emily

Your families had been trying to get you and Kaiden together for years.

It had started when you were teenagers, back when every family gathering involved someone making a joke about how cute the two of you would look together.

At first, it had been harmless.

His mother would make sure the only empty chair at dinner was beside Kaiden. Your father always seemed to need Kaiden’s help with something whenever you were home. Your mothers exchanged suspicious looks every time you laughed at one of his jokes, and both families had developed the irritating habit of disappearing whenever you and Kaiden ended up in the same room.

They had never been subtle.

“You know Kaiden is still single,” your mother would mention casually. You would look up from your phone. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

“He’s such a nice boy.”

“He pushed me into a lake when I was twelve.”

“You threw his shoes into the water first.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Meanwhile, Kaiden received the same treatment from his side of the family.

Your father regularly informed him that you were too busy to meet anyone decent. His mother kept inviting you to dinners whenever he came home during the offseason. His grandmother had once asked whether you preferred gold or silver jewelry because she wanted to know what kind of engagement ring Kaiden should buy.

Kaiden had nearly choked on his drink. You had laughed until your stomach hurt. Neither of you admitted that the idea of being together had never felt as ridiculous as you pretended it did.

You had known Kaiden for almost your entire life.

You knew he rubbed the back of his neck whenever he was nervous. He knew you hated tomatoes but somehow loved ketchup. You could recognize his mood simply by the way he walked into a room, and he always knew when you were upset even when you insisted you were fine.

He had been there through awkward childhood phases, graduations, terrible relationships and family emergencies. You had been there through junior hockey, the draft and every major transition that followed.

But timing had never worked in your favor

Whenever Kaiden was home, you were dating someone, whenever you were single, he was living in another city or too focused on hockey to allow himself to think about anything else.

So you both became very good at pretending.

Pretending your hugs did not last too long, pretending you never noticed when someone flirted with the other, pretending you did not compare every person you dated to each other, pretending your families were completely wrong.

That particular summer, however, neither of you had anyone else.

And your families noticed immediately.

The invitation to your cousin’s engagement party arrived near the beginning of the offseason. She had rented a large venue outside the city, and although she claimed the celebration would be intimate, nearly a hundred guests were expected.

Your parents were supposed to drive with you.

Twenty minutes before you needed to leave, your mother suddenly appeared in the doorway of your bedroom with one hand pressed dramatically to her forehead “I have a terrible headache,” she announced.

You slowly lowered the mascara wand you were holding “A headache.”

“Yes.”

“The same headache you had last month when Kaiden’s family invited us to dinner?”

She ignored the accusation “Kaiden offered to drive you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did he?”

“His mother called.”

“Of course she did.” When you walked outside, Kaiden was leaning against his car.

He wore dark trousers and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, as though he had run his fingers through it repeatedly while waiting.

You stopped for half a second, it was enough for him to notice. His mouth lifted into a small smile “You ready?”

“You volunteered for this?”

“My mom volunteered me.”

“That sounds more believable.”

He opened the passenger door, you stared at him suspiciously “What?” he asked.

“Our mothers are going to be unbearable after this.”

“They’re already unbearable.”

The drive to the venue was easy, it was always easy with Kaiden. Music played quietly while you talked about his season, your job and the strange little changes that had happened while he had been away.

Eventually, the conversation returned to your families “They’re planning our wedding again,” you told him.

Kaiden glanced toward you. “Again?”

“Your aunt thinks we should get married somewhere in the mountains.”

“She mentioned that.”

“You didn’t tell her to stop?”

“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

You stared at him, he managed to keep a straight face for three seconds before laughing “You’re terrible.”

“You’re the one who told my grandma we would name our first daughter after her.”

“She cornered me.”

“You gave her hope.”

“I panicked.”

By the time you arrived, you were still laughing, your mother, whose headache had apparently disappeared quickly enough for her to attend after all, watched you enter together with an expression of poorly concealed satisfaction.

“She looks healthy,” Kaiden murmured.

“It’s a miracle.”

For the first hour, the two of you remained close without intentionally doing so.

When Kaiden went to the bar, he brought back your usual drink without asking. You fixed the folded collar of his shirt while he listened to one of your uncles discuss hockey. His hand rested against the small of your back whenever the room became crowded, guiding you around people instinctively.

Your families noticed everything. You ignored them. Eventually, Kaiden was pulled away by several relatives who wanted to ask him questions about Montreal and the upcoming season.

You found your cousin, congratulated her properly and then joined a group of old school friends near the bar.

That was where the man approached you. You vaguely recognized him as a friend of your cousin’s fiancé, though you could not remember his name.

At first, he seemed harmless, he complimented your dress and asked how you knew the couple. You answered politely, then he moved closer, you stepped back “Can I get you another drink?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Come on. Just one.”

“I already have one.”

He smiled in a way that made discomfort crawl along your skin “Then maybe we can go somewhere quieter.”

“I’m not interested.” You tried to move around him, he stepped sideways and blocked your path. “Don’t be like that.”

Your polite expression disappeared “Move.” Instead, he reached for your wrist, you jerked your hand away “Don’t touch me.”

His face hardened slightly “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“And I said no.” The room was loud. People were laughing and dancing only a few feet away, but no one seemed to notice the growing tension. The man leaned closer “You came with that hockey player, right?” You did not answer.

“He’s not your boyfriend.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“So you’re single.”

“That does not mean I’m interested.” You tried to move again, he caught your wrist properly this time, his fingers tightening when you attempted to pull away “Let go of me.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re making a scene.” Your stomach dropped, then his hand was suddenly ripped away. Kaiden appeared between you so quickly that you barely processed where he had come from.

He pushed the man’s arm back and positioned himself fully in front of you “She told you to let her go.”

Kaiden’s voice was low and controlled, that control was more frightening than shouting would have been. The man straightened. “We were talking.”

“No. You were harassing her.”

“She can speak for herself.”

“She already did.” Kaiden stepped closer. “You decided not to listen.”

The man scoffed “What are you, her bodyguard?”

Kaiden’s jaw tightened “I’m the person giving you one chance to walk away.”

