Flo

The rink is colder than normal, making you hug your arms around yourself as you watch Mack skate around during warmups. He's a bit more aggressive than usual, no doubt due to your fight earlier. It was bigger than you’ve had in a while, lasting almost a whole half hour before Mack stormed out of the house. You considered staying home and watching the game on the TV, or not even watching it at all to spite him. Yet here you are, telling yourself that you’re here to support your good friend Will, not Mack. Even though you’re wearing Mack's jersey.

You think back to the fight, sadness hitting you instead of anger now.

-

"It's like you're not even paying attention to me Mack. That's what I'm trying to say." You sigh, hands coming up to rub your tired eyes.

Mack's been gone all week in various places of the country for away games. You barely had time to talk over the phone too because you had midterms this week as well and were thoroughly locked in on studying. When Mack came home yesterday, it was so late that you were already sleeping. You tried to stay up to greet him but failed. You only knew he was home because the kiss he pressed to your shoulder when he got into bed woke you up briefly. This morning you were hoping to get some quality time with him before his game but he spent most of it on his phone, texting Will or watching Tik Tok.

At the sound of your sigh Mack puts his phone on the coffee table and looks over at you with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. He's annoyed, which infuriates you. "Sue me for going on my phone for a few minutes. I was texting Will." He replies to you, tone heavily sarcastic.

You get up off the couch to put distance between the two of you. At this movement, Mack sits straighter up. "You were on your phone all day Mack." You point your finger down at his phone, almost as if you’re blaming the object for this fight.

Mack doesn't know what to say for a few moments, but you can see the anger radiating off of him in waves. "Why are you being so needy?" Mack finally mutters out.

Your chest pangs at his question. He's never hated your 'neediness' before, he even told you it was his favorite thing about you. You know deep down he's just angry and is just saying that to piss you off, but it kind of hurt. "Sue me for wanting to spend actual time with my boyfriend. I missed him." You scoff, mocking his own sentence from a few minutes ago.

"We live together, I ate breakfast with you. We spent plenty of time together in the past 9 hours babe. Why can't you just tell me what you want from me? Why do I have to guess?" Mack's voice raises a bit, stubborn as hell still.

You throw your hands up, palms striking down onto your thighs, creating a loud echo throughout the living room. "Mack, you're not listening to me. I said I want you to pay attention to me. We haven't talked in a week, a whole week! And you were watching highlights all of breakfast and said maybe 3 words to me. Just because we're in the same room doesn't mean we're actually spending quality time together." You raise your voice equally as loud as his.

Mack stands up now to be on the same level as you. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off before he can. "Also, I did tell you what I want plenty of times, you just can't use your fucking ears. I told you multiple times that I wanted to talk to you. I asked you multiple questions and you brushed me off every time. You are just being an absolute dick right now Macklin!" You end your rant with your voice so loud it's bound to get the neighbors attention.

Mack's face is red as he stares you down. "I don't need to be insulted right now." He says, taking off towards the front door. He jams his feet into his slides so hard they almost break.

"I don't either!" You yell back at him as he picks up his hockey bag. You get the door slamming behind him in response.

—

The game horn startles you but grounds you back into the present moment. The game has started, Macklin on the starting line up. Right off the face off he's unnecessarily aggressive, slamming into the other team when it's uncalled for, yelling at the ref. You sink lower in your seat, knowing you’re the cause of that. The whole first period consists of Mack getting penalties.

On the jumbotron Mack's reaction to getting a pentalty is on full display. He slams his stick into the glass and yells something at what you’re assuming is the ref.

The second period is worse, the Sharks are losing badly and Mack is not helping. He's checking players, throwing punches like it doesn't even matter who it is, he just wants to punch someone. He gets into a brutal fight, you can see blood trickling down his chin as he skates away from the aftermath of the fight. Later in the second period, from where you’re sitting you can see Will and Mack in a heated discussion on the bench.

By the third period you can tell Mack's anger has subsided a bit. He's no longer yelling or fighting, probably due to his conversation with Will. That boy has magical powers when it comes to calming down Mack. A bit of anger still lingers with Mack however because when he misses a shot, the puck going wide and just missing the netting, he skates towards the goal and bangs his stick on the metal of the goal, the whole thing snapping in half.

You feel watched, some fans recognize you as Mack's girlfriend and ask for a picture. After the picture was taken one of them asks you what got Mack's panties in a twist tonight. That made you laugh actually but you brushed off their question, not needing a headline in the news about your personal problems. Some of Mack's teammates found you in in the stands and would skate by briefly, giving you raised eyebrows.

The game ends, the Sharks losing by a lot. Your anger has now long been worn off, you are now just worried for Mack and feel bad for getting into a fight with him before a game. Based on the way he skated off of the ice, you can tell he is taking this loss to heart, and you feel slightly responsible for it. You follow some of the other WAGs and family members to the waiting area with a heavy heart. The others leave you alone, sensing your anxiety.

--

After waiting a while for post game interviews to be done and for Mack to be done changing and getting done with his shower, the doors to the waiting room finally open and players start to spill out. Mack is not far behind everyone else surprisingly. Usually on the more rough games he takes a bit longer, which you can understand. Mack looks devestatingly gorgeous. His green eyes look heavy with the loss and his lip is pulled between his teeth, something he does when he's deep in thought. His hair hangs damp over his forehead, teal hoodie contrasting it completely.

Mack catches you staring at him and starts running towards your direction, making half of the room stop their conversation to watch him. Panic starts to rise up because you have no idea why Mack is running at you and why he looks so...happy? Mack reaches you across the room and immediately scoops you up into a hug, your feet lifting off of the ground. He doesnt stop moving, but slows down into a walk. His bag is hung off the shoulder you are not draped over. You look up to find the entire room erupting into laughter as Mack carries you out the room and towards the parking.

"Mack!" You try to sound mad but all that comes out is laughter. Your arms wrap around his neck, leaning into his warmth, glad for the comfort it provides after the day you’ve had. Mack doesn't respond to you, just giggles with you, hands gripping your waist tighter. You don't want to ruin the fluffiness of the situation by brining up the fight or the game so you stay quiet, nose nuzzling in his hair near his ear.

Mack reaches the car, lightly setting you down on your feet. His smile fades as he gazes down at you, thumbs rubbing small circles on your shoulders. "Im sorry for the way I acted, you're not annoying, and you're right, I should've spent more quality time with you." He says, making your shoulders drop with relief.

     "Thank you Mack, I'm sorry for calling you a dick." You murmur, already stepping closer to him and tucking yourself under his arms, folding your own around his waist.

Mack sighs happily and kisses the top of your head. "I am a dick." He replies with a scoff that makes you giggle a little bit. "Also, we can never fight before a game again, that was actually torture. I was so mad at myself the whole time. I was mad that I said those things to you, and so mad that you were just in the stands probably replaying that over and over again. I know I was." He admits, chin resting on your head.

You squeeze his waist. "I dont like fighting either Mack, we just have to be more patient with each other." You emphasize that you both need to work on things because you can tell that he's beating himself up, but you think you definitely could've been a bit more patient and gentle with him.

  You almost debate going home but Claire's voice in the back of your mind tells you to keep going. The arena is a lot louder than you anticipated. There are a lot more people than you expected as well. Everything around you makes you feel small and very anxious.

      You ignore the feeling and push through the crowds. You repeat your seat row and number over and over in your head while scanning for your row. You keep walking until you find your row, which is right up against the glass. Of course Will would get you front row seats.

      You find your seat, which is sandwiched between a middle aged man and an elderly couple. You suppose there's probably worse people to sit next to at a hockey game. You take a seat after flashing the elderly woman a smile.      She scans your outfit which took you an embarrassingly long time to pick out. You don't have a jersey, not even a sharks shirt or sweatshirt, which made picking out an outfit harder. You eventually settled on a slightly fitted teal shirt and light wash jeans. The old woman sends you a small smile. "You look adorable darling." She says, her hand brushing against your forearm affectionately. 

    "Thank you." You blush, looking away from her and towards the ice. Your eyes find Will who is warming up. He's laughing at something his teammate is saying, looking impossibly more gorgeous in his hockey gear. He looks up from the ice, eyes immediately meeting yours. His grin deepens and he starts to skate towards you.

      Everyone in your section starts cheering loudly when Will comes right up to the boards. People all around you and behind you stand up, waving their signs and asking for a puck. Will just sends you a small discreet wink and looks away to send a puck over the boards for a kid a few seats down from you. With one last look towards you he skates back to his teammate he was warming up with.

      You're glad he didn't do anything more honestly. When you were looking for your seat you saw a few girls with signs that clearly showed their attraction to Will. If Will were to give you a puck or try to talk to you, you know it would certainly be noticed. The last thing you need is to be bashed on the internet for talking to a hockey player.

      "Is that your boyfriend?" The old woman whispers to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

      "No." You say back softly. The old woman gives you a disbelieving look, one eyebrow raised. 

    "I saw the way that boy looked at you. If he's not your boyfriend, you should definitely do something to change that." She smiles softly at you before turning away to say something to her husband before you can respond.

— 

Will plays with so much speed and talent, it blows you away. For the majority of the game you're on the edge of your seat, gripping the arm rest. You never knew hockey was so interesting. The old lady next you spent the game laughing at your reactions to some of the hits and plays.

     At one point you watch Will skate by with speed, handling the puck so well you can't keep track of where it's going. He skates wider, towards your section, you're guessing to get away from the defender closing in on him. Then in an instant his face is pressed up against the glass, the defender checking him harshly. You can't help but stand up from your seat and gasp loudly.

     Will recovers from the hit quickly. He turns his head, catching your eyes. You send him a concerned look, trying to telepathically ask him if he's okay. He sends you a wide, goofy smile in response. You finally relax back into your seat, satisfied that he's still skating with the same ease.

     "You'll have to get used to that honey." The old lady says, fingers brushing your forearm. You laugh at her words, nodding along. It definitely will be something you'll have to get used to if things continue with Will.

—

The game ends in a Sharks win, Will scoring 2 goals and one assist. You indeed stood up and screamed with the crowd when Will scored the final goal that resulted in the win. Will even pointed at your section when he scored. It was brief, only lasting a few seconds before his teammates jumped on him, but you saw it.

After the team heads out through the tunnel and you bid a farewell to your new elderly friend, you head to the tunnel. Surprisingly, security let you in. You’re assuming Will showed them a picture of you or something.

You’re not sure where exactly to go. The security guard gave you directions to the family room but you think you’d feel awkward standing with family members and wives. So you settled for staying in the tunnel, reading on your phone while you wait.

You’re deep in a new romance novel that a publisher sent you when you hear Will’s voice echo. “There you are.” He says, breaking the long stretch of silence that was suffocating the tunnel.

You jump slightly, phone quickly tucking back into your purse. “Oh my gosh.” You say, breathless.

