, you couldn’t deny the minuscule amount of pleasure you felt when you heard he cheated.

Since your breakup with Matt, you boarded the success train and rode to the top. You were a single, small event planner when you first got together, but now you owned a company with your name on it and had a slew of employees.

There was nowhere but up for you to go and you couldn’t have been happier.

“We had a cancellation, it was a big one.”

“Oh? What was the last name?”

“Tkachuk?”

“What was the first name?”

“The groom’s name was Matthew. He was the one who cancelled. A bunch of emails from the disgruntled bride have come in since.”

No. No. No fucking way. This was the last thing you needed.

“What did the emails say?”

“They were mostly complaining about you. Which is really weird because how could you possibly know the groom?”

“No idea,” you lied, “I'll handle it though.”

--

Part Two coming soon!

[spine-buster]

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟  Please be warned.

Word Count: 14,637

Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able.  Link in my bio & Masterlist.

A/N:  “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs!  This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic.  Enjoy!

                                                           *     *     *     *     *

Effie.  Her name was Effie.  And everybody knew it.  

Rachel was no more.  Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there.  Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused.  Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet.  Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own.  Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.

Effie was new.  Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future.  Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse.  Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her.  Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own.  Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.  

That was how she liked it.  

Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her.  It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it.  Matthew knew he could.  She was more assertive…in her own way.  She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore.  She just asked.  She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off.  Her independence increased.  She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her.  She engaged in more conversation.  She made jokes.  She laughed at jokes.  She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night.  She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house.  She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it.  She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about.  Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought.  She was a feminist).  Socialism.  Communism.  Democracy.  Geneviève explained them all to her.  She asked Geneviève about pants.

She wore pants.

It was weird at first, wearing pants.  She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult.  The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants.  So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did.  They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them.  “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna.  Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend.  It would be Effie’s first time in a mall. 

Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her.  Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be.  But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead.  She worked through it.  She did things in spite of the fear.  She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.

That’s why she found herself walking now.  Walking to Starbucks.  Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores.  Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it.  And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.  

“Chop it all off.”

“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair.  “But your hair!  It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”

“Please.  I need you to cut it.  I need you to—”

“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”

“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted.  “I escaped a cult.  I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ.  This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s.  I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”

The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying.  Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors.  “How much do you want off?” she asked.

Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist.  “Like this,” she said.  “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”

The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic.  She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair.  “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.

Effie nodded firmly.  “Ready.”

***

Effie had six numbers stored on her phone.  Levi.  Jenna.  Annica.  Geneviève.  Jacob Markstrom.  Matthew Tkachuk.  

“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.  

His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror.  “Matthew?  I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”

“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried.  “Where are you?”

Effie didn’t even know.  She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist.  “What’s the address?”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.

Matthew was officially confused.  “The Starbucks complex?”

“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.

“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”

***

Matthew was nervous.  Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous.  It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go.  It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.  

When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it.  It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of.  Abigail’s Hair Salon.

Matthew walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks.  In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her.  She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision.  He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.  “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.  

“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.  

“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely.  He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her.  “You wanted it this short?”

Effie nodded her head.  

“It suits you,” he nodded.  “Did you pay?”  Effie nodded her head.  “Did you tip?”

Effie looked scared for a moment.  “Tip?”

Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist.  He turned to Effie without another word.  “Wanna grab some lunch?”

“You—you’re not busy?  I thought you would just drive me home.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.  “Grab your jacket.  What do you feel like eating?”

***

Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried.  But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable.  He didn’t want to be that guy.  He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.  

“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries.  She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes.  For Matthew, it was impressive.  He knew she was trying to gain weight.  He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.  

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head.  “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you.  What about your sister?”

“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”

Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows.  “She can play sports and go to university?  That’s a thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly.  “She’s a great field hockey player.  She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus.  She’s going to school too, obviously.  That’s the most important thing.  But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”

Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said.  Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève.  But…women could play sports and go to university?  Women could play sports for their university?  That was new information.  Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing.  She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball.  She had not been allowed to play sports.  Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do.  Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university.  When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that.  “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly.  “To be able to do that.  She’s very lucky.”

Matthew knew there was weight behind those words.  They weren’t to be taken lightly.  He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn.  “She knows,” Matthew said.  “Taryn’s a really smart girl.  She knows she’s really lucky.”

“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.

Matthew shrugged.  “If they even want kids at all.  I know some of my friends back home don’t want them.  Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.

Silence.  Pure silence from Effie.  He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face.  When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy.  He gulped.  “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.

Matthew chose his words carefully.  He should have known.  He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth.  Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically.  The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it.  Own up to his actions.  Be the person he promised himself he would be around her.  “So, like…women in modern society have the choice.  They can choose not to have children.  Some women don’t want to become mothers.  It’s a personal choice.  And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families.  Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that.  You can just…not want children.”

Effie had heard the word of God her entire life.  It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory.  Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God.  This was something else.  This went against everything she knew.  This went against everything she was brought up to believe.  “Oh, okay,” she whispered.  

Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation.  And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening.  Everything is new for her.’   The modern world was completely alien to her.  She didn’t know anything.  No women’s liberation.  No women’s rights.  No individuality.  Voting.  Elections.  Doctors.  Hospitals.  Jeans.  T-shirts.  Wearing her hair however she wanted.  Makeup.  Cell phones.  Instagram.  Twitter.  Snapchat.  Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point.  She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core.  They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe.  It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.  

Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever.  God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable.  To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything.  He was an idiot.  He was such an idiot.

A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went.  “Effie?  Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.

When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face.  Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down.  “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him.  Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat.  “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.  

She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears.  There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse.  “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.

He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her.  “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.  

“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.

“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it.  “I…it’s not their fault.  It can be a medical thing.  I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children.  And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.