The man glanced around. A few nearby guests had begun to notice. He looked back at Kaiden and forced a laugh “You hockey guys really think you can do whatever you want.”

“This has nothing to do with hockey.” Kaiden’s shoulders were rigid “It has to do with you putting your hands on someone after she told you not to.”

The man took a step forward. For one awful moment, you thought he might try to provoke Kaiden into a fight. Kaiden did not back away, your cousin’s fiancé and two other guests hurried over before the situation could escalate “What’s going on?” your cousin’s fiancé asked.

“This guy needs to leave,” Kaiden said.

The man shook his head. “He’s overreacting because I was talking to her.”

“You grabbed me,” you said, your voice shaking despite your effort to control it. “Twice.”

Your cousin’s fiancé looked at him in disbelief “Are you serious?”

“She was flirting with me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Kaiden turned his head slightly toward you. His expression softened for only a second before becoming cold again when he faced the man “She told you no.”

The man muttered something under his breath.

Kaiden took another step “What did you say?”

“Kaiden,” you whispered.

He immediately stopped, not because he was afraid of the other man. Because you had asked him to, your cousin’s fiancé pointed toward the exit “You need to go.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He walked away, escorted by another guest. Kaiden watched him until he disappeared through the doors then he turned toward you. Every trace of anger fell from his face “Are you okay?”

You nodded too quickly “I’m fine.”

His eyes moved over you carefully.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Your wrist.” You looked down, faint red marks were already forming where the man had grabbed you. Kaiden saw them, his expression changed again “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“He left marks on you.”

“Kaiden.”

His breathing was uneven, you reached for his hand. The moment your fingers touched his, some of the tension left his shoulders “Take me outside,” you said quietly.

He nodded.

Kaiden guided you through the crowd, keeping himself between you and everyone else. His hand remained at your back, protective but gentle, as though he was afraid even the slightest pressure might upset you.

Once you reached the patio, he led you past the other guests and toward a quieter area near the edge of the property.

The cold air struck your bare arms, without a word, Kaiden removed his jacket and placed it around your shoulders “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

Your hands were trembling, you shoved them into the sleeves so he would not notice. He noticed anyway.

Kaiden stepped closer “Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No.”

“Your cousin?”

“No.”

“Do you want to leave?”

You hesitated “Yes.”

“Okay.” There was no disappointment or argument.

He did not tell you that you should stay or that the night did not have to be ruined. He simply took out his phone and sent a message to his mother telling her the two of you were leaving.

The entire drive home, Kaiden kept glancing toward you. You rested your head against the window, staring into the darkness. He did not pressure you to speak, he turned the music off and drove with both hands tightly wrapped around the wheel.

When you arrived at your house, the windows were dark. Your parents had remained at the party. Kaiden parked but made no move to leave “I can go inside alone,” you said.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I know that too.” You looked at him, he finally turned off the engine.

“I’m not leaving you alone unless you ask me to.”

Something in your chest loosened.

“Come inside.” Kaiden followed you into the house, the moment the front door closed, your composure broke. The fear you had been pushing down since the man grabbed you finally rose to the surface.

Your breath caught, Kaiden froze “Hey.”

You covered your face with your hands “I’m okay,” you insisted, even as your voice cracked.

“You don’t have to be okay.”

That was all it took, Kaiden moved toward you slowly, giving you time to step away. Instead, you walked into him, his arms wrapped around you immediately. You buried your face against his chest and started crying.

Kaiden held you without speaking, one of his hands cradled the back of your head while the other moved gently along your spine.

He did not tell you to calm down, he did not promise that nothing bad had happened. He simply let you shake against him until the worst of it passed.

“I hated that,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I kept telling him no.”

“I know.”

“And he looked at me like it didn’t matter.”

Kaiden’s arms tightened “It mattered.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt “I felt stupid.”

“No.” His answer was immediate and firm “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have walked away sooner.”

“He blocked you.”

“I should have called someone.”

“You shouldn’t have needed to.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, Kaiden’s eyes were glassy “You’re upset,” you whispered.

“I saw him grab you.” His voice broke “And for a second, I couldn’t get through the crowd.” you stared at him “I could see you trying to pull away, and I couldn’t reach you fast enough.”

“You did reach me.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

“I would have figured it out.”

“I know.” He cupped your face carefully “I know you can take care of yourself. I’m not trying to make you feel helpless.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I never want you to feel like you have to handle something like that alone.” Your heart began beating harder, Kaiden looked away, running one hand over the back of his neck. It was the movement he always made when he was nervous “I’m about to say something, and I know this is probably the worst possible moment.”

Your voice was quiet “Say it.”

He exhaled “Our families have been trying to set us up for years.”

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped you “That’s not exactly a secret.”

“I’ve spent all that time pretending it annoyed me.”

“It does annoy you.”

“No.” He looked directly at you “What annoys me is that they figured it out before I was ready to admit it.” Your breath caught, Kaiden stepped closer. “I have feelings for you.”

You stared at him.

“I’ve had them for years.”

“Kaiden…”

“I tried to explain them away.” His words came faster now, as though stopping would make him lose the courage to continue. “I told myself I cared because we grew up together. I told myself I was protective because our families are close. I told myself I only noticed the people you dated because everyone talked about them.”

His jaw tightened “But every time I came home, you were the first person I wanted to see.”

You could not speak.

“I hate hearing about your dates,” he admitted. “I hate watching someone else touch you. I hate leaving because I’m always afraid I’ll come home and you’ll have found someone who gives you everything I was too scared to offer.”

“Why were you scared?”

“Because you matter too much.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me.” He gave a humorless laugh “If I asked you out and you said no, I wouldn’t just lose someone I liked. I could lose my best friend. I could ruin every family holiday. I could make you uncomfortable around me.”

“You wouldn’t lose me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Kaiden’s eyes searched yours, you reached for his hand. His fingers closed around yours immediately “Our families weren’t the only people pretending,” you confessed. He went completely still “I liked you too.” his lips parted “For years,” you continued. “I just thought you never saw me that way.”

“I always saw you that way.”

“You dated other people.”

“So did you.”

“Because you never asked me.”

“You were always with someone.”