Will laughs, walking up towards you. He looks effortlessly attractive. His hair is damp, likely from a shower. He’s wearing a grey hoodie and a brown jacket, which looks both insanely comfy and stylish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You look beautiful by the way.” He says, smiling down at you.

You shift on your feet shyly at the compliment. “Thank you. And thanks for inviting me, you played really well. It was fun to watch.” You compliment him back, forcing yourself to look up into his eyes.

He chuckles at your words, intensely reciprocating the eye contact. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I enjoyed having you here in the stands, especially when I was hit into the boards.”

You were kind of expecting him to be a flirt like this. You were basing it off of the hockey romances you’ve read, and imagining his flirting to be similar to some of the main characters. You weren’t expecting his flirting to be so soft however. It feels less pushy than the book characters, yet still confident and it definitely makes you swoon.

“That part wasn’t as enjoyable, it kind of scared me. Does that happen every game?” Your eyes roam him to see if you can detect any sort of injury. You’ve never really cared about a guy this much at such an early stage, it’s completely foreign to you.

“Yeah it happens every game. Don’t be scared though, I’m tough.” You watch him stuff his hands in his pockets, same smirk still on his face.

“I can see that.” You flirt back. Though you’re pretty sure you just look like a jumbling mess.

Will blushes a bit at your statement, the dimple in his cheek popping out more prominently. It’s silent now, neither of you knowing what to say.

“I saw that you finished your book.” He finally says, breaking the silence.

You’re taken back by his words. He must’ve watched the YouTube video you posted. You didn’t post any review on instagram of the book, so he had to have found your YouTube channel. “You watched my video?” You say, your words coming out a bit breathless.

His hand comes up behind his head, fluffing up the hair back there nervously. “Yeah, I watch all your videos now. Mack and I kind of went down a rabbit hole the other night and watched all of your videos. They’re quite entertaining.”

You’re speechless, truly. You don’t know how to respond to his confession. You’re also starting to get a bit anxious at what you might’ve posted that may be embarrassing. You like to be authentic on your channel and so you don’t cut out a lot of clips, instead letting your personality shine through. You like to think it’s how you have such a great fan base, but now you’re regretting it.

“I hope that’s not creepy. I swear it accidentally happened, I didn’t even realize I was watching all of them. I just wanted to watch your most recent one and Mack told me to watch the next one and then we couldn’t stop.” He rambles, seeing your speechless expression.

You let out a laugh, finally snapping out of your mini panic attack. You can imagine how he feels right now. You’d be mortified if he found out that you also went down a Will Smith rabbit hole. You accidentally watched so many edits of him on TikTok yesterday. You might’ve even saved a few, but he definitely doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s okay Will, that’s sweet of you.” You say, softly touching his bicep before you can stop yourself.

Will looks down at your hand, making you quickly retract it. He smiles softly at you, head tilting to the side. You shift on your feet again under his gaze. When he stares at you like that it makes you so incredibly nervous for some reason, but a good nervous.

Will wasn’t supposed to hear anything.

“I knew you liked him!” Mack yells, after you had told him to be quiet three times before that. That was the perfect moment for Will to walk in of course.

“Who do you like?” Will asks, cautiously walking into the living room where you and Mack are.

You kick Mack in the shin who is sitting across from you on the couch. He yelps and grabs his shin. “No one.” You answer Will, ignoring Macklin’s whining.

Will walks further into the living room, choosing to sit on the chair by the TV. “Oh come on, how come he can know but I can’t?” He gestures to Mack.

You send Mack another dirty look, hoping he can feel your anger from across the couch. You had confided in your best friend about how you were starting to fall for his best friend. Before you confessed to Mack you told him he had to be quiet because Will was in the next room over on a call and might hear. Of course you should’ve remembered that Mack is the opposite of quiet, especially when he needs to be.

Mack straightens up at the dirty look. “It’s not my fault Smitty walked in at the wrong time!” He immediately goes into defensive mode.

You grab the pillow to your left and send it straight at Macklin’s face. “Shut your mouth.” You demand, worried that Mack’s already said too much.

“Who is it?” Will asks again, watching the exchange between you and Mack carefully.

“No one.” You reiterate, trying to send your most convincing smile to Will. Mack snorts, ruining your smile however.

“It’s definitely not no one.” You turn back to Mack, contemplating how you’re going to murder him.

Will goes silent, jaw tight and gaze fixed on you, a curious look in his eye. And the conversation ends there, mostly because you send actual death threats to Mack.

That was the end of it, or at least you thought.

“So what does he do?” Will asks you over breakfast one day. You nearly choked on your coffee at the question.

“What?” You ask when you gain the composure to answer.

“The guy you like.” Will says, that same look from a few days ago on his face. The muscle in his jaw tenses as he waits for an answer.

“Nothing.” You say, settling back into your seat, knees coming up to your chest. Will gives you an unbelieving look across the table. “What if he’s unemployed?” You shrug, raising your coffee to your lips.

“So you admit there’s a guy now?” You stay silent at his question, choosing not to answer. “Also I hardly believe that you’d like someone who’s unemployed. You’re too successful for that.” He adds, making you blush slightly.

You still don’t answer his question, letting the food in front of you be an excuse for the silence.

Then comes the teasing

You’re in the middle of lunch with Will when a man approaches the table you’re at. “Excuse me, you are so gorgeous. I just needed to say that.” The man says, staring straight down at you.

You open your mouth to reply with a thanks but Will speaks before you can. “She’s busy buddy.” Will says, not even bothering to look up from his menu. The stranger apologizes, quickly leaving the table.

“Will! What the fuck was that?” You scold him, sending him a glare across the table. You were going to reject the man anyways but you were planning to be a lot more nice than Will.

Will looks up from his menu finally, completely unbothered by the situation. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still available for the mystery man.”

His comment makes you scoff. He’s been saying petty comments like that a lot recently, bringing up the ‘mystery man’ every chance that he can get. It’s starting to create a little bit of a drift in your friendship because of it. Will gets awkward and quiet whenever you don’t tell him who the crush is. You get nervous and snippy with him whenever he brings it up. A weird tension just hangs between you two constantly now.

“Well maybe I don’t want my mystery man anymore.” You snap at him. Will doesn’t even know he’s the mystery man but you say it anyways as if it will hurt his feelings. Of course you don’t mean it but you’re so annoyed with him you don’t care.

Will takes a sip of his drink and holds his menu up again. Apparently the conversation is over.

Two weeks later the secret is revealed

You’re sitting on the hood of Mack’s car in the parking lot of the arena. Mack went back inside because he forgot something in the locker room, leaving you and Will alone for the first time in a while.

It’s dead silent. You stare out at the empty parking lot. Will leans against the car, crossing his arms. Neither of you want to bring up the big elephant in the room. You refuse to be the one who asks why the friendship is so rocky now.

“Did he reject you?” Will asks, finally breaking the silence.

You sigh, disappointed that it’s just another question about your crush. “No.” You answer him firmly.

“Then why do you look so sad all the time now?” Will scoots a bit closer, his expression a bit softer than before.

You feel your own face soften too. “I’m not sad.” You say quietly, embarrassed that he’s noticed. You’ve been upset that Will is so invested in getting you into a relationship with this mystery man who he doesn’t know is himself.

“Yes you are.” Will says, hand splaying across the hood next to your leg, as if he thought about laying it on your knee but decided otherwise.

You feel bothered by the almost contact. “I’m not, Will.” You say more firmly.

A long silence dulls between you two after your reaction. You stare at Will’s hand next your leg with an intense expression. Then Will lets out a dry laugh and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I honestly don’t know why I care so much.” He says, walking backwards and away from the car. You sit up straighter at the sudden emotion change from him. “I don’t know why I want to know what he looks like so bad, and I don’t know why you’re so afraid of telling him.” He furrows his brows and shakes his head at you.

You almost laugh at his statement but somehow control it. “Will,” you mumble instead.

“What? I’m serious. You could have any guy you wanted. If you just told him, I bet he’d be yours.” Will sighs exasperatedly. He runs his fingers through his damp post-shower hair.

You’re so tired of the back and forth between you two that you decide to just tell him now. You don’t even think about the potential repercussions, you just blurt it out. “I wish it worked like that. But unfortunately he’s standing in front of me trying to convince me to ask out someone who he doesn’t think is him.”

Will’s stillness is almost panic inducing. You feel your heart beating loudly in your ears. “Oh.” He says, every memory from the last few weeks rushing to him. Every time you dismissed his question, every time Mack refused to tell him, every time you sadly refused his suggestions.

“Will.” You say, already preparing to jump off the car and run away if you need to. You’re definitely regretting your decision to tell him now that he’s so quiet.

“Me?” Will asks, finger pointed at his chest. “I’m the guy you’ve been talking about this whole time?” He questions as if the thought never even crossed his mind.

You think this whole situation would be funny if your heart wasn’t beating so fast. You nervously pick at your fingernails. “Yes.” There’s no point in denying it now. “I mean it wasn’t my choice to talk about it so often, you just kept interrogating me.”

“That’s because I thought someone else had a chance with you.” He says, his face immediately showing that he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Wait what?” You ask, hoping down from the car at the realization of what he just said.

“I—” For the first time since you’ve known Will he genuinely looks flustered. A small blush is spread across his cheeks and his eyes are wide. He drags a hand across his face. “This is not going how I wanted it to go.” He groans.

You can’t help the smile that comes across your face. Will notices, making a smile break out onto his own face.

“So do you need me to spell it out for you still?” You tease him lightly.

He shakes his head, stepping closer to you. You breath hitches at the closeness. His hands slowly come to your waist, gently pulling you into him and testing the waters. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks at you so gently with those blue eyes that you feel like you’re going to melt right there if you don’t do something. So you rise up on your toes and press a small kiss to his lips. Will immediately deepens the kiss, pulling you all the way flush against him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Connor checks his phone a last time before warmups. He's half expecting to see a text from you, which he knows is unlikely. You told him you had been scheduled at work again and probably wouldn't be able to text him until later. He stares at the text you sent him before you started your shift, feeling a pang in his chest.

Good luck, I'll be thinking of you 🤍

     It's been a month since he's seen you in person. A whole month of conflicting schedules. Your boss has been working you overtime most weeks and Connor's been flying all over the country for games. Quick FaceTime calls before bed are just not enough for Connor. He misses seeing you in the stands before the game. He misses the hug you would wrap him into after games, no matter a win or a loss. He just misses you.

     "Yo, you good?" Frank asks Connor, snapping him out of his head. He shut his phone off and stuffs it in his bag.

     "Yeah, I'm all good." Connor lies.

—

     You were honestly a little worried that you'd miss the first period. Your flight had a small delay, something with the pilot. Then it's almost as if the Chicago traffic knew you were running late.

     You anxiously hurried the security at the United Center when you got there. They weren't too happy with you but you managed to make it to your seat a few seconds before face off.

