Book-lish

“I’m just saying man, how fitting that Graham is hooking up with Delaney’s sloppy seconds.” A guys says, his St. Anthony’s shirt sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Di Laurentis and Logan sure did score with their puck bunnies too.” The other laughs. You listen in on the conversation as you and Allie wait for your drinks. Hannah is currently tucked into Garrett’s side across the bar, neither one of them drinking tonight. Logan and Dean are playing a heated game of pool, not aware of the two St. Anthony’s players that have somehow made themselves welcome in a Briar University bar.

“I’m just saying I’d love to have five minutes alone with one of them, bet they’d forget all about their little boyfriends.” The first guy says, laughing at his own statement. You turn, sneering your nose up at him. You let out a short laugh.

“Oh, please.” You look him up and down. “You don’t look like you could find the clit if it was waving a flashlight at you.” A few people nearby choke on their drinks. The guy looks at you, face red. He’s probably had way too much to drink.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?” He says, getting in your face. Beside you Allie pales. Little do you know Dean and Logan have stopped their game of pool and are standing by for backup. You don’t so much as flinch.

“You heard me.” You say. A humorless smile tugs at your lips as you fold your arms across your chest.

“Besides, it’s a little pretentious to walk onto our campus and assume you’d ever have a chance with one of us in the first place.” You say glaring up at him.

His jaw tightens.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking a step closer. “Well, our boy Delaney got your captain’s girl way back in high school.” He shrugs. “You puck bunnies are all the same. Easy little sluts.”

Rage clouds your train of thought and your arm moves on instinct tossing the contents of your cup into the guys face.

“You crazy fucking bitch!” He yells. His next move takes the entire bar off guard. He drops his shoulder slamming you into the bar, hard, deliberate, and most definitely hockey-style. You’re a little stunned, around you the bar erupts in outrage.

“What the fuck!” Allie screeches. Logan is already busting through the crowd trying to get to you. Dean pulls Allie behind him. You regain your balance, hurting like a mother fucker. But that sure as hell isn’t going to stop you. As the guy is rattling something off to his friend you shove him.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Logan chants, grabbing you as the guys arm raises no doubt aiming for you.

“Control your bitch man!” The guy’s friend yells. Dean and Logan share a look. You’re practically vibrating with rage. The guy who shoved you sticks his finger in your face.

“You’ve got a real fuckin’ attitude problem.” He turns to Logan. “She always run that damn mouth?” He asks, eyeing you, a disgusting grin on his face.

“If you were mine, I’d keep that pretty little mouth busy.” He says looking to Logan for his reaction. You feel him tense, his body practically shaking with rage.

“Not worth it man, we’ll kick his ass on the ice tomorrow.” Garrett calls. Hannah is tucked behind him like a baby animal hiding behind their mom. You don’t blame her after everything she’s been through. Dean puts a hand on his shoulder, getting him to disengage from the guy.

“Yeah that’s right 22! Walk away!” The guy calls. Logan pauses, his jaw set. He closes his eyes for a second and you can tell he’s debating turning back around, you grab his arm.

“Let’s just go, baby.” You mutter. You feel bad for causing a scene but no way were you going to let some guy talk about your best friends like that.

Loading up in Garrett’s Jeep everyone is a little too quiet for your liking. You know the guys are trying to let Logan simmer down. You sit in the back seat between Dean and Logan, Allie perched on Deans lap. Hannah rides shotgun next to Garrett.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks, turning slightly to look at you. You nod, you’re sure your back is bruised but he doesn’t need to know about that right now.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to start anything.” You say, your apology intended for the whole car.

“What did that guy say to you? I’ve never seen you that mad?” Garrett, asks. You bite your lip, before recounting the conversation. Your friends are quiet for a moment.

“Okay, I totally would have thrown my drink in his face too.” Allie says, breaking the silence.

“You could have gotten hurt.” Logan says beside you.

“I’m okay.” You sigh.

“You got checked into a bar.” Logan states. You sigh.

“I know.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”

You roll your eyes. Though you doubt he can see it in the darkness of the back of the Jeep. “Logan..” You trail off.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” He asks.

You hesitate.

“My back.” You mumble. The entire Jeep goes quiet. Logan angles himself toward you as best as he can in the tightly packed Jeep.

“Your back?” Logan asks.

“It just feels sore.” You say. The Jeep pulls into the drive of the hockey house and as the lights come on Logan’s eyes are scanning your body in concern. Everyone files out of the Jeep and heads for the house.