“Because you never asked me,” you repeated.

A disbelieving smile slowly appeared on his face “We wasted years.”

“We’re idiots.”

He laughed softly, then his gaze dropped toward your mouth “Can I kiss you?” The question was so gentle that it nearly made you cry again “Yes.”

Kaiden lifted his free hand to your cheek, he waited, giving you one last chance to change your mind. You leaned closer and his lips met yours softly. The kiss was slow and careful, without pressure or urgency. It carried years of restrained affection and all the words neither of you had been brave enough to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours “Are you sure?” he whispered. You kissed him again, that was your answer.

Kaiden stayed with you for the rest of the night.

He found an ice pack for your wrist and wrapped it in a dish towel before holding it carefully against the red marks. He made tea even though neither of you drank more than a few sips. When your parents arrived home and learned what had happened, Kaiden explained everything while you sat beside him with your hand in his.

Your father wanted to return to the venue immediately, your mother cried.

Kaiden never let go of you.

The following morning, the man attempted to contact your cousin and claimed the entire situation had been misunderstood.

Kaiden was furious, your cousin, however, had already spoken with several witnesses.

The man was no longer welcome at any future family event. When he sent you a message accusing you of exaggerating what happened, Kaiden saw your face change while you read it.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important.”

Kaiden held out his hand, you gave him the phone. His jaw clenched as he read the message “He does not get to do this.”

“Kaiden, don’t respond.”

“I’m not going to threaten him.”

“That is not as reassuring as you think.”

He looked at you “I’m not going to do anything that makes this harder for you.” his voice softened “But he does not get access to you anymore.”

Together, you blocked the number.

Kaiden checked your doors before leaving that evening, even though both of you knew the man had no idea where you lived. Then he kissed your forehead and asked if he could take you on a real date the following night.

“You mean the party wasn’t our first date?”

“You cried on my shirt.”

“You confessed your love to me.”

“I said I had feelings for you.”

“You said you hated everyone I dated.”

“I was emotionally compromised.”

You smiled “Yes, you can take me on a date.”

Your families found out almost immediately, neither of you officially told them. Kaiden’s mother noticed him smiling at his phone during breakfast. Your mother caught you wearing his jacket three days after the party.

Within a week, both families behaved as though they had personally achieved something extraordinary “We always knew,” your mother said proudly.

“You did not know,” you argued.

“We absolutely knew.”

“You interfered until something happened.”

“Same result.”

Dating Kaiden felt strangely natural. There was no uncomfortable stage of learning how to fit into each other’s lives because you already knew them by heart.

He knew when you needed space and when you needed him to hold you. You knew which losses would stay with him longer than he admitted and which jokes could pull him out of a bad mood.

The friendship remained beneath everything. It made the love feel safer, stronger.

Within two months, you were spending almost every night together. By the third month, Kaiden had given you a key to his place. By the fourth, you had stopped pretending the small collection of clothes in his closet was temporary.

Everyone teased you about moving quickly, neither of you cared. You had not really started from the beginning, you had started with years of history. Years of knowing each other. Years of trust.

Five months after the party, Kaiden took you back to the lake where you had spent most of your childhood summers. It was late in the evening, and the shoreline was quiet “You’re acting strange,” you told him.

“I’m not.”

“You’ve touched the back of your neck at least ten times.” He immediately dropped his hand, you stopped walking “Kaiden.”

He took a breath. Then he lowered himself onto one knee, your hands flew toward your mouth. For once, you were completely speechless.

Kaiden looked terrified “I know this is fast,” he began. You laughed through the tears already filling your eyes “Our families are going to be unbearable.”

“They already helped me choose the ring.”

“Traitor.”

“They threatened me.”

“Your grandmother?”

“She’s terrifying.” You laughed again, Kaiden’s expression softened “I know it has only been five months,” he continued. “But I’ve known you my entire life.”

The humor disappeared from his face.

“I already know who you are when you’re happy, when you’re angry and when you’re scared. I know how you take your coffee. I know you steal the blankets and deny it. I know you pretend not to cry during movies even when you’re obviously crying.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“And I know that loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He opened the small ring box “I wasted years being afraid that telling you how I felt would ruin what we had.” His voice trembled “I don’t want to waste another day being afraid.”

You covered your mouth with one hand.

“Marry me.” He smiled nervously “Please.”

You nodded before he had even finished speaking “Yes.”

Kaiden’s shoulders dropped with relief.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Kaiden.”

He stood so quickly that you barely had time to laugh before his arms were around you. He kissed you as you both cried, nearly dropping the ring into the grass before managing to slide it onto your finger.

Your families started planning immediately.

What had originally been discussed as a long engagement quickly became a wedding only three months later.

Exactly eight months after the engagement party where everything between you had changed, you stood at the end of an aisle surrounded by the two families who had spent years waiting for that moment.

Kaiden stood beneath an arch covered in greenery and white flowers. The ceremony was held beside the same lake where he had proposed.

His eyes filled with tears the second he saw you. Your father offered you his arm “I’m going to say something you’re going to hate.”

“Please don’t.”

“We always knew.” You groaned, he laughed and kissed your temple. As you walked down the aisle, Kaiden never looked away from you.

When you reached him, he took both of your hands “You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded “You?”

“No.” You almost laughed, he then said “I’m trying not to cry.”

“You’re already crying.”

“So are you.”

Your families watched with smug, emotional expressions.

During the vows, Kaiden promised to always listen when you spoke, to stand beside you without ever standing in front of you and to make sure you never felt alone.

You promised to choose him in every city, every season and every version of the future. When the officiant pronounced you married, Kaiden kissed you beneath the summer sky while both families erupted in applause.

At the reception, your mothers gave a joint speech. It was exactly as terrible as you expected.

They included childhood photographs, old stories and a detailed timeline of every failed attempt they had made to set you up “You manipulated us,” you accused afterward.

Kaiden’s mother smiled. “And now you’re married.”

“That does not make it acceptable.”

“Are you unhappy?”

You looked across the room. Kaiden was speaking with your father, one hand wrapped around his drink. As though he felt your gaze, he looked toward you.