“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can?  Are…are they punished?” she asked.

“Why would they be punished?  No,” he shook his head.

“Matthew…” she was apprehensive.  “Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her.  “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth.  Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.”  He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye.  Shaking.  

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.  

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time.  It could have been years for all Matthew knew.  But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him.  He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were.  She carried this with her every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.

“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered.  He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again.  So he settled on words, because words were his best option.  “It’s not your fault.”

***

“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”

Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice.  So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan.  Maybe there were holes.  But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason.  The best reason.  She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office.  She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week.  That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.

“Maybe,” he mumbled out.  Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t.  Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated.  He was determined.  “I need you tell me what I need to do.  Tell me.  Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth.  But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious.  “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.

He knew what that meant.  “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.

It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word.  Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.  If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything.  “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

Matthew leaned in.  “Yes.  That’s why I need you to help me.  I want – I need to know how to help her.”

“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses.  “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.  

Matthew didn’t want this to become a session.  It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie.  “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

“Well, yes.  I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”

Dr. Barlow paused.  “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her.  “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped!  At least according to her brother!” he defended himself.  “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her.  I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me.  You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”

Dr. Barlow stayed silent.  “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely.  Matthew could read between the lines.  So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought.  “We should just leave it at that.  I appreciate the effort, but—"

“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute.  When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face.  “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off.  He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.

“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”

It was the first time the word had been said out loud.  He didn’t want to repeat it.  He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere.  He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.  Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real.  It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life.  He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood.  “Yes,” he said curtly.  “I realize.”

“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced.  Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely.  “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates.  I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her.  Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you.  I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do.  You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”

“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”

“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said.  “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress.  It’s the mental progress we want to see.  And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either.  Just give her time, Matthew.  Exercise patience with her.”

***

The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming.  But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath.  He collected himself.  And he moved forward.  He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it.  He needed to make it right.

“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.  

She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face.  It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling.  He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him.  It was a relief.  “Hi Matthew.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly.  “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.  “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”

He saw something flash behind her eyes – a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions.  He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it.  He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain.  Matthew would never forgive himself if it did.  “I’ve been good.  Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly.  “I read up on what we talked about.  Geneviève helped me.”

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

Effie nodded.  “It made me realize I never want children.”

Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t.  Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them.  It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise.  “That’s good.  Good that you can…you know, say that out loud.  That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”

Effie nodded her head.  “I knew it all along.  I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me.  And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on.  I’m too scared to fall back into that.  I’d have no idea how to raise a child.  I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk.  She looked up at him.  There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom.  Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes.  She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior.  “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.  

“I should be the one apologizing—”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop.  “You don’t have to apologize for anything.  You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did.  I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point.  “But I know that your touch is nice.”

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

She took it upon herself to look at his hands.  They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows.  But they were there, exposed, for her to look at.  They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.

He caught her looking.  Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky.  He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his.  There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother.  Then she moved her hand closer.  Closer.  Closer.

When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body.  The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling.  There were no words for it.  No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile.  A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.

Matthew smiled too.  

***

“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair.  The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted.  “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”

“Less,” Annica giggled.  

“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos.  I was so scared I started crying.  I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them.  “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time.  I think they look really nice.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested?  You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.

Effie nodded her head emphatically.  “Definitely.  Definitely.”

“What is it?  Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.  

Effie shook her head.  “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip.  “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you?  Doing this to my body?”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd.  It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her.  It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet.  “It’s your body, remember?  Your body, your choice.”

Effie nodded after a moment.  “My body, my choice.”

***

“It’s still a bit red and itchy.  Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.  

“It’s alright.  Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan.  When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open.  “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big.  He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small.  He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever.  But it was big.  It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm.  The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite.  It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful.  He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself.  “Can I?” he asked.

Effie nodded.  “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.

Matthew brought his hand up slowly.  He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately.  It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was.  “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.  

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow.  What could be better than this?

She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin.  Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it.  ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.

Matthew smiled from ear to ear.  “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time.  He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life.  “Do you love it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically.  “I love it so much.  It’s mine.  It’s mine.”

***

“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies.  Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate.  He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered.  In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life.  “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.

“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head.  “Effie made those.”

Matthew’s brows rose.  He gulped the bite of the cookie down.  “Effie?  Effie bakes?”

Levi smirked, side-eyeing him.  “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch.  She had to learn in the cult.  She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife.  But she enjoys baking the most.  Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”

Matthew nodded nonchalantly.  “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”

“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said.  “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”

“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended.  Levi could only chuckle.  Matthew felt the need to cover.  “Where?  What—where?  What’s she gonna do?  How is she—I mean, why?”

“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she?  If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”

“Effie’s moving out?!”

“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”

This was all news to Matthew, of course.  He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had.  The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him.  He was just on the outside.  He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all.  But he still got nervous.  Effie was still learning about a lot.  And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe.  A safe job.  A safe apartment.  “Where’s she looking?”

“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him.  “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own.  She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”

Hipster coffee shop.  Online business certificate.  New apartment.  There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all.  He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot.  “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.

Levi let out a haughty laugh.  “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

***

Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn.  Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down.  Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured.  “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs.  “You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered.  “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”

Matthew chuckled.  “Fat chance of that happening.  Effie’s not coming.”

Sean rolled his eyes.  “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”

Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people.  Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand.  Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”.  Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge.  The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.

Fuck.

When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress.  He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her.  “You made it!  I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing.  Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk.  “Is this your first time in a place like this?”

“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously.  “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”

“Are you kidding?  The more the merrier!  Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”

Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie.  Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday.  None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew.  He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that.  He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You came alone?” Andrew asked her.  Effie nodded.  “We’ll have to find you Matthew then.  He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”

Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment.  When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up.  “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.

She went in for a hug.

Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back.  Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick.  Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her.  He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her.  “What brought you here?”

“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away.  She took a look down at his drink.  “Is that iced tea?”

“Whiskey.”

She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too.  “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.

“Do you want to try some?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay.  Do you want something to drink, then?  Some water?  I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”

“A virgin drink?”

“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly.  “They’ll make you whatever you want.”

Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head.  “I’m not thirsty yet.  I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”

***

Effie didn’t dance.  She didn’t drink.  All she did was look.

By looking, she was learning.  She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it.  She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender.  She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks.  She watched people take shots and then ask for another.  She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women.  She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor.  She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open.  She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends.  She watched girls move their hips seductively.  She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.  

“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered.  He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late.  He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.

Did he hear himself?  Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?

Fuck.  

Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water.  Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar.  “I’m thirsty.  I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Let me go for y—”

“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out.  “I’ve watched.  I know what I need to do.  I can go.”

Matthew gulped.  He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked.  She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go.  And all he did was look.

***

Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar.  It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision.  She’s never been in a place with so many people.  Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion.  Sundays were the worst.  But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place.  Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so.  It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.  

She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on.  Effie admired their beauty.  They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured.  Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless.  Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself.  When they got their drinks, they began to move.  One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down.  “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.

After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders.  Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks.  She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same.  After a few minutes, a bartender came.  “What can I get you?”

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

Effie shook her head.  “I don’t drive.  I just don’t drink alcohol.”

“Do you want anything more exciting?  I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”

Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered.  “Okay.  Ginger ale is good.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun.  “Do you have a tab going?”

What was a tab?  Effie shook her head.  “What’s a tab?”

The bartender looked at her skeptically.  “How are you paying, darling?  Are you with a party?”

“Oh!  I’m here for Andrew’s party!  Andrew Mangiapane.”

“Got it,” the bartender winked.  “Here you go, darling.  Enjoy.”

Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw.  It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it.  Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her.  A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space.  He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face.  “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.

Effie couldn’t tell.  “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”

“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.

“A walking felon?” she repeating.  She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.  “A real drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine.  I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.

Effie furrowed her brows.  “Like what?”

The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had.  “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her.  At the same time, he was leaning his head down.

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s.  Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man.  Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her.  “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.

“Dead, eh?  So you get to touch her but I don’t?”

“Fuck off.”

Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice.  She’d never seen or heard him so angry.  She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting.  Her body tensed up.  “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.  

Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her.  As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie.  “You don’t want to have some fun, girl?  I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”

Matthew had had it.  He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar.  He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand.  So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size.  He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar.  He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated.  “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands.  He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything.  Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.

Effie turned around to get a good look at him.  She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face.  She got nervous – really nervous.  “Matthew—”

“Did he touch you?  He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded.  He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.  

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared.  All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness.  “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”

He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly.  “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what he wanted.  But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”

Effie nodded.  “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.

“Never, Effie.  Never.”

***

Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was.  Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch.  “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained.  “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”

“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle.  “People want to know that about me?”

“I’d love to follow you on Instagram.  I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said.  “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.

“Everybody’s not doing it.  That’s the point,” Annica said.  “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it.  It’s one big advertisement now.”

Effie considered what the girls were telling her.  She trusted them both, which is why she asked.  Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place.  Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays).  For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step.  “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”

“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table.  “We can do it after lunch.”

“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered.  “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world.  You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”

The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain.  She nodded her head.  “That’s what I’m gonna do.  Let’s make a profile after lunch.”

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

That’s good! I will have to try some one day

When you get back from the road trip there will be something new.  Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly.  Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else.  Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun.  “I got the job!” she screamed.  

Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms.  Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind.  “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear.  “Look at you go!”

She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms.  “That means I can get the apartment!  That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program!  That means…I…I’m just so excited!”  She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.  

She hugged him.  She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly.  He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too.  “That’s amazing, Effie!”

“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside.  April in Calgary was still cold.  Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up.  “I can’t even speak!  I mean, this is—this is me getting to work!  I get to work!  I get to make my own living and make my own money!”

“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools.  “And you get to do something you like to do!  Not a lot of people get to say that.”

She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge.  “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them.  “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.

She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks.  Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth.  The second it hit his tongue, he groaned.  “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews.  “This is gonna be dangerous.”

“Is it good?”

“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie.  Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.  

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.  

“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry.  “Monahan is just being a jackass!”

“Am not!”

They got the couch upstairs.  They got the bedframe upstairs.  They got the mattress upstairs.  In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in.  Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything.  Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture.  She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel.  It was in the fridge waiting.  Each of them would get a nice big slice.

Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen.  And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order.  Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together.  Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet.  Matthew stayed.  

“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave.  There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her.  It was different when he was alone with her.  With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about.  With people gone, they could.  He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home.  He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.

“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge.  “My course starts in June.  It’s going to be really exciting.”

“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch.  “It’s business, right?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Business administration.  Are you going to come try this pie or what?”

Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him.  He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down.  Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him.  He watched as she carefully plated the slices.

Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew.  “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.

He furrowed his brows slightly.  “Of course.”

Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party.  She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions.  So she did it.  She did what she wanted to do.

Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.  

It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning.  But she kissed him.  With her eyes closed.  And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham.  Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body.  She liked it that way.  And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.

Matthew, for his part, was shocked.  Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward.  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to.  “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.

Effie nodded.  “Of course it was.  I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”

Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him.  “Do you think it—”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly.  “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Effie looked down, suddenly nervous.  She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it.  He’d kissed her back.  He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back.  He moved his lips too.  That meant something, right?  “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

“No, I mean do you…do you like me.  Like how boys like girls sometimes.”

Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach.  Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head.  “Yeah, I do.”

