Lola♡

she was sitting across from you in the student center two days after the party when you abruptly cut yourself off mid-sentence and looked over her shoulder. your reaction lasted less than a second, but it was enough. dean had just walked through the doors surrounded by a group of friends, and before he’d even had the chance to look in your direction, you were already shoving your notebook into your bag.

“absolutely not,” hannah said.

you froze.

“hannah.”

“absolutely not.”

you sighed heavily and slung the bag over your shoulder. “i have somewhere to be.”

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

“you literally don’t.”

you opened your mouth.

closed it.

then opened it again.

hannah pointed triumphantly. “see?”

you hated when she was right

unfortunately, she was right often.

“i’m not avoiding him.”

the look she gave you could have melted steel.

“i’m not.”

“honey, if you avoided serial killers with the same dedication you’re avoiding dean di laurentis, crime rates would hit zero.”

you groaned and stood before she could continue. ignoring her protests, you headed for the nearest exit without looking back. it wasn’t mature. it wasn’t reasonable. but neither was the way your stomach had immediately dropped the second you’d seen dean enter the room.

because that was the problem.

if dean had been exactly what you’d expected, this would’ve been easy.

if he’d flirted with you for an hour at the party and moved on to the next girl, you would’ve rolled your eyes and forgotten about him by morning. that’s what people like dean did. they charmed everyone. they collected attention like trophies. they never stayed interested for long enough to matter.

except dean hadn’t done that.

he’d texted.

twice.

then three times.

then more.

nothing creepy. nothing weird. stupid little things throughout the day. a picture of a dog he’d passed on campus because you’d mentioned liking dogs. a complaint about one of his professors. a blurry photo of a textbook accompanied by the message “look, i’m studying. are you proud of me?” somehow that had made things infinitely worse.

because it felt real.

and real was terrifying.

you’d spent years mastering invisibility. it wasn’t intentional at first, but eventually it became comfortable. people overlooked you all the time. teachers forgot you were in class. classmates forgot your name. boys definitely forgot you existed. there was safety in that. safety in being unnoticed.

dean noticed everything.

which was why, three days later, you found yourself hiding in the oldest section of the campus library like some sort of fugitive.

it was ridiculous.

even you knew it was ridiculous.

the fourth floor was nearly empty, tucked away in a wing nobody used anymore. half the shelves contained books older than your parents. the lights were dimmer there. quieter. safer. you had been sitting cross-legged on the floor between two shelves for almost an hour, completely absorbed in a novel and blissfully unaware of the fact that somebody was approaching.

the shadow appeared first.

you frowned.

libraries weren’t supposed to have shadows.

slowly, you looked up and nearly had a heart attack.

dean stood at the end of the aisle with his hands shoved into his pockets.

just stood there.

looking at you.

for a solid five seconds neither of you moved.

then dean tilted his head.

“seriously?”

your face immediately burned.

“what are you doing here?”

he laughed.

actually laughed.

the sound echoed softly through the empty aisle.

“that’s your first question?”

“yes.”

“not ‘how did you find me?’”

you immediately regretted asking.

because now you wanted the answer to that question too.

dean stepped further into the aisle, looking around dramatically before his gaze settled back on you. “you know, i thought hannah was exaggerating.”

“about what?”

“the hiding.”

you groaned.

dean pointed around the aisle.

“you are literally sitting on the floor between bookshelves.”

“i like books.”

“you are hiding.”

“it’s called reading.”

“it’s called hiding.”

you looked away.

which was apparently all the confirmation he needed.

the amusement faded slightly from his expression as he leaned against the shelf opposite you. for the first time since you’d met him, dean looked genuinely frustrated. not angry. just frustrated enough to have spent the better part of an afternoon tracking you down across campus.

“did i do something?”

the question caught you off guard.

you blinked.

dean shrugged one shoulder.

“seriously. because if i did, just tell me.”

suddenly the conversation wasn’t funny anymore.

your fingers tightened around the edge of your book.

because that was the thing.

he had done something.

he’d been nice.

he’d remembered things you told him.

he’d looked at you like you mattered.

and somehow that was so much scarier than him being a jerk

because if dean was awful, you could hate him.

instead you liked him.

and that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.

dean watched your expression change.

watched you look away.

watched the silence stretch.

then something clicked behind his eyes.

understanding.

slowly, he exhaled.

“oh.”

your stomach dropped.

“oh what?”

a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

not smug.

not cocky.

soft.

almost fond.

