𝕔𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕖 / 𝓫𝓾𝔃𝔃

nicholas face brightens even more, the smirk on his face almost unbearable to watch. almost looking like a proud peacock, he puffs out his chest, nodding to taylor's words. "damn straight, dude! of course i have a point. i have all the points that can be given! i am basically full of em," he got a bit carried away from the main thing but that does not stop him from celebrating this little metaphorical win. "hey,... tonight is not about me. if i need to survive without getting laid, i will do it for you, man," nicholas nods rather seriously. yeah, he does like to have his fun, and every single time he goes out, there is almost a hundred and ten percent chance that he will end up with someone. "but if you think that you can get out of all this, just by throwing me at someone... you are fucking wrong." and with that, nicholas throws himself on his best friend, basically squishing him underneath his body. "i'm not so easy (he is). but you should be! you feel all this tension? it needs to go away," he says as he reaches for taylor's shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles.

" omphf — dude. seriously ?? " taylor pushes at nicholas' chest in a half-hearted shove, squirming a little beneath the newfound weight in his lap. " you trying to get me to worry about a pulled muscle instead ?? " admittedly, he does give up his token protest fairly quickly — he's learned by now when some things just have to be given the leeway to work its course. nicholas when he's got an idea in his head might just be one of them. besides, he's not entirely wrong — he is tense ; maybe he should look into booking a massage somewhere, though he's certain that's not how nicholas would recommend him to relieve his tension. " you are easy, though — " taylor insists with a roll of his eyes, even as the press of nicholas' hands is actually starting to feel decently nice. when did nicholas learn how to do that ?? actually, maybe he shouldn't be all that surprised. " — that doesn't make you a bad wingman, but c'mon : you can't deny that you aren't easily distracted when we're out there. " he reaches up, patting one broad shoulder reassuringly — and maybe just a little patronizingly. " but don't worry, it's very charming, i promise. i mean, someone has to be the ladies man. "

he should've known better than to answer the phone, but aria knew things always got worse if he didn't. right now though, he feels frozen, tim's angry words rushing over him and his own lips parted without a sound, at a loss at how he's going to fix this. if he tries to talk, he's afraid he'll start crying immediately and crying on the phone with tim never lead to anything good either. and then franco would know — well, franco would probably be able to tell regardless, he was just perceptive like that. aria hasn't even finished that thought when his phone is plucked from his hand, wide eyes jerking upwards to see the angry look on his best friend's face. for one terrible moment, he thinks it's directed at him before franco turns away. whatever spell was on him releases its hold, and he slides down the wall he was leaning against, knees drawn up to his chest as he finally lets out a shaky breath that sounds a little too much like a sob. liquidy, brown eyes raise at franco's voice, his breath still a rough rattle as he makes no move to shift from his new folded up position. " you shouldn't — you shouldn't have done that. he's going to want to come here. i can't — i just — " just the thought makes him sick. this was the one place he always felt safe ; he didn't want to give that up. his eyes train on his phone in franco's grasp, flinching when it buzzes with an incoming text. " you better — better shut it off. "

even before hollis had been traded to taylor's team, he'd known who the brunette was. he'd studied him, been enthralled by him - - the way taylor skimmed so effortlessly across the ice as if he were born to be there, and how every precise hit of the puck ricocheted off of his hockey stick - - it was nothing short of beautiful. and as soon as they met, the chemistry was undeniable - - on and off the ice. they worked together in perfect sync, as if they could read one another's mind. taylor could see when hollis was hiding behind fake smiles and recognize when he was struggling with his self-confidence, when he'd had a rough talk with his father. and hollis could see when taylor was spiraling, when he was stuck in his head and felt the pressure of the world weighing on his shoulders. he wondered if taylor could see the love and affection that shimmered in blue eyes - - they knew each other so well, how could he not?

taylor feels every beat of the moment hanging in the balance, the scales finally tipping as hollis crosses the room. he tilts his head back, neck bared as he stares up at hollis, something like a heady rush of power coursing through him as the other sinks to his knees. in the year and change he's known hollis, taylor's seen him in plenty of situations : matching his intensity on the ice, laughing at the annual outdoor cookout, enthusiastically gathering everyone up for shots at a post-game bar, chiseled and dripping after a shower — none of them even come close to this, the press of hollis' hand against his knee a brand even through the thick denim of his jeans. part of him still isn't sure what they're doing ; certainly bro-code or even locker room code didn't extend to favors this far over the line of friendship. taylor's never backed down from anything, though. he never started fights on the ice, but he'd finish them if he had to. was the mindset off the ice really that much different ??