His entire expression changed, he excused himself immediately and crossed the room “What happened?” he asked.

“Our mothers are taking credit for our marriage.”

“They did force me to drive you to the party.”

“You protected me at the party.”

“You agreed to marry me.”

“Exactly. We did the important parts.”

Kaiden smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist “Let them have it.”

“Never.”

He kissed your temple “Mrs. Guhle.”

Your argument disappeared. You looked up at him, he smiled, clearly pleased with himself “You did that on purpose.”

“I’m going to say it constantly.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You married me anyway.”

Only eight months earlier, you had entered a party beside the boy your families had spent years insisting was right for you. You had left holding the hand of the man who had loved you quietly for almost as long as you had loved him.

It had never been the wrong person.

The bags had been piling up, stuffed away in that spare room in his place the past few days. He never let you go in there, and he’d put his finger over his lips, silencing you, when he would emerge from putting the nice packages there. It felt like when you’d spent that first christmas as a child knowing santa weren’t real, scouring the house for presents hidden in closets and dressers, except now you know where they are, and it’s killing you. Beckett’s not really keen on spoiling the surprise. He’s not slick, though.

You’re not stupid. It’s your birthday week. You’ve scanned the shipping label when he procures a new package from the doorstep—how it’s all these stupid expensive lingerie brands that you kind of don’t want him looking at because the models online are so pretty and they’re all airbrushed and like, whatever. Anyway, Beckett’s spending way too much money on you, but what’s new?

“Can I see it now? Please? Can’t wait,” You ask, blocking his view of the television. Now the light cuts and illuminates your back instead of his body, so everything’s dark now, and his face gets hard to see. You’re practically bubbling. Each time you have to walk across the hall, look at that shut door, your resolve weakens.

Your boyfriend sighs. “You can’t wait any longer?”

You shake your head. You nervously fumble with the strings on your hoodie (his olympics hoodie with the canadian flag), because you know what comes next. You know he wants you to show him. He loves watching you get ready in the morning. He’s a little enamored by your routine, by the sun sliding through the curtains and lighting your body in golden color. He just likes looking at you. He also gets this weird pride in his chest when you use the things he buys you—that new laptop for school, skates fitted just for you, bracelets from a beach shop dangling from your wrist. You recognize when he gazes too long, the cogs turning in his brain, pleased to have someone to spoil.

“Okay. Go get them, princess.”

“You want…here?” You gape at him.

Through the dim room, you can see the quirk of his brow, the upturn of his mouth. “You don’t want to open your presents out here?”

“Uhm—uh, okay, yeah sure.”

“Turn the light on.”

You come back, a pile of packaged plastic in your arms, you switch the small light on—so it’s warm and you can see him fully now, his spread legs and his back against the couch cushions. The television is turned off. He’s staring at you, grinning, not saying anything.

You huff out a big breath. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“How am I going to…?” in question to this whole…fashion show out in the living room. He knows.

He tilts his head, a feigned expression of confusion on his face. “You have to open them first.”

“Beckett,” you groan, “I already know what’s in here.”

“Really?” He crosses his arms over his chest, leans further back into the couch like he’ll never leave. You’re already starting to get nervous, standing up in front of him, socked feet and boy shorts and his hoodie on.

“They’re all French labels…” you crouch down, set the bags on the carpeted floor because you don’t want to just drop them. You keep one in your hands. “I’m not dumb.”

“I know. You’re so smart, baby.”

It’s not berating. It’s not sarcastic, he just says it so often, and it makes you flush each time. You’ll never become desensitized to it.

“Why can’t we go in the bedroom?” You whine. Now, when you sit out here tomorrow when he’s at practice, all you’ll be thinking about is this…and that’s his goal—to defile every corner of his apartment—you know it.

“I’m comfortable here. C’mon,” he urges you.

You roll your eyes, though there’s no animosity in it. The plastic crinkles in your hands as you try to pry it open, as gently as you can. The set is wrapped away in a zipped clear bag, hidden by parchment. Your face heats up.

It’s so pretty—this baby pink, semi-sheer bra with little intricate beadings and flowers, etched with a darker shade of pink. And then, its matching panty counterpart, with the same designs and opacity and — ah, it’s too beautiful, too delicate to wear. You kind of want to kill your boyfriend for doing this.

“You like?” You’re pulled away from your mind ramblings; you snap back to the picture of your boyfriend, steadily watching you.

“Yeah, yeah I like. It’s too much…”

“It’s not too much. It’s why I got you more.”

You groan. He deflects all your insecurities, all the time. “You want me—” you stutter, “—want me to try it on, don’t you?”

“If you’re offering.”

Usually you’d throw something at him but you can’t throw this set. “Okay, but…” You look down, tap on your thigh.

“I won’t look,” he smiles, placing his hand over his eyes.

“Wow, thanks,” you deadpan. “Don’t peak.”

He hums, his throat bobbing. You lay the lingerie next to Beckett on the cushion, standing back to discard your clothes. You’re anxious, hands weaving under the hoodie to take it off as fast as possible. The air is cool on your bare skin, nipples hard, pebbled over. You step into the underwear first—that’s easier or something. It snaps on your hips just right. It’s soft. The bra is a whole other story. It feels wrong to touch. All handmade, meticulous, and it shines in the dim light of the room. You string your arms through the straps, but the clasp doesn’t seem cooperative today.

“Beckett…” you complain, pouting your lips. You kick his shin. He doesn’t take his hand off his eyes, though, just says, “yeah?”

“Need your help.” You stand between his legs, and finally, he opens his eyes. Color fills his pale face. He’s supposed to be older and more stoic and able to contain his feelings. He can’t do that.

The bra is pressed against your chest with your hand, so you’re not exposing yourself. “Need you to clip it, please.” You turn around, and now he’s filled with the image of your ass and pretty flowery patterns, and—and then you’re sitting down on his lap, your hands awkwardly holding the band and hook for him to take.

“Oh, yeah of course,” his breath is knocked out of him. His hands overlap yours, bringing the band close to hook the clasp. He runs two fingers under it, smoothing it against your skin. “That feel okay?” He kisses the top of your shoulder. It takes a lot, a lot out of him not to hold your hips down and keep you there. He’s constantly fighting with his immature ways.