“Come here.” Logan says, gesturing for you to get out of the Jeep.

“Logan, I’m fi-“ you say but he cuts you off.

“Humor me.” He says as you climb out of the Jeep. He gently guides you into the living room of the house.

He reaches for the hem of your sweatshirt. His brown eyes looking into yours.

“Can I?” He asks, warm fingers gripping your shirt. You nod. He carefully lifts the fabric just enough to expose your lower back. His entire body goes still.

“Fuck…” he mutters.

“What?” You ask, trying to get a glimpse of your back.

Dean walks into the living room, a fresh bottle of beer in his hand.

“Damn.” He says taking a sip. Garrett follows behind him before muttering, “Holy shit.”

“What?” You ask again.

A massive bruise is already spreading across the right side of your lower back, the skin turning an angry mix of purple, blue, and dark red. You can almost make out where the edge of the bar caught you.

Allie winces.

“Y/N…” she says.

“It’s that bad?” You ask. Sure it was a little sore, and you’d planned on taking some advil but surely it couldn’t be that bad already.

Logan gently lets your shirt fall back down, before rubbing a hand over his face.

“I should’ve killed him.” He says plainly.

“Logan.” You say.

“I’m serious.” He counters.

“You are absolutely not serious.” You say.

“I should have beat his ass.” Logan says. He lets out a dry laugh.

“John.” You say seriously, snapping his attention back to you. “I’m okay, baby.” You say.

“He put his hands on you.” His voice is so quiet you almost miss it.

“He put his fucking hands on you.” He says. The anger that had been simmering all night suddenly melts into something else entirely. Fear. He steps closer, carefully placing his hands on your hips, avoiding the bruise completely.

“Hey…” You reach up and cup his cheek.

“I’m okay.” You assure him.

“You won’t be tomorrow.” He says.You frown.

“What?” You ask.

“That bruise is going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.” He says. He would know, he was used to getting banged up like that but at least he was the same size as the guys slamming into him. That guy was nearly two of you.

“It already looks pretty bad.” Logan says. Dean whistles from the couch.

“Pretty bad? Honey, that thing is going to look like modern art by morning.” He says.

Despite everything, you laugh. Allie smacks Dean’s arm.

“Read the room, dingus.” She says.

“What? I’m trying to lighten the mood.” Dean offers.

“You should get some ice on that.” Garrett offers, moving into the kitchen to grab one of the many gel ice packs the boys kept in the freezer.

Logan nods, taking the ice pack from Garrett.

“I’ll take care of her.” He says. You smile softly as he guides you up the steps to his room, practically your shared room at this point. You change quickly, slipping out of your jeans and top and into one of Logan’s t-shirts. He finally looks at you, his eyes still full of guilt.

“I’m not mad at you.” He clarifies, as you lay down on the bed, wincing as your back hits the soft surface.

“You kind of seem mad.” You reason.

“I’m mad…” He pauses. “Just not at you.” He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m mad because someone thought they could hurt you.”

You lean forward, resting your forehead against his.

“I’d still do it again.” You say. He groans.

“I know you would.” He says. “Roll onto your belly let me ice your back.” He instructs. You do as he says, hissing slightly when the cold pack hits your back.

“And you’d still love me anyway.” You tease. A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Unfortunately.” He says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You grin.

“Unfortunately?” You ask.

“I was hoping for someone with a stronger sense of self-preservation.” He jokes.

“You got me instead.” You say.

“I sure as hell did.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.” He adds, laying beside you and holding the ice pack in place for you.

“No more bar fights though, okay?” He says with a laugh. You roll your eyes.

Apparently Britney Spears night also meant cheap drinks. Which led you to your current situation. Absolutely intoxicated, dressed as Britney from her Baby One More Time music video. You looked a little slutty, but definitely in a good way.

“Allie, wait up, you guys are walking too fast!” You slur. In front of you Allie, dressed in an iconic remake of Britney’s Slave 4 U VMA outfit, complete with a stuffed boa constrictor that she was currently dragging behind her.

“I am trying to get to the house. It’s cold as fuck out here.” Allie grumbles. Beside her Hannah laughs, she’s sporting a much more casual Britney look, sporting her outfit from the cover of the Baby One More Time album, red top, white tank top, and a jean mini skirt.

