Dive With Me

when she and her then boyfriend (soon to be husband) went back to calgary for the summer, you spent those months texting and updating her on the substitute spin teachers and the crazy patient families you had to deal with at your job. tracy was always happy to hear about your job as an l&d nurse and suggested you get a jar to fill with blue and pink beads representing each baby born on your shifts because she saw it in a tiktok.

it was because of tracy that you met nate. she, along with her boyfriend cale, were hosting a preseason party with friends and invited you after months of getting smoothies after spin. you'd asked multiple times if it was okay that you went with her assuring you over and over that it was.

if you could've seen the future, you weren’t sure that you would've said yes.

you finally had a night off from the hospital, and nate had just come back from halifax. one might’ve said it was fate.

if fate was a bitch.

you were in the kitchen when tracy called your name from the living room. you turned the corner and immediately saw a trickle of blood running down a tall blond man's face.

“she’s a nurse,” tracy said, like it was an explanation. “she can check, nate.”

“what?” you asked, fully dumbfounded.

“my stitches ripped,” he said. there must’ve been a dumbfounded look on your face because he sheepishly added, “i don't have a good excuse.”

“they never do,” you said. “follow me to the bathroom.”

he sat down on the toilet lid while you searched the cabinets for a first aid kit. when you finally found one, you weren't surprised they didn't have any thread for sutures, they weren't in most at home first aid kits, after all.

you pulled out a disinfectant pad and dabbed away the blood before placing a nude colored band aid on his cut.

“that’ll have to do,” you said. “i’d suggest you get it checked at the hospital or your team doctor. i don't have the materials to fix it here.”

“thanks anyway,” he said, standing up to his full towering height. “ i don't think we've officially met. i’m nathan, but you can just call me nate, it’s what everyone does.”

you smiled because that's what you were trained to do and told him your name. “nice to meet you.”

“pleasure meeting you, honey.”

if you'd known that a band-aid would lead to you sitting in a doctor’s office, waiting for a test result, you might have thought differently.

because that night wasn't the last time you saw him. tracy kept inviting you to parties and bars after games when you had nights off. you'd talk to nate occasionally, depending on how his games went, until you were close enough and drunk enough to let him lead you to the dance floor one night. until you were stressed enough to say fuck it and let him take you home for a routine that would go on for the entire hockey season.

leading you to where you were now.

your primary care physician came into the room with a stack of papers and brochures in her hand.

not a good sign.

“well,” she said with a small smile. “you're pregnant, congratulations.”

the words she spoke next went over your head, or rather, in one ear and out the other. she handed you the papers and brochures on your next steps and let you check out in the front office like your world wasn't completely altered just moments ago.

the front desk lady told you to call your obgyn to schedule appointments.

you were throwing up in the toilet in the bathroom moments later.

your obgyn wasn't the only person you needed to call.

nate.

or rather nathan, who had flown back to halifax by then. guys like him didn't stay after the season was over.

you managed to get outside to your car where you sat until your eyes stopped filling with tears and your hands stopped shaking. he needed to know, that was all you could think about. nate deserved to know the truth.

but you were a mess right now and probably couldn't form any words even if you wanted to.

so you drove home, you took a nap.

you woke up and saw the papers on your nightstand and felt the weight of that new thing on your chest all over again.

it took several tries to get nate’s contact pulled up due to the trembling of your hands.

you managed to press call anyway.

it rang once, twice, you were hoping for a third, wishing for his voicemail, when the ringing stopped.

“hey! what’s up?” he greeted, undoubtedly smiling on the other end of the phone, echoing sounds of laughter (and was that splashing water?) in the background. and why wouldn't he? nate wasn't burdened with the knowledge you were, not yet anyway. he was probably with sidney at a lake or something, whatever it is he does during the summer. 

dear god, you were having his baby and didn't even know what he did during the offseason.

you must’ve been silent for too long, because nate cleared his throat. “everything okay?” he asked. you could almost picture the way his brows would furrow like they always did when he ran into something he couldn't quite figure out. 

truth was, no. nothing was okay. nothing had been okay since you started throwing up every day for the last two weeks before you dragged yourself to the doctor. the doctor had said congratulations with a smile, like you were supposed to be happy with the positive pregnancy test.

you closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “please don't hate me,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

“why would i hate you?”

you’d rehearsed this moment over and over and over on your way home from the doctor’s office. you crafted a hundred different speeches to tell him the truth. in the end, none of it mattered.