Effie bit her bottom lip.  She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment.  But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her.  “Even after everything that happened to me?”

Matthew’s heart broke.  It always did when he spoke with Effie.  “Of course,” he said simply.  “You’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more than that, Effie.”

Effie nodded her head.  She knew that.  Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that.  She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew.  She couldn’t just assume them.  “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.  “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you.  I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing.  Even just…you know, touching.  I just want you to know that.”

Matthew nodded.  This was huge.  He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his.  “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”

“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.  

Matthew smiled.  “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”

“No.”

Matthew chuckled to himself.  Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything.  She was in total control.  “Fair enough.”

Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of.  Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again.  “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”

Matthew nodded his head.  “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot.  “Everybody loves fake plants.”

Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest.  But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart.  There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place.  “Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter.  Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on.  He rejoined Effie.

“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti.  Effie was trying out recipes.  He was her unofficial-official taste-tester.  The whole team was, really.  And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand.  So far, so good.  “I love the almond flavour.  It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”

He watched as Effie nodded her head.  “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.

He knew what was coming.

She leaned forward and kissed him.  His lips tasted like almonds.

***

“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.

“Very,” she nodded.  Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic.  Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear.  A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at.  The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to.  “Matthew?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he looked down at her.  He knew what was coming.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

It was always when the two of them were alone.  It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games.  It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna.  Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it.  “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”  

It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  They were alone.  They were usually doing something mundane.  Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice.  He’d look down at her.  She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.

It was always initiated by her.  

***

“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.  

Effie looked shocked.  Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary.  “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind.  “You know that I like you, Effie.  I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”

Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell.  She nodded slightly.  “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused.  He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously.  “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”

“I figured as much.”

“I mean, I—even with Abraham.  He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me.  I told you that.  But even before that.  Women couldn’t date.  Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”

“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly.  “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.  But you know that I like you.  And I know you like me too.  It’s what people do when they like each other.  So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something.  Nothing too big or fancy.  Just a dinner.”

If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past.  She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices.  She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life.  It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive.  She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”.  She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her.  Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”  

Effie nodded her head.  “I want to go out on a date with you.”

Matthew smiled bashfully.  He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager.  “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”

***

“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye.  But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation.  “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows.  There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this.  It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar.  He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either.  But then Mark remembered.  “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”

“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.

Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips.  Kids.  He had to get to the bottom of this.  It was in his nature.  And as captain, he took his role seriously.  He needed to make sure his teammates were okay.  The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover.  He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room.  Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick.  Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told.  He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much.  And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.  

Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in.  “Tell me what happened.”

Matthew took a deep breath.  “I took her out on a date last night.”

“Effie.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly.  “And it was nice.  We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown.  She was having so much fun.  And she came back to my place and—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized.  “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

Matthew shook his head.  “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting.  She sorta kept saying how tired she was.  I told her she could stay over.  And it was fine.  We were just sleeping in the same bed.”

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled.  “And then I moved.”

There was a pause.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.

The entire night had been lovely.  She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal.  The food was delicious.  The walk through the park was magical.  The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night.  They hadn’t stopped talking.  They’d gone back to his place.  She was tired.  He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind.  She agreed.  She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts.  They’d fallen asleep in his bed.  And it was lovely.  

And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly.  So she did the only thing she needed to do.

She punched him.  Hard.  

She hit between his eye and nose.  A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom.  Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed.  When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain.  It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew.  It wasn’t Abraham.  

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.  

“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.

“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”

With his one clear eye, he looked at her.  His chest was heaving.  But he didn’t say anything.  His shoulders slumped slightly.  And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed.  It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it.  But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that.  She didn’t have to repent for her sin.  It didn’t have to be that way.  Abraham wasn’t in bed with her.  It was Matthew.  Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.

She started crying.  She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him.  She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.  

After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks.  She lay her hand on his back.  “Matthew—”

He flinched at her touch.  She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast.  Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.  

Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched.  He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her.  He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.  

When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.

***

Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else.  Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home.  He needed to talk to her.  Needed to talk to her.  But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.  

Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone.  He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

He shot his head up.  For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car.  He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care.  All he cared about was that she was there.  He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him.  “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her.  Her face was red and blotchy.  He hated seeing it like that.  It reminded him of the incident in the washroom.  “What’s going on?”

“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted.  He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him.  He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place.  He’d begged her to stay.  She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face.  “I wish you would stop saying that.  I hit you.  I gave you a black eye.  Nothing about that is alright—”

“Effie—”

“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”

“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately.  They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers.  He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent.  A wave of peace flowed throughout her body.  He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched.  His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared.  His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had.  She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time.  He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face.  His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man.  Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies.  Maybe it was something else.  “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.  

“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low.  “I’m not soft.”

“Yes, you are.  You are for me,” she clarified.  “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt.  I don’t want that to change.”

He realized what she meant now.  It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie.  “It won’t,” he asserted.  “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

Matthew couldn’t take it anymore.  They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage.  “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk?  Properly?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes.  When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately.  He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was.  Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment.  But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.

He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word.  Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs.  He was still almost at eye level with her.  Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table.  He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly.  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What happened that night?  After you punched Abraham?”

Effie was silent for a moment.  “I…I—I got pregnant.”

The words stabbed Matthew in the heart.  He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back.  “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said.  “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I scared you.  And I promised I’d never do that.  And it brought up bad memories…”

Effie was shaking her head.  “You didn’t scare me.  My mind did.  My mind thought you were Abraham.  But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that.  You don’t scare me at all.  Not even a bit.  Not like Abraham scared me.”

Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying.  To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more.  He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while.  It’d take him a while to get over it.  “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to?  Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever?  Or did you actually want to?” he asked.

“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation.  Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest.  “I wanted to, and with you.  Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk.  “It was you.  And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.  