     With your heart beating a million miles an hour you search for Connor on the ice. Of course it doesn't take long. He's taking the face off first. You feel the familiar feeling of anticipation course through you. You missed being here at the games and cheering Connor on in person. You missed the buzz of the arena, the way Connor would skate past your seat and send you a wink. You missed it all.

     "Go Connor!" You yell, the sound being drowned out by the crowd around you. You sit down, letting the atmosphere of the crowd carry you.

—

     By the second period Connor finally notices you. You watch him as he skates back to the bench, grabbing a water bottle and squeeze some into his mouth. When he turns to put the water away, his eyes drift up and catch yours. At first he looks away immediately but you see the moment he recognizes you because he does a double take.

     You smile wide at him and send him a small wave. His eyes light up and you can see his mouth moving but you can't hear him. You read his lips and can make out a "Holy shit!" But that's about as much as you can lip read. He elbows Frank, which makes Frank also look behind him and up at you. Frank sees you, smiles, and then starts laughing at Connor. You let out your own laugh.

There’s a shift change and Connor’s hoping over the boards with that same wide smile on his face.

You watch as he plays the rest of the game with more energy and excitement. He scores goal after goal, even getting a hat trick that results in a win for the Blackhawks. After every goal Connor points his finger out to you in the stands, almost as if he’s dedicating it to you. The Blackhawks fans are going wild, matching Connor’s energy. The whole place just feels electric, and you’re practically buzzing with anticipation to see Connor.

After the game you find your way to the family room, waiting with some of the other WAGs. You catch up with a few of them, thankful to talk to them again after so long.

Eventually Connor comes out, hair damp and clothes slightly wrinkled but still adorning that same grin. He walks over to you so fast that you’re surprised he doesn’t break out into a sprint. “You’re here.” He says, eyes scanning you as if he still doesn’t believe it. The girls you were talking to walk away to give you two some privacy.

You can’t help but laugh. “I am.” You nod, biting back more laughter.

“But you said you couldn’t make it.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I made it work.” You shrug. You did make it work. The reason you’ve been working so many extra shifts was so that you could take two weeks off to spend some time with Connor in Chicago. At the beginning of the season you noticed the two weeks he had at home and booked your flight immediately.

That’s all it takes for Connor to pull you into him. He holds you tight to his body, your cheek smooshing up against his collarbone. You don’t complain, you just wrap your arms around his middle and hug back just as tight. “I missed you.” You mumble into his shirt.

“I missed you more.” He says softly, all bit of tension now gone in his shoulders. Connor pulls away just enough to look at your face. “You have no idea what that did for me out there.”

“I think I do. You played amazing Con.” You say, earning a blush from him. He doesn’t respond, just leans in and presses his lips to yours. You would melt into the ground of Connor’s arms weren’t around you.

“That’s was the best surprise ever. You have to be at every game now. For the team’s sake.” Connor says when he pulls away. You give him a look and he lets out a laugh. “Okay, mainly for my own sake. I can’t go another month without seeing you.”

“Good because I’m here for two weeks so you better get used to me.” You remark, smirking up at him. You didn’t think it was possible but Connor’s face lights up even more.

“Let’s go! That means we’re winning the next 3 games.” Frank cheers from a few feet away, making the whole room erupt in laughter.

“Seriously, I’m glad you’re here for a few weeks. It means a lot to me.” Connor whispers to you in the midst of the laughter.

You’ve seen Mack upset before. You’ve seen him frustrated after a hard practice. You’ve seen him annoyed at a loss. You’ve definitely seen him exhausted after long road trips. You’ve never seen him like this though.

The front door barely closed before Mack was breaking down. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to react. He started crying like he was holding it in for hours. Not the kind of crying you’ve seen from him before. Not the silent, only let a few tears slip. No, this was the heartbreaking and painful sobs that seem to have been being built for a long time.

You feel your heart cracking as you pull him into a hug quickly. His head drops onto your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him carefully, feeling him shake under your arms. “Mack…” you whisper, not sure what to say.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, his arms tightening around you.

“No, don’t apologize baby. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You immediately whisper back. Your hand rubs circles into his back, desperately trying to ease his pain.

“I completely blew it.” You can feel the fabric of your shirt becoming damp under his tears but you don’t dare move.

“Mack,” you start to voice your disagreements but he cuts you off.

“I let everyone down. You, my family, the fans, my country.”

Mack had always carried unrealistic expectations of himself. Every win wasn’t enough. Every game there was at least one thing he could’ve done better. Every mistake was made to be something bigger than it really is. You didn’t realize how much he carried until now. He’s too good at hiding it.

“You are not a failure Macklin.” Your voice comes out firm. You just wish he’d see himself from your eyes. All you see when you look at him is pride. You’re so beyond proud of how much work he puts into his sport, of how gentle and kind he is while doing it.

You can feel Mack tense up at the use of his full name, not his nickname. He chooses not to respond however, letting you know that he doesn’t believe you.

—

The first thing you do is run him a warm bath. You’re hoping the bath helps him relax a bit, seeing as he’s still so tense. He listens to your demands for him to get undressed and get in the water. He looks like he doesn’t have the energy to argue anyways.

You sit on the edge of the tub, watching as he stares at the wall in front of him blankly. You sigh and run your hands through his hair, scratching slightly. He closes his eyes, leaning back into your hand.

“Clean up, I’m going to go make some dinner.” You tell him softly. He nods, eyes still remaining closed.

You leave out his favorite outfit for him to put on when he gets out, a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt he’s owned since high school. Then you scramble to the kitchen to start making his favorite meal. It’s a pasta dish that you begged his mom to send you the recipe for.

You’re halfway through making the sauce when you hear the door to your bedroom open. A few minutes later you feel Mack’s arms wrap around you from behind. His head falls onto your shoulder, wet hair tickling your cheek.

“You don’t have to do all of this for me.” His voice is muffled but you still understand him clearly.

“Yes I do.” You state, turning your head to press a kiss to his temple. He sighs, not bothering to disagree with you which is out of the ordinary for him. Not in a bad way. He just never passes up the opportunity to tease you and bait you into getting angry at him. He thinks it’s cute when you’re annoyed with him.

You spend the rest of your time cooking with Mack wrapped around you. Not that you’re complaining at all.

—

After dinner, you find yourselves curled up on the couch together. You threw on his comfort movie and wrapped him under the blanket with you. His head is on your shoulder, face turned towards the TV, his hands planted on your waist. Your own hands are rubbing soothingly up and down his back, the way he likes it. “You’re amazing, I hope you know that Mack.” You say softly.

Mack just hums, face pressing into your shoulder more. He still doesn’t believe you.

“I mean it. You’re one of the most hardworking people I know.” You pull his hair back and press a kiss to his forehead. “Look at me,” you say gently, tugging on his hair to get him to look up. He does, green eyes peering up at you. “You are so talented and strong and funny and important. You are so so loved as well Macky. You matter to me so much more than a scoreboard.” You say, your own voice cracking with emotion.

A tear slips down his cheek. You’re quick to catch it with your thumb. “You really believe that?” He asks, his voice small and vulnerable.

You pull his face up to yours, kissing his lips firmly, trying to convey your love for him in a single kiss. “Of course I do.” You say breathlessly when you pull away.

You feel your heart drop as you watch Norway cheer on the ice. Your heart drops even more when you see Mack on the center of the ice, staring up at the score of the game with a defeated look on his face. You know how devastated he was at the Olympics. You also know how he was looking at the world championships as a redo of what happened at the Olympics. He’s put a lot of pressure on himself for these world games, feeling as though he needs to live up to the C on his jersey.

You also know how absolutely wrecked he probably is right now. No one works harder than him. He puts in countless hours into training, playing until he is so physically exhausted he can’t move. You can’t count the amount of times he’s called you and confessed how tired he is, how his body hurts, how he needs more sleep. Yet he keeps going, waking up early to train, and going to bed late. To him he’ll never be good enough, and losing worlds will just put him further in that delusion.

No one around you moves. Not Mack’s parents, not his sister, no one. Everyone is dead silent, seemingly thinking the same thing as you. That is until you catch his girlfriend moving out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to look at her. She’s standing up, grabbing her purse. You dart your eyes to Mack’s mom in confusion. She just shrugs her shoulders, looking as confused as you. Maybe his girlfriend is just emotional?

You watch his girlfriend leave, not even glancing back. She doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t even look at the ice towards her boyfriend.

You have to restrain yourself from running after her and letting her know what you really think of her. You can’t believe she actually left before the medal ceremony, before awards, before seeing Mack.

You hate her, you have since the moment you met her. She was always so rude to you and to Mack’s family. She’s even more rude to Mack, which he was always too blind in love to see.

At least he used to be in love with her. Lately he’s been calling you sounding so frustrated with her. They fight constantly, Mack tells you about it every time. She expects so much from him, claiming he’s embarrassing her when he doesn’t score a certain amount of goals, he’s not attentive enough to her, he doesn’t post her enough. Everything he does seems to bother her. The past few calls you’ve gotten from him, you can tell he doesn’t love her the way he used to. Which both elates you and makes you upset.

Upset that he is going through all of that in his personal life on top of the things that are happening with his career. It also makes you happy because that means Mack is starting to realize he deserves better.

You push down all of the emotions and look away from her empty seat. Your eyes find Mack again. He’s already staring up at you. His lips are in a thin line and he’s shaking his head. Clearly he notices his girlfriend’s absence. Even from here you can see that his eyes are glistening. Your heart breaks even more because Mack never cries like that in public. Not when there are cameras everywhere.

He turn his back to you, likely to hide his emotions from you and his family. You feel sick at the sight.

—

You’re standing next to his mom outside of the player’s locker room, her hand resting on your shoulder comfortingly. She knows you just as well as her own son. After years of being Mack’s best friend she can read your facial expressions quite well. She knows how worried you are for Mack just based off the way you’re biting your lips.

Players start to come out, some offering small smiles to the family members, some not bothering to hide their feelings. Then Mack comes out. The second he sees his family, he breaks. His dad pulls him into a hug immediately. His mom leaves your side to comfort Mack as well. They both mutter encouragements and apologies to him.

After a few moments Mack looks up. Right at you. The tear tracks on his face make you so irrationally sad. You’d go to the end of the earth to make sure he never feels like this again.

His parents let him go, sensing that he wants to see you now. He walks over to you slowly, just staring at you. You open your arms and he collapses into them. His arms go around your waist and his head buries into the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, praying he can feel how proud you are of him.

“Thank you for staying.” He mutters through shallow breaths. You can sense the underlying message of his sentence. You stayed, his girlfriend didn’t. You support him unconditionally, his girlfriend doesn’t.

You can’t lie, you’ve imagined life as Mack’s girlfriend. You’ve longed for experiencing what it’s like to hear him say that he loves you, waking up next to him, kissing him. You started to fantasize about it even more when he started dating that girl. You’d fantasize about how you’d treat him better than her, how well you two would fit together. You already do fit together so perfectly.