beneath the pads of his fingers, the stranger he's been living with these last two weeks transforms. leo watches in astonishment as morgan comes alive under his touch, the mask of indifference falling away to reveal the roller coaster of emotions underneath. just minutes ago, he'd poured his heart out to an imposter, a thief wearing morgan's features — the same thief that had been parading around villa without a care in the world, krista beaming on his arm like they'd already won. leo's thumb moves of its own volition, framing out the curve of his jaw. this is the face that haunts him, the face that keeps him up at night wondering what if? part of him had known it had been a ruse, just another trick for the cameras, but morgan had played his part well. no one had questioned it when he jumped ship, assuming his instant connection with krista was simply too powerful to deny. he had been miserable in casa, the longing lover desperate to get back to his girl. production catnip, leo had thought at the time, guaranteed to make the winner's edit. knowing firsthand what the guy looked like when he was really into someone, he'd never bought into them as couple. there was no doubt in his mind that had thrown himself into that connection out of convenience, that he would ride it to the end. but he had believed morgan was over him — until now.

morgan's all too aware of how it must look from the outside — how it looks from the outside is pretty much all he thought about in this fucking place. the trajectory of the slow crumbling of their relationship to krista coming in and knowing exactly who she wanted had been a natural progression, painful as it was. it's everything since then that feels like a damning nail in the coffin : conversations about closed doors, casa, amy... he likes to think he never lied, but there's definitely been plenty of half-truths. when everyone assumed his behavior in casa was due to missing krista, he'd never bothered to correct the fact because he knew it looked good on camera. longing was longing, no matter who it was over. when he came back from casa alone, why would anyone think it was for any reason other than the obvious ?? the truth was when he walked back into the villa, he had to fight every instinct to look at leo already sitting at the firepit with his arm around a jubilant amy — that the joy he felt was thin and reedy compared to the force of krista's smile and her tears of relief. but in casa, he realized that leo truly had moved on and it was about time he did too — after all, he'd hurt him and leo had no reason to come back. morgan hadn't given him a reason to, unwilling to let that crack in his poker face show when leo didn't seem interested anymore. the risk had been too high. maybe, in some ways he'd needed a sign too. maybe now was too little, too late, but fuck, he had to try.

hollis feels sick to his stomach, dizzy as he watches the lucky woman bat her lashes at taylor. he chews on his lower lip, wishing he were the one with taylor's attention. because whenever he is, it's like he's standing in the warmth of the sun ; like he's a flower and he's basking in taylor's rays. wonders if taylor has any idea of the power he holds over him. though, hollis suspects he doesn't - - he's seen the self-doubt flicker in his friend's eyes before, he's seen him shy away from attention. and it makes the blonde's chest ache. heart skips several beats as taylor rejoins him, wearing that bright smile ( as if it's meant only for hollis - - and he can only dream ). "the best, huh?" raises a brow, a smirk curling onto his lips. he's curious…would taylor think hollis is the best if he'd allow him to give him a blow job? could hollis blow his mind? jeans grow tighter with the thought and he has to forcibly pull himself from his fantasies.

this night out is hurtling towards disaster, even when he pulled a nice woman and that should've been enough. so taylor's relieved when hollis doesn't seem to want to push him to stay or try again, his fingers closing around his best friend's hand like an anchor as he's guided out of the bar and into the cool air of the street. he was good at hockey. there was never any doubt about that, but when it came to everything else that came with it, taylor only pretended to be. fame, media availability, social media appearances, leadership — they were all things he worked at just as hard in hopes at some point it would become innate, like with enough reps they might finally become as easy as the skating and passing and shooting. at this point, he's pretty sure no one can even tell the difference, but no matter how much he tries, he hasn't reached that point where you fake something long enough it feels real. when it didn't even seem like he was good enough at hockey, then he just felt utterly useless — a compass left spinning with no magnetic north.

