* 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐉𝐋𝐎.

IF SOMEONE HAD TOLD HIM THREE HOURS AGO that the night would end like this — her kitchen towel against his split brow, her knees almost touching his, he'd have laughed, and then he'd have believed every word of it. He tilts his head out from under the towel, and the room swims for half a second before it settles. She's close, closer than she has any right to be, given everything, given that she's right, that she's probably the last face he should want hovering over him, and the only one he'd have wanted in the doorway when it all went sideways. That's the part that galls him. That even now, bruised and stupid and proven right about something he'd rather have been wrong about, he hasn't told her to go. He stared at her for a second, eyes narrowed slightly, trying to decide which version of himself she deserved. The easy one, maybe. The one that shrugged, cracked a joke, spat blood in the sink and called it a night. The one that could let her off the hook because that was what he was supposed to do. Because they weren’t anything official enough for him to have a right to the hurt. Dean shifted back against the couch, one hand braced uselessly on his thigh, knuckles scraped raw enough that they stung every time he flexed his fingers. His ribs hurt. His cheek hurt.  ( His pride hurt worst of all, which was stupid, because he’d earned every bruise on his face tonight and probably a few more. ) Dean’s jaw ticked. Bad idea. Pain flared sharp and bright at the hinge of it, and he swallowed the grimace before she could catch that too. 

❛ I'm not mad at you, ❜ He drags a slow breath through his nose. The fight's already cost him enough; he won't let it cost him the rest of his dignity too. His brow twitches beneath the ice, a small fracture in the composure he's barely holding together. He swallows. ❛ That's the problem, Allie. I'm not — ❜ His hand comes up, to take the ice from her, maybe, or to do something far more dangerous, like close the last few inches of space she's left between them. He isn't sure which. Halfway there he just lets it hover, knuckles raw and waiting. ❛ I think you should go. ❜ It's the gentlest thing he's said all night, and that's what makes it land like a blow. ❛ Because I'm about ten seconds from saying something I can't take back, and you've already seen me lose it once tonight. I'd really rather you weren't here for round two. ❜

and yet with one stupid mistake (if one can call making an agreement and seeing it through a mistake, really), she's fearful of losing him. she doesn't need his charm and playfulness and that happy-go-lucky persona. hell, she shouldn't want anything at all and doesn't deserve it — but she wants the real and authentic dean. the one who will speak his mind and not hold back.

The study session was your idea. You haven't opened your book once.

I know what people say about me. I'm asking what you think.

You're the only person on this campus who treats me like I'm more than my jersey number.

We said no feelings. I think I'm really bad at rules.

You left your hoodie at my place three weeks ago. I've been sleeping in it. Don't make it weird.

Practice ran late. I know. I'm sorry. Please don't be asleep yet.

The whole team thinks we're together. When were you going to tell me you didn't correct them?

I don't bring people to my games. I got you a ticket. Show up.

You tutored me all semester. The least I can do is take you to dinner. A real one.

I've kissed a lot of girls at this school. I keep thinking about the one I haven't.

Tell me again why this is such a bad idea.

That thing you said after the game. Did you mean it or were you just caught up in the moment?

I asked around about you before I talked to you. I'm not embarrassed about that.

I've never had someone wait up for me before. I didn't know what to do with it so I panicked.

Everyone on the team knows I'm gone for you. I'm the last one to say it out loud.

Stop apologizing for taking up space in my life. I made room on purpose.

I told coach I was injured. I'm not injured. I just needed to see you. 

You came to the away game. You hate away games.

I'm not good at this. I'm good at hockey and not much else. But I want to try. For you.

The girl I was pretending to date is the only one I actually want. Life is funny like that.

Draft day is coming and I'm more scared of losing you than losing my shot.

I've been in love with you since the library. Third floor. Two years ago. You had headphones in.

Don't let me sign that contract without knowing if you'd come with me.

You're the smartest person in any room you walk into. I don't know why you're in mine.

The bet was stupid and I knew it was stupid and I did it anyway because it meant spending time with you.

You deserve someone who shows up. I'm working on being that person. Just don't give up on me yet.

My teammates are idiots but they're not wrong about this one.

I've never been nervous before a game. I'm nervous right now and the game isn't for six hours.

You said you didn't want anything serious. I've been trying to be okay with that. I'm not okay with it.

I graduate in May. So do you. I don't want the thing between us to fizzle out. 

I know you're not mine. I also know I'd do anything to change that.

The whole campus is at that party. I'd rather be here. With you. On your couch. Watching whatever you want.

You looked at me different after the game last week. Why?

Tell me what you want. Not what you think I can handle. What you actually want.

I've been the fun one, the easy one, the no-strings one. I don't want to be that with you.

You're the only reason I made it through finals week. I'm not sure you know that.

I don't do mornings. I did this morning. I'd do every morning. That terrifies me.

The long distance thing scares me. You scare me. I'm choosing scared.

I'm not asking you to wait. I'm asking you to want to.

It stopped being fake somewhere around week two. I just didn't know how to tell you.