“Always, Macky, always.” You whisper back. And you mean it as a promise. No matter what happens to you two, you’ll always be there for Mack.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. There’s a different emotion on his face, one you’re not that familiar with. He opens his mouth to say something. Then he closes his mouth again, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I think I made the wrong choice.” He says softly.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You’re not sure what he means but your intuition is telling you that Mack just confessed something serious to you. Something that could change your friendship forever.

You don’t ask to clarify, not while his family is standing a few feet away, not after he just lost an important game. You just pull him back in for another hug, your head running with a million different thoughts.

"Will Smith? Really?" Your friend pulls you out of Will's gaze. You have to look away when he smiles at you from across camp because your insides swish around like a melted snowman.

You look at your friend who has a distasteful look spread across her face. Your smile falters slightly. "How long has that been going on?" She mutters with a scoff. You’re a bit taken back by the venom laced in her tone.

"Oh, um we've been talking for a few months." You shrug, suddenly feeling insecure under her judgmental glare.

"Oh honey," she starts with a bitter laugh, "you should avoid hockey players like the plague, especially Smitty." Her eyes focus on something behind you, presumably Will. She scowls before turning her attention back to you.

Curiosity, anger, and a bit of hurt sparks in you. "Why?" Is all you’re able to get out, feeling too overwhelmed with emotions.

"I dated him, well not really. We talked for about as long as you guys are. Then he just ghosted me. So he might do the same thing to you, heads up." She crosses her arms and looks away from you. Her cheeks are tinted pink and she lets out a small huff. She's clearly still bitter about how things ended between her and Will.

She talked to him? It's silent as you mull this information over in your head. "Hockey players are horrible boyfriends, just remember that." Allison grumbles to you before speed walking away.

From what you know of Will so far he doesn't seem like he'd be a horrible boyfriend. He's really sweet and kind. When you met him in an ice cream shop the week before school started, he was a nervous mess, which was really cute. He definitely didn’t seem like a bad person.

—

"Hi." a boy around your age sits down next to you. You look up from your phone to see this really cute boy. Floppy hair, blue eyes, a wide smile, he's the definition of pretty.

"Hi," you respond, smiling a bit at him. His smile widens. You’re immediately pulled into this guy based off the vibe he gives.

"You're," he pauses to laugh nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "you're really pretty." His eyes finally meet yours.

You’re internally freaking out because this has never happened to you before. Sure you’ve had guys ask you out, but they were never this forward, honestly not this attractive either. Somehow you compose myself and appear less freaked out.

"Thank you." You sit up a little straighter and let out a small laugh. The guy just leans his face on his hand and stares at you. "What's your name?" You ask.

"Will." He responds, still staring at you. You have to cover your face because his staring is making you so nervous.

"Can I have your number Will?" You ask him. He seems to snap out his trance, pulling out his phone.

—

"Hey," Will says softly, hand brushing against your arm. You startle a bit, having been lost in your thoughts. He must've walked over here while you were thinking about the first time you met him.

"Hi." You let out a small smile. You’re still conflicted with Allison's words. Why would he be a bad boyfriend? Even after that day you met him and continued hanging out with him, he’s been the sweetest guy. He’s always so attentive to your emotions and he so kind and gentle. You think he’d make a great boyfriend, contrary to what Allison said.

"Everything okay?" Will's eyebrows furrow and his smile drops. Even though you’ve only known him a few months, he knows you better than most of your closest friends.

"I just," you pause, wondering how much to reveal. "I was talking to my friend Allison," you study his face for a reaction to her name, "she said you guys had a thing," you trail off slightly, feeling embarrassed.

Will's face falls even more. His thumbs rub circles into your arms at your sides and his eyes flicker between your left and right eyes. "I wouldn't really call it a thing. We just talked, nothing more. She didn't even really mean anything to me," He explains almost frantically.

Your heart drops because what if that's how he feels about you? You step back a little from Will, his arms falling to his sides. He notices somethings off because you can see the flicker of hurt flash across his face.

"Oh," you mutter. You want to say more but nothing comes out. It's like your words get choked up in your throat even though you so desperately want to get them out. You want to tell him how much he means to you. You want to hear him tell you how much you mean to him. But you don't, and he doesn't.

You walk away without looking back at him. There's a knot in your stomach that's slowly climbing into your chest and it's screaming for you to go back.

--

The knot hasn't gone away this whole week. With every missed call, every missed text the knot grows larger. You want nothing more than to answer him but everytime you see his contact you think of what he said. She didn't even mean anything to me. You don't think you could handle be nothing to Will.

It hurts you to think about it. You’re not even dating officially but it feels like a break up. He took your life with force, leaving you breathless but wanting more. Your throat closes up at the thought of him. His smile and his warm eyes and his smooth voice. He makes you feel so safe and you’d be devastated if he didn't feel the same.

You would also be equally devastated if what Allison said is true. What if Will is a bad person and wouldn't be a good boyfriend? You just can't shake the feeling that she's wrong though. Everything he's done for you so far has been beyond selfless and caring.

Maybe it's because you’re tired of the constant back and forth in your head. Maybe it's just a deep pill towards him, but you leave to go find Will.

Will gave you the address to his dorm once, just in case. You’ve never been there though because he'd always come to hang out in your dorm. So it's a bit unusual to find yourself in the hallway of his dorm, banging on the door.

The door opens to reveal a mildly annoyed hockey player that is, unfortunately, not Will. The boys eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he sees you. You want to ask why but all that's occupying your mind is Will.

"Will!" The boy yells. Your jaw goes slack with surprise. How does he know you’re here for Will?

In a matter of seconds, Will's head peaks over the boys shoulder. When he sees you, his smile drops. You have to swallow the thick feeling in your throat at his reaction. Will stands before you, gazing at you with a million different emotions that you can't seem to understand. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," you respond back. You realize he's waiting for you to say more and to explain why you’re here. You glance around to see that his roommate is looking between Will and you curiously. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear anxiously. "Can we talk in private?" You mutter.

He follows your gaze and nods his head, cursing a bit. He politely asks his roommate to give you privacy. The roommate nods, slipping behind you to leave. Will pulls you out of the hallway and into the small room. It's small but cozy. Theres books on his desk, hockey sticks leaning against the wall, and a big fluffy blanket on his bed.

"What's up?" Will asks, leaning over you, trapping you in with his arm near your head. You lose your voice because his face gets so close and it seems like he's going to kiss you. But then he pulls away and the door latches shut with a click. You feel slightly embarrassed because of course he was just shutting the door.

"Um, I'm not good at this." You shake your head, already losing your confidence from before. You want the ground to swallow you.

"What's going on sweetheart?" He whispers, eyebrows laced together in concern. His fingers ghost over your arm but he drops it to his side. He's so sweet and you feel like you don't deserve it.

"I'm not good at talking about my feelings," you admit truthfully. When you feel overwhelmed with emotions, you just can't tell people about it. No matter if it's good or bad. It's like the words get caught in your throat. You think, maybe, you’re scared of being vulnerable because you feel like your most sensitive feelings won't be validated.

But that's the thing. You want to be vulnerable with Will. You want to trust him and you want him to trust you. You know that he won't invalidate your feelings but that doesn't make it any less scary.

"I really like you." You breathe out, closing your eyes so tight it hurts. "I like you so much and it scares me so fucking much Will." Your fingers tremble at your sides. You don't realize you’re crying until a heavy teardrop lands on your shirt. "When I'm with you it's like all the bad thoughts go away and I feel like I'm floating. And I don't want it to stop. But I'm so scared that I'm not enough for you and you'll realize that some day and just..." you let out a soft sob and finally open your eyes to look at him.

He's breathing heavily, body rigid, but his eyes are jumping all over your face. You’ve never been more scared in your life. You can't tell what he's thinking and he's not saying anything, he's not even moving. "Say something please," you quietly beg him.

He moves forward slowly until you’re chest to chest. You avoid his face and look at the BC logo on his shirt instead. His hands land on your face, pulling you up to look at him. He leans his forehead on yours, your breaths mingling together. "I really like you." He breathes his response into your mouth before kissing you.

The knot in your chest fades slowly and your entire body relaxes into Will. "I don't want you to feel like you're not enough with me," Will says when you inevitably pull away.

It's hard to look into his eyes when he's so close but you manage. "You don't make me feel like that, I do." Finally calling out your own anxieties feels like a breath of fresh air.

Will’s hands tangle into your hair and he kisses your forehead slowly and gently, like he's trying to take away the anxiety with one kiss. You wrap your arms around his middle and bury your head in the space between his neck and shoulder. "The reason I ghosted Allison is because she was flirting with my roommate whenever I would leave the room. In retrospect, I should've maybe broke things off with at least a text. I can promise you I'm not going to do that to you. You're more than enough for me, please don't be scared of liking me."

You start to cry again, not because you’re sad but because Will's words are so relieving. If it's even possible, you sink further into Will. He lets you lean on him and cry into him. He rubs your back and kisses your hair repeatedly, engraving his words into your head.

"I like you, and I want to work through everything with you. As my girlfriend?" He whispers softly, his voice raising an octave at the end.

You're standing at the bar, waiting for your drink. You're trying to focus on your phone, but you're only half paying attention. Connor is a few feet away from you, deep in a conversation with one of his friends. You agreed to go out with him tonight to celebrate the off season. It's been fun so far, bar hopping and quality time with Connor that you normally don't get a lot of. However, you are starting to lose steam and are becoming increasingly more tired by the minute. You can see on Connors face that he is starting to get there too.

     "Hey," A voice pulls you from your thoughts. You look away from Connor and over to the man that is standing in front of you. You have no idea who he is. Based on the way he greeted you and how he's leaning against the bar counter to look at you, no one else would guess that he's a stranger to you. "You're Connor's girlfriend right?" He asks.

     "Yes...?" you trail off, eyes narrowing at him. The way he said Connors name so casually like he knows him rubbed you in the wrong way. You suppose there is a possibility that he does know your boyfriend but you doubt that. You've been dating Connor for a long time and you are very familiar with his friends.

     "I knew it. I've seen you around." He states. You wrack your brain for a time that you've maybe met this guy or a time that Connor has maybe shown you a picture of him. You end up blank though. "On like Instagram." The man clarifies.

     It makes more sense now that he said that. You assume he's probably just a fan of Connor and saw some of the photos that Connor posted of you. "Okay?" You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. You cant tell where this conversation is about to go, making your anxiety spike.

     "It must be nice." He leans more into the bar, trapping you into the conversation. You raise your eyebrows at him. "You get to hangout with pro athletes all day, free tickets to the games, VIP. I mean you are living the dream here."

     You give him a tight lipped smile and nod. You don't like how he's already starting to paint you as some sort of gold digger. "I'm just trying to get my drink man." You tell him, glancing to the bar. The bartender sees you and comes your way, sliding the drink towards you. You turn to leave but the man traps you in once again.