“you’re scared.”

your heart stopped.

hannah, meanwhile, looked perfectly comfortable. she always did. she could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow have three new best friends within ten minutes. you envied that about her. she grabbed your wrist before you could retreat toward the nearest corner and tugged you through the crowd. “come on,” she shouted over the music. “garrett’s here.” you immediately knew what that meant. the entire reason she’d wanted to come tonight was because garrett was hosting. hannah had spent the last month pretending she wasn’t interested in him while simultaneously talking about him every single day. before you could protest, she was already weaving through clusters of people toward the back patio where a group of hockey players stood around talking.

garrett spotted her instantly. his face lit up in a way that made it painfully obvious he liked her just as much as she liked him. he pulled her into a quick hug before his attention shifted toward you. “so this is the famous friend?” he asked, smiling warmly. you felt your face heat immediately. hannah talked about you? apparently she did, because she grinned and nodded. “this is y/n.” you lifted your hand in a small wave. “hi.” your voice came out embarrassingly quiet. garrett didn’t seem to mind. he greeted you kindly before turning back toward hannah, already falling into easy conversation with her.

you were preparing to stand there awkwardly and count the minutes until you could go home when you noticed someone watching you.

it wasn’t your imagination, either.

across the patio, leaning against a railing with beau beside him, dean di laurentis was staring directly at you.

you recognized him immediately.

everyone did.

dean was the kind of guy people talked about constantly. girls talked about him because they wanted him. guys talked about him because they wanted to be him. he was handsome in a way that felt unfair, with dark hair falling messily over his forehead and a smile that somehow managed to look both charming and dangerous at the same time. every story you’d ever heard about him involved parties, hookups, or some girl crying over him afterward. as far as you knew, he had flirted with nearly every girl on campus at least once.

except you.

mostly because you spent ninety percent of your time hiding from people like dean di laurentis.

the second your eyes met his, you looked away.

unfortunately, that only seemed to make him more interested.

when you glanced back a few moments later, he wasn’t leaning against the railing anymore.

he was walking toward you.

your stomach dropped.

“hannah,” you hissed.

she looked over. “what?”

“dean’s coming over here.”

instead of being concerned, she looked delighted.

traitor.

by the time dean reached the group, you were actively considering pretending to receive an emergency phone call.

“garrett,” dean greeted casually.

“dean.”

they exchanged a quick nod before dean’s attention shifted to you. not past you. not around you. directly at you.

his eyes lingered.

you immediately wanted to disappear.

“and who’s this?” he asked.

before you could answer, hannah spoke for you.

dean repeated your name slowly, almost thoughtfully. somehow hearing it in his voice made your heartbeat speed up. “pretty name.”

your entire brain short-circuited.

garrett started laughing.

hannah looked like she was trying not to scream.

you stood there frozen.

“thanks,” you finally managed.

dean smiled.

god.

that smile should have come with a warning label.

instead of leaving after the introduction, he stayed. then he started asking questions. normal questions. where you were from. what your major was. whether you were enjoying the party. that last one made you laugh accidentally.

“what?”

you shook your head. “sorry. i’m definitely not enjoying the party.”

dean grinned immediately. “honest.”

“you asked.”

“and you answered.”

“would you rather i lied?”

“nah.” his eyes sparkled with amusement. “i like honest.”

you weren’t sure why that response made your cheeks warm, but it did.

the strangest part wasn’t that dean was talking to you. it was that he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. most conversations you had at parties lasted less than two minutes before people got bored. once they found out you preferred books to drinking and spent weekends studying instead of going out, their interest disappeared almost immediately. dean, however, kept asking questions. when you mentioned reading, he asked what kind of books. when you mentioned your favorite authors, he actually listened. when you rambled nervously about a novel you’d recently finished, he didn’t interrupt or look around the room searching for someone more interesting.

if anything, he seemed more focused on you with every passing minute.

eventually the rest of the group drifted away.

you didn’t even notice at first.

one moment garrett, hannah, and beau were standing nearby. the next, they were gone.

it was just you and dean.

somehow that realization made your pulse jump higher than before.

the two of you ended up sitting on a pair of chairs near the edge of the patio where the music wasn’t quite as deafening. the cool night air felt nice against your warm face. dean leaned back casually, one arm draped across the back of his chair, while you sat curled slightly inward like you always did around people. despite that, conversation flowed surprisingly easily. dean had a way of making everything feel less intimidating. he teased you occasionally, but never cruelly. every joke felt light and playful. every smile felt genuine.

