nara

The music was already loud before Y/N even made it up the front steps.

It blasted through the walls hard enough to shake the windows while bodies crowded the porch, half the campus apparently determined to celebrate Briar’s hockey team latest win like they’d personally scored the goals themselves.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind her. “This,” she said dryly, “is exactly how people get diseases.”

Her friend Chloe laughed. “Oh my God, stop acting like you’re above this. Your brother literally lives here.”

“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “I know what kind of diseases exist inside this house.”

Another girl, she didn’t even know beside her nudged Y/N’s shoulder excitedly. “Still can’t believe your brother’s Garrett Grant.”

“Graham,” Y/N corrected automatically.

“Whatever. The point is your family tree is carrying our social lives.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little as she pushed the front door open.

Instant chaos. Bodies everywhere. Beer spilled on the floor already. Music too loud. People shouting over beer pong in the dinner table.

Home, basically.

“Baby G!”

Dean appeared first from the living room already drunker than he should. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “My favorite Graham.”

“You say that every time just to piss Garrett off.”

“But I mean it every time.” he winked at her.

Dean immediately threw an arm around her shoulders and started pulling her through the crowd while her friends looked one second away from passing out from excitement.

Y/N heard one of them whisper: “Oh my God, that’s Dean Di Laurentis.”

She rolled her eyes. Poor girl.

“They are all freshman, Dean,” Y/N warned. “Behave.”

“I’m always behaving.”

The kitchen erupted into cheers suddenly as several hockey players stumbled in carrying cases of beer. And right in the middle of them. Logan.

Hoodie sleeves shoved up his forearms, curls messy under a backwards cap, and that lazy, effortless kind of confidence that made it seem like he belonged everywhere he stood. The warm glow from the kitchen lights softened the sharp edges of his face while he laughed at something one of the upperclassmen said, easy and unguarded for once.

Unfortunately for Y/N’s sanity, Logan always looked unfairly good without even trying.

Y/N’s friend beside her went completely silent. Then: “…holy shit.” one of them said.

Y/N snorted. Because ‘Yeah… holy shit.’ She thought

That was usually people’s reaction to Logan.

He looked up a second later, eyes scanning the room automatically before landing on her. And immediately smiled, walking towards them.

“Well, well,” he called over the music. “Graham brought friends.” His mouth curved into a smirk. He wasn’t interested in the girls at all, he just knew the comment would earn him an reaction from her, and for some reason, he never got tired of them. Like a boy annoying his crush on school because he doesn’t know how get her to notice him.

Y/N flipped him off instantly. “They’re innocent freshmen. Leave them alone.”

“I don’t want to be left alone,” one of her friends whispered weakly.

Dean and Logan chuckled. And Y/N rolled her eyes, but her gaze drifted back to Logan anyway. He looked different tonight.

Not physically, though the messy dark hair, flushed cheeks, and post-game confidence weren't helping.

No, it was something else.

Confidence was natural to Logan, but tonight it seemed different somehow. Brighter. Real. Not made up. Like he was carrying the energy of the entire arena with him.

Which, to be fair, he practically was. He'd scored a hat trick. The crowd had spent half the game chanting his name. The team had won because of him.

The worst part? He wore real confidence disgustingly well.

Y/N liked to think she knew better than most that Logan hid behind a smile. Behind the flirting, the confidence, the constant jokes, and sarcasm there was always something he kept carefully out of reach. A part of himself he rarely let anyone see.

But hockey? Hockey was different.

Hockey was the one place where nothing about him was rehearsed. There was no mask and not a carefully crafted version of John Logan. Just him. It was obvious in the way he moved on the ice. In the way his entire face lit up after a goal, a assist. In the pure, almost boyish excitement he could never quite hide after a win.

Whatever insecurities he carried, whatever demons he kept locked behind that easy smile, they disappeared the second he stepped onto the rink.

And maybe that was why Y/N enjoyed watching him play so much. Because for a few hours, she got to see the real version of him. The one who wasn't pretending to be anything at all.

As if sensing her staring, he glanced over.

"Careful, Graham," he said, pointing lazily at her with someone else's beer. "Keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna start thinking you're impressed."

Y/N snorted.

"It’s easier for me to walk barefoot through this kitchen.” she said sarcastically “You scored three goals and somehow became even more arrogant."

Logan grinned. Actually grinned. Like he'd been waiting for her to bring it up. And suddenly he looked pleased. Not because of the game. Because she'd noticed.

"So... you saw that?" He said, trying and failing to sound casual. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Y/N stared at him and blinked.

"Logan."

"What?"

"My brother was playing."

Logan immediately regretted it. His smile melted instantly.

Of course she saw it. Her brother was the fucking captain of the team. Why the hell had he gotten excited in the first place? She watches practically every game. Like she'd been sitting in those stands watching him.

Idiot.

The stupid little spark in his chest fizzled out instantly. There it is, reality. He should've known better.

"Right," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah sure."

But then Y/N tilted her head slightly.

"and," she added, "you played really well."

Logan looked up surprised.

"What?"

"You did." She shrugged. "Three goals is kind of incredible, Johnny !"

For a second, he just stared at her.

Y/N fought the urge to smile but tried to hold it, keeping the cool girl character. Then break the character and finally smiled, when she saw his face light up again the exact moment the compliment landed.

He play it cool and was able to recover quickly.

"Well," he said, suddenly looking far too pleased with himself, "I am kind of incredible."

Y/N laughed and flipped him "Fuck off. I'm never complimenting you again"

Logan chuckled softly under his breath too. Too softly and naturally. Her friends exchanged looks and Y/N changed the subject.

“Where’s Garrett?” she asked.

“Somewhere upstairs with Hannah”

“Sounds right.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Garrett suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs.

He spotted Y/N instantly. Then spotted the freshmen girls behind her.

“Well,” Y/N sighed. “Speaking of the devil”

Garrett pointed directly at Logan before even reaching the bottom step.

“You.”

Logan blinked innocently. “Me?”

“Don’t try anything” throwing back to the conversation they had days ago in his room.

Y/N laughed innocently.

And Logan… Logan just grinned slowly like Garrett’s threats had become background noise years ago. Before he could say anything to defend himself Y/N spoke.

“Relax, Johnny wasn’t flirting with them…” Y/N said innocently. Then she paused. “…yet.”

Logan looked offended immediately. “That’s slander.”

“That’s experience.”

Dean chuckled somewhere behind them while Garrett looked one second away from developing a stress-induced migraine. Y/N ignored all three of them.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning toward the girls beside her, “come meet my brother since apparently he’s, like, a celebrity or something.”

“Oh my God,” Chloe whispered, panicking instantly.

Garrett groaned. “Y/N—”

Too late. Y/N grabbed his wrist and physically pulled him forward into the circle of freshmen girls despite his resistance.

“This is Garrett Graham,” she announced dramatically, like some kind of sports commentator. “Team captain, future NHL star, and unfortunately for you girls, very much taken, so let’s all be respectful and keep your crushes to yourselves.”

Garrett deadpanned. “I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.” she held his arm keeping him in place.

Her friends looked fascinated. Which happened a lot around Garrett.

He had that effect naturally. Big presence, sharp stare, the kind of confidence that made people straighten unconsciously when he walked into a room.

Y/N, didn’t see him like that at all. Mostly because she’d spent her entire childhood bullying him.

“Hi,” one girl squeaked nervously.

Garrett softened almost immediately. Not by much, maybe two percent, but for him that was practically warmth. The girls standing behind Y/N didn't look like the kind of people she usually spent time with. If he were being honest, he wasn't even convinced most of them were real friends. They seemed far more interested in the house and the hockey players than in Y/N herself. But he knew that she was trying to branch out beyond the skating world, trying to fit in with normal college girls for once, and Garrett wasn't about to make it harder for her.