     "Dont be like that, c'mon." His voice comes out more demanding now that he's realizing you're brushing him off. "Im just saying, you don't just accidently end up with a guy like him." He chuckles, the noise sounding anything but pleasant.

     You can feel your anger rise at his comment. "Excuse me?" You scoff. Who is he to assume these things about you when he doesnt even know you? And who is he to think he has the right to come up to you and tell you? You turn your head to find where Connor is. You could deal with this on your own without a doubt but your too tired to fight with this man and just want to leave. You meet Connors eyes, which were already looking at you. His eyebrows are drawn in concern as his gaze shifts to the guy behind you. You cock your head to the exit as a way to signal to Connor that you want to leave.

     "Yeah, call for him to save you. I think you're exactly like they say you are online. Its not hard to see that you're just with him because he's Connor Bedard. Are you actually into hockey? Or just the money Connor gets from it?" The man rants, face redding with his own anger.

     "Im not doing this," you state, trying to find a way past him. The man moves over, once again blocking your way.

     "Hey," Connor steps in with a hand on your back. "Do you have a problem?" His voice is too calm and he's staring down this man with an intensity you've never seen before. Not even on the ice.

     The man backs up, clealry intimidated, which is funny considering the man has quite a few inches of height on your boyfriend. "We were just talking." The man says, voice going quieter.

     Connor glances from the man to you. He saw most of the conversation, saw how the man was trapping you in. He also heard the last comment the man made to you. Now that he's closer he can see the way your shoulders are wound tight and how you're angling yourself a way from the man. The look on your face, the one he knows is pure discomfort, is all it takes to set Connors anger off. "Really? Because from my point of view it looked like you were talking at her."

     You've never seen Connor like this in public. Sure, on the ice he can get angry and competitive. In public however, he's always really reserved and tries to avoid conflicts such as this. He would rather not cause a scene and see himself on some TikTok the next day. Right now he seems to have thrown that out the window.

     The man scoffs again. "I was just saying what everyone was thinking." You have to hand it to this man for his incredible confidence. You cant imagine saying those things to anyone, let alone strangers.

     You can see that Connor is somehow even more angered. The tips of his ears have turned pink and his chest is starting to rise and fall more rapidly. Connor takes a step towards the man, not in a threatening way but in a firm way. "Well you and everyone else are wrong. She told you to stop, so stop it." Connor's voice is low, he's almost on the verge of seething through his teeth.

     The man stares at Connor for a minute, stuttering nonsense before he backs off into the crowd. And just like that its over and the man is gone. The noise of the bar returns to you, the music becoming more noticable.

      Connor turns to you, his features softening. His hand comes up to cup your arm reassuringly. "You okay?" He asks you, thumb rubbing circles into your arm.

     You nod even though your chest is still tight with anxiety. "Yeah, some people are just weird."

     Connors jaw flexes at your response. "I hate how people assume things about you because of me." Connor sighs, making you look away from your surroundings and right at him.

     "That's not your fault Connor." Now you're the one reassuring him, leaning in closer to him to offer comfort.

     "I know, but still," He purses his lips, looking down at you. Neither of you say anything for a second, just let the noise of the bar drown out both of your worries. "You don't have to deal with any of that alone, I'm always here." Connor finally says, thumb coming to a stop on your arm.

     "I know," you nod at him. The way he said it made the knot in your chest loosen. He doesn't try to control it or become overprotective of you, he just offers his support. You've always known with Connor that you're never alone and that you don't have to stand there and take anything. That's why you love him, contrary to what the man earlier thought.

Mack forgot about 10 minutes in that he was supposed to be teaching you, not competing against you. It definitely started out that way. His voice gentle, hands never leaving your body. Then he quickly realized that you were actually good at skating and it all changed.

      "Okay so when were you going to tell me you can skate?" Mack pauses, watching you glide with ease. You turn around and stop cleanly in front of him.

     "I distinctly remember telling you I like to skate." You shrug your shoulders. When Mack brought up teaching you how to play hockey this morning, you told him you would enjoy that. That's when you also told him that you used to skate with your best friend all the time and her family when you were younger. You actually got pretty decent at it.

     "You never said you were good at skating." He states, eyes narrowing at you. Hes impressed with your skating but he won't say it out loud.

     You scoff at his response. "Maybe that's your fault for assuming I'd be bad." You reply, fingers coming up to push his shoulder playfully.

     He slides backwards a bit. "I didn't assume anything!" He says, laughter bubbling at the surface. You give him a look that says you know he's lying. "Okay maybe I did assume just a little bit."

     You gasp, pushing him back gently again. "Macklin!" You scold. He catches your hand, holding it to his chest, giving you a smile that makes it impossible to stay mad at him.

     He slaps his stick on the ice with his other hand and lets yours go. "That just means we can skip the boring part and get straight to the fun stuff." He skates two feet over to the wall and grabs the other stick that was leaning against it, extending it out to you.

     You take it from Mack's hand, a grin forming on your face. "Yeah. Or maybe it just means you actually have to be a good teacher now." You tease him.

     Mack's eyes light up, something flickering in them that you are all too familiar with. He gets that same look in his eye when you play board games with him. You've seen it when he plays video games with Will. Mack's getting competitive. You can't tell if that means this is going to be fun, or if this is about to become an absolute disaster.

—

     Mack starts off easy enough, showing you simple moves. He shows you how to handle the puck while moving. He shows you how to keep it close and in your control. You pick it up quicker than Mack thought you would. Your skating gives you an advantage, making it so you don't have to focus on your feet and the puck at the same time.

      You pass the puck to Mack with ease, feeling pride in how fast you've developed the skill. "Okay that was a pretty good pass." He admits, appearing as though he's feeling the same pride.

     "Pretty good? When's the last time you've seen talent like this?" You point to yourself. This earns a laugh from Macklin.

     "Okay, I think you're getting too cocky now." He places a hand on his hip, other hand moving the puck back and forth on the ice.

      You watch the puck, mesmerized by the way he's able to manipulate it. It's easy for him, making you slightly jealous of his skill. "Do you have a problem with that?" You counter him.

     Mack gives you a look, his eyes starting to sparkle even more with that competitive spirit. "Alright then, one on one. If you're really as talented as you say you are then let's see if you can beat me." His tone has shifted. He's serious now.

      Mack skates closer to you, now circling you, guiding the puck with him. "Talk about cocky." You mumble, bending at your hips slightly, getting ready to take that puck from Mack.

      "You're about to lose." Is all he says before he takes off in the direction of the net behind you.

—

      You don't lose, at least not immediately. You're faster than Mack anticipated. You're light on your turns and you have this ability to read exactly where Mack plans to go, getting there before him. However, he's still more skilled with the puck and despite your agility he's still faster.

     At one point you steal the puck right from Mack. You catch it in his eyes first, the way he looks from the puck to the ice a few feet to the left. Before Mack even begins to move to the left you're there, swiping the puck from him with your stick. You let out a cheer, skating away as fast as you can, slapping the puck into the goal. It's not as satisfying as when Mack does it, but it still went in.

      You turn to see Mack looking at you with pursed lips. "Tied." You tease him. Mack's lips go even thinner, pulling impossibly tighter.

      "Alright, slight change." Mack announces, his voice echoing.

      "I don't like where this is going." You murmur, going to retrieve the puck. You feel Mack watching you as you bend down to get it out of the netting.

      Mack rolls his eyes at your mumbled statement. "You're going to learn how to protect the puck with your body." He sounds mischievous, which is usually never a good thing when he's feeling competitive.

      You stand up, passing the puck towards Mack. He stops it with his stick when it gets close enough. "Body checking? Really Mack?"

     Mack can hear the uncertainty in your voice, sending him into overdrive to explain himself. "No not full checking. Just... use your shoulder to keep me away, don't let me get it."

      "Fine, but if you knock me over Mack," you send him a warning glare. He skates closer to you, dropping the puck in the middle of the both of you.

      "I won't. I know what I'm doing." He reassures you. Although it doesn't do much to reassure you. You do trust Mack though, so you position yourself in front of the puck.

      He lets you take the puck away from him, pressing in on you as you skate away. He's testing to see how well you hold your balance. You lean into him just as much as he is into you, keeping the puck as far away from his stick as possible.

      "There you go, don't give me space babe." He praises you, now pressing in even harder on you.

      You lean into him harder, trying to push him off of you with your shoulder. You're concentrating on fending him off that you don't notice your control of the puck is slipping. Mack tries to swipe the puck from you. You shift, moving it away from him. He goes for it again, this time putting some force behind his push. You go to counteract his force but his is much stronger than yours, making you lose balance.

      You hit the ice before you can even register that you're falling. Your shoulder smacks into the ice, sending a jolt of pain through your side. The stick clatters somewhere in the distance, out of reach. You let out a small pained noise.

      "Shit." You hear Mack say, his own stick dropping onto the ice, now forgotten. He's at your side instantly, sliding onto his knees to examine you. "Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" He asks, voice now small and tight, a huge difference from a moment ago. He hovers his hands over you, almost afraid to touch you. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. Are you hurt?"

      You shift, trying to sit up straight. You wince at the pain in your shoulder when you move. You roll onto your back instead, letting the pain come out in waves. You don't think you broke or tore anything, probably just bruised it.

     "Don't move." Mack insists, hands now coming up to cradle your head. He moves your head from side to side, inspecting it. "Did you hit your head?" He asks.

     "No, I just landed on my shoulder." You try to send him a reassuring smile but end up grimacing.

     Mack does not look pleased at all. His lips are drawn into a thin line and he's shaking his head slowly. "I hit you way too hard." He mutters, eyes scanning up and down your body, looking for more injuries. "I just got too carried away." His hand travels from your face to your shoulder to check it out. It's tender when he touches it but not too bad. It's definitely just bruised.

      "Yeah, maybe a bit carried away." You let out a giggle despite the pain in your shoulder. You wait for Mack to let out a laugh too and move on but he doesn't. His lips stay pursed as he looks at your shoulder.

     "It's not funny." He states, sending you a serious look.

      Your giggling dies down. He's upset, more upset than you are. Not that you are upset at all, you honestly should've seen it coming. You can tell Mack's in his head though, probably kicking himself for the whole thing. "It is kind of funny." You move to sit up but Mack is quick to keep you down.

      "It's not." He firmly states, ending the argument there. "Let me help you up. Tell me if anything hurts." His fingers curl to the backside of your shoulder, supporting it with his palm. He helps you into a sitting position, even though you don't need help. His eyes are still trained on your shoulder, anxiety swimming in them.

     "Mack, I'm fine." You say softly, cupping his jaw with your hand. He looks away from the shoulder to meet your eyes. He's not convinced that you are okay, you can just tell by the way he's looking at you. His eyes are big and rounded and worried.

     "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I don't like being the reason you're hurt." His voice is so devastatingly quiet, it breaks your heart.