You laugh, because you’re drunk and everything seems pretty funny right now. The three of you had opted to walk to the hockey house as you affectionately referred to the house of Hannah and Allie’s boyfriend’s, plus Tucker and your kind of situation-ship John Logan. You frown in your drunken state thinking about him. You weren’t saying but you weren’t not dating, you hadn’t hooked up with him yet but you’d definitely made out a time or ten in the kitchen, or the living room, or a frat house bathroom that one time.

You giggle to yourself, thinking about his pretty brown eyes.

“She is so drunk. Like scary drunk, how much did she drink?” Hannah asks, voice full of concern as she looks back at you.

“She’s fine, she’s not that drunk, she’s just a giggly drunk.” Allie says, the stuffed boa constrictor catching on a brick in the road. You trip on it, nearly face planting as you go down on your knees, your hands bracing your fall.

“Fuck!” Hannah exclaims, bending down to help you up. Hannah and Allie share a look, taking in the sight of your now shredded palms and bleeding knees.

“Are you okay?” Allie asks, each of them locking arms with you. You giggle.

“I’m great!” You smile. You arrive at the house in no time, navigating the steps onto the porch is a little difficult but you manage with the help of your friends. Swinging the front door open you step inside announcing your presence.

“It’s Britney bitch!” You shout before collapsing into a giggling mess on the floor.

“Okay so she’s wasted.” Dean says. Allie gives him a look to say ‘really brilliant observation’ as she steps forward trying to pull you up from the floor. You spot Logan coming down the stairs from your spot on the floor.

“Johnny!” You exclaim happily, scrambling to your feet. Logan’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Why is she bleeding?” Logan asks stepping forward to help you up.

“Well, she kind of had a wipeout.” Allie says.

“She’s literally actively bleeding.” Logan says.

“Okay, I didn’t realize it was that bad.” Hannah says getting a bit queasy at the sight of all of your blood. Garrett guides her to the couch, her face paling slightly.

“What are you guys bitching about?” You ask. “We should make margaritas!” You say leaning into Logan.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Logan says. “Seriously how much did she drink?” He asks. Allie shakes her head.

“I don’t know, she’s been stressed out, she was cutting loose. You’re stressing her out with your whole will he won’t he bit.” Allie says, tossing her stuffed snake to Dean. Dean grabs the now filthy stuffed animal, wrapping it around his neck like a scarf.

“Allie don’t tell him that!” You exclaim. Logan looks at her and then back at you, his eyes softening.

“Let me help you get your hands and knees cleaned up, you’re bleeding everywhere.” Logan says.

“Oh God don’t say that.” Hannah says sitting on the couch with her eyes closed. Garrett waves a hand in front of her face trying to cool her off.

“I’ll help you.” Allie says. Logan scoops you up bridal style and you squeal.

“It’s alright, I’ll manage.” He says. Allie gives him a knowing nod as he carried you into the bathroom, setting you down on the sink.

You watch him as he finds the first aid kit under the sink.

“You’re so pretty.” You murmur. If your hands weren’t bloody you’d be running them through his hair. Logan looks up at you through his thick lashes.

“You’re sweet, but you’re entirely too drunk to be telling me those kinds of things.” He says wetting a washcloth in the sink and dabbing at the blood on your palms. You hiss, the pain finally starting to set in.

“Ouch!” You say as he gently cleans the wounded flesh.

“Sorry, got to get it clean.” He says, looking down at you before continuing.

“I’m not that drunk.” You say, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yeah you are.” He assures. He moves to your knees, bending down and cleaning the blood off your legs. He grabs some antiseptic spray, before spraying your palms and knees.

“Ow!” You hiss. Logan bites down a laugh.

“You’re being a baby.” He says. You frown at him.

“It stings!” You say. Logan looks up at you and your breath catches in your throat.

“Sorry, honey.” He says affectionately, pulling out some antibiotic ointment and bandaids. You stare down at the bandaids.

“Are those Elmo bandaids?” You ask. Logan opens the pack, looking a them.

“I mean they’re not exclusively Elmo, Sesame Street would be the more inclusive label.” Logan says. You roll your eyes with a giggle.

“You really ate it out there.” He says, looking up at you as he sticks a rather large Elmo bandaid on your knee, followed by Oscar the grouch on your other knee.

You giggle. “That’s what she said.” Logan stares up at you, a laugh rising to the surface.

“You are so drunk right now.” He says. “It’s no wonder you fell.”