So he slipped easily into the role they were all expecting: Briar's captain, friendly, polite, approachable. If making a good impression helped Y/N feel a little more comfortable, then he could play the part for a few minutes. Besides, it was nice seeing her with people outside the rink for a change. "Hey," he said politely.

Y/N looked smug. “See? He’s house trained.”

“Shut up”

Behind them, Logan watched the entire interaction with amusement tugging at his mouth. His eyes stayed on Y/N a second longer than necessary as she laughed again, and as she walked around introducing her friends to different guys on the hockey team, head tipping slightly toward her friends, arguing with Garrett about something stupid.

Most people looked at Y/N and saw confidence. The loud laugh, the quick comebacks, the way she could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow end up talking to all of them within ten minutes. She moved through their house like she lived there, stealing drinks, insulting people affectionately, making herself comfortable wherever she went.

But Logan had always thought there was something a little misleading about that version of her. Not because it wasn't real. Y/N was genuinely funny and talkative and ridiculously easy to like. The thing was, people assumed that meant she was easy to get to know. She wasn't.

Growing up with their dad she had, she'd learned early how to smile through discomfort, how to hide pain behind politeness, how to make difficult things look effortless. Figure skating had only reinforced it. Years of performing had taught her how to stay graceful when she was exhausted, how to make every movement look intentional, how to let people see exactly what she wanted them to see.

It was almost funny, really. For someone who was such a social butterfly, Y/N kept her world surprisingly small. Most friendships drifted in and out of her life without ever getting particularly deep. The people she truly let in could be counted on one hand: Garrett, the boys, Hannah and Allie. That was it. And whenever anyone pointed it out, she'd just shrug and insist she already had everything she needed.

And she meant it.

For them everything with Y/N felt easy. And Logan still hadn’t realized yet that maybe that was his problem. And why it was so hard to push whatever weird thought was going through his head away.

Y/N was halfway through introducing another girl to one of the denfesemen when a girl appeared beside Logan near the couch.

“Congratulations on the game” she said with an already flirty undertone, leaning against the side of the couch beside him.

He ignored her for some seconds. Eyes still clued toward Y/N across the room. She was laughing at something Garrett said, one hand gripping his forearm while he looked deeply unimpressed by her existence.

Then the girl said “So... you’re Johnny?”

That made him finally look back at the girl beside him. He reconized the girl as one of Y/N’s friends. Pretty. Blonde. Smiling at him.

“…don’t call me that.” he said quite rude without even noticing.

She blinked. “What?”

“Johnny.” He took another sip of beer. “Don’t call me that”

The girl laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Sorry. Y/N talks about you guys all the time, so I guess it stuck.”

That made something strange settle low in his chest. Y/N talks about you guys all the time. Not just Garrett. But also not just him. But them.

And really, why wouldn't she talk about them?

Y/N spent so much time at their house that half her college memories probably happened within these walls. Movie nights, team dinners, study sessions, late-night food runs, stupid inside jokes that somehow never died.

Somewhere along the way, she'd stopped being Garrett's little sister who occasionally stopped by and simply become part of the group.

Logan wasn't sure any of them had even noticed when it happened and hadn’t really thought about it. But apparently Y/N had. And apparently it was an important subject for her.

“You don’t like it, huh?” the girl teased lightly.

Logan was lost in his thoughts and realized a second too late she was still talking to him.

“What?”

“The nickname,” she said. “You hate it that much?”

“No,” he answered automatically. Then quieter: “Just sounds weird from other people.”

Because he didn’t hate it. Not really. He complained every time Y/N called him Johnny, but half the time he was just pretending. When she said it, it sounded natural. When someone else did, it felt like they were using something that wasn’t theirs.

Her smile shifted slightly then, like she finally noticed he wasn’t really paying attention to her.

His attention kept drifting back across the room. Y/N had moved closer to Garrett again, still talking animatedly with her hands while her friends listened. Garrett pretended to look annoyed, but Logan knew him well enough to catch the tiny things underneath it.

The way Garrett stayed turned toward her automatically in crowded rooms. The way his eyes tracked her without thinking. The way Y/N leaned into him casually because somewhere deep down she’d never doubted he’d be there.

Protective. Constant. Safe

It made him think.

Maybe because ever since Garrett had finally told them the truth last year, Logan hadn't been able to completely stop wondering about it. Not about Garrett, about Y/N.

Garrett's stories had always revolved around bruises, shouting matches, slammed doors, and a father who seemed determined to turn every room he entered into a battlefield. Logan knew enough to understand why Garrett carried some of the things he did. Knew enough to understand where the anger came from. But Y/N had always been the missing piece of that story.

He'd never asked her. It wasn't his business. Garrett had trusted them with his memories, and Logan wasn't about to start digging for details that hadn't been offered. Still, he couldn't help wondering where Y/N fit into all of it. Where she'd been during those years. What she'd seen. What she'd heard through bedroom walls. How much of it she remembered, and how much of it Garrett had managed to shield her from.

Because sometimes Logan looked at her and saw someone who seemed completely untouched by that kind of childhood, bright, confident, quick to laugh. Then other times, he'd catch small things that made him think the opposite. The way she avoided conflict she couldn't joke her way through. The way she brushed off things that should probably bother her more. The way she seemed determined to carry every problem by herself rather than ask for help.

Like somewhere along the way she'd learned the same lesson Garrett had. Just in a different form. Hide the damage. Keep smiling. Make sure nobody notices.

Garrett had spent most of his life protecting Y/N. Which made this… Whatever this weird thing inside Logan’s chest was… feel worse somehow. It felt wrong in a way he couldn’t fully explain. Because standing here watching them, it was impossible not to see how much trust existed there. How much love.

And Logan was suddenly terrifyingly aware that he was looking at Garrett’s little sister too long again.

The girl beside him tried one last time anyway.

“So,” she smiled, letting her fingers brush lightly against his arm, “are all hockey players this antisocial or just you?”

Normally, Logan would've flirted back without thinking. Easy smile. Easy charm. Easy conversation. The girl was pretty. She was standing right next to him, clearly interested, practically handing him an opening. Usually, that would've been enough.

Instead, he barely reacted.

Because his attention kept drifting across the room.

Y/N was near the middle of the living room now, laughing as Hannah wrapped an arm around her shoulders. A second later, the two girls grabbed Garrett from opposite sides and started trying to drag him toward whatever disaster counted as dancing tonight.

Garrett immediately looked annoyed. Or at least he tried to. His mouth was already twitching before they even managed to pull him away from the wall, the corner of it betraying him as Hannah laughed and Y/N nearly doubled over from her own success.

The idiot was enjoying himself.

Logan felt a soft smile tug at his mouth before he could stop it.

The girl beside him followed his gaze.

Watched Y/N and Hannah continue harassing Garrett while he complained the entire time, letting them pull him farther into the crowd anyway.

Then she looked back at Logan. And suddenly went very quiet. “Oh,” she said.

For the first time all night, Logan actually looked at her and he realized exactly what she'd been seeing.

Understanding flashed across the girl's face almost instantly. Then came sympathy. Which was somehow worse. The girl looked back at Logan and laughed softly.

Logan frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, still smiling. Then her eyes flicked toward Y/N again. 

Before Logan could come up with a response, she shook her head, amusement replacing whatever disappointment she'd felt.

"Good luck with that… Logan." she said sarcastically and he noticed she avoided the nickname. 

"With what?" he asked immediately.

But she was already backing away into the crowd.

"You'll figure it out."

And then she was gone.

No teasing. No accusations. No chance for him to explain that she had the wrong idea.

Logan stared into his beer for a moment.

Good luck with that, hockey boy.

Good luck whit what exactly?