“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.

Effie nodded.  “At least not yet.  I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet.  I’m not ready.  And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for.  There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”

Matthew nodded his head.  He understood completely.  “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.

“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world.  She knew Matthew would never expect that of her.  “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that.  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again.  “You’re already a brand new person, Effie.  When I come back you’ll just be wiser.  Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”

Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now.  “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.

This time, he looked up at her.  He knew what was coming.

This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes.  All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.

[ahockeywrites]

4 times you stayed at his + the 1 time he stayed at yours - Matthew Tkachuk

A/N: Hi everyone! I had this idea and within 48 hours I had it fully written. I hope you enjoy this 5k of fluffy Matty! Thanks to @calgarycanuck for proof reading this!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, explicit fem!reader

One

It was a typical Saturday night for the Calgary Flames who were celebrating a big win over the Canucks. Your best friend, Matthew Tkachuk, had invited you and your roommate out to come to the bars. Jess had been quite friendly with Noah Hanifin, and you just hoped they wouldn’t be using your apartment as a place to spend the night.

You tugged down the sleeve of your deep green bodysuit and looked across to the bar, hoping to see Matthew ordering you another rum and coke but instead saw him surrounded by 5 beautiful women. Women who you thought were more beautiful than you. As you let out a small sigh, you turned to Lauren and struck up a conversation with her. She had persuaded you to join her for a hot yoga class followed by a brunch in the next few days to catch up properly as you had been working so much. The friends you had made through meeting Matthew were amazing, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that the feelings you had for him were slightly more than friendly. 

“I’m gonna go and get myself a drink,” you announced to no one in particular. As you pushed your way to the bar, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist. “Hey you,” you heard the voice of Noah in your ear. “You want a drink?” he asked. You nodded and asked him for a double dark rum and coke. If Matthew was busy with girls, you thought, you might as well let someone else get you a drink.

Noah passed you the finished drink and you took a large gulp of it. “Please tell me this isn’t a bribe so I can let you and Jess go and fuck in our apartment?” you groaned, figuring out what he was doing. Noah did this often; when he wanted you to take Jess out of the apartment to set up for a dinner date or more often than not when he wanted the apartment to be empty so the two of them could spend time wrapped up in each other.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault she’s so hot,” he complained. You rolled your eyes telling him that you’d find somewhere to crash. Usually, it was the Giordano’s spare room, but after you quickly scanned the bar, you noticed they had already left. It turns out, the only people left at the bar were Matthew and his entourage, Jess, Noah and you. You had no choice but to try and pry him away from the girls surrounding him.

You finished your drink and made your way over to where he was sitting at the bar. As you tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to see you and offered you a huge smile. Matthew got up out of his seat, pushing the girls away and gave you a large hug. “How are you going?” he asked, genuinely as he hadn’t seen you much during the night. A few of the girls gave you a dirty look, but you ignored them knowing that Matthew would rather spend quality time with you.

“I’m good, just not sure where I’m gonna be sleeping tonight,” you mentioned hoping he would get the hint.

“Noah and Jess going at it like rabbits again?” he questioned, knowing what you had to deal with. You nodded and told him that Gio had already gone home so using their spare room was out of the equation. “Just stay at mine, it's no bother,” he said with a smile. “You wanna go now?” he asked.

Matthew had never offered you his spare room to stay at, no matter how close the two of you were. Or was it that Lauren always took you under her wing and he wasn’t able to offer you the room? He thought that it was a simple offer but you were freaking out inside. The not so little crush you were harbouring on him was going to be made more obvious, surely?

“Yeah, I’m working an afternoon shift tomorrow so kinda need the sleep,” you replied. 

“Sure, lemme close up my tab and order an Uber,” he smiled back. Matthew reached over to grab the attention of the closest bartender and passed across his credit card. He pulled you into his grasp to make sure you didn’t blend into the crowd. As he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, he led the two of you to a slightly less crowded area so he could easily order the car home.

The outside air was cold, and Matthew noticed that you began to shiver as the wind picked up. Quickly, he slid his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders, “the car is only a minute away,” he informed you as you tried to warm up under his jacket. It wasn’t like Matthew was warm in just his jeans and t-shirt, but he knew his mother would kill him if he didn’t even offer you his jacket.

Matthew didn’t know why he just got up and left the girls at the bar as he was sure one of them would have come home with him. The friendship the two of you shared was strong and slightly flirty, but he also knew that the girls who were at the bar all arrived together and if he didn’t take you home safely, he would be worrying about it all night. For his sanity, this was what he kept telling himself, not that, god forbid, his feelings for you exceeded the bounds of friendship.

As if the car he ordered knew he needed to stop thinking, it arrived stopping directly in front of the pair of you. The driver lowered the window and Matthew checked it was for him and going to the right place. Once he was sure this was actually for the two of you, he opened the door for you allowing you to slide into the back seats. You shuffled your way across to let Matthew have some space. The drive back to his place was short, but he never let go of your hand, even letting his thumb brush over your knuckles occasionally. It felt more than friendly to the both of you.

The car abruptly stopped outside of Matthew’s apartment building and he jumped out to open the car door for you. It was strange, his behaviour, you thought, but maybe it was because you had never stayed the night in his guest room. He greeted the concierge in the lobby and directed you towards the elevator.

You had been to Matthew’s apartment before, but not like this. You knew he lived on the 35th floor and he had an amazing view of Calgary out of his bedroom window, but you had probably spent a total of one hour there, aside from the pre-drinks he occasionally held. He led you into his apartment quickly and stood in the kitchen, unsure what he should do. “I don’t know what you usually wear to sleep, but I can grab a shirt for you? And I think Taryn left makeup wipes in the spare bathroom when she was last here?” he seemed to be questioning himself more than asking you. One of his arms reached up to scratch his neck to add to the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “a shirt would be great thanks.” Matthew pointed you in the direction of the spare bathroom and you started taking your makeup off. You looked at yourself in the mirror and just hoped that Matthew wasn’t gonna see what you looked like barefaced. In your mind, he couldn’t see you without your additional layer of confidence. You walked back through to the spare room to see him sitting on the side of the bed with a shirt in his hands. “Urm, I hope this is comfy enough,” he stuttered, unsure of what he should say.