it's not easy for him either, coexisting in razor-thin proximity. at least in this case, it's a hell of his own creation, designed brick-by-brick to make them both as miserable as possible. this specific brand of torture — that feeling of being too close, yet not close enough — is nothing new. they've been at it for weeks, starting with the public vote that had the planted seeds of doubt soon to be sown by their own hands. their connection didn't die in a night. it was a slow death, an infection that spread with each passing day — with each night where exhaustion outweighed the need for kitchen excursions and frantic kisses beneath the covers — until finally one of them was brave enough to abandon this sinking ship. would it have been him if morgan hadn't gotten there first? he'd like to think not, that even back then, his feelings for morgan were stronger than his desire to stay in the villa, but even now he can't help but wonder. he could sustain himself with stolen touches and confessions whispered in the dark, but when it really came down to it, could he stand at that firepit and tell the world it was morgan he wanted, knowing those words could very well be his last? leo was tired of guessing, of sitting in the beach hut and being forced to break down every unwelcome thought. this summer had been a crash course in self-reflection, and he'd more than had his fill.

the home stretch. morgan always thought it would feel different when he got this far : triumphant, victorious, happier. he hadn't bargained for the hole in his chest and the empty ache every time he saw leo, somehow farther away the closer he got. there was no way he could admit that the very words leo uttered atop the counter earlier resonated too deeply with him ; his own very thoughts a traitor to the win he knew he came in here wanting more than anything. he hadn't thought there would be anything —anyone— that could make him feel otherwise ; not in such a short amount of time. even after they walked away from that fire pit hand in hand, he'd felt the doubts start to trickle in — making it to the end, winning had still been everything. maybe he'd needed the distance, needed to see the way leo and amy clicked so fast in the casa to realize the value of what they truly had — what maybe they still could. the surety of the thought shocks him, but all he knows is the proximity of leo's body, his skin warm under his hand, the sound of his sigh washing over him. the bitter jealousy that rose in him at leo's quick defending of his current couple, is just as quick to fade when their eyes meet. morgan never thought he would get this again, never thought his walls would crack again in this villa. there was only one person who ever could.

is his mind playing tricks on him, or are taylor’s eyes raking over his body? by now, he’s all too aware of the other’s gaze ( which is not at all surprising, considering he does everything he can to draw it ). hollis decides to test the theory - - lifts an arm to scratch the back of his neck, casually flexing a bicep in the process - - just to see where taylor’s gaze settles. a dimpled grin dances on his lips, mischief twinkling in his eyes, "ah, wouldn't you like to know?" pauses and waits for taylor to be mid-sip before he speaks again, voice husky, "though…i think i'd love to be thrown around by you." plays it off with a bump to taylor's hip and a wink ( though nothing is funny about his feelings for taylor - - despite how their teammates laugh over the stars in hollis' eyes whenever he looks at taylor ). he feels like his entire body is on fire : sparks catching between them. sure, they'd engaged in playful banter before, but this was toeing a brand new line. he wonders if taylor feels it, too - - or is hollis the only one drowning in this sea of lust? of…love?

there'd been a buzz streaking through his whole body when he talked to the woman, though taylor's aware it had little to do with her and everything to do with the casual stretch of hollis' arm and the drop of his voice into that low husky tone. he's heard it before, but being the recipient of it —even as part of a joke— is another thing altogether. maybe that's why his pick up hadn't been so successful, because his mind had been half off somewhere else. where that's train of thought truly leads — well, taylor's more focused on the relief he feels when he spots hollis is still alone at their little high top table. brown eyes scan his best friend's face, blinking at the words that wash over him, torn between wanting to read into it and knowing it's just some mix of friendship and banter. after all, he's the one who toed that line first before waltzing off. " all right, all right — " he cedes with an affectionate smile, brighter than any he'd given the woman he was chatting with just moments prior. " — you're the best, i know. " it's not even said sarcastically ; perhaps even a touch too honest.