He almost rolled his eyes. The girl didn’t even know them and had spoken like she’d uncovered some life-changing secret after one small interaction.

Please.

She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Y/N was just… Y/N.

Of course he looked at her. Half his friends were currently orbiting around her. Garrett was over there. Hannah too. Dean had practically appointed himself her personal bodyguard for the night.

Anybody would be looking in that direction. The girl had just misread the situation.

Completely.

Logan took another sip of beer.

Then, without thinking, looked across the room at Y/N again.

———————

The party kept moving around.

Music louder now. More bodies packed into the house. The heat unbearable from too many people dancing too close together.

And somewhere in the middle of it all that, Y/N.

She’d abandoned her jacket hours ago, now down to a cropped Briar U shirt and jeans, hair messy from dancing while Hannah and Allie screamed lyrics around her. Her "friends" were nowhere to be seen anymore, and honestly she felt way better around Hannah and Allie anyways.

She looked happy. Not polite-smiling happy. Not teasing-the-boys happy. Actually happy.

Free in a way Logan didn’t think he’d ever really noticed before. And maybe it was because this place felt safe to her. Their house, Garrett and the boys. She moved through the crowd without hesitation, laughing freely, accepting drinks from Tucker without checking them first, throwing her head back when her friends dragged her into another terrible dance circle.

Comfortable. Because she trusted that nothing bad would happen here. And that somebody would take care of her if it did.

Logan watched her spin badly with Hannah and Allie to some early 2000s song while Dean nearly fell over beside her and Tucker recorded the whole thing laughing.

A smile tugged at Logan’s mouth despite himself.

Logan huffed quietly into his beer and leaned back further into the couch cushions.

Conversation started around him, hockey schedules, classes, some argument about playoffs, but it all blurred together after a while.

Because every few minutes his eyes found her again.

Y/N stealing somebody’s drink. Y/N laughing so hard she doubled over. Y/N dancing terribly on purpose just to make everyone laugh harder. Every glance lasted a little too long. Every time he looked away, his attention drifted right back. He never noticed her like that before. And the more he noticed it the worse it felt.

Because Garrett trusted him.

Hell, Y/N trusted him. She was not only her best friend’s sister, she was his friend too.

She walked into this house without thinking twice. Safe enough to steal their drinks, fall asleep on their couches, and trust that nobody would ever see more of it.

The thought settled heavily in Logan's chest.

Because he'd always hated when people said men and women couldn't just be friends. Hated the idea that every friendship secretly came with an expiration date, that eventually one person always wanted more. And yet, watching Y/N laugh her way through the crowd, made Logan feel like an asshole.

Because as far as she knew, he just another one of the boys.

Then suddenly—

“Jooooohnny.”

A body dropped onto the couch beside him hard enough to make him jolt slightly. Followed by Garrett, Tucker, Dean, Hannah and Allie walking in the living room.

Y/N grinned at him lazily, very obviously drunk.

Her cheeks were flushed pink from dancing, her eyes bright and unfocused as she made a grab for the beer in his hand.

Logan dodged easily.

Drunk Y/N had terrible reflexes.

“People’s princess,” Dean said sitting on the armchair. “Finally tired of entertaining your subjects”

Y/N pointed at him dramatically. “It’s just a break… I’ll be right back”

“You spilled vodka on my shoes twenty minutes ago.”

“And yet you forgave me because I’m cute.”

“No,” Garrett muttered, appearing behind the couch suddenly. “he forgave you because you’re five seconds from falling over.”

Y/N gasped softly. “I’m not even that bad”

She leaned further into Logan’s side as she said it, completely unbothered. Logan went still instantly.

“Hi,” she said suddenly, squinting up at him. “Why do you look depressed?”

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Yeah,” she nodded seriously. “But, like… depressing.”

The boys chuckled

Y/N ignored tem completely and kept staring at Logan with drunken concentration like she was genuinely trying to solve a puzzle.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

“…you’re boooring. You just scored 3 goals in a important game, and spend the night sitting on this couch… you are no fun”

Logan looked down at her and suddenly realized just how close she was.

Close enough to see her melted make up and the faint glitter still stubbornly clinging near the corners of her eyes. Close enough to smell alcohol mixed with her perfume. Close enough that if she leaned even a little more—

Y/N blinked up at him slowly with heavy, sleepy eyes, still waiting for an answer to whatever nonsense accusation she’d just made. Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. His throat tightened. Logan swallowed hard before he caught himself.

Then immediately leaned back, giving her shoulder a light shove.

“Shut up,” he muttered with a nervous chuckle. “You are dead-ass drunk.”

Y/N gasped dramatically like he’d deeply insulted her.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You almost walked into my lamp ten minutes ago.” Tucker accused

“The lamp moved.” she said dramaticlly

Dean nodded solemnly from the floor. “Honestly? I saw it too.”

“Thank you.”

Garrett looked exhausted. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Y/N ignored him entirely and stole Logan’s beer again before he could stop her.

“Hey—”

“You share,” she informed him.

“You’ve had, like, four drinks already.” he took his beer back

“And?” She tilted her head lazily against the couch cushion. “I want to have five" she pouted

And suddenly Logan felt hyperaware again of the fact that she was practically folded against his side.

This felt dangerously wrong. Not because she was doing anything inappropriate. Y/N was just being Y/N. Comfortable, loud, affectionate when drunk, the problem was that she didn’t know the effect this suddenly had on him.

“You are,” she insisted, poking his ribs weakly. “You are all weird and quiet.”

Logan nearly choked on his beer. “No, I’m not.”

Y/N chuckled again, soft and tired this time, until she suddenly dropped her head onto Logan’s shoulder like gravity simply gave up on her. Everything in Logan’s body locked instantly.

Y/N was already half asleep.

“She’s done,” Tucker announced from the other couch.

“No shit,” Garrett muttered.

Y/N made a small annoyed sound without lifting her head. “I’m literally awake.”

“Congratulations,” Logan said dryly, staring very hard at the opposite wall instead of the warm weight resting against him. “Do you want a medal?”

“…yes. the golden one, in the olympics” she said sleepy

Tucker lost it laughing. Honestly, that was probably a sign he was drunker than he should’ve been, because it wasn’t even that funny.

And Logan smiled despite himself. Which was exactly the problem.

“Damn it,” Garrett muttered.

Logan glanced up.

Across the living room, Hannah and Allie were fully passed out on the opposite couch, tangled together next to Tucker.

And Dean suddenly disappeared , probably with the brunette he was hooking up with twenty minutes ago.

Garrett took a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose like the entire party was personally attacking him. “This is why I hate throwing parties,” he muttered. “Everybody has fun, then somehow the house is destroyed, the beer's gone, and we're the ones cleaning up tomorrow.”

"That's leardship Gare" Y/N mumbled

Garrett ignored her and continued “And don't even get me started on freshmen who discover alcohol for the first time and immediately forget how to function.”

“Love you too,” Y/N mumbled sleepily against Logan's shoulder.

Garrett pointed at her immediately.

“You are exactly who I'm talking about."

“No, I'm not.” She cracked one eye open. “I'm your favorite.”

“You're currently drooling on Logan."

Logan nearly inhaled his beer wrong. Y/N lifted her head just enough to look offended "Liar ! I don't drool."

Then she dropped right back onto his shoulder anyway.

Logan was painfully aware of: Y/N curled into his side. His arm resting along the back of the couch behind her. The fact that he hadn’t moved away once.

Garrett sighed heavily.

“Hey,” he said finally, looking directly at Logan. “I gotta take Hannah and Allie home before it gets too late”

Logan blinked once.

“And?”

“And Dean disappeared.” Garrett jerked his head toward Tucker. “Tucker’s drunk off his ass.” Then finally: "So do you mind taking care of Y/N?”