“i’m pregnant.”

silence.

utter silence.

the loudest sound you'd ever heard.

“what?” he breathed.

“i’m sorry,” you cried into the phone. “i’m pregnant and i haven’t been with anyone else,” you admitted.

a beat passed and the noises you'd heard in the background grew quieter, like he'd walked away from whatever or whoever was originally around him. “are you sure?”

you nodded, even though he couldn't see you. “i went to the doctor because i hadn't been feeling well.” you pressed a hand to your forehead. “i should've seen the signs, i’m a fucking nurse for crying out loud, but i thought it was just a bug, there’s been one of those floating around lately...”

“and it’s mine?”

“i haven't slept with anyone else, i promise. if you want, we can get a paternity test done if that would make you feel better, but i haven’t slept with anyone but you.”

a moment passed in complete silence. “are you gonna keep it?

that was the million dollar question. abortion was an option for sure, but you were getting older, and you hadn't had a recent relationship that lasted past six months.

“am i insane for saying yes?” you asked. “i feel insane, but it feels right. i know it doesn’t make much sense. being a single mother isn’t exactly the easiest job, but i’ve always wanted a family. and given how i’ve never had a relationship that lasts the year, this is probably my only shot at that.” you inhaled. “i’m not expecting anything from you, i just wanted you to know.”

he paused. “can i think about it?”

“please,” you replied instantly. “take all the time you need.”

nate didn’t talk to you for five days. you chalked it up to nerves and the fact that he’d just lost track of time, or maybe he didn't want anything to do with you anymore.

the latter option was more realistic and so much more painful to think about. you gave him an out, sure, but you’d hoped maybe just maybe he’d want to be around, maybe help.

but you were no stranger to being left on your own. being pregnant really was no different.

being pregnant meant there was a long list of shit you needed to do. one of which was to tell your family. it wasn’t like you were particularly ecstatic to tell your parents and siblings that you got pregnant by a guy who wasn't, at the very least, your boyfriend. you could almost imagine the apathy on their faces.

you were sitting at your kitchen table, writing a list of things you’d need to do before you continued on with anything else in this pregnancy, when someone knocked on your front door. which, by itself, was odd since you hadn't doordashed any food recently. you made your way to the door and checked the peephole, astounded by what you saw.

you quickly opened the door and in front of you was nate holding a bouquet of sunflowers still in its trader joe’s paper.

“hey” he said. “can we talk?” 

you opened the door wider and let him step through.

nate shut the door behind him after handing you the flowers, but wouldn't look at you. to be fair, you were avoiding his eyes too. neither of you, despite how intimate you'd been together, could cross the boundary of eye contact.

“if it’s okay with you,” he said, speaking after seconds of silence that felt like years. “i’d like to be involved.”

your jaw dropped, but you closed it quickly, aware that it made you look dumb. “you don’t wanna get a paternity test? i’m more than willing to, if, you know, your parents or friends ask...” you said. “i don’t want you to think i’m trying to be sneaky.”

nate ran a hand down his face. his entire body was tense in a way you'd never seen before. not that you spent an abundance of time staring at him when you weren't both naked. up until now, your relationship with him only extended to your abilities to ease each other’s stress and get the other off. 

“i wanna trust you,” he said.

but you shrugged. “it’s okay if you don’t.”

“i—” he cut himself off and sighed. it was a deep, exhausted sigh that came from someone who just had another heavy burden put on his shoulders.

you hated that you were the cause of it.

“i trust you,” he finished. “i don’t think you’re the type of person to lie about something like this.” he took a deep breath. “i’ll support you however you need me.”

you nodded along, not trusting yourself to speak. it was a lot, being trusted so easily. but saying that out loud would be exposing some family trauma you weren't sure he needed to know.

“i appreciate it,” was what you said instead.