“Thank you…” you stand, embarrassed. “Is it…you like it, right?” You roll up onto the balls of your feet, avoiding eye contact.

“I love it. I love it, baby. You make it look good.”

You make a face, hair falling in your eyes. “Shut up…”

He’s always confused—can’t fully understand the insecurities of a young woman. He won’t pry—it’ll only make it worse— so he’ll just tell you how pretty you are until you fully believe it, and if that’s for the rest of his life, he doesn’t mind.

“Spin.” He makes the turning motion with his finger. You bite your lip, and do as he says.

When you make eye contact with him again, his hand covers his mouth, his eyes are all dark, and then he’s shucking another package at you.

“Hey!”

“We have to go fast—won’t last long.”

“Ew.” Your nose scrunches up. “Fine.”

The next package is just underwear this time, different types of cuts, from g-strings to briefs, and they have cute designs and little hearts, and a bow right in the middle of the band. Beckett doesn’t close his eyes this time—he shakes his head at your request. And so, you have to put them on, one by one, bare chested, all flushed and really horny that he’s just staring at you, making comments when he wants, but mostly just looking, like you’re a display piece, an expensive car in the middle of the lot.

There’s another set like the first one, a pretty blue color with stars and twinkles threaded in, and it gives your breasts more of a push, like you have more than you got. Usually, you hate underwire, it gnaws, but you barely feel it. You don’t want to think about how expensive it is, trying to gloss over the tag that’s only in French, no English, and then you curse yourself for thinking about the shipping costs and everything. Beckett really likes that one, you can see it in his eyes, how his brows raised the smallest bit more. The panties are cheekier on this one, and when he makes you spin around, you let out a small sound. This is really starting to take a toll on you.

The last thing—or well, the last thing he can get to before he dissolves into mush—is something you really think he accidentally bought.

“You…you meant to get this?” It’s a white-baby doll dress with lace around the chest and the bottom hem. It looks like something he had to purchase going through the bridal section—some type of honeymoon get-up. You’re blushing furiously, fingers shaking a little with it gripped in your hands.

“Yes,” he says, matter of factly. “Is it the right size?” He takes the packaging from your hand, looks over the order receipt.

“No Beckett, jesus. It’s the right size.” At this point, you’re naked, the dress in your hands. “But it’s like…bridal.” You wouldn’t accuse another man your age of the dress having that connotation—they wouldn’t piece those two things together, all that white lace, but Beckett’s older. He would.

He looks at you, thoughtfully, like he really wants to say the right thing. “Hmm. Thought you’d look really pretty in it.”

“Oh.” You breathe out, and now you’re suddenly really naked and you really want to put it on. It shimmies on so easily, the straps a little loose, but it feels better not to be tight anyway. Besides, Beckett would probably like the straps to fall down your shoulders.

“Wow.” Is all he says. It falls mid-thigh, so thin and delicate.

The pictures so intoxicating. You, on top of him in the nicest hotel room, your chemise matching the color of the sheets, a big, sparkly rock resting on your dainty finger, hair mussed. There’s a lot of pressure building up in his brain, like he might go blind, maybe. He extends his leg and hooks his heel to your calf, so you’re forced to walk towards his open legs.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… writes your name when he’s testing out new pens.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… absolutely adores you, when it’s your turn to reading him to bed.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… makes you a mint tea whenever he makes one for himself.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… plans out multiple hikes before the off-season begins.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… prefers you being the bigger spoon, just for him to tease about the size difference between you two.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… absolutely falls in love harder with you, during family events. especially when you’re playing with his younger nieces and nephews. he’s imagining his entire life with you… kids, a big house, big ol’ garden and definitely a few dogs!

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… genuinely loves cleaning with you. you have caught him staring at you with so much adoration. how you concentrated and in-charged you are with him, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… is always down to do a face or skin mask with you. fraser happily wearing one of your spare hair bands, with the absolute sweetest smile upon his face. how close you guys are, him holding back the urge to kiss you and trying not to melt away whenever you rub your fingertips against his temple and cheeks.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… insist that you guys need an open ensuite beside the bed. not because he wants to see you naked, it’s only for him to being about to continuously see and talk to you when you’re not in the same room as him or if he’s in the bed waiting for you.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… shows you all of his photo albums. wether it’s the first, second, third or all of the dates you guys have, cuddling up on the settee or whenever you’re at his parent’s flat for the weekend.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… definitely talks about you in the locker room, interviews, friends, family, fans, on or off the ice, during training or warmups and media days. you’re 10000000% on his mind, that boy is inlooooooove.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… is the most gentlest person you’ve ever met. you need him for help in the middle of night when you’re ill? no problem, before you even say the first syllable of your sentence, he’s already got that thing for you, holding back your hair, he’s got it or him already tidying/cleaning up the house for you before your get back home for the day.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… needs to call or facetime you during his flights/roadtrips. wether he’s waiting for his gate, waiting for the coach to leave, in hs hotel room, leaving the pub to call you, waiting with his team in the lobby of the hotel before catching a flight back home.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… never goes to bed without kissing goodnight.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… would happily run your errands for you that day or week, even for the next few days!

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… plays with your rings, whenever you’re holding hands.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… remembers the first time you guys met each other and he’s definitely tearing up.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… genuinely wants renew your vows every year on your future wedding date.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… plans doing weekly late nights drives, just for the sake of spending more time with you.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ by!fraser who… doesn’t ignore anyone who disrespects you. he’s standing his ground and he is gonna be waiting for that person to give you a genuine apology to you!

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… welcomes you with bed in breakfast every weekend, because why not…

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… loves blasting your favourite songs or album to make you feel better whenever you have a sad or stressful day.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… tours his hometown when you meet his parents for the first time. for the sake to help calm your anxiety and for him to show you what he’s been through and tell you all the good times of his childhood to grow a smile across your face!