The room seemed to go strangely quiet for a second. Garrett trusted him. And Logan felt like the world’s worst person suddenly. Because Garrett asked the question so easily.

No suspicion. No hesitation.

“Yeah,” Logan answered automatically, voice rougher than intended. “Course.”

Garrett nodded once like that settled it completely.

“Just make sure she drinks water before she passes out.”

Y/N lifted one finger into the air dramatically without opening her eyes. “Hydration is important for high performance athletes.”

“You had vodka mixed with an energy drink.”

“Balance.”

Garrett rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly shaking his head. Then he moved toward the couch, crouching briefly in front of Y/N.

“Hey,” he said quieter this time. “I’m taking Hannah back to campus.”

Y/N blinked slowly at him. “Kay.”

“You staying here tonight?”

She nodded immediately, not even thinking about it. “Mhm.”

“Okay.” Garrett brushed messy hair back from her forehead automatically. “Lock the upstairs bathroom door this time if you shower in the morning.”

Y/N looked offended. “That happened one time.”

Garrett laughed under his breath despite himself, kissed her forehead before standing again. Then he looked toward Logan one last time.

“Text me if she gets worse.”

Logan nodded once.

And just like that, Garrett handed over the most important person in his life without a second thought.

“I’m not even that drunk,” Y/N complained immediately after Garrett disappeared toward the front door with Hannah and Allie barely conscious behind him. “I don’t need a babysitter”

Her words blended together just enough to completely destroy her argument. Logan looked down at her incredulously.

“You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’m just relaxing.”

“You called the lamp hostile earlier.”

“Because it was.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically before letting herself fall backward against Logan’s shoulder again with absolutely no concern for personal space.

“He’s so dramatic, I swear,” she mumbled. “Like, oh no, Y/N had fun at a party, somebody alert the authorities.”

Logan huffed out a laugh despite himself.

“G is just protective.”

Y/N groaned instantly. “He’s insane.”

“He worries"

“Too much.” she added.

She shifted again until she was practically folded into Logan’s side, one leg thrown lazily across the couch cushion beside him. Logan was trying very hard not to think about the fact that her face was tucked against his neck now. He swallowed once and stared straight ahead at the crowded living room like it personally offended him.

Y/N snorted softly against Logan’s shoulder, clearly amused. Then she tilted her head up suddenly to squint at him.

“You smell nice.” Everything in Logan’s body stopped functioning for a full second. Y/N blinked slowly, still completely serious. “Like laundry detergent,” she informed him.

Logan dragged a hand down his face. “You are never drinking again.”

Y/N smiled sleepily then, small and lazy and entirely too comfortable against him. Her fingers absentmindedly curled into the sleeve of Logan’s hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe for her, it was. That was the problem. Because for Y/N, this probably meant nothing. She wouldn’t even remember.

Meanwhile Logan was sitting there hyperaware of every point where she touched him while guilt slowly ate through his bloodstream.

Tucker noticed. Of course he did. His drunk eyes narrowed slowly between the two of them. Logan looked up noticing Tucker's eyes on them and stomach dropped immediately.

“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” Logan announced to nobody in particular.

Mostly because he desperately needed to get out of this couch before Tucker’s drunk ass accidentally developed observational skills.

Y/N barely protested when Logan stood and took her hand, helping her up from the couch carefully. The second she got to her feet, she swayed slightly. He reached out quickly and steadied her.

“Wow,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “So quick.”

Logan laughed. “You're a figure skater. You're supposed to have better balance than this.”

Y/N squinted at him. “I can skate backward.”

“You can't walk forward.”

“Details.”

She stumbled toward the stairs with all the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be walking unassisted. Logan followed automatically, one hand hovering near her elbow just in case.

Halfway to the staircase, she faltered. Not from the alcohol this time. A small wince crossed her face before she could hide it, her hand briefly brushing her knee. Logan noticed immediately.

"You okay?" he rushed to her side "Something hurts?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing face."

"My knee's being dramatic." she said as if it was nothing.

"You mean injured?"

"I mean dramatic."

Y/N blinked at him. Then shrugged.

"Yeah. Probably danced too much."

"You dance for an hour and injure yourself?"

"I skate for six hours and injure myself," she corrected.

Logan narrowed his eyes.

She ignored him. Then she looked up at the staircase. And stopped completely. A look of deep suspicion settled on her face. "There's more of them than before." brushing the subject.

Logan stared. "The stairs?"

"Yeah... and they are moving."

"They are literally the same stairs."

Y/N squinted harder. "and multiplying."

"Jesus Christ."

Before she could attempt climbing again and accidentally throw herself backward down the staircase, Logan exhaled sharply and bent slightly to lift her instead.

One arm under her knees. The other around her back. Easy and effortless.

Y/N let out a startled laugh immediately as he picked her up bridal style. Her head tipped backward dramatically while her arms looped loosely around his neck for balance.

Logan rolled his eyes as he started upstairs carefully “You’re impossible.”

“No,” Y/N sighed dreamily. “I’m amazing”

Logan laughed quietly under his breath before he could stop himself. Y/N looked up at him then, smile softer now, eyes heavy and unfocused in the dim hallway lighting.

And God. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Then suddenly she spoke again.

“Did you know,” Y/N slurred thoughtfully, “I quit pairs when I was little?”

Logan looked down at her. “Yeah?”

He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just giving her enough responses to keep up with whatever drunk train of thought she was currently riding. Most of her words had blended together into background noise by now.

She nodded against his shoulder.

“Uh-hu. My partners could never lift me properly.”   

Y/N just kept going. “I hated pairs, honestly. Being thrown around, being caught, trusting somebody not to drop you.” She wrinkled her nose. “None of my partners were ever very good at it. I hit my head a lot. Then she laughed softly. “One of them told me I was too heavy.”

The hallway suddenly felt very quiet. Logan stopped walking. 

“What? Does Garrett know about this?”

The look of horror on her face was immediate. “Oh my God, no. He would murder a second grader.”

Logan considered that for a second. “Maybe he should have.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “We were like seven.”

“I don't care.” The answer came so fast it almost surprised him.

A smile tugged at her mouth. “He was seven too, Johnny.”

“Then he was a seven-year-old asshole.”

That actually made her laugh.

Y/N yawned and rested her head against his shoulder again.

“Besides,” she mumbled sleepily, “it worked out. I was always better on my own anyway.”

Logan looked down at her for a moment. He had a feeling she wasn’t talking just about skating anymore. The worst part was that she sounded like she believed it.

Logan tightened his jaw and started walking again. "Sounds like your partners sucked."

Y/N laughed softly. "Most of them did."

"They had one job. To catch you."

She laughed softly. "That's not technically how pairs works."

"Maybe not." He glanced down at her. "Still. If somebody's trusting you enough to throw themselves into the air, you don't get to screw that up."

The words settled between them. For a second, Y/N just stared at him.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he said it. But suddenly it didn't feel like they were talking about skating anymore too.

There was something strangely earnest in his voice. Something simple and solid. Like he genuinely couldn't understand how anyone could be trusted with something precious and then choose to let it fall.

A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“That's a very nice thing to say, Johnny."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. Y/N kept looking at him for another second, studying him like she'd discovered something unexpected.

Then her smile widened.

"You would've been a great partner."

Logan snorted. "I'm pretty sure figure skating requires grace and coordination. I'd be kicked out on day one."

That made her laugh. And he smiled to himself proud of it "Probably” Her gaze dropped to his arm where it was holding her effortlessly. "But at least I would've known you were gonna catch me."

The words were casual. The effect they had on him wasn't.

As she said them, her fingers tightened absentmindedly around his bicep where her arm rested. Logan nearly missed a step. Y/N blinked down at her own hand, then squeezed experimentally once more.

"...wow."

Oh no.