“what does your schedule look like?”

week eight

that was how you ended up sitting next to a disguised nathan mackinnon in a dreary waiting room the next day, a friday afternoon. nate, thankfully, was being a good sport, so you didn't want to take too long to get a baby appointment scheduled. you figured he probably wanted to go back to halifax soon. and you scheduled off work as soon as the appointment was made, shooting a quick text to your boss about how you had a last minute doctor’s visit.

you didn’t even bother explaining the full context to your charge nurse, or your coworker sophie, who said she was covering your shift and wanted to see if you were okay. mainly because it was none of their business, they’d both find out soon enough, but also because you couldn't move past the embarrassment of getting knocked up by someone who had zero commitment to you.

originally, you planned on dating someone for a while, maybe you'd get married first, then you'd settle down and have a family.

now you were twenty-seven, single, and pregnant.

a middle aged woman appeared and called out your name. you and nathan stood up in sync and walked towards the back.

if the nurse recognized him, she didn't let on.

“you okay?” nate mumbled.

you nodded. “just a little nervous.”

“for what?”

you shrugged, there wasn’t any one thing in particular. what if the doctor was wrong and you weren't actually pregnant? what if nate thought you were trying to baby trap him? you also knew from experience that the first few ultrasounds were done vaginally, and that particular bit of information wasn't eliciting any feelings of excitement for the appointment.

the two of you were led back to an exam room. you could feel your hands start to sweat so you anxiously wiped them on your leggings before you took a seat on the exam table. the nurse took your vitals and asked you a few questions before she left the room to give you time to undress from the waist down.

“do you need me to leave too?” he asked.

“it’s nothing you haven't seen before,” you remarked. still, he turned around anyway while you undressed. he didn't look back until you were covered up by a sheet and gave him the okay.

“you look like you’re gonna be sick.” nate said, noting the way you kept wiping your hands on the sheet in your lap. “morning sickness?”

you shook your head. “still anxious.”

nathan furrowed his brow but nodded anyway. “i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

but would it be? you had no idea what you were doing, neither did he. you were about to say as much when the doctor walked in.

“hi,” dr. morgan smiled and looked at you. “it’s good to see you, is this dad?” she asked.

nate’s jaw clenched so hard you thought he might have chipped a tooth, but he nodded anyway.

“great! now it’s my understanding we’re doing a first trimester screening, is that right?” nate didn't even look at you, he just nodded. “and we’re passing on the chorionic villus sampling?”

nate shook his head. “i don't have a history of genetic problems in my family, i checked,” he said before looking at you earnestly, a little pinch between his brows. “do you?” he asked.

you shook your head.

dr. morgan smiled and nodded. “so today we’ll do the first trimester screening and an ultrasound to determine the due date.” dr. morgan gestured to you to lay back on the exam table.

to your surprise, nate dragged the chair next to your side as the doctor pulled the ultrasound machine over to you.

there was no reason for your heart rate to pick up the way it did, but your nerves were getting to you. maybe this was all a dream, maybe you weren’t actually pregnant. you’d heard of phantom pregnancies, or the delusion of believing you were pregnant when you weren't. and even though your pcp had confirmed it days ago, you weren’t fully convinced. you didn't think you would ever be convinced until you saw the physical evidence.

you spread your legs a little (and thought about how it was that very action that led you to this moment) and waited for her to put the jelly on the ultrasound wand.

“i’m gonna insert the probe now,” dr. morgan said.

without even thinking, the second the probe was inserted, your hand shot out and reached for nathan. you would've been embarrassed had his hand not extended towards you at the same time.

the two of you waited patiently while the screen loaded. there was no telling who was holding whose hand tighter. but then the screen cut on and dr. morgan began moving the probe around. and all at once you were confronted with a small bean like figure in black and white.

your jaw dropped a little at the sight before you, but it had nothing on the whirling sound that came through the machine a beat later.

“i—is that?” nate asked, unable to finish his question.

dr. morgan was all too excited to give him an answer. “that is your baby’s heartbeat. and it’s a strong one.” she moved the probe some more, pointing out and telling you exactly what you were looking at so you weren't as confused. 

you didn't even realize you were crying until it became increasingly more difficult to see the screen through what you gathered were tears. to your left, you heard a sniffle, but you refused to look at nate because if he was tearing up too, you’d lose it.

“going on the size of this baby, i’d say you’re about eight weeks,” dr. morgan said. “which would put your due date around january 7th.” she turned and smiled at the both of you. “baby looks good, but we’ll run some labs and i’ll get back to you within the next few days, sound good?”