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… loves them quick, silence when he staring at you when the two of you are playing with kids at a small family gathering.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… is yapping away with his parents. smiling, giggling, smitten about you with his parents, his parents are incredibly happy for him. his mum is smiling from ear to ear, dad is laughing with him so much and fraser is staggering with his words about you. you + fraser = <3

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… has a late night conversation with you about your future together. talking about future kids’ names, the layout of your future house, how many dogs you’re going to have, where you guys are going to live and what your careers are going to be like!

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… obsessed with you wearing his clothes. wether you’re sleeping in them or just simply wearing them at home, he’s all over you.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… makes and share MULTIPLE spotify playlists with you. you guys have a playlist for each other, on the road, on holiday together or simply at home reading together.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… taught himself what each of your beauty products do, how to style your hair (in case you need his help to curl the back of your head), what skincare products you’ve ran out of, what kinds of face masks you use or what kind of hair products in you use in the shower.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… very practical with his life with you. well, both of you guys are very practical with each other. making sure you’ve packed everything you genuinely need on your couples trip together or making sure he’s got everything he genuinely needs on his hockey road trips.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… wants to include you in everything he does. from helping him prep for hockey games to training back at home. you’re definitely his lucky charm + he wears your first intial on a necklace, that’s firmly tucked under his jersey.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… keep one puck from every games he’s at, just for you. he knows your have quite an itch when it comes to collecting actual random bits and bobs, obviously he loves that quirky side of you.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… insist that you sit on his lap at all times. just for him to hold you closer to him and for him to attack you with multiple smooches! <3

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… always messaging you “be safe <3”, “idk if anyone has mentioned this buttttt, i love you”, “<3”, “please come home the kids miss you” (but he’s the one who isn’t home…😭) or “can we facetime or call, i miss ur voice and it’s gonna hold back the urge of tipping over before i get one more interviewer asking me stupid questionnnn.”

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… loves them quiet nights (wether that’s being in his truck, on a late night walk, on sitting on a beach over looking his beautiful home town), softly talking with you, your right leg over his left leg, holding hands, your head resting on his chest, yapping about his newest moments in his hockey career.

⁹³ ˖ ୨ৎ ݁ ˖ bf!fraser who… loves watching you sleep. snoring, drooling and obviously dreaming about him!

The door clicks shut behind you and Macklin's arms are immediately around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

His lips find yours in the dark, hungry and urgent as always.

"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips.

You melt into him, savoring the familiar warmth of his body, the way his fingers press into your skin just right. "It's only been a week."

"A week too long." He backs you toward the bed, his movements practiced and sure.

This is your routine. Meeting whenever his games and countless commitments allow it, stealing whatever time you can together.

Later, tangled in the sheets with his arm heavy across your waist, you trace patterns on his chest. In these quiet moments the lines of what you are begin to blur and you allow yourself to imagine that this means more than what it actually does.

"You're quiet tonight," he says, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just thinking."

"About?" He shifts to face you, his eyes soft in the dim light.

You take a breath, knowing this could change everything. "Us."

His body tenses almost imperceptibly. "What about us?"

"I think…" You swallow hard. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. Macklin sits up, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Hey," he says gently and your heart sinks at the tone. "You know I care about you, right?"

"But not like that," you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't deny it. "We always said this was just… casual. No strings attached."

"I know what we said," you manage, sitting up and pulling the sheet around yourself. "But things change."

"Hey, look at me." He reaches for your hand, but you pull away. "I'm sorry if I led you to believe there could be more. I value our friendship too much to lose it."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. "So this is over?"

"If it has to be." His expression is pained. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't pretend to feel something I don't."

You nod, fighting back tears. "Then I should probably go."

"Don't leave like this," he pleads as you gather your clothes from the floor.

"What other way is there?" You dress quickly, your movements stiff. "I'll see you around, Mack."

The door clicks shut behind you and you let the tears finally fall.

Three weeks pass in a blur of avoidance. You delete his number, block him on social media and throw yourself into work and friends. Anything to keep your mind occupied. Anything to forget the way he looked at you when he broke your heart.

Meanwhile, Macklin's world slowly unravels without you. The hotel rooms feel emptier and the post-game celebrations less exciting. He finds himself checking his phone for messages that never come and scanning crowds for a face that's never there.

During a road trip in Calgary, he's nursing a beer in the hotel bar after a tough loss when Toff slides onto the stool beside him. "You've been off your game lately, man. Everything okay?"

"Just tired," Macklin lies, swirling the liquid in his glass.

"Bullshit." Toff signals the bartender for another round. "You've been moping for weeks. Is this about that girl? The one you used to meet up with sometimes?"

Macklin shrugs, trying to appear casual. "We decided to stop seeing each other."

Toff studies him for a moment. "Because she wanted more and you didn't?"

Something in Macklin's chest tightens. "How did you know?"

"You're not exactly subtle, Celly. And you've been anything but happy lately." Toff takes a sip of his beer. "So what happened?"

"We had an agreement. Casual, no strings attached." Macklin stares into his glass. "She said she was falling for me and I… I told her I didn't feel the same."

"Ouch." Toffoli winces. "And now?"

"Now she won't answer my texts. Blocked me on everything, I think." Macklin runs a hand through his hair. "I just… I thought I was doing the right thing. Protecting our friendship, not leading her on."

"But?" Toff prompts.

"But I miss her," Macklin admits, the words feeling heavy as they leave his mouth. "Like, really miss her. I keep turning to tell her something after games and then remember she's not there."

Toff nods thoughtfully. "What was she like?"

A small smile touches Macklin's lips despite himself. "Amazing. She's got this laugh that makes you want to do stupid things just to hear it again. And she's smart, like, really smart. Sometimes we'd just lie in bed and she'd tell me about her work and I had no idea what she was talking about half the time, but I loved how passionate she was."

He takes a sip of beer, lost in thought. "She never cared that I play hockey. Well, she did, but not like other people. She'd call me out when I was being an idiot, which was often. And she remembers these little things about me, like what kind of room temperature I prefer or that I can't sleep unless the room is completely dark."

Macklin continues, his voice growing softer. "Once, when I was sick, she drove two hours through a snowstorm just to bring me soup. She didn't even call first, just showed up at my door looking like a snowman with these ridiculous thermos."