“Thanks, Matty,” you replied, taking the shirt from him but not wanting to undress in front of him. He stood quiet for a second before realising he should leave and let you sleep.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well,” he said, bringing you in for a hug.

“Goodnight Matty,” you replied.

You walked back into the bathroom to change out of your restricting jeans and bodysuit to put on the soft shirt. Initially, you didn’t notice what he had given you, but when you looked in the mirror you saw the logo of the London Knights. And sure enough, on the back was the number 7 and the name Tkachuk. You laughed softly, he knew you weren’t a Flames fan so he would never be able to get you to wear his current jersey, but this was a step closer to him getting his best friend in his jersey.

Two

He didn’t mean to let you stay over again, you were just so tired after being his plus one to a Flames event. It wasn’t like you had found the event boring at all, just after an afternoon shift at the restaurant, followed by getting ready with Lauren and Jess and then having to control Matthew at the charity event, you were tired and ready to sleep.

Matthew had to almost drag you out of the Uber because you had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car. “Y/N, c’mon, just a little further then you can crash for the night,” he encouraged you. You lifted your arms up, indicating that you wanted him to carry you up to his apartment. He groaned but lifted you up to carry you bridal style through his apartment complex. Somehow, you had fallen back asleep in the elevator on the way up and he had to try and open his apartment door without waking you up. He was successful and gently walked through his apartment to lay you down on his guest bed. 

It took a few moments for him to remember where the makeup wipes were but as soon as he figured it out he went to find them and started slowly removing your makeup. He thought he was doing a good job until he figured out you had put on a pair of fake eyelashes. There was no way he would be able to take these off without waking you up or hurting you and he decided that the former would be the safest option.

“Hey,” Matthew whispered softly whilst gently shaking your shoulder. You stirred slightly in your sleep so he shook your shoulder again with a little more force. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to see a shirtless Matthew with a slightly dirty makeup wipe in one hand and a confused look on his face.

“You didn’t have to take my makeup off for me,” you spoke with a lot of sleep in your voice. 

“It’s okay,” he replied, “I was almost there but you’ve got these things stuck to your eyes and I really don’t want to hurt you.” You laughed having forgotten that you had put falsies on and told him to wait there and you’d try and take them off without your usual products. Luckily, Matthew had been able to detach the inner corner of both sets of lashes and you quickly pulled them off. It was slightly painful as you didn’t use your normal cleanser to help them detach, but they were removed and that was the main thing. You quickly disposed of them in the trash can in the bathroom and saw Matthew waiting on the edge of the bed with a shirt for you to wear. He handed it across and let you go back into the bathroom to change into it.

“Matty,” you began, “do you still have the makeup wipes out there?” You wanted to take off the rest of your eye makeup but were pretty certain that he had them somewhere near him.

“Yeah I do, come back out here so I can take the rest of it off for you,” he replied. You were slightly confused but went back through to sit opposite Matthew on the bed. He tugged you so you were straddling his lap and started removing the rest of your makeup. He was so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice you placing your hands on his hips to keep yourself still. If you didn’t do this, you were almost certain his hockey strength would have sent you flying. 

You asked him if he was done and he nodded telling you to get comfy in bed. Obliging, you made your way under the comforter and almost instantly you fell asleep. Matthew walked back in to see you completely knocked out and went to brush some hair off of your face. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered.

Three

Best friends stay over at each other’s houses, right? You convinced yourself that staying at Matthew’s house whilst he was on a week-long road trip was okay, simply because he had a better kitchen than you and his bathroom had a bath compared to just a shower in your apartment.

Matthew had given you his spare key to use when you needed to go in and check on the houseplants his mother had given him as an apartment warming gift. You did question why Chantal had given him a selection of plants but you didn’t complain as it meant you could take advantage of the amazing kitchen set up he had. As you dragged your bags filled with baking ingredients into the apartment, you noticed that there was a note left on the kitchen counter. It read:

Y/N, thanks for watering the plants on this roadie! I may have taken the extra brownies you made for me on this trip because the boys wanted something to remind them of Calgary. Stay safe, Matt :)

You smiled, knowing that the team always devoured any baked goods you brought along and you had even helped some of the children who were at the events with decorating fairy cakes. The kids adored you to the point some of the parents would get you to babysit them when they wanted a date night and how could you resist? It seemed like each of the children had you wrapped around their little finger as you found it hard to put them to bed at their usual bedtime as all they wanted to do was something creative.

The memories you had made with the children had to be pushed aside as you were here to bake, and you were unsure of how much you were going to make. First, you put the milk and butter in the fridge to make sure it was cold and unpacked everything else onto the kitchen counter. Then, you grabbed your laptop out of your backpack and loaded up the recipes you were planning on making. A batch of chocolate chip cookies, a tray of brownies and an apple pie was the bare minimum you wanted to make. You hoped that there would be enough time to make a set of 24 blueberry muffins too but would be happy to snack on the blueberries throughout the day. 

You fiddled with the dials on the oven to allow it to preheat and connected your phone to the fancy speaker system Matthew had in his house. The playlist you chose was one you and Matthew had curated to be perfect for relaxing days and it was exactly what you needed on your day off. The music allowed you to become lost in the baking and you didn’t realise the time was so late until you looked out of the large windows. The sun had set so you took a quick look at your watch to notice that it was nearing 9 in the evening. How you had become so engrossed in the cooking was a mystery to you as this seldom happened.