"I never realized how fit you were," she mumbled, squeezing again as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do. "This is insane."

"Y/N." he warned

"What?" she asked innocently, looking up at him while continuing her completely unscientific investigation.

"Jesus Christ." he groaned

She laughed softly, still completely unaware of the fact that she was actively shortening his lifespan. Or maybe she knew… Drunk Y/N was difficult to read.

Logan tightened his grip under her knees slightly and pushed Garrett’s bedroom door open with his shoulder. The room was dark except for the lamp near the desk.

Y/N immediately sighed dramatically once they entered. “Oooh my kingdom.”

“It’s your brother’s room.” he said unpatient.

Logan walked toward the bed carefully while Y/N kept talking nonsense against his shoulder.

“You hockey boys are weirdly muscular,” she informed him seriously. “Like… is concerning.”

“You are never drinking vodka again.”

“Okay but” she poked his chest weakly “your arms are ridiculous.”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. This was torture. Actual torture. Because Y/N sounded completely casual about it. Meanwhile Logan’s brain was actively trying to kill him. His body was betraying him. He lowered her carefully onto Garrett’s bed, expecting her to let go.

She didn’t.

Her arms stayed looped lazily around his neck while she looked up at him from the mattress with heavy eyes.

Too close. Again. Logan swallowed hard.

“Alright,” he said roughly. “You gotta let go now.”

Y/N frowned slightly like she genuinely needed a second to process the request.

Then finally “Oh. Sorry” she chuckled and slowly, she loosened her arms.

But instead of fully letting go, her hand caught the collar of his shirt lightly before he could pull away.

Logan froze instantly. Y/N squinted at him with sleepy concentration.

“You’re pretty,” she informed him very seriously.

Logan actually choked a little on air. Grabbing her hand on his shirt and pulling it away “Okay,” he said quickly. “Goodnight.”

Y/N started laughing again as he immediately tried stepping backward out of reach.

“Relax, Johnny,” she teased softly, falling sideways into Garrett’s pillows. “You look scared.”

Scared wasn’t exactly the word for it. Terrified felt more accurate. As he organized the pillows on the bed for her to sleep in. Y/N looked like she considered something for a moment before finally speak.

“So did you?”

Logan, halfway through pulling the blanket over her, looked up in confusion.

“I did what?”

Y/N shifted onto her back dramatically, squinting at him with a teasing little smile.

“Hook up with Chloe.”

Logan blinked once honestly confused “…who?”

“My friend,” Y/N clarified with an exaggerated eye roll. He still looked confused so she added “The blonde one.”

“Oh.”

“She wanted to hook up with you,” Y/N continued casually. “Has been talking about it all week.”

Logan snorted softly despite himself. Y/N looked deeply unimpressed. “Really annoying, by the way.” She threw herself harder into Garrett’s pillows like the entire situation personally offended her. “Acting like you guys are celebrities or something,” she muttered. “It’s stupid.”

Logan crossed his arms lightly, leaning against Garrett’s desk now and looking at her smirking.

“You literally introduced your brother like he was royalty downstairs.”

“That was ironic.”

“Sure.”

Y/N ignored him.

“She kept begging me to introduce you guys,” she continued. “I told her I wouldn’t, but then she was like, ‘I’ll just talk to him myself.’”

Her voice changed mockingly on the last sentence. Logan laughed quietly under his breath. Then Y/N looked back at him again.

“So?” she asked. “Did you?”

There was something oddly focused about the question despite how drunk she was. Curious and genuine watching him carefully.

Logan shrugged once. “No.”

Y/N blinked. “No?”

“No.”

“…why not?”

The question came too fast. Like she asked before thinking about it. Logan noticed immediately. Y/N noticed too, judging by the way her expression shifted slightly afterward. But instead of backing off, she doubled down.

“She’s pretty,” she said defensively. “Like... a lot”

“Never said she wasn’t.”

“She literally spent two hours fixing her hair before coming here.”

“Really? Didn't notice” he said crossing his arms.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him from the bed. “You flirt with everyone.”

“That’s not true.”

“Johnny,” she deadpanned. “I’ve seen you flirt with the library lady.”

Logan laughed. Actually laughed. And Y/N hated for one brief second how good he looked doing it. Drunk thoughts. Dangerous territory.

“She wasn’t really my type,” Logan said finally. Find a reasonable explanation.

Y/N tilted her head slightly against the pillow.

“And what exactly is your type?”

You are

The room got quieter somehow. Suddenly Logan could hear every small sound in Garrett’s room: the muffled conversations dowstairs through the walls, Y/N’s breathing, his own heartbeat being deeply unhelpful.

Because Y/N was looking at him now. Really looking at him. Drunk curious eyes soft in the low light. Logan forced himself to shrug casually.

“Don’t know,” he lied.

Y/N hummed sleepily like she didn’t believe him for a second. Then, after a pause:

“Yeah... maybe blondies not your thing.”

Logan’s breath caught so subtly he almost thought he imagined it himself. Y/N, meanwhile, was already sinking deeper into the pillows, eyes half closed again. Completely unaware of the damage she was causing.

Logan walked away and stayed still near the doorway for a second, hand already on the light switch.

Y/N’s breathing had evened out. Her eyes were closed. And for one dangerously peaceful moment, he thought she’d finally fallen asleep.

Good. Because he needed distance. Cold water. Maybe psychological intervention. He reached for the switch.

Then—

“Don’t leave, please.”

The words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. Logan turned immediately. Y/N was still curled into Garrett’s blankets, eyes barely open now, voice rough with exhaustion and alcohol. But the teasing was gone.

“I don’t like being alone like this,” she admitted softly.

Something in Logan’s chest tightened painfully. Because suddenly she didn’t sound drunk anymore. She sounded vulnerable. Young. And underneath the sleepiness and slurred words, there was something deeper there too. Something sad enough that Logan felt it instantly without fully understanding why.

Y/N shifted slightly against the pillow, blinking toward the dark hallway behind him.

“Where’s Gare?” she asked quietly. Not Garrett. Gare. Like small. Childlike. Old habit.

Logan leaned against the doorframe slowly. “He took Hannah back to campus, remember?”

Y/N frowned weakly. “Oh.” she said in relization.

Silence stretched for a second. Then quieter:

“He always stays.”

And there it was. That deeper thing again. Logan knew enough about Y/N and Garrett’s childhood to understand what she wasn’t saying out loud. Garrett always stayed because growing up, somebody had to.

Somebody had to stand between her and the yelling and slammed doors and bruises Garrett pretended nobody noticed. Somebody had to make sure she felt safe. And apparently even now, drunk and exhausted, part of Y/N still searched for her brother first when she felt vulnerable.

Logan’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

“Hey... it's okay. I can stay.” he said softly before he could stop himself.

Y/N looked at him sleepily. Logan hesitated only half a second longer before walking back toward the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat carefully on the edge beside her.

Y/N relaxed almost immediately. Like his presence alone settled something anxious inside her. That should not have affected him as much as it did.

“You gonna stay?” she asked quietly.

Logan looked down at her for a long moment. Then sighed softly through his nose.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Y/N’s eyes closed again almost instantly after that. Trusting him without hesitation.

And Logan sat there in Garrett Graham’s room beside the girl he absolutely should not be thinking about this way, while guilt and something dangerously close to tenderness twisted together inside his chest.

The boys house was unusually quiet. Which probably meant nobody was at home or just too busy to entertained her.

Y/N sat cross-legged on Garrett’s bed with three textbooks spread around her, highlighter between her teeth while she reread the same paragraph for what felt like the tenth time.

Sports psychology should not be that difficult. But it was after a four-hour skating practice.

Garrett had texted her twenty minutes ago saying he ran late and to just wait in his room, so that’s what she was doing. And attempting to study too. Attempting being the key word.