He shakes his head with a fond smile. "And she has this terrible taste in movies, but she gets so into them that it's contagious. We spent three hours once watching some documentary about penguins and I swear I've never been more invested in anything in my life."

Toff listens patiently, taking occasional sips of his beer. When Macklin finally trails off, Toff asks quietly, "How long were you two seeing each other?"

"On and off for about a year."

"And you never once thought about making it official?"

Macklin fidgets with his beer coaster. "I mean, maybe? But it was complicated. My career was just starting…"

Toff studies him for a long moment. "You know, for a guy who claims he didn't have feelings for her, you sure talk about her like someone who's completely in love."

Macklin's head snaps up. "What? No, I just… I miss our friendship."

"Is that all?" Toff raises an eyebrow. "Because everything you just described? The laughing, the little details she remembers, showing up when you're sick, watching stupid documentaries about penguins? That's not friendship, man. That's being in love."

Macklin opens his mouth to protest, but no words come out. He thinks about the way his heart always raced when you texted, how he'd saved your contact under a ridiculous name so no one would know how often you talked, how he'd canceled plans with teammates just to see you for a few hours.

"I…" Macklin shakes his head, confused. "But I told her I didn't feel the same. And I meant it when I said it."

"Did you?" Toff challenges gently. "Or were you just scared?"

Macklin doesn't respond, but his silence is answer enough.

"Look, man," Toff says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen a lot of guys mess up good things because they were scared of commitment or timing or whatever. But what you're describing? That's the real thing. And if you let it go because you were scared, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

Macklin stares into his beer, Toff's words echoing in his mind.

"Shit," he whispers, looking up at Toff with wide eyes. "I think you're right."

"I know I'm right," Toff says with a small smile. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Back in San Jose, Macklin finds himself driving to your apartment before he can talk himself out of it. The rain starts just as he arrives, soaking his hair and shirt as he knocks on your door.

When you open it, your expression shifts from surprise to guarded. "What are you doing here?"

"I made a mistake," he says, rain dripping from his hair onto your welcome mat. "A huge mistake."

You cross your arms, unmoving. "You don't have to do this. I get it."

"No, you don't." He steps forward, his voice urgent. "I spent three weeks thinking I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but all I did was make myself miserable. I can't sleep, I can't focus on hockey. All I think about is you."

Your expression softens slightly. "Mack…"

"I was scared," he admits, his voice cracking. "Scared of messing up what we had, scared of not being enough, scared of actually needing someone as much as I need you. But being without you is worse than any of that."

You're silent for a long moment, searching his face. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you too." He reaches for your hand and this time you let him take it. "I think I've loved you all along and was too stupid to realize it."

Tears well in your eyes, but this time they're different. "You really mean that?"

"More than anything." He steps closer, closing the space between you. "I want everything with you, the late night calls, the lazy Sundays and the fights about what to watch on TV. All of it."

You finally break, pulling him inside and into your arms. "I love you too," you whisper against his wet shirt. "Even though you're an idiot."

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "The biggest idiot." He tilts your chin up, his eyes serious. "Can I start over? Can I take you on a real date?"

"Yes," you say without hesitation. "But first, you should probably get out of those wet clothes."

His grin is immediate and familiar. "Already trying to get me naked, hmm?."

You've known Grace Smith for a few years now. She works on the same floor you do, you just never got around to talking to her for the longest time.

     That was until there was one particularly bad shift. A patient of yours had ripped her IV out, another patient had puked in the hallway, another was screaming until his voice was raw. That crazy part is that you don't work in a very eventful department, so you were not used to shifts like that one. After the chaos had subsided, you and Grace collapsed into chairs in the break room and recounted the horror stories from that night together.

     From that day on she was your best friend. It started as just catching up in the hallway. Then it morphed into drinks after shifts. Then it morphed into staying over at her apartment after a movie night. Now she knows the name of your childhood pet and all of your embarrassing stories.

    You have yet to meet her family though. Even though she talks about them constantly. You hear endless stories about how her mother bought a cute new jacket, how her dad helped her make an appointment to get her car fixed, how her brother calls her at least 3 times a week. It's actually quite endearing to you how close she is with them.

    That's why you're sweating buckets now. For the first time in your 4 year friendship with Grace, you're finally meeting her family. Her brother is back in town and her family is having a little get together. Her mom, who's apparently heard a lot about you too, insisted that you join.

     You have to wipe the sweat off your palms before you knock on the door. You're not even sure why you're nervous, it's just her family, who from what you've been told is really sweet. The door swings open and Grace stands in front of you with a wide smile on her face. "You made it!" She beams, stepping aside to usher you into the house.

     You nervously clutch the container of cookies you made close to your chest as you follow her into her dining room. Setting the table is a woman who looks strikingly similar to Grace. Upon hearing the footsteps, she looks up and sees you. Her eyes light up, similar to how Grace's did when she answered the door. "You must be Grace's friend!" She sets down the dish she had in her hand and crosses the room to pull you into a hug. You're a little taken back but nonetheless you wrap your free arm around the woman for a brief hug.

     Grace introduces you and then takes the container of cookies from you to set on the table. "Dad and Will are just finishing up right?" Grace asks her mom.

     "They should be done pretty soon." Her mom answers, flicking her wrist up to check her watch. You nervously bounce on your toes while watching them interact. "So, how long have you lived in Boston?" Her mom directs her attention back to you.

      You answer her question, finding her to be incredibly easy to talk to. This eases your nerves and makes you slowly open up a bit more.

     Mid conversation with Grace's mom, a loud bang is heard from the kitchen. You watch Grace's face scrunch up. "What did you drop Will?" She calls out, wandering around the corner and into the kitchen.

     "I didn't drop anything important, it's fine." You hear a voice answer. That must be her brother. Grace talks about him so much, you're honestly quite intrigued to meet him. She's often gone for some weekends to go visit him and she always texts you about how he bought her dinner, how he stopped for an hour to sign things for fans.

He turns into the kitchen with Grace and you feel your heart flutter. You’ve obviously seen pictures of him but he looks so much different in person. He’s taller than you expected, standing a few inches taller than Grace. Every single Smith has good hair genetics, you knew that, but his hair looks especially good in person. He looks tan too, which adds to the overall glow of him. You have to look away because you feel guilty for admiring your best friend’s brother like that.