“The sidewalk attacked me.” You say defensively.

“The sidewalk?” He asks, raising a brow in speculation.

“It thinks it’s special or something.” You sigh. “The sidewalk wishes it had a chance.” You say.

“A chance at what exactly?” Logan asks, trying not to laugh.

“Being the reason I’m on my knees.” You state matter-of-factly.

He narrows his eyes, confusion written on his face.

“And?” He asks. You smile lazily.

“I was saving that honor for you.” You say winking at him. John pinches the bridge of his nose trying to hide the evident smirk on his lips.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He says, helping you down from the counter. You’re all bandaged up now. You walk out of the bathroom, heading into his bedroom. Your cardigan is the first to go. And then the white shirt you have tied up. You rifle through, Logan’s drawer, searching for a particular shirt. Logan watches you from the doorway.

You slip your skirt off, now only clad in knee socks and his shirt. You try to pull the pink fuzzy hair bows out of your hair with no success. Logan crosses the room.

“Let me help you before you rip your hair out.” He says, his hands carefully undoing the ties and unraveling the braids. You run your hand through your hair when it’s done.

“Thank you.” You say hugging him. Logan stiffens at first but hugs you back. His chin resting on the top of your head. He doesn’t say anything just enjoys your embrace.

“You always take care of me.” You say, snuggling into his chest.

“It’s what friends do.” Logan says, though he regrets it the moment you stiffen against him and pull away. Your face scrunches.

“I don’t wanna be your friend.” You say quietly.

“What?” He asks, voice a little shaken from your words.

“I don’t wanna be your friend.” Your voice is quieter this time. “I hate when you call me your friend.”

He searches your face, trying to decide how much of this is the tequila soda’s you’ve no doubt had tonight.

“You don’t mean that.” He says softly.

“I do.” You say, staring up at him.

“You’ve probably had like five tequila sodas, you don’t know what you’re saying.” He says.

“Seven, actually.” You correct.

“Exactly.” He says.

“I’ve wanted to be more than your friend since October.” You say. His breath catches. You continue before you can lose the nerve.

“I pretend I don’t care when girls flirt with you.” You laugh once, sadly. “I care so much.” You say, looking at the floor. Logan still hasn’t moved.

“I tell everyone we’re just, well… whatever this is because I don’t wanna scare you away.” You admit. Your eyes are glassy now. Yep you could definitely start balling at any minute now.

“But every time you leave after we hang out…” you shrug helplessly. “…I always kinda hope you’ll turn around and kiss me.”John swallows hard.

“You won’t remember saying any of this tomorrow.” He says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I will.” You say nodding your head.

“You won’t.” He chuckles. You frown at him.

“I’ve been blackout adjacent before, thank you.” You say a little sassily.

“Oh?” He says, easing a brow at you.

“I once spent twenty minutes arguing with Garrett because I thought he was Dean.” You say. John chuckles.

“Yeah, I remember that.” He says fondly.

“I still remember you carrying me upstairs because you didn’t want me to trip.” Your smile softens.

“I remember everything important, Logan.” You say. He stares at you, brown eyes searching yours. His mouth opens and then closes again, like he doesn’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You sniff. “Actually…please don’t.” You say laughing a bit.

“What? Why?” He asks.

“‘Cause if you tell me you don’t feel the same while you’re being so sweet to me and taking care of my drunk ass,” you laugh through a tear. “…that’s gonna be really embarrassing.”

He lets out the smallest, most disbelieving laugh.

“You really picked the worst possible timing.” He says.

“I know.” You shrug. “I’m really good at that.”

Another beat passes. John stares down at you.

“You know what’s been driving me insane?” He says. You blink.

“I’ve spent the last three months trying not to push you into something you weren’t ready for.” He admits. Your brows knit together, your drunk brain trying to process.

“I thought you just liked keeping me around.” You say. He shakes his head immediately.

“I’ve been trying so damn hard to be respectful.” He says, voice strained.

“You have?” You ask, eyes wide.

“You think I wanted to stop at making out every time?” He laughs under his breath. “You think I wanted to tell everyone you were ‘just a friend?’” You stare at him.

“I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend weeks ago.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. Your mouth falls open.

“So why didn’t you?” You ask. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Because every time I worked up the nerve someone would tease you about us and I’d hear you say that we were ‘just friends’ and I thought maybe you didn’t want me the way I want you.” He says. Your breath hitches, noticing his use of want and not wanted. You shake your head frantically.