The room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and hockey gear, which should’ve been a terrible combination but somehow wasn’t. Her brother’s room had always weirdly felt safe. Even growing up.

Especially growing up.

Y/N pushed the thought away before it could linger too long and reached for her coffee again only to realize the cup was empty.

She groaned dramatically and fell backward against Garrett’s pillows.

“Studying?” a male voice echoed through the room.

Y/N lifted her head immediately. Logan stood in the doorway wearing gray sweats and a black Briar hockey shirt, hair still damp from the shower.

fuck, she cursed mentally.

“Unfortunately,” she sighed. “Education is ruining my life.”

Logan smirked slightly and leaned against the doorframe. “Thought figure skaters were supposed to be disciplined.”

“We are. That’s why I’m suffering academically instead of just quitting.”

He walked into the room without asking, grabbing something from Garrett’s dresser.

Y/N narrowed her eyes immediately.

“You just casually walk into my brother’s room and take his stuff?” she asked in a teasing tone, sitting up and crossing her arms.

“We literally live together.”

“Still…”

Logan snorted softly.

Y/N watched him for a second. Then forced her attention back to her textbooks.

The thing about Logan was that he was objectively annoying. Everybody knew it. He flirted too much, smiled too easily, invented the most ridiculous acronyms known to mankind, and carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone who had never once been embarrassed a day in his life. Except Y/N didn’t fully buy it.

Because underneath all the jokes and lazy grins and shameless flirting, there was always something else there. Something quieter. Harder to catch. Logan was good at performing version of himself people expected.

Funny. Charming. Easygoing. The guy who could walk into a room and make everybody laugh within five minutes. And he did it so naturally most people never looked past it.

But Y/N did.

She noticed the way his smile sometimes lingered a second too long, like he was making sure it still looked convincing. The way he always deflected whenever conversations got too personal. The way he could spend years surrounded by people and somehow still keep the important parts of himself completely hidden.

It was strange, honestly. Her brother had lived with Logan for years. The team practically treated him like family. And yet Y/N was almost sure none of them truly knew what went on underneath all that confidence and charisma and stupidly pretty hair.

Logan made people feel like they knew him without ever actually letting them get close enough to. A talented liar. Or maybe just a talented actor. Either way, she saw through him more than he probably realized.

Which, unfortunately, only made him more interesting. He was also handsome and charismatic. Which made tolerating him easier than it should’ve been.

“You’re staring again,” Logan said casually.

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You get this little judgmental wrinkle between your eyebrows.” He pointed lazily toward her face. “Means you’re thinking mean things.”

“I’m always thinking mean things,” she joked.

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but these seemed personal.”

She gasped quietly. “You think I’d bully you?” she said sarcastcally.

“I think you always bully me,” he replied immediately. “And I think you actually enjoy it.”

“That’s because you make it so easy.” she winked and turned her attetion back to her textbooks.

Logan laughed under his breath while opening Garrett’s mini fridge. Y/N watched him steal one of Garrett’s protein drinks without hesitation.

“Wow,” she said. “Imagine if he knew you were touching his stuff.”

“He’d survive.”

Logan twisted the cap open before glancing toward the textbooks around her. “What class?”

“Sports psych,” she groaned in frustration.

“That bad?” he chuckled.

“And I’d rather let somebody hit me with a car.”

“Dramatic"

“You should see chapter six.”

Logan chuckled and moved closer then, dropping into Garrett’s desk chair backwards so his arms rested across the top of it. Too comfortable. All the boys were always comfortable around her, honestly. “You need help?” he asked.

Y/N stared at him. Then slowly closed her textbook. “…John Logan,” she said carefully, “offering tutoring?”

He looked offended. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I never said stupid. I implied academically challenged.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement there. “Mean,” he said. "I actually got straight A’s in that class, just so you know.”

She chuckled as he moved closer to get a look at her other notes.

And for a few minutes, the room settled into something easy. Discussing sports psychology theory together.

Comfortable.

Y/N sitting on Garrett’s bed in oversized hoodie with leggings and messy practice hair. Logan half-turned toward her in the desk chair.

Afternoon light spilling through the windows.

It felt weirdly domestic. Neither of them noticed it. Or maybe they did. Which was probably worse.

Then the bedroom door suddenly swung open. Garrett stopped dead.

His eyes moved from Y/N on his bed.

To Logan in his chair.

Back to Y/N.

Silence.

“Why,” Garrett asked slowly, “does this look illegal?”

“Hey, Gare,” Y/N said brightly the second Garrett walked in.

Before he could even react, she jumped off the bed and practically launched herself at him.

Garrett caught her automatically with a grunt as she wrapped herself around him easily, arms around his shoulders while he steadied her by the waist out of pure instinct.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “why would you launch yourself at people?”

“That’s because I’m graceful and delicate skater.”

“You kicked someone with a skate last month.”

“Again… she deserved it,” Y/N said, annoyed.

Logan snorted from the chair.

Y/N ignored him completely. She pulled away from the hug and stepped back, turning around to look at Logan.

“Johnny here is helping me with Sports Psych.”

The room went silent. Logan visibly choked on the protein drink. Garrett looked horrified. Y/N smiled wider.

Because there were very few things funnier in this world than calling John Logan ‘Johnny.’

Especially knowing he hated it.

“Absolutely not,” Logan said immediately.

“Oh, relax, Johnny,” she teased.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s cute.”

Garrett looked between the two of them suspiciously. “Why’re you even in my room?”

“You told me to wait here.”

“Well… not him.” Garrett pointed at his friend.

“I live here,” Logan pointed out.

It was unconscious, the way Garrett’s hand immediately touched the back of her head briefly as she stepped away.

Protective. Automatic. Years old.

Logan noticed it before he could stop himself. And maybe that should’ve been enough to keep his brain functioning normally. Because Garrett didn’t just act like an older brother around Y/N. He acted like someone who’d spent half his life making sure nothing bad ever touched her.

Which meant Logan should definitely stop noticing stupid things.

Like the way Y/N’s eyes crinkled when she smiled.

Or how her hair was falling out of its ponytail after practice.

Or the fact that she kept stealing Garrett’s hoodie sleeves to hide her hands inside them.

Dangerous territory.

“Wait,” Garrett said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Why’s Logan helping you study?”

Y/N answered immediately. “Because unlike you, he actually passed the class.”

Logan looked smug for approximately two seconds before Garrett said:

“I didn’t take Sports Psych,” he explained before looking at Logan. “You failed Intro to Biology twice.”

“Okay, first of all,” Logan pointed defensively, “that class was trying to ruin my life. And second… this isn’t Biology.”

Y/N burst out laughing. Actually laughing.

Head tipped back slightly, shoulders shaking, completely unfiltered amusement.

And Logan—

Logan stared for half a second too long. Because that laugh was unfair.

Logan immediately looked away.

“…anyway,” Y/N said, still grinning as she climbed back onto the bed, “one of you is buying me food because studying is making me emotionally fragile.”

“You’re emotionally fragile all the time,” Garrett replied.

“But now I’m hungry too.”

Garrett rolled his eyes like he wasn’t about to do exactly that.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, already pulling his phone out. “What do you want?”

Y/N looked up from her notes innocently. “Love and financial stability.”

“You’re getting pizza.”

“Close enough.”

Garrett ignored her and started typing into his phone while Y/N reorganized her textbooks across the bed, stuffing loose papers back into folders with the exhausted movements of somebody one inconvenience away from academic collapse.

A second later Garrett shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“I ordered for all of us,” he announced. “Even your weird broccoli one.”

Y/N gasped softly. “See? This is why you’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.” and She winked at him.

Across the room, Logan slowly locked his own phone and slid it back into his sweatpants pocket.