Notifications lit up your phone and you chose to reply to Matthew first, letting him know that his plants had been watered and you had even bought some fertiliser to help them grow. Then you dropped a quick text to Jess letting her know you were just going to stay at Matthew’s apartment for the night rather than risking an Uber alone at night. Sometimes you hated being a woman and not trusting society but you knew that Matthew wouldn’t mind you staying at his place as long as he knew you were safe.

It seemed as if your tiredness hit you quickly because once you ordered some food for a late dinner and had watched the Flames game, you were half asleep on the couch in the living room. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the couch and removed the blankets you had been hiding under to the other couch. The walk to the spare room seemed too natural and you noticed that there was a small collection of skincare products sitting on the counter next to the sink. You realised that they were minis of the same things you used. Matthew couldn’t have gone out of his way to figure out what you used and get some for you in case you stayed over again, could he? It seemed like something he could do but you thought he would do that for someone he considered to be more than a friend, unless? No, you thought to yourself, he couldn’t like you in the same way you liked him. 

Shaking your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, you started to cleanse your face and then add the moisturiser on top. Once you had finished your nighttime routine, you walked through to Matthew’s bedroom and his closet to try and find something to wear to bed. The shirt you were looking for was the same one you had worn the first two times you had stayed over at his place. It was slightly hidden behind a few pairs of jeans and the occasional St Louis t-shirt but you found it and it was just as soft as you remembered. You slipped back into his spare room and quickly changed into the shirt.

There was just one more thing you needed to do and that was to box up all the baked goods you had created earlier. You made your way back to the kitchen and found the Tupperware you brought along solely for this purpose, then popped them on the kitchen island with a note for Matthew telling him that you were in his spare room and that he could eat as many of the snacks as his meal plan allowed him to. You also sent him a text warning him that you were staying at his in the spare room for the night as you didn’t want to head back to your place by yourself in the dark and he should be quiet if he arrives back before you were awake. He did reply, but much later so you were already asleep.

Matthew gently opened the front door to his apartment, not wanting to accidentally wake you from your sleep, seeing as it was 5 am. He placed his equipment bag down in the hallway and took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of many different baked goods. Even if it was 5 am, there was no way in hell he was going to turn down something you had made. He waltzed his way across to the kitchen and was greeted by multiple boxes, each with a label on informing him what was inside each of them. A small giggle left his mouth as he read the note that you had left on top of the boxes and he chose to have a piece of the brownie before he went to check on you in the spare room.

The large comforter engulfed your body and he noticed how at peace you looked. Matthew wondered if you would ever be the one he came home to after a long road trip.

Four

6-0 loss. 10 minutes in the penalty box. Ejected from the game. This was the worst game you had ever seen from Matthew and knew that he would need space, so The text you received from him was unexpected.

Come over

Short and straight to the point. You were unsure what to expect but replied saying you were catching an Uber and were gonna be over in about 15 minutes.

Knocking on the door felt more appropriate rather than using the key he had gifted to you to use as you didn’t want to walk in to see him destroying plates and glasses. As the door swung open, a dishevelled Matthew silently greeted you. He was shirtless, displaying the bruises he had obtained from a night of hockey. You followed him into his place and went to get two glasses of water because you knew that he wouldn’t have drunk anything for himself.

The sounds of muffled crying filled the apartment and it tugged on your heartstrings. The feelings that you had developed for the St Louis native made you almost drop the glasses, but you were able to make your way back to the family room. 

Matthew was curled up, in the foetus position, on the largest couch. Tears flowed from his eyes, he was feeling emotions that he rarely felt after a game. He was a player who left all his feelings from a game on the ice, but it was impossible to do this when you’ve been ejected from a game. 

He knew you wouldn’t turn down an invitation to see him because he had noticed the extra time you spent at his apartment. But he thought it was for the kitchen, not the feelings you had for him.

It wasn’t like Matthew didn’t have feelings for you, ever since the first night you had spent at his place, he knew he wanted to be more than friends with you. But he was respectful, he knew how he would want someone to treat Taryn, so he treated you the same way. He assumed that you wanted to be no more than friends, and he was happy with that. 

The advice you gave him, the jokes you made (often at the expense of his teammates), just the company you offered him when he needed it. He couldn’t lose that, you were too good of a friend for him.

You placed down the drinks on the coffee table and just looked at him. He looked broken on the outside and it just made you think how broken he must be on the inside. It wasn’t a good game for the entire team, but his individual performance wasn’t brilliant either. Matthew was competitive, anyone who had ever seen him knew that.

“Matty,” you said. There it was, he thought, the one nickname that no one else could call him except you. 

You ran your hands through his hair, letting his tears continue to flow. It was hard for you, as a friend, to see someone this close to you go through this. But you knew that he needed to let his feelings out, and just be there for him when he needed you, whenever that was.

His right hand reached for one of yours and you offered it to him. It grounded him, knowing that he was safe in his house, safe with you, safe with his emotions. “I played shit, I don’t deserve to play in the NHL, let alone have the ‘A’ on my chest,” he spoke aimlessly. 

“Matty,” you consoled him, “one game does not define you as a player, you as a team member.” After this, you pulled him into your body, hoping that he would accept it. You remembered that he liked hugs when he wasn’t feeling amazing, so you knew it wouldn’t be pushing his boundaries. 

He continued to cry, wetting your T-shirt in the process, but he needed this. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping that wouldn’t be too far.

“Y/N,” Matthew sniffled, “I just wanna be held as I sleep.” 

“Of course, anything for you,” you replied softly. You gently unwrapped yourself from around him and offered him your hand to walk to his bedroom. He followed you and sat down on the side of the bed. “Just gotta brush your teeth, Matty,” you encouraged. He sighed but followed you to his en-suite.