"i just can't help myself with you," there's a dimpled smile that dances across his lips - - and hollis knows he's the line he's toeing is perilous. gently shoves the brunette in return, a jovial laugh echoing down the quiet streets of the city. azurite hues drink taylor in : the curve of his lips, every single curl that hangs in his face, and those espresso eyes he gets lost in. taylor is all hollis wants ; tayor has all of hollis' attention. fear of rejection has sent him into the arms of others - - along with the fear of what his own father would think ( he can hear the cursing and yelling in his mind's eye ). plus, hollis is almost positive taylor is straight. all in all, this was a lost cause, a pathetic ( and all-consuming ) crush. why on earth would taylor ever have feelings for him, when taylor could have anyone he wanted? and yet, hollis lives for the hope of it all - - hangs onto the invisible string that ties them together. surely there had never been a more perfect duo ; that trade that had changed his life for the better bringing hollis to the man he deems his other half. taylor has no idea how he's saved hollis, how he's so quickly become hollis' home. "i'm an excellent teacher," quips with a wink, "plus, i don't mind getting a little beat up in the process." he can't help but think about their bodies being flush against one another's, his hands on taylor's waist - - the thought alone makes him dizzy. "oh," hollis is pulled from admiring taylor's features, his thoughts swept away by a storm of emotions. of course taylor noticed a cute girl. how could hollis have been so stupid? "why don't you go introduce yourself, hotshot?" a teasing grin tugs at his lips, even as his heart threatens to crack into pieces. after all, hollis had urged taylor to come out and destress. he couldn’t deny taylor the opportunity of spending the evening with a nice girl ( despite how much he wanted to ). “i can make myself scarce if you'd like?” it's offered as he brings his beer to his lips.

" yeah — " taylor says slowly, because two can play at this flirting game hollis has struck up. brown eyes flicker down and up his best friend's massive figure, filling out his clothes in the all the right ways. it's an objective observation, of course. " i bet you do like it rough, don't you ?? " he takes another slow sip of his beer, grinning as the glass lowers. it's just a joke. just a classic locker room chirp between teammates and friends. the warmth that streaks through his system can't all be attributed to the beer in his hand or the fact the air circulation isn't as good in the back of the bar where they're standing. and it certainly has nothing to do with the women he deemed cute to hollis just moment's prior. taylor knows what this is, he just refuses to acknowledge it. acknowledging it would make it too real and making it too real means he'd have something to lose. the woman is safer, expected — easy to deflect to. still, something clenches in him at the effortless way the words drop from hollis' lips : disappointment, as if part of him hoped hollis would be more contrary to the fact, but why would he ??

for scarlette @icedcvffees

the silence in the powder room surrounds scarlette like a bubble, temporarily away from the chatter of the party and the unbearable weight of expectations. the sound of the door opening has her shoulders straightening automatically, a well-practiced smile already pulling at her lips — scarlette beaumont was never less than perfect, even in the bathroom with a party in full swing. the scoff that leaves her lips is certainly not part of that image, but something about zosia had a terrible habit of pulling that out of her. " you always did have the flare for the dramatic. " brown eyes track her approach through the mirror, stained lips pressed out of their faux smile into something more neutral. she only turns when zosia draws in closer, one hand pressed against the vanity counter as her gaze tracks up and down the sequined number that certainly didn't meet the dress code for the event. " — and for not conforming. " it wasn't necessarily an insult ; sometimes, in her weaker moments scarlette was even jealous of the fact. " so what — did you get lost on your way to the bar again ?? "

" all right, all right, you flirt. " taylor's tone is fond moreso than exasperated as he gives him a playful shove, well acquainted with his best friend's affectionate antics by now. still some part of him drinks up the attention, nonetheless ; no explanation for the warmth that crawls up the back of his neck. ( if anything, it's hollis that's the pretty one ). something in him settles with the familiar weight of hollis' arm over his shoulders, his very presence a balm to the never-ending litany of doubts that swirl in his head. he doesn't know what he would do without him — how he did any of this without hollis before the trade. there's no way management could have known that when they targeted hollis. at the time he'd needed someone steady on his wing, someone with a hockey iq that approached his own and could both follow his lead and keep up with the plays that blazed through his mind faster than blinking ; no matter how it looked on paper they couldn't have known they would click so well on the ice, let alone off it too. maybe there really was such a thing as fate ; their connection was strong enough to make even his staunchly pragmatic mind wonder. relief floods him when hollis guides them to the quieter back of the bar, not the crowded part around the counter. they've drawn a few eyes already, and he's too observant not to notice. taylor finds himself focusing on hollis instead, leaning close enough that he can smell his cologne, his elbow pressed into his arm. a grin dances on his lips at the question, another scoff nearly lost in the mix of loud conversation and music that envelops them. " only if you enjoy getting your toes crushed. " that's not quite the whole truth. frankly, taylor's not a bad dancer, more fluid than he gives himself credit for — especially when he has a good partner. he bets they would move well together. he pries his gaze away from hollis' blue eyes lest he's able to read the very thought, his own roaming the bar under the guise of checking out who's in it even if he knew from the moment they walked in no one was going to entice him. " how about the brunette by the jukebox ?? " he deflects. " curly hair, blue top. " she catches him looking, leaving him no choice but to smile politely before looking away. " she's cute. "