Quietly. Slowly.

Because thirty seconds earlier, he had been halfway through ordering the exact same thing.

Broccoli, extra cheese, no olives. Her stupidly specific favorite pizza.

He hadn’t even thought about it. That was the problem. It had been automatic.

Y/N kept talking, completely oblivious. “Dean cried last time I made him try it.”

“That’s because broccoli doesn’t belong on pizza,” Garrett argued.

“It literally does.”

“It literally doesn’t.”

Logan barely heard them. Because suddenly his brain was stuck on one deeply unfortunate realization:

He knew Y/N’s order. Not just vaguely. Exactly.

He knew she hated olives. Knew she liked extra cheese. Knew she drank coffee like sleep was optional. Knew she preferred green apple Gatorade after skating practice because “the blue one tastes like chemicals.”

None of that information should exist in his head. At least not in the amount of detail it apparently did.

Logan leaned back in Garrett’s desk chair slowly, watching Y/N argue dramatically with her brother about pizza toppings while absentmindedly braiding and rebraiding the end of her ponytail.

And for one very brief, very dangerous second, it hit him. Not hard. Not enough to fully understand it yet. Just enough to feel something shift slightly underneath his ribs.

Y/N looked toward him suddenly. “Johnny, back me up.”

Logan looked up confused, met Garrett and Y/N already staring at him, and answered automatically. “Yeah… broccoli pizza’s good.”

Garrett looked betrayed. Y/N looked victorious.

“See? Johnny gets it,” Y/N said smugly, shoving the last notebook into her bag.

Logan groaned immediately. “Stop calling me that.”

She only grinned wider as she swung the bag over her shoulder and hopped off the bed.

“At least someone in this house has taste,” she continued dramatically, looking directly at Garrett. “Which is impressive considering testosterone levels around here.”

Garrett looked unimpressed. “I’ve been here for only ten minutes and you’re already annoying me.”

“And yet you’d miss me if I died.”

“I’d appreciate the silence.”

Y/N gasped quietly like he’d wounded her deeply, then walked over and kissed his cheek quickly anyway. Then Y/N turned toward the doorway, already pulling the hoodie sleeves over her hands again.

“I’m gonna shower before the pizza gets here,” she said casually. “Don’t eat my slices or I’ll report all of you to the NCAA.”

“Nobody wants your vegetable pizza,” Garrett called after her.

“Liar.”

She pointed accusingly toward Logan as she backed into the hallway.

“Johnny likes it.”

“Stop calling me Johnny!” he shouted back.

Y/N laughed, bright and effortless, as she disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom like she belonged there just as much as the boys did.

The room fell quiet the second she left.

Garrett moved toward his dresser without much thought, tossing his practice shirt onto the floor.

Logan stayed where he was in the desk chair. Still oddly aware of Y/N’s laugh echoing faintly from down the hallway. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

Garrett suddenly looked over at him.

“…what?”

Logan blinked. “What what?”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Yeah, weirdly.”

Logan scoffed. “You are weird.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes slightly like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then—

“Don’t flirt with my sister.”

The sentence came completely out of nowhere. Logan stared at him.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed incredulously. “Where did that even come from?”

Garrett shrugged once, but there was something watchful underneath it.

“You flirt with everybody.”

“Yeah, because it’s fun.”

“It won’t be fun with her.”

Something about the way he said it made the room feel heavier suddenly.

Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just honest. Protective in a way Garrett never tried to hide.

Logan leaned back slower this time, forcing himself to roll his eyes casually.

“Oh, come on, G,” he said in an exaggeratedly seductive tone. “You know you’re the only Graham I have eyes for.”

He winked at Garrett, who immediately threw a pillow at his head.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Logan laughed, catching the pillow easily and hugging it against his chest.

And somehow that should’ve made him feel better.

Instead, for reasons he absolutely did not want to examine, it didn’t.

an: thank you so much for all the love ! thanks to you I'm inspired to make this a multiple parts series. i hope you like it :) next chapter only next week by the way

Their house smelled like beer and sweat. Which meant the party was dying.

Bodies still crowded the living room, music still thumped through the speakers, and someone was loudly arguing about video game hockey in the kitchen, but the energy had shifted hours ago, from drunk and chaotic to lazy and half-dead.

Logan leaned back against the couch with a bottle hanging loosely from his hand while Dean flirted shamelessly with two girls near the staircase.

Typical.

Tucker was passed out in an armchair.

Also typical.

And Garrett… “Get your damn feet off my table,” he said, glaring across the room at a freshman defenseman currently ignoring him completely.

Logan snorted into his beer. “Y’know,” he drawled, “you get more aggressive every year.”

Garrett flipped him off without looking away from the kid. “I’m two seconds away from murdering half this team.”

“Only half?” Logan asked, smirking.

Before Garrett could answer, the front door swung open hard enough to hit the wall. Cold air rushed inside.

And then:

“Jesus Christ, this place smells disgusting,” a familiar female voice said dramatically.

Logan looked up automatically.

Y/N Graham stood in the doorway wearing leggings, an oversized Briar hockey hoodie (which was, by the way, stolen) and the kind of expression that suggested she’d rather be literally anywhere else. Still… she was here.

Her duffel bag slid off her shoulder as she kicked the door shut behind her.

“Oh, thank God,” Dean said immediately. “An attractive person finally showed up.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Still using that line?”

“Still working?” he winked.

“It’s really not,” she said casually.

Garrett frowned from the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

She stared at him blankly. “Hello to you too, sunshine,” she said sarcastically as she moved to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

“Weren’t you at practice?” he asked as he leaned down to receive it.

“Yeah… like three hours ago.” She checked her phone for the time. “I texted you.”

Garrett pulled his phone out, checked it, then shoved it back into his pocket. “Didn’t see it.”

“No way,” she deadpanned. “You mean you ignored your phone during a party? That’s so unlike you.”

Logan huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself.

Y/N’s eyes flicked toward him briefly. Just for a second. Like she only now acknowledged he was there.

Then she walked straight past the couch and headed for the kitchen like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she kind of did at this point. Especially when Dean instantly grabbed her bag from the floor and took it to the living room like second nature.

Nobody questioned it anymore.

Not when she’d been hanging around the team since their freshman year. Not when she knew all their names, their habits, their schedules. Not when she walked into their house without knocking and immediately started stealing their food.

“Is that my pizza?” Dean yelled, watching her take a container out of the fridge.

Y/N opened the takeout container. “If you have to ask, they’re not yours anymore.”

“That’s stealing,” he complained.

“That’s survival,” she replied, already placing the leftovers in the microwave.

Dean pretended to be annoyed about it. But not really, already accepting the terrible fate that his leftover pizza didn’t belong to him anymore.

Garrett, meanwhile, was still watching his sister with narrowed eyes like she might spontaneously set the house on fire if left unsupervised for too long.

She was too much like Garrett. Same sharp mouth, same stubborn confidence, same tendency to look at people like she already knew exactly how to win the argument before it started.

It made her annoyingly difficult to intimidate.

Logan had learned that pretty quickly.

The first time they met, she’d looked him up and down and said:

“You definitely look like a hockey player,” she said.

Logan laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The hair. The ego. The vacant expression. Very on brand.”

That had been two years ago.

And now she was just… always there. Curled up on their couch during movie nights. Stealing all their hoodies. Yelling at the TV during games. Bullying Dean with terrifying efficiency. Part of the furniture, basically.

Y/N hopped onto the kitchen counter and pointed at Logan’s bottle. “Is that the last Diet Coke?”

“No…” he lied, looking away because he knew she’d fight him for it.

“Give it to me,” she ordered.

Logan held the bottle out lazily. “Then come take it, Graham.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately.

Garrett didn’t even look up from his phone. “Don’t encourage her.”