“I’ll let you brush your teeth, I’m gonna find something to wear to bed,” you informed him. He pouted slightly but let your past. You were familiar with his closet and the exact shirt you were looking for. A London Knights game-worn jersey, it was soft and perfect for sleeping in.

It wasn’t the first time Matthew had seen you in his jersey, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time. He smiled to himself, the first time he had been genuinely happy all night. He tried to stop you from going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off but you were able to make your way past.

You tried to be quick with your skincare routine, somehow you had a bottle of everything you needed in Matthew’s bathroom, but knew you couldn’t rush any of the steps. As you were applying your final product, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. “I thought you were gonna be quick,” Matthew complained as he nuzzled his head into your neck.

“I was trying,” you replied as you turned to face him. He was so close that your foreheads were touching and you were able to look directly into his eyes. “We should-,” you started.

“Bed, yes,” he finished for you. All you wanted to do was kiss him, but you couldn’t take advantage of him when he wasn’t feeling good. He unwrapped his arms from you and offered you his hand so you could walk back to his bedroom. Matthew refused to let go of your hand as you both got into bed, and you allowed him to be the little spoon because he needed to be in someone’s embrace tonight. 

“Goodnight Matty,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you as he was already asleep.

plus one

It was a drunk mistake that should never have happened he said, but nothing he said could prepare you to see photos of your now ex-boyfriend making out with some random girl when he had been on a ‘work trip’. Jess tried her best to help you by bringing you ice cream and watching shitty television with you but there was only so much she could do when Noah came over to take her out on a date. You were happy for her, you really were but seeing someone happy in a relationship was not what you needed right now. 

You allowed yourself to think over the good times you had with him, but they were so few and far between. He had pulled you away from the friends you had made out of the Flames players and they all became worried about you and suddenly you realised how toxic the short relationship was. Quickly, you scrambled to find your phone and noticed it had been two weeks since you had last texted Lauren when usually you would be texting daily and you hadn’t spoken to Matthew in three weeks. Normally, it was common for the two of you to physically see each other at least every day.

But then it clicked, your ex must have been jealous of the friendship you had with Matthew and his teammates. You understood slightly as you did have a crush on Matthew but that died down when you started dating him. It was a trust issue, he didn’t trust that you would stay just friends with them so he had to pull you away. It was slightly ironic, how he didn’t trust you as he thought you might cheat on him, but then he went and cheated on you.

There was only one person who could make you feel better and he would understand how shitty your ex was and how you needed to rebuild the friendship with him. As soon as you sent him a message, he was quick to reply saying that he was on his way to your apartment with Chinese food and a pint of your favourite ice cream. It was at this you noticed the butterflies forming in your stomach, the crush you had never went away, did it? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a knock on your apartment door and went over to open it. As soon as you saw Matthew’s face you broke down in tears again. Quickly, he brought you into a tight hug, somehow not dropping the food he had brought. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s head to the couch and enjoy the takeout I’ve got?” he asked, unsure if he was asking you or himself. Your head might have been pretty much attached to his chest but he could feel you gently nod in response. 

He offered you his hand and walked towards the couch. You sat down first and he started unpacking the food onto the coffee table. “Just sit back and find something to watch,” he instructed. You followed as he said and he quickly left to grab some cutlery from the kitchen. You flicked through Netflix and settled on Brooklyn 99 because it could just stay on in the background. Sighing, you picked up your phone and reread the DM you had received from the girl’s best friend. You didn’t notice Matthew standing behind you until he picked your phone out of your hands and put it in his pocket. “Tonight, we’re gonna watch Jake Peralta attempt to solve some crimes, enjoy the takeout, maybe drink some wine, and forget about that asshole,” Matthew affirmed. You sighed again but knew that he would be getting his way. 

Matthew passed you a plate and some cutlery before disappearing back into the kitchen to collect a bottle of your favourite wine and some wine glasses. He sat down next to you on the couch and poured two generous glasses of wine. As soon as the food was opened, it was like the two of you hadn’t spent any time away from each other. The conversation flowed perfectly, as did the wine and after two episodes of B99, the two of you were slightly wine drunk, which you continued to tell Matthew was the best type of drunk.

“I missed you, Matty,” you admitted. He sent you a soft smile but knew that he felt the exact same way. Your ex was toxic for you and he was glad that you had gotten out of that relationship. The smile you had on your face was real and one of the purest he had ever seen in his entire life. Your happiness radiated to him too and he started laughing as you began to make silly faces at him.

You were lucky that Matthew had seen you wine drunk before and knew you were getting close to crashing and needing to be near a bed was almost a necessity. He wasn’t sure how, but he was able to get you to your bathroom, even as you were stumbling the entire way there. There was no makeup on your face so he quickly used a face cloth to clean your skin and was able to find some moisturiser to use on both of your faces. It was the most genuine smile he had seen you ever have in a long time and he was able to adore your beauty. 

“‘M sleepy,” you groaned, giving Matthew a small shove to try and encourage him to move out of your way.

“I know babe,” he replied, not noticing the term of endearment he had used for the first time. “You just need to put something on that you can sleep in.” You nodded your head and dramatically walked to your dresser and pulled out a matching set of short black satin pyjamas. It wasn’t a pair you usually chose to wear, but they looked nice. Clearly, your drunk head was trying to impress Matthew. You jumped directly on top of the soft comforter and didn’t care that you should have been underneath the blanket because you fell asleep almost immediately. 

Matthew came out to see you sleeping softly on the bed and gently picked you up to place you under the duvet and onto the mattress. A soft kiss from him was pressed to your temple and you subconsciously smiled in your sleep. He moved around to the other side of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, hoping this was the last night you were in his arms but not his girlfriend.