     You start drawing small strokes into his cheek with your thumb. You give him a soft smile as you watch him relax a little into your touch. "I know you didn't mean it. Now help me up." You reassure.

     He's quick to help you to your feet, hands staying firm on your waist, scanning you again for injuries. You pat his chest to get his attention. "I forgive you Mack, stop beating yourself up." He nods at your sentence. You know you're still in for hours of Mack babying you though. "Hey, next time how about you teach me without trying to win?" You tease him, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

     He finally breaks, smile erupting on his face. "Yeah, no promises there." He teases back, squeezing your waist. "Let's get you home, put some ice on your shoulder. I'll run you a bath. We can watch your show. Anything you want tonight babe, it's yours." Mack rambles, cheeks splotching a light pink. You both start skating to the exit, of course Mack keeping you close the whole time.

     "Maybe I should get injured more often."

     The Sharks had a rough game. There was lots of fighting and rough checks to our guys. The Sharks ended up losing and you can see the anger and disappointment on their faces at the end.

You know Will might come back home a little upset. You usually let him be for an hour or so until he comes up to you, usually asking for a hug. He likes to decompress by himself after games like this.

     You shut off the tv and go to your shared room to read while you wait for Will to come home. You stayed home today because you had some work to finish up. You just put the game on while you did your work.

A few hours later the front door closes and you can hear the thump of Will's hockey bag hitting the floor. Usually you yell at him to put it away but you know being yelled at is probably the last thing he wants so you stay quiet.

Will's footsteps are heard all the way up the stairs. He peeks his head into your room and when he sees you his shoulders drop and his eyebrows relax. He walks into the room and collapses on his side of the bed, laying his head on your lap. This surprises you because Will usually likes his space after tough games.

"Hi Will," you say, running your hand through his damp hair. He mumbles something into your leg. "What? You have to speak a little louder," you tell him gently.

"My back hurts." He says louder this time, pink tinging his cheeks. His breath on your leg makes the rest of your body shiver. You hide the shiver by leaning forward slightly to look at his face.

"From when you got knocked into the boards?" You ask softly, tugging his hair away from his face. Will sighs and closes his eyes happily at the action.

He gives you a small nod in conformation. "Can you rub my back?" He open his eyes to silently plead with them. Will always begs you to give him one, claiming you do it better than anyone.

"Of course." You nod, leaning back again. "Just lay on your stomach." You run your fingers through his hair one more time before he rolls over onto his stomach. He clumsily takes his shirt off in the process.

You get up and straddle him so you’re sitting on his lower back. You trace your fingers down his toned back lightly and admire. His back is probably your favorite thing about him. You just can't explain how incredibly attractive his back muscles are. So you never complain when he asks you to give him a massage.

"Baby." Will mumbles into the pillow impatiently. He's caught you admiring his back. A blush spreads to your cheeks and Will just chuckles at your silence.

You press the heel of your hands into his shoulders, eliciting a groan from him. You’ve done this a few times so you know where Will usually hurts. Usually his upper back, right above his shoulder blades, and also his lower back, along his spine.

You focus on his shoulders for a little bit until he stops making noises out of pain. Then you move to his lower back. You have to scoot back and sit on his butt to get to his lower back. With your thumbs you press into the muscles running along the sides of the spine and massage the knots out. Will sighs into the pillow happily.

Once you’re finished with his lower back you run your hand back up his back, feeling him flex under your hands. You slowly lean down so that you can press a kiss to his shoulder blade. Then you lean down even more so that you’re laying on top of him. "Is that okay? Do you need more?" You whisper softly. You move your head to the side to kiss his cheek. He smiles lazily, cheek bunching up under your lips.

"Yeah, that's perfect sweetheart," Will mumbles tiredly into the pillow. His breathing is getting slower, letting you know he's falling asleep. You kiss his cheek one last time before getting off of him so he can sleep comfortably.

When you settle into your side of the bed, Will lazily rolls onto his side and puts an arm over your waist. "I love you," he tiredly mutters.

The first time it happened it was completely unintentional. You blamed it on the unfamiliarity of the whole situation. It was your first time staying with Connor in his bed. You had forgotten what it was like to sleep with someone so close to you. You fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, almost like an unspoken agreement.

You had always valued your space. Especially during sleep. You view sleep as a deeply personal experience that is individual. You like to sleep a certain way and trying to snuggle another person would just mess it up. Connor seemed to completely agree with you, at least that's what he said when he had gotten into bed. You did cuddle before bed, talking about anything that came to mind. But once sleep started to pull you under, you went to your designated sides. It was easy and comfortable, making that first sleepover not seem so scary.

That was until you woke up. When you woke up it was warm. Not in the way that it's warm from the covers or the sunlight peeking in. No, this warmth was the warmth of another person. His arm was draped around your waist, chest pressed casually to your back. His breath came out onto your shoulder, tickling it.

You didn't want to move, much to your surprise. It felt natural to have the weight of his body pressed to yours. To have your breathing in sync. It confused you, made you wonder if you were wrong about sleeping separately.

When you shifted to get away from him, to test if you felt just as comfortable without his arm around you, he reacted. He pulled you back into him, instinctively. Like it was normal.

—

After that it became routine. You started sleeping over more, enjoying the extra time you get with Connor when you wake up. You two had developed a little ritual now.

You climb into bed, maybe starting out wrapped in each other's arms. Sometimes you talk, other times you just let the silence comfort you. No matter how the night starts, you always exchange a quiet goodnight. Connor moves to his side, you move to your side.

Every morning without fail, the two of you end up tangled together. Always with Connor's front pressed to your back, his hold on you tight. Your legs tangle together, making you wonder who caused the bundle. Are you the one unknowingly pressing into him at night? Is he the one pulling you closer to him? You suppose it didn't matter how it happened, it just did.

Usually you never say anything, instead laying there in his arms until he wakes up. He doesn't acknowledge it either. When he has practice, or you have to be up for work, he'll simply press a kiss to your shoulder and get up. On lazy mornings he'll pull you impossibly closer and hold you until the angle of the sun is high enough that you know you have to get out of bed and be productive. Either way, he doesn't bring it up. Maybe he doesn't even notice.

—

One morning you decide you'll be the one to bring it up. This time you had woken up after Connor, a rare occurrence. He was drawing light circles into your hip when your eyes opened. You let yourself adjust to the morning light before turning slowly in his arms.

"Do you do that on purpose?" You ask him. His fingers stop moving, a look of confusion spreading across his features.

"Do what?" He questions, bicep flexing underneath your head.

"This," you motion to the tangle of limbs the two of you are in.

Connor looks down at your bodies, quiet and processing your question. "I thought you did." He finally answers, looking back towards you.

"No, I fell asleep on my side." You point your thumb behind you at your side of the bed.

Connor huffs out a small laugh. "So did I. I don't remember moving here." He states, fingers resuming their circles. It makes it harder to pin it on one person when the both of you are in the middle of the bed. If Connor had been on your side it would be easy to say he was the one doing it. The same would go if the both of you were on Connor's side of the bed, he could easily say it's you.

You feel like you should feel more strongly about it. You had always been so insistent on your personal space. The more you got to know Connor, the more you realized he was the same. Hypothetically, two people who clearly value their personal space should not drift towards each other in the night. You feel like you should feel differently than you do when you wake up tangled in his arms. But you don't, you just feel peace.

"I guess we just end up where we want to be." Connor shrugs a shoulder. That was that. You tucked your head underneath his chin and let the silence flow.

It was the way he had said it so casually, as if it wasn't a big deal, because it's really not. It made your overthinking extinguish.

The fact that you didn't plan to wake up like you did made it better. It was if you knew Connor was meant for you, even in your sleep. And it was as if he was always looking for you, even while sleeping. The soft reality of it made you smile.

This whole night was your idea, which is uncharacteristic considering it's your least favorite day of the year. When Will questioned you on it you just shrugged your shoulders and said "fuck it, we're turning 21." Will wasn't complaining though, it's been years since he got to share a birthday party with you. Every year since you both turned 18, you've been separated by college midterms, hockey games, family dinners, anything and everything.

     He missed having his birthday twin to celebrate with. You missed having someone to support you on the day you hate so much. You had always hated your birthday, hated how there was so much expectation yet it was never met, something going extremely wrong every year. A break up, a fight with a best friend, a family member announces a chronic illness. Will never failed to make you feel loved and appreciated every year despite the misfortune. It's an understatement to say you were extremely sad you hadn't gotten to see him in person the last couple years. You stopped celebrating your birthday when Will got drafted to the NHL and moved across the country. This year you were determined to celebrate, for the sake of being 21, and also for the sake of celebrating Will as well.

     Now that you moved to San Jose for a job opportunity, it's like old times. Y/n and Will, the dynamic duo was back in action. Except now it's maybe a dynamic trio, you still can't tell if Mack would want that. When you met Will's new friend you were absolutely smitten with him from the start. His cute smile and goofy personality had you immediately infatuated. Mack however does not seem to reciprocate that infatuation. He never lingers a moment longer once Will leaves the room, always finding an excuse to leave. He's polite and you share jokes together occasionally (usually about Will), but he never initiates any sort of conversation with you. Regardless, you seem to spend an awful lot of time with him, since the both of you share a best friend.

     That's exactly where you find yourself now, at a bar, awkwardly standing next to Mack. Neither of you move to make conversation. Will, the buffer, is off getting drinks for the three of you. "I see my friend, tell Will I'll be back." Mack leans over to you slightly, praying you hear what he said over the music. You nod, Mack immediately taking off. You can't deny the tug on your chest at his eagerness to get away from you.

     Will returns with two round of shots, you immediately throw one down. You never drink, only on occasion. Tonight is better occasion than ever, plus you want to forget the image of Mack talking to his "friend", a very pretty girl across the bar. Will follows your lead and downs a shot.

—

    Mack meant for it to be a short conversation, a distraction from the girl he so desperately wants. He spotted a girl across the bar who follows him on instagram. He followed back months ago because she was undeniably good looking.

     Not as beautiful as the girl he's currently avoiding however. He knows he stands no chance with that girl. Not while she's leaning on Will, laughing at something he says and looking up at him with those big eyes. She's clearly in love with Will and he would never get in the way of that. That's why he let this conversation last as long as it is.

     He hums in response to something the girl said, eyes still glued to Will and you. He's counted, you guys are on your 6th round of shots. Go big or go home he supposes. He watches as you get up from your seat, barely, slapping Will's arm and yelling something excitedly at him. Will stands up, attempting to dance, maybe? Mack can't really tell what he's trying to do, but the movement causes you to laugh. You sway with laughter, leaning into Will, head thrown back. Will is entirely unaware of how close you are getting to him, causing his hip to jut out and knock you to the floor.

     "I'm sorry, I have to go take care of my drunk idiots." Mack mutters, eyes still on you, making sure you don't get stepped on or hurt. You don't seem to care about any of that, giggling your ass off on the floor. The woman Mack was talking to calls after him but he ignores it, now feeling responsible for his friend's behavior. He should've cut you guys off an hour ago when you were singing karaoke.