brooks ensnares his attention like he always has, even when he was trying to lurk along the edges of existence, chase had been drawn to him — god, he was such a fucking idiot to think a kiss or two or a night would be enough to rewire his brain when his desires have had ages to map their paths in neurons. the buzz of a stranger's lips only lasted so long. his arms drop from his chest with a sigh, feet carrying across the room, closer to brooks, hazel eyes roaming over his best friend's form as if he can piece together the truth from just a look. sometimes, he can. " it's all right, " he says finally. there's no conclusion he's able to draw, blame either the poor lighting or the couple drinks in his system making him feel just loose enough. " — really. "

there they stand, weapons — or in their case, kitchen utensils — drawn, fighting this silent war. leo finds himself on the offensive, using the small space to his advantage and taking every chance he has to touch his opponent. back to back as he rifles through the fridge for ingredients, then side by side as he settles in at a neighboring burner. his shoulder, grazing morgan's thigh as he squats low, seizing a nonstick pan from a cabinet. the brush of arm against elbow as he leans across the burner to steal a pat of butter. all of this, with the goal of eliciting a non-manufactured response. pressing two slices of buttered bread into a skillet, he sneaks a glance at morgan, disappointed to find his face unchanged. " so happy you're downstairs, making enough mac and cheese to feed an army when you could be rolling around in soul ties? " leo's settling into his new role pretty well for someone who's never fought for anything a day in his life. why overcomplicate things? jobs, friends, relationships — if it wasn't easy, he didn't bother. except nothing about this was easy, and complicated didn't even begin to cover it. still, he can't keep himself from charging ahead, tireless in his pursuit. " amy wants to close things off. " the words fall quietly from his lips, one last hail mary as the timing of his late night confession becomes clear. " she told hannah, who told callum, who told me. i ... think she's gonna ask me tomorrow. "

nicholas knew that this is going to be a little bit of a fight, but he is nothing but a stubborn asshole and so he is not ready to give it his all to persuade taylor to go out with him. or at least solve this little situation of his somehow even if it would kill him (hopefully not). "well, duh," nicholas smirks, tilting his head to the side. "so far it solved every problem i had, so that is basically hudred percent success rate. that is as good as it gets," nicholas laughs, taking a few steps to come closer to his best friend. he hovers over him, bending at his waist so that he leans closer to him. "come on. if you really don't want to go, then tell me. i don't want you to go just to end up sulking the whole night," he says a little bit more softly, something that he reserves only for taylor. "but we need to do something about it, man. you need to have some fun here, and there, you cannot only worry," he flicks the other man on his forehead.

a brow cocks as taylor looks up into those blue eyes now directly above him. it was so unlike him to be unsure — usually so reliant on that casual, quiet confidence to carry him on and off the ice. he's loathe to admit it, but even their banter has lifted the fog just a little ; enough that even though the idea of curling up even further on the couch sounds very appealing, he's considering giving nicholas' idea a shot. it probably wouldn't make things worse, maybe even give him that boost of confidence regardless if it was in something utterly unrelated. " i don't sulk, " he tells nicholas, eyes rolling, one hand raising up to push at his best friend's shoulder in retaliation for the flick on his head. a small grin twitches at the corner of his mouth. " — but maybe, you have a point. " it's dangerous to give that much rope to nicholas, lest he yank it and make it a mile, but taylor's confident he can handle it to get his best friend from harping on the fact. worst comes to worst, he could sneak out while nicholas' attention was inevitably taken elsewhere. he sits up. " i know you want to get laid, and who am i to let my best friend go out alone, huh ?? "