“can we get the pictures of the ultrasound?” nathan asked.

dr. morgan nodded and printed out a few copies for the two of you.

you turned to look at him where his eyes looked a little glassy. “did you get the recording of the heartbeat?” you asked him.

nathan hesitated and shook his head. 

“i can play it again, if you'd like,” dr. morgan said. 

you glanced back at nate. “can you record it?”

he nodded and pulled out his phone right as the whooshing heartbeat sound filled the room. tears formed in your water line once again as the noise echoed in your head. and maybe noise wasn’t the right word in the same way that you wouldn’t describe a van gogh piece as just paint on a canvas. what you were hearing was magnificent, beautiful.

it was everything to you.

to say you were on a cloud as you walked out of the doctor’s office was an understatement. you had a baby, and while it was still fucking terrifying, there was an undercurrent of excitement running through your veins.

“are you hungry?” nate asked. “there’s a good mexican place right around the corner.”

“is that even allowed? aren’t you on a diet?”

“i just heard our child’s heartbeat and saw them moving around in real time. i think we can make an exception.”

our child. why were the words hitting you just now? you were going to have a baby with nathan mackinnon, the man whose face was plastered all over the city is going to coparent with you for the rest of your life.

jesus fucking christ.

the two of you ordered your food, with nate getting an overwhelming side of chips and queso in addition to his entree, which you teased him about.

“it’s an been overwhelming day, i need something to take the edge off.”

he led the two of you over to a table on the inside of the shop. june in denver was not nearly as hot as it was in your hometown down south, but that didn't mean your thighs didn't stick to every plastic seat you sat in.

“we have to tell our families,” nate started.

you nodded and took a bite of a chip “how do we wanna do this? wanna get the worst out of the way? i can call my family up right now, set the bar real low if you’d like.”

he blinked. “you don't think we should prepare a little?”

“we can for your family, but i'm going to tell you right now, it won't matter with mine. they'll probably just be surprised that it took me this long to get pregnant out of wedlock.” you said it so casually as to not let on the way the truth opened up closed wounds. it was a harsh reality that you'd lived with your entire life, but you did your best not to think about it too much.

there was a feeling, however, that having a baby would not help you ignore your familial issues.

and given the way nathan’s face pinched into a frown convinced you that maybe you were oversharing.

“but i’ll do whatever you want to do!” you quickly amended.

he shook his head. “it’s a team decision. we decide together, from now on.” he gestured to you. “if you think we should tell your family first, then let’s do it.”

“okay, i’ll text my family group chat. i just don't want to wait too long to tell the people who need to know.”

nathan nodded. “i don’t have any plans today or tomorrow.” you weren't sure you believed him, he was probably planning on catching a flight back to halifax soon, but you ignored it in favor of your own feelings. it would feel better to get your family’s disappointment out of the way sooner rather than later.

you: hey, is anyone available to talk today?

almost immediately, your mother texted back.

mom: you don't need money, do you?

dad: i thought we were past this. you’re an adult, you need to learn how to budget. we can’t keep bailing you out every time you’re irresponsible with your paycheck.

you already wanted to slam your head against the table when your younger brother and younger sister responded.

stephen: i’m at work, but if it’s quick i can

lauren: same

you glanced at nate who was already looking at you with anticipation. “wanna get it over with?” you asked.

“if that’s what you want to do, i’m down.”

you glanced around the outside patio, if this was going to go how you thought it might, it would probably be better done from somewhere private, even if that was nate’s car.

“can we sit in your car and tell them? in case it goes bad, i don't want the entire state of colorado to know.”

when nathan nodded, you both got up and grabbed your take out bags before walking to his car. the nerves made your stomach bubble a little, but you kept a brave face, not wanting to vomit in front of your baby daddy. sure you’d slept together, multiple times, but that didn't mean you were close enough to be comfortable expressing actual emotions around him.

the second you got in his car, your hands started to shake. maybe you shouldn’t have asked to facetime your family, maybe a text could've been enough.

“you okay?” nathan asked.

immediately you were nodding and clenching your phone in your hands to hide the tremors. “yeah, just ready to get this conversation over and done with.” you took a deep breath and bit the bullet, hitting the facetime icon in the family group chat. it was going to suck, but you'd rather get it over with sooner rather than later.

your mom and dad’s faces are the first to appear, then your brother’s, and finally your sister’s face fills a little square with your niece in the frame with her.