     He reaches his friends, you spotting him, your eyes lighting up. His stomach turns at the sight. He wishes so bad that he could date you. Your humor, compassion, and determination are unmatched to any woman he's ever met. "Maaaaacky!" You squeal from the floor. Will turns around, bumping into Mack in the process. Mack catches Will before he can tumble down next to you.

     "Alright you two are done, it's time to get you home." Mack says through pursed lips. You send a pout up to Mack. He momentarily debates taking it back, but shakes that feeling. He gets Will to stand steady in one spot and then hauls you up to your feet. You do absolutely nothing to help, instead wrapping your arms around Mack's neck and leaning into him. He effortlessly pulls you up, despite you practically being deadweight. Once on your feet, you continues to lean into Mack's side, hiccuping into his collarbone. Mack stands there, debating how he's going to get both of you out of the bar safely. Will seems to be okay to walk at least, definitely not in a straight line, but he can still walk. You however are only standing upright because of Mack's arm around your waist.

     Mack eventually decides the best thing he can do is basically drag you out, holding onto you for dear life with one arm while guiding Will out with his other hand. Miraculously, it works and the three of you leave the bar and step into the brisk night air. "It's cold Macky." You whine, shivering a little bit. Will whines out his own agreement.

     "Just a bit longer guys, the car is like 2 feet away." Mack reassures the two of you. He gets you to the car, opening the back door for the both of you. Will slumps into the backseat without a fight. Head immediately slumping back onto the headrest. Mouth wide open, per usual.

      "I'm getting shotgun! Put me up front!" You yell loudly, pointing your finger mockingly at Will. Mack doesn't have the energy to argue, not that he'd want to. He fulfills your wish and sets you in the front seat. He buckles you up before he forgets, shutting your door and buckling Will up next. While rounding the car to get in the drivers side, he contemplates his decision to come out with the two of you tonight. Both regretting it and appreciating it, considering he got about 5 minutes of you snuggling up on him.

     He gets in the car, turning it on and checking on Will in the backseat. He's passed out, snores leaving his mouth and everything. He lets out a sigh of relief, thankful he won't have to deal with Will being drunkenly stupid on the ride home. He turns to check on you, finding you already looking at him. You break out into a fit of giggles, hand coming up to cover your mouth as if you're  embarrassed. Mack just shakes his head, smile taking over his face.

     Mack starts driving home, feeling your eyes burning into the side of his head the whole time. After about 2 minutes you sigh loudly, shifting in your seat. Mack glances over at you quickly, finding an adorable pout on your lips. "What's wrong?" Mack questions, glancing back and forth from the road to the pretty girl in his passenger seat.

     You sigh again, this time arms coming up to cross over each other. "Why do you hate me Mack?" The question takes Mack by surprise. He racks his brain thinking of what he's done to make you think he hates you. He thought his attraction to you was quite obvious. "Don't have that confused look on your face. You can't stand being alone with me for even 5 minutes. I just don't know what I did." Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence.

     Mack takes one glance at you, his heart immediately breaking. You're crying in his passenger seat, because of his actions. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't know." Mack doesn't know what to say. He can't tell you the truth. He can't let you know the reason he can't stand to be around you isn't because he hates you, it's because he can't stand knowing you don't reciprocate his feelings.

     "Tell me what I did Mack." You plead, hand landing on his forearm. Mack tenses at the touch, his brain short circuiting from the sensation.

     "You did nothing. It's all me." Mack reassures, taking one hand off the steering wheel to pat your hand.

     You pull back, slumping into your seat again. "You seem like such a good person to be around. I think it's so hot how much you care about Will and your other teammates. I'm just jealous I don't get the same treatment." You mumble, fingers picking away at your jeans. Mack's face heats up at you calling him hot.

     He glances in the review mirror to see if Will is still sleeping. It's confirmed when he sees that Will is now slumped sideways, seatbelt digging into his abdomen. "I want to, I would." Mack finally responds. His eyes find Will in the backseat again. "It's just, Will." Mack doesn't want to share too much, in fear of ruining his friendship with Will and potentially you too.

     "What about Will?" You sigh, sniffling. Mack's heart continues to break at the sound. He hates himself for making you think he hated you.

     Mack lets the silence sit while he debates his answer. He's scared that if he tells you the truth you'll remember in the morning. However, he could give a half truth and if you remember in the morning, and get mad, he could figure out a way to get out of it. "You and Will have something going on and I don't want to get in between it." Mack finally answers. He figured if you get upset about that he can twist it in a different way. Maybe he could play it in a way that he meant he didn't want his friendship with you to ruin his friendship with Will. Or something of the sort.

     You are silent, making Mack's thoughts race. What if you immediately understands the real meaning behind his statement? What if you go and wake Will up to tell him? What if you get mad at him? "You think I like Will?" You cut his thoughts short.

     Mack's hands tighten on the wheel. You did understand. You know. "I don't know. You guys are like attached at the hip, it's not hard to see. I mean the looks you give him?" Mack turns briefly to give you a pointed look. He watches your face scrunch up and a scoff leave your lips.

     "Will is my best friend, my brother basically. I love him, but not in that way. He's told me he thinks the same of me as well." You explain. Mack feels the familiar sense of hope building in his chest. "Why would that stop you anyway from talking to me?" You question.

     Mack can practically hear the gears turning in your head. He lets you think, not saying a word to stop it. A small part of him is hopeful that you put the pieces together. "Mack." You breathe out his name, barely audible.

      Thankfully Mack pulls into the driveway. He quickly parks the car, turning in his seat so he can look you in the eye. Your eyes are darting all around his face, lips parted in surprise. "Do you like me?" He's never heard you speak so directly. Mack purses his lips, looking down at his lap instead of at you. He can't tell if he's about to get rejected or if you're about to confess too, and that scares the absolute shit out of him. He's never cared more in this moment about a girl reciprocating feelings. He could have any girl in a 100 mile radius, but none of them would compare to you. Not even slightly.

     "Mack, I like you too." Your words sound clear now, almost as if you sobered up completely during this car ride. That's another factor he has to take into consideration. The 6 shots you had earlier.

     "You're drunk." Mack sighs, head tilting emphatically at you. He should've stopped the conversation and continued it in the morning. If he were you he wouldn't want to know he confessed to someone while he was drunk. Even if they reciprocated the feelings.

     "No Mack, I'm serious. Ask me in the morning, I'll say the same thing. I've wanted you ever since I met you. Not because you're Macklin Celebrini, huge hockey star, but because you're Mack. The sweet, caring, and gentle guy who I see put everyone above himself everyday." You lean towards Mack, hoping to get your point across to him.

     Mack opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Will. "Fucking finally." Will mumbles. The pair of you turn to look at Will. He's still lying across the backseat, arm over his eyes, a small smile adorning his mouth. "I was waiting for one of you to grow a pair and say it."

     "You knew?" You ask exactly what Mack was thinking.

     Will takes his arm off his face and sits up, wincing. "It was so obvious. Y/n, you do everything in your power to get Mack's attention. Making terrible jokes, inviting him everywhere, talking loudly so he'll hear what you're saying. Mack you can't ever take your eyes off Y/n and you give me death glares anytime I make her laugh. Genuinely thought you might attempt murdering me in my sleep."

     This causes the two of you to break out into laughter, eyes drifting towards each other. Something softer sits between you now, an understanding. The behavior on both ends making so much more sense, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together.

     The laughter dies down, Mack's eyes still glued to yours. He notices how tired you look now, the glassy eyes and droopy eyelids. "We'll talk in the morning about this, but for now, you gotta get some sleep. Both of you." Mack gives a look towards Will in the backseat.

     "Hey, I was sleeping." Will shoots his hands up in surrender, opening his door and stumbling out.  Will curses, hands grabbing at his leg that hit the door.

You stare at your phone in disbelief before locking it. Then you unlock it again and stare at Wills most recent post. While admiring it, your phone buzzes, a notification popping up on the top of your screen.

_willsmith2: so have you started your book yet?

You drop your phone on your bed and get up. You pace back in forth in your room while replying everything. You still can’t believe that you talked to a professional hockey player about a hockey romance. You’re honestly surprised he doesn’t think you’re some weirdo. The fact that he had to have searched for your instagram to find it too has you wanting to jump up and down. The whole situation feels like a dream and you don’t know what to do about it.

You grab your phone and stare at the notification again. You have no idea how to respond. You’re not the best at flirting, that’s no secret. You want Will to know you’re interested in him too, but you don’t want to make a fool of yourself. You groan and flop face first onto your bed, the stress of the situation getting to you. You call your best friend before you even realize you are. She answers after two rings, which is no surprise to you. “Claire,” you draw out the vowels in her name.

“What did you do now?” You can hear shuffling on her end. You imagine her sitting up straighter in her bed, preparing herself to hear what you’re about to say.

You haven’t had the best of luck since moving to San Jose. You were late to your first day at your new job, you spilled coffee on a stranger, and a dog tackled you into the mud while you were on a walk. Best part is you haven’t even been in San Jose for two full weeks.

“I didn’t do anything bad this time!” You reply excitedly. “Well kind of,” you think back to falling on your ass in front of Will and wince. You then explain the whole story to your best friend, not leaving out any details. Especially not the details of his smile or his kindness.

“You’re in love. You’re also an idiot for not immediately answering this guy back.” Claire takes a reprimanding tone to her voice.

“I’m not in love, I don’t know him.” You tell her. You can hear a scoff from Claire, and you can guess she’s definitely rolling her eyes too. “I’m serious! You need to help me figure out what to say back.” You groan, rolling onto your back and staring up at your ceiling fan.

“The truth maybe? Have you started the book?” She asks.

“Of course I have, I’m already on page 100. It’s actually pretty interesting-”

“You can tell me later, we don’t have time. You gotta answer Will. Tell him exactly what you just told me.” Claire interrupts you before you can start ranting about books.

“Okay, jeez.” You say, already pulling up Instagram. Your heart starts beating faster as you stare at the message. You’re so anxious that you’ll say something stupid and lose your chance. You don’t even care that he plays hockey professionally. You just thought he was the sweetest and most interesting man you’ve ever met. You honestly haven’t stopped thinking about him since you met him this morning. You’re in awe that he liked you enough to reach out. You really don’t want to screw it up.

“I can hear you thinking.” Claire disrupts your internal monologue. “Send the message.” She demands.

You listen to Claire and type out the message while you have the confidence to. Otherwise you know Will would probably never get a response back from you.

You: Yeah! I’m on page 100 already!

You read it back to Claire before you send it. She tells you to stop overthinking it and just send it. So you do.

Will responds way faster than you were expecting.

Will: Wow, you’re a fast reader, impressive.