“You must be the famous work bestie.” Will says, forcing you to look back up at him.

You raise your eyebrows, shooting Grace a questioning look. “Famous?” You direct your question at her.

She shrugs, reaching over Will to pop an olive in her mouth. “I talk about you sometimes.”

Beside her, Will gives her a look, shaking his head slightly. “Sometimes? More like everyday.” Grace is unfazed by his dig at her and instead takes a seat at the table. “I’m glad I finally get to meet you.” He says, directing his attention back to you.

“She talks about you a lot too, so I’m glad I got to meet you too.” You answer him, feeling heat on your cheeks. You cut your eyes to Grace again, hoping that you’re not blushing. Grace has often confided in you about how many girls will try to get close with her just because of her brother. You love your friendship with Grace and you’d hate to ruin that.

“Let’s eat!” Graces dad loudly announces, walking straight into the room and dropping steaks onto the table. Everyone complies without any argument.

You sit next to Grace and fall into conversation with her family easily. Her parents ask you all about your life and how you ended up in Boston. You ask them about their life as well, Grace occasionally adding in a few stories about her childhood. You live far away from your parents so the whole night makes you feel a sort of sense of belonging that you haven’t felt in a while.

At the end of the night, when everyone’s full and just swapping funny stories, Grace gets a call and excuses herself. “I think that’s a good time to start cleaning up.” Her mother says, getting up from the table, grabbing plates as she does. Her dad mutters something about needing to clean the grill and also gets up, leaving you alone with Will.

“So did I live up to the hype?” He asks you, peering at you from across the table.

“Depends.” You answer, deciding to clean up the space around you instead of maintain eye contact with him. “Did I live up to the hype?”

You hear Will chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely did.” He answers. You look up at him to see him leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Good.” You answer, feeling a rush of heat at your own boldness. “You did too.”

Your eyes snag on Grace who is standing at the foot of the stairs, smirking at you.

—

“Grace, someone is here for you.” An older nurse announces, popping her head into the break room and out immediately after. Grace sends you a look, eyebrow raised curiously.

“Come with me, I’m scared to see who it is.” She says, grabbing your hand across the table. You squeeze her hand affectionately and nod.

Together you go to the front desk, finding a shy looking Will leaning against the counter. He’s holding a bag in one hand, his head tucked low, staring at his shoes. “Will? What are you doing here?” Grace says, walking right up to him.

He snaps his head up, smile forming on his face when he sees you standing behind Grace. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from blushing. Will smiles wider and holds up the bag in his hand. “I made banana bread and thought you guys might want some.”

Grace darts her eyes from Will to you, and then back to Will. Her eyes narrow on the bag. “Oh yeah? Us?” She teases, taking the bag from him regardless.

Now it’s Will’s turn to blush and look away. “I just thought it would be nice. You guys are working a long shift right?” He shrugs, sneakers kicking the ground.

“We are.” Grace answers. “But you never visit me at work.” She says, suspiciously glancing between the two of you.

“Okay, sue me for doing something nice for my sister. I won’t do it again.” He says sarcastically, hands coming up as if he’s surrendering.

Grace rolls her eyes, pushing him gently. “You know what I mean.”

“Okay, I’m leaving. Enjoy your banana bread. It was nice seeing you again.” He directs the last statement towards you, sending you a small smile.

“You too Will.” You give him the same small smile, watching his form head out the door.

You turn back to Grace, choosing to ignore her smirk. The same one you found her giving you at dinner the other night. “Does he bake a lot?” You ask her, hoping she gets distracted and doesn’t bring up the way you were looking at Will.

“Yeah, he loves it. That’s all he does when he’s back home.” She says, looking into the bag. She pulls out a little ziplock bag full of slices of banana bread. She extends the bag to you.

You take it gratefully, feeling how the bread is still warm like it’s fresh out of the oven. “How long is he home for usually?”

She gives you a knowing smile, eyeing you slightly. “The whole summer basically.” She answers, taking a tone to her voice that you’ve never heard before.

You go to ask another question about Will but a nurse down the hallway calls for help with a patient.

—

“Grace? What’s wrong? Why’d you text me SOS?” You call out, frantically banging on her front door. She texted you while you were out grocery shopping with a very ominous “SOS, please come over” so of course you left your cart with everything in it and ran to her house as fast as you could. The whole way there you imagined all different scenarios of what could’ve happened since she stopped answering your texts. You pictured her injured, murdered, kidnapped, everything terrible under the sun.

Grace swings her door open looking perfectly fine. In fact, she’s smiling at you. “Perfect, Will just got here.” She steps to the side, showing you Will who looks equally as confused as you.

“What? You’re not hurt?” You step inside, letting her close the door behind you.

“Nope. You guys are going on a date though.” She says, pointing between you and Will.

“What?” You and Will both say at the same time. You both look at each other in confusion.

“I’m so sick of answering questions about Will. I’m also so sick of hearing about how you find her so gorgeous.” Grace wags her finger at Will, making him blush. Your heart flutters at Grace’s words. “So you’re going to take her to dinner.” She says, dropping Will’s car keys into his hand.

Will looks up at you, a smile taking over his face instead of the blush. “What do you say?” He asks shyly.

“As long as Grace is okay with it?” You ask her. You don’t want her to get mad at you or think that you’re only friends with her because of Will.

Grace rolls her eyes. “I’ve been plotting on you two getting together since I’ve met you that one crazy shift. I can’t picture either of you with anyone more perfect for you.”

That takes you by surprise, making you rethink all of the times she’s told you about Will, and about how Will called you the ‘famous work bestie’ at dinner the other day. So she’s clearly talked you up to Will too. Had she really been planning this that long?

“Stop thinking too hard. Both of you. Go enjoy dinner.” She says, shooing you and Will out of the door. She shuts the door on your face before you can ask anything else.

You turn to Will, finding him already looking at you. “I was honestly trying to find the balls to ask you out for weeks now, so I’m glad she did this.” He admits.