“so let me get this straight,” he said after listening to you describe one of your favorite books. “you willingly read nine hundred pages for fun?”

you laughed.

actually laughed.

the sound surprised both of you.

dean’s smile immediately widened.

“there it is.”

you blinked. “what?”

“your laugh.”

you groaned and covered your face.

he laughed softly.

“what? it was cute.”

“please stop talking.”

“not a chance.”

you peeked at him through your fingers and found him already looking at you.

not in the way most guys did.

not like he was checking you out.

he was looking at you like he genuinely enjoyed being around you.

that realization felt far more dangerous.

because you didn’t know what to do with it.

you understood flirting in theory. you had read enough romance novels for that. actually experiencing it was another story entirely. every compliment dean gave you made your thoughts scatter. every time he smiled at you, your heart forgot how to function properly. the worst part was that he seemed completely aware of the effect he was having. not in an arrogant way. more in an amused way.

like he found your reactions adorable.

which only made things worse.

“you know,” dean said after a moment, “you’re different than i expected.”

you frowned.

“you expected something?”

“everyone talks about you.”

that shocked you.

“they do?”

“yeah.”

you stared.

“why?”

he shrugged. “because you’re the mysterious girl who’s friends with hannah and somehow never comes to any parties.”

“that’s ridiculous.”

“maybe.”

you rolled your eyes.

dean’s grin softened.

“i’m serious, though.”

for the first time all evening, there wasn’t any teasing in his voice.

just sincerity.

“i’m glad you came tonight.”

your breath caught.

the words shouldn’t have affected you that much.

but they did.

because dean wasn’t saying them casually.

he meant them.

you could tell.

for a moment neither of you spoke. the sounds of the party faded into the background. people moved around the yard, music played somewhere inside the house, laughter echoed from the pool, but it all felt distant. dean’s eyes stayed locked on yours.

then he smiled.

small

soft.

different from the confident grin he’d been wearing all night.

and somehow that smile affected you more than any of the others.

“you’re blushing again,” he pointed out.

you immediately looked away.

he laughed quietly.

“cute.”

“dean.”

“yeah?”

“you’re impossible.”

his smile widened.

“you still haven’t told me to stop.”

the embarrassing thing was that you didn’t want him to.

and judging by the look on dean’s face, he knew it.

that realization sent your heart racing all over again.

somewhere behind you, hannah let out a squeal that sounded suspiciously excited.

you buried your face in your hands.

dean laughed.

your stomach twists.

the dress weighs a thousand pounds. that’s what it feels like, anyway. every step is harder than the last, your heels clicking against polished marble while your father’s hand remains firmly wrapped around your arm. he doesn’t look at you once during the walk. if he did, he might see the panic sitting behind your eyes.

or maybe he already knows it’s there.

when you finally reach the altar, your father places your hand into bruce’s without ceremony. like he’s handing over paperwork. like he’s completing a transaction.

bruce’s fingers close around yours automatically.

they’re warm.

you hate that you notice.

“you look beautiful.”

his voice is low enough that only you can hear it.

you don’t answer.

for a second, something flickers across his face. disappointment, maybe. then it’s gone, replaced by that same calm expression he’s worn all morning.

the ceremony begins.

you try listening to the priest. you really do. but every word blends together into meaningless noise. vows. devotion. partnership. love.

love.

you almost laugh.

there isn’t a single person in this cathedral who believes this marriage has anything to do with love.

your hands shake during the vows.

it’s humiliating.

you can feel hundreds of eyes watching as you struggle through the words, your voice barely audible by the end. the ring nearly slips from your fingers when it’s your turn to place it on bruce’s hand, but he catches it before it can fall.

his hand closes around yours

steady.

gentle.

you pull away immediately.

the priest finally reaches the end of the ceremony, smiling broadly as he looks between the two of you.

“i now pronounce you husband and wife.”

applause erupts throughout the cathedral.

your heart sinks.

husband and wife.

just like that.

the priest turns toward bruce. “you may kiss the bride.”

you stop breathing.

the room seems to go quiet despite the crowd surrounding you. slowly, bruce turns toward you. up close, you can see faint shadows beneath his eyes, like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

his gaze drops to your face.

you look away first.

“hey.”

the word is so quiet you almost miss it.

when you glance back, he’s already leaning closer.

“i know you didn’t want this.”

your chest tightens.

before you can respond, his hand settles lightly against your jaw.

“but i’m not going to hurt you.”

then he kisses you.

it’s brief. respectful. nothing like the dramatic kisses people cheer for in movies. by the time he pulls away, the crowd is already applauding again.

you don’t hear any of it.