“I thought you knew!”

“Sweetheart, you spent six months calling me ‘bro and then feeling me up at every party.” Logan says as the two of you sit in the edge of his bed.

You gasp. “That was flirting.” John laughs.

“That was psychological warfare.” He says. The realization settles between you. Weeks. Months. Both of you waiting for the other person to say something first.

You groan, dropping your face into your hands.

“We’re so stupid.” You say. John laughs.

“Yeah.” He shrugs.

“You could’ve just told me.” You say.

“You could’ve just said something.” He retorts.

“I literally just did.” You sass.

“After seven tequila sodas.” He says.

“Liquid courage.” You reason. He smiles so softly it almost hurts.

“I think I owe tequila a thank you.”

“So…” you say.

“So?” He asks.

“Am I still your friend?” You ask tentatively

He reaches up, hand caressing your cheek.

“No.” He says, his gaze trained on your lips.

“No?” You ask.

“No.” He confirms. His forehead rests lightly against yours.

“You’re the girl I’ve been wanting to call mine for a long time.” He says. You grin, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You need to sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning.” He promises. You nod, curling under his covers and snuggling into him.

Morning comes too soon and you wake in Logan’s arms, you smile despite the raging headache. The memories of last night flood back to you. Logan’s eyes flutter open.

“Good morning.” You say softly, blushing.

“Good morning gorgeous.” He whispers.

“You still want to call me yours?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. He grins.

“ I was hoping you’d hit me with a little ‘My loneliness is killing me’.” He says singing the Britney lyrics completely off key.

“John.” You say laughing. He grins at you.

You waited a little farther back, leaning against the railing with your hands tucked into the pockets of Garrett’s 44 hoodie, your wedding ring glinting beneath the fluorescent lights. The team trickled out one by one. Dean spotted you first.

“There she is.” He says nudging Garrett. Garrett’s head immediately turned, a grin spreading across his face.

“There she is.” He says. Before he could make it over to you, a blonde girl stepped in front of him.

“You played amazing tonight.” She gushes, putting a hand on his bicep. Garrett looks down at her hand, like a big has landed on him.

“Thanks.” He says a tight lipped smile on his face. She smiles, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“So… are you doing anything after this?” She asks batting her eyelashes at him. Garrett looks genuinely confused.

“I was gonna go home.” He says raising an eyebrow at her in confusion. She laughs.

“Want to come home with me instead?” She says biting her lip. He blinks.

“Oh.” He says awkwardly. She takes another step closer, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve kind of had a crush on you all semester.” She admits.

From your spot against the railing, you frown. You lean over towards Allie.

“…Who is that?” You ask, eyes narrowing. Allie shrugs.

“No clue.” She says.

Back by the tunnel, Garrett scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh…” The girl smiles at him hopefully.

“So?” She says. Garrett glances over her shoulder and immediately spots you waiting in your usual spot with Allie. His entire face lights up.

“Oh.” The girl says, realization setting in. He points to you.

“My wife.” He tells the girl plainly. She frowns.

“Your what?!” She asks.

“My wife.” He says like he’s talking to a toddler. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“The one wearing my hoodie.” He says. The girl’s eyes go wide.

“You’re married?” She asks incredulously.

“Yeah.” He says, an offended look on his face. She stares at him.

“I thought everyone was, like… joking.” She says. Garrett laughs.

“About my marriage?” He asks.

Dean walks by just in time to catch the end of the conversation. He slings an arm over Garrett’s shoulders.

“Nope. He’s serious.” Dean says. “Locked down.” He adds.

Garrett smiles as he finally made his way over to you.

“Hey, wife.” He greets, loud enough for the puck bunny to hear.

“Hey, husband.” You say playfully. He leans down to kiss you without a second thought.

“You ready to go home?” He asks. You smile.

“Mhm.” You murmur. As he intertwined your fingers, Dean called after the two of you.

“You know, most people lead with ‘Sorry, I have a girlfriend. Or in your case ‘Sorry, I have a wife.’” Garrett looks back over his shoulder.

“Why would I do that?” He asks. “I’m not sorry.”

He looks down at your intertwined fingers, your matching wedding bands catching the arena lights.

“My favorite title isn’t captain.” He says cheekily. You raise an eyebrow.

“No?” You ask curiously. He smiles softly.

“Nah.” He says shaking his head. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.