“Too late, man,” Dean said.

Y/N slid off the counter and walked over. Logan expected her to snatch the bottle and leave.

Instead, she stopped directly in front of him.

Close enough for him to notice the cold flush in her cheeks from outside. Close enough to smell winter air and something faintly sweet underneath it.

She tilted her head and pouted cutely.

Logan grinned slowly. “That’s not gonna work on me, princess. I’m not your brother… or Tucker.”

“But… there’s only beer left in the fridge,” she said sadly.

“Come on, Johnny,” she said softly. “You’re really gonna let Garrett’s little sister die of dehydration?”

Logan grinned slowly.

“Pretty sure Coke does the opposite.”

“Wow,” she said, unimpressed. “And they let you into college.”

Dean barked out a laugh somewhere behind them.

Logan looked down at her, still smiling, and willingly handed over the bottle. She smiled and grabbed it before moving to the living room with his soda and Dean’s pizza.

But across the room, Garrett was watching the entire interaction with narrowed eyes.

He knew hockey players couldn’t be trusted around his sister.

Good thing Logan agreed.

And he had nothing to worry about.

“So… what are you doing here, Baby G?” Tucker asked sleepily, barely lifting his head from the armchair as Y/N practically threw herself onto the couch with Logan’s stolen Coke still in hand.

“My roommate’s having her boyfriend over tonight,” she said easily, stretching her legs across the cushions. “She asked me to disappear for a few hours.”

Dean looked offended on her behalf. “And your first thought was to come here?”

Y/N took another sip of the soda. “Well, yeah. You idiots always have food.”

“That’s weirdly touching,” Dean admitted.

“It’s not meant to be.”

Garrett pointed at her from the kitchen. “You’re not sleeping here.”

Y/N blinked at him. “I literally wasn’t asking permission.”

“You should,” he replied.

“Fine,” Y/N said dramatically. “I’ll just sleep in some motel then.”

Garrett looked horrified. “Absolutely not,” he practically shouted.

She smirked immediately, seeing he’d fallen for her teasing.

“You are not staying alone in some random motel.”

Y/N threw her hands up. “You seriously need to stop acting like I require constant supervision.”

Garrett stared at her blankly. “Y/N…”

“What?” she asked knowingly.

“Two days ago you got suspended from practice for fighting another girl.”

Y/N scoffed immediately. “She deserved it.”

“Wait, what?” Dean perked up instantly.

Y/N scoffed again. “Some girl at practice kept acting like I stole her routine or something.”

“You did steal her routine,” Garrett muttered.

“She wasn’t performing it correctly,” she said, offended.

“And you threw a skate guard at her.”

Her jaw dropped dramatically. “It barely hit her.”

Logan barked out a laugh. Tucker and Dean joined immediately.

Y/N pointed at them. “Thank you.”

Garrett looked exhausted. “I hate all of you.”

“That’s not true,” Y/N said sweetly. “You love me.”

“I tolerate you because we share DNA.”

“Aww.”

She leaned back deeper into the couch cushions, entirely too comfortable for someone who technically didn’t live there. Not that anyone was surprised.

At some point over the years, Y/N had stopped being Garrett’s little sister visiting campus and started becoming part of the house itself.

Logan sat on the end of the couch and looked at her.

She looked exhausted.

There was still faint glitter near her eyes from practice, her hair messy from being shoved into a rushed ponytail, oversized hoodie sleeves covering half her hands.

Cute.

The thought came and went so fast Logan barely registered it.

Garrett’s sister.

Mouthy figure skater. Professional thief of their food. Human headache.

Nothing more.

“Hey,” Y/N suddenly said, tossing a pretzel at his chest. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Logan caught it automatically. “I’m trying to figure out how Garrett and you came from the same genetic pool.”

“Easy,” she replied. “I got the personality. He got the anger issues.”

Garrett flipped her off from across the room.

“See? I’m right.”

Y/N smiled proudly.

“Anyways,” she said, taking another sip, “you boys don’t mind me. Just finish your party. I can sleep on the couch.”

She sounded completely unconcerned about it already, like the decision had been made hours ago and everyone else was just catching up.

Before Garrett could argue again, she shifted deeper into the cushions, grabbing one of the throw pillows and shoving it under her head.

Logan snorted softly.

“She’s nesting,” Tucker said.

“I do not nest,” Y/N mumbled, eyes already half-closed.

“That’s my pillow, by the way,” Dean pointed out.

“Communism.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how communism works,” he replied.

Garrett crossed his arms. “You’re not sleeping down here while the house is still filled with people.”

Y/N cracked one eye open to stare at him. “Garrett. I grew up with you. Trust me when I say none of your friends scare me.”

“That’s because you have terrible survival instincts.”

She smiled lazily. “Maybe. But I’m tired enough not to care.”

And honestly, she looked exhausted.

The dark circles under her eyes were faint but there, her voice rough with sleepiness after what was probably hours at the rink.

Figure skating looked elegant until you actually watched the training. Then it just looked painful.

Logan had seen enough practices to know that much.

Y/N shifted again until her sock-covered feet ended up in his lap without warning.

He looked down at them. Then at her.

“…seriously?” he asked, annoyed.

“You’re warm,” she said simply, not even bothering to move.

Garrett rubbed a hand down his face like this entire room was raising his blood pressure by the second.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out.

Asleep.

Even with the music and chatting around her.

Dean noticed first. “Wow. She’s actually dead.”

Garrett immediately grabbed the nearest blanket and tossed it over her without a second thought.

Something in Logan’s chest tightened strangely at the sight.

Not because Garrett was protective, that part was expected. But because Y/N relaxed almost instantly after the blanket covered her. Like she trusted, without even thinking about it, that her brother would always take care of her.

Garrett glanced toward Logan then. “Don’t let anyone wake her up.”

Logan frowned. “And why am I responsible for that?”

“Because I know you won’t anyway,” Garrett said, clapping Logan’s shoulder once before heading off to probably end the party.

It wasn’t even said like a warning.

That was the worst part.

It sounded like trust.

Dean followed right behind him, still muttering something about his stolen pillow, while Tucker dragged himself upstairs looking half-conscious.

And then suddenly, the living room was quiet.

And Y/N was asleep beside him.

Or technically… on him.

Logan looked down carefully. Her feet were still in his lap, tangled under the blanket Garrett had thrown over her earlier. One of her hands was tucked under her cheek, hair falling across her face messily.

She looked peaceful asleep.

Softer.

Not like the sharp-mouthed girl constantly arguing with everybody in the house.

Just tired.

Logan shifted slightly, testing to see if he could leave.

Y/N immediately made a small sound of protest and moved closer unconsciously, pressing her legs more firmly against him like she was searching for warmth in her sleep.

Logan froze.

Completely froze.

“…seriously?” he muttered under his breath, throwing his head back.

Because now if he moved, she’d wake up.

And somehow that felt illegal considering how exhausted she looked.

He leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling with the exhausted resignation of a man realizing the universe hated him personally.

This was ridiculous.

The same girl who once laughed at him for walking into a glass door.

The same girl who stole his fries every single time she came over.

The same girl who called him “Johnny Boy” specifically because she knew it annoyed him.

There was absolutely no reason for him to suddenly be hyper aware of the weight of her legs across his lap. Or the heaviness of her breathing. Or the hair falling across her face.

And yet—

His eyes dropped back to her face.

A strand of hair had fallen over her cheek. Without thinking, Logan reached over slightly to move it away.

The second his fingers brushed her skin, Y/N frowned softly in her sleep before relaxing again almost immediately.

Trusting. Comfortable.

Like she never once considered he could be anything except safe.

Something twisted strangely in his chest.

Logan pulled his hand back fast.

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly to himself, staring back at the ceiling again. “This is exactly how people die.”