You: I have to be, I have 400k people waiting for reviews 🤷🏼‍♀️

You’re honestly surprised by the confidence you had while replying to him. Usually you don’t flaunt your subscriber count, but something in you felt like it today. Maybe you just want to impress him.

Will: that is a fair point

Will: is the guy emotionally unavailable? I’m kind of invested now

You giggle at his response. He’s funny in an effortless way. That was probably the most attractive thing about him when you met him earlier today.

“Alright, you clearly don’t need my help anymore. Have fun talking to your hockey boy, and please keep me updated.” Claire speaks up on the phone. You honestly forgot she was still on the phone.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot you were on the phone. I will keep you updated, I promise.” You tell her. She mutters her goodbye to you and hangs up the phone. You go back to instagram and continue messaging Will.

You: Kind of…I guess it’s what you would expect for a hockey romance, pretty typical

You: by the way, why didn’t you tell me you played hockey??

Will: I honestly assumed you knew who I was since you’re into hockey

You: I read books about hockey, I don’t watch real life hockey. I had no idea you were lowkey famous.

Will: I had no idea you were lowkey famous too

Will: Also we have to change the fact that you don’t watch hockey.

Will: I have a game this Friday, I can save you a ticket

You stare at his message in disbelief. He’s inviting you to a game of his. Part of you wants to say no because you’re nervous about going to a sporting event all by yourself. You’re smart enough to know not to decline though.

You: I’ll be there. I suppose I should know what I’m reading about.

Will: Perfect, I’ll send you a link to the ticket in a minute.

Will: make sure you come find me after the game

You almost squeal with excitement over the fact that you’re going to a hockey game. It’s not so much the game though, it’s mainly getting to see Will again that’s making you excited.

You really meant to look where you were going, you were just too enveloped in not being too obvious. You round the corner, chin tucked, speaking softly down at your recording camera.

     "I've heard mixed reviews, some say the guy is so emotionally unavailable that they couldn't bear it. Others say it was the best romance they've ever read. I'm here to be the tiebreaker, not that anyone asked." You open your mouth to continue but you run into something, falling straight back into your ass. Your camera falls out of your hand and rolls away. The paperback book you were holding flies forward.

     "Oh I'm so sorry." A male voice says from above you. Your eyes trail from his feet all the way up to his face. You feel your face heat up. He's painstakingly gorgeous, almost as if he popped out of one of the books you read.

     "No, that's my fault." You murmur, hand reaching out to shove your camera behind you. He watches you do the action too, making your blush deepen. It's embarrassing enough filming in public, but to have a very attractive man catch you recording yourself? That's ten times more embarrassing.

     He doesn't say anything about the camera, instead going to grab your book, coincidentally at the same time you do. Your finger bump into each other. You can't help but laugh at the situation. You're pretty sure you read a plot line just like this situation last week.

     While you're laughing, he grabs the book before you can reach for it again. He glances down at it, eyebrows raising. "Hockey romance?" He questions, flipping it back over to read the back.

     You pull yourself to your feet to save any more embarrassment. "Hey, don't judge me." You mutter, grabbing the book out of his hands.

     "I'm not." He's quick to reassure. He eyes you for a second, face completely unreadable. You should leave, you really should. It would be easy, there's no more obligated conversation to be made. For some reason you don't move, you just stand there and stare at him. "Is this the book with the emotionally unavailable men?" He finally breaks the silence.

     You look down at the book you indeed were talking about before running into him. "Yeah." You shrug. "Well, I don't know yet, I have to read it."

     "Right...be the tiebreaker." He once again curiously eyes the camera behind you on the floor. His gaze makes you remember that it's there, you quickly pick it up.

     "I make booktube videos." You tell him while inspecting your camera for damage. No damage, but it's still recording. You make a mental note to delete that footage of you giving live proof of why you're single.

     "Oh?" He quirks. "About hockey romances?" He's smirking slightly, testing the waters to see if he can tease you.

     You snort at his question. "Not just hockey romances, all types of books." You shyly respond, looking anywhere but him.

     "Well, I'm looking for a book for my book club. You should help me since you seem to be an expert." His statement immediately peaks your interest.

     "Your book club?" You raise one eyebrow. You've never met a man who's started a book club. As if this man could get anymore attractive.

     "Yeah, I started it for me and a few of my," he pauses as if he’s carefully choosing his next word, "buddies." He finishes. An all male book club. You really do suppose there's a first time for everything.

     "Wow, impressive. I can definitely help you find a book. What kind of genre are you looking for?" You ask him, eyes already wandering to the bookshelves beside you.

"Anything really, maybe a series though? I think they'd like that." He says, following you as you walk down the hall.

Your fingers run along the spines of the books as you think. You rack your brain for book series that adult males might possibly like. You stop in the sci-fi section. You're not a huge sci-fi person but there's one book you read that you absolutely loved and you think him and his friends might like. You find the book, pulling it out of the bookshelf. Red Rising. Definitely a good book that most people would like. You turn to face him, handing him the book. "Try this one."

He takes it from you, blue eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks, we'll try it out. I'm trusting you here." He smiles a bit, finally looking away from you and down at the book. He studies it for a moment.

"You should. I know what I'm talking about when it comes to books. If they don't like it you can blame me." You blurt out without really thinking. You've never been this outgoing with a stranger before, you're kind of surprising yourself here.

His eyes snap back up. "I'm going to hold you to that." He hums, amusement dancing on his face. "I'm Will by the way." He says, hand coming out to shake yours.

You shake his hand, feeling the rough callouses on his palm. You tell him your name. He repeats it like he's committing it to his memory.

He steps back from you. "I'll see you around?" He says, fingers tapping the book in his hand.

"Maybe," you shrug, smile forming on your face. You kind of wish he'd ask for your number or something. He's the kind of charming you don't see in real life and you're definitely plotting his place in your life. You're too scared to ask him for his number, so you wait.

He nods and turns and leaves, making your heart drop just ever so slightly. Maybe he's meant to be a 'what if' rather than a reality. You continue your book shopping, spending extra time in there since your mind keeps wandering to Will.

—

Later, you're at home, editing the video you just made when a notification pops up on your phone. It's an Instagram notification, which you usually ignore since your social medias have been popping off recently. But a name catches your eye and makes you double check the notification.

New follower: _willsmith2

You wonder if it's the bookstore Will. You click on the profile, heart beating fast.

"Holy shit."

View 1: Cooking Class

     It was one of the first times you had cooked at Connors house. You were on night 3 of staying at his place. Connor had wanted to order takeout like he had the past two nights. You just sprung up from the couch and bursted into the kitchen, telling him to cancel the order. You rummage through his pantry and fridge to see what he has. After about 10 minutes you place a variety of different ingredients onto the kitchen island, a recipe already forming in your head.

     Connor watched you curiously in the entry way. With his hip leaning against the wall, arms crossed, biceps gloriously popping, he watched you navigate his kitchen. It was as if you had lived there your whole life. You catch him looking at you, a small smile gracing his features.

     "Are you going to help me? Or would you rather stare at me in the corner like a weirdo?" You tease him, spatula pointed in his direction.

     He shakes his head, smile getting bigger. He walks over closer to you, listening intently to your instructions. You tell him to stir the sauce while you do the more complicated tasks. Normally Connor dreads cooking because he finds it so boring. However, he finds himself thinking that he would cook all day if he got to see you bounce around the kitchen with those bright eyes.

The both of you work side by side, intentionally bumping into each other softly. You walk him through a step by step of how you're making the recipe. You also tease him about his lack of skill in the kitchen. He says nothing, only giving you his ridiculously charming smile.

After you get the pasta (the recipe you had decided on) into the oven, Connor hums triumphantly, arms wrapping around your waist. "You should help me cook more." You tell him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

He pecks your lips with his. "I should."

From that day on Connor began to look forward to cooking.

View 2: Cooking Cuddles

When Connor walks in he immediately knows something is wrong. It's quiet, but not in a peaceful way. He can hear the sizzle of something on the stove and can smell the spices. As he suspects, he finds you in the kitchen. Your bottom lip is stuck between your teeth, the skin on your lips standing no chance. You stare at the pan absentmindedly, one hand on your hip, the other stirring the ground beef. He can tell you've had a bad day. Usually you're more lively while cooking, humming a tune, or even swaying your hips.

He walks up behind you, slowly wrapping his arms around your middle. He gently pulls you into his front. You pause your stirring, shoulders still stiff, confirming Connor's thoughts. "Want to talk about it?" He offers, a small kiss pressing into your shoulder.

You shrug, resuming your stirring. Your day has weighed down on you so much, even telling Connor seems like an effort too big to complete. He seems to understand this, his grip on you tightening slightly. "You don't have to tell me." Another kiss to your shoulder.

You relax back into him without even realizing, shoulders less tight. Him holding you there, offering support without demanding an explanation was everything you needed.

After that cooking together became a normal part of your routine.

View 3: Cooking Distractions

You can tell before he even fully comes into the door. Usually he's loud, not in an annoying way, not at all. Usually he has more energy, talking your ear off about his day, how practice went, what Frank said to him today, and anything else that comes to mind. This time he's more reserved, bag dropping to the floor, jaw flexing.

"Hey," you say gently, testing to see if it's a bad day or he's just deep in thought.

"Hey." He says, the word coming out shorter and flatter than usual. Yeah, definitely a bad day. It might've been from a bad day at practice, a run in with media, who knows. Either way you decide not to push him.

You get up from your spot on the couch, discarding your book to the side. Connor looks up from the floor, eyes trailing you as you go from the living room to the kitchen. "Come help." You say, leaving no room for argument, which you could see building in Connor's face.

"I'm going to mess it up." He says in that same flat tone. He's stuck in his head, putting that insane pressure on himself that he tends to do.

"Yeah probably," you shrug, earning a surprised look from him. "I'm okay with that though, come here." You point to the floor in front of you.

Connor slowly walks over, obeying your command to grate the cheese. You do the more difficult tasks, eyes flicking to him every once in a while. He's stiff, eyes distant, clearly off somewhere else in his head.

He finishes the cheese, face turning to meet your gaze. "Now come chop these peppers." You tap the cutting board with the knife you're holding. He complies, eyebrows furrowing as he focuses on not cutting himself.

"Hand me the spatula." You tell him when he's halfway through the second pepper. He opens the drawer he was blocking and pulls out the wooden spatula you want.

"You're bossy, you know that right?" He says, tone slightly teasing.

You take the spatula from him. "Only when I need to be." You shrug, returning to what you were doing.

"Which is apparently all the time." He murmurs, a small smirk adorning his face. He doesn't mean it in a bad way, he's just flirting with you. You let out a small chuckle, happy to see the tension gone in his shoulders.

You continue to cook together. His movements are more relaxed, less mechanical. His focus has shifted from whatever was bothering him to just being there with you. You don't force him to say anything, you can take a good guess as to the problem. You just keep him busy, keep his mind off it. When he intentionally bumps into you like normal, you know it worked.