“what’s so important that it couldn't be said via text?” your dad asked. truthfully, you understood why your brother or sister may have made that comment, from the looks of their environments, your twenty-two year old brother was in his cubicle with his airpods in and your twenty-three year old sister was in her home office holding your niece. both of them were clearly busy, but your parents were retired and, from the looks of it, were at the country club with, if you had to guess, their retired friends.

nathan’s eyes were focused on your profile, but you refused to look away. you grew up with these people, they raised you, shaped you, you could confront them, tell them the truth.

“okay uh—i’ll just say it then.” you swallowed. “i’m uh, i'm pregnant.”

there you said it.

it couldn't possibly get any worse than that, the hard part was over, right?

wrong.

the silence was worse than telling the truth. you stared at the phone screen and watched as every one of your family members moved out of view. your heart raced and the hand tremors started up again so you got out of nathan’s car and held up a shaky hand when he tried to do the same.

“hello? did you hear me?” you asked.

stephen cleared his throat and spoke first. “i’ve gotta get back to work,” he said before disconnecting.

“zara needs a snack, so i also have to go,” and lauren hung up before you could say anything.

you waited for your parents to say something, biting your lip anxiously and as a strategy to keep your tears at bay. “mom? dad? you still there?”

when the disappointed sigh that you were all too familiar with sounded through the receiver of your phone, you wished you could've taken it all back.

“can’t say i’m surprised,” your dad said. “i’m just relieved you got through high school without getting pregnant. your mother and i were so sure it was going to happen.”

“okay...” you trailed off, doing your best not to let them hear the hurt that was bubbling under the surface. “so you’re thinking...what exactly?”

“look,” your mother started. “just don't come to us asking for money for this baby. if you’re keeping it, which i’m assuming you are because you wouldn't have told us otherwise, you need to be responsible enough to bear the weight of your own actions.”

you moved your phone so they couldn't see the tears building in your eyes. shocked wasn’t the word you would've used, your parents were blunt at the best of times, rude at the worst. maybe it was the fact that they wouldn't even pretend to offer support or help, not that you really needed it, but you seem to recall your parents supporting lauren when she started her family at at the ripe age of twenty one. granted she was married to her high school sweetheart but still—

was twenty-seven too old to start for them?

you nodded and cleared your throat. with a choked voice, you spoke. “okay, love you.”

your parents hummed. “talk to you later,” they said before ending the call.

you stared at the blank screen on your phone, waiting for the moment that they'd call back and say how excited they were, how happy they were for you, but you were kidding yourself. you asked nate to start with your family because you knew they'd be the worst confrontation.

and yet, you still felt foolish for expecting them to celebrate you.

“you okay?” you flinched when you heard nathan’s voice. you looked up to see him standing in front of you with an admittedly adorable frown on his face.

and because you sucked at being honest about your feelings, you cleared your throat and shrugged off the hurt. “it went about as well as i was expecting.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” he said.

“it’s been twenty-seven years of this, i’m used to it.” you cleared your throat and looked at nathan. “so how do you wanna tell your family?”

he sighed, like the very thought of telling his family that he got you pregnant was yet another burden he had been avoiding thinking about until that very moment. and to be fair, that very well could’ve been the case. you weren't privy to the inner workings of mind.

“if you want, i can play the bad guy. i have no problem doing that.”

nathan scoffed and immediately shook his head, like the idea was an idiotic one. “i’m not letting you take the blame for something we both contributed to. that’s not fair.”

you shrugged. “all i’m saying is, i’ll do whatever makes this easier for you.”

he sighed and ran his hands down his face. “are you okay if we go back to my place?”

despite yourself, you cracked a smile. “isn't that how we got here in the first place?”

while he didn’t laugh per se, nate did crack a smile and let out an exhale through his nose like you did whenever a book said something particularly funny. “i’ll walk you to your car.”

“not necessary, i’m only like two blocks away.”

nate rolled his eyes. “which direction?”

“nathan, it’s broad daylight outside.” he blinked but didn’t move until you sighed and pointed in the direction where you car was. “i don’t need an escort, you know. i’m pregnant, not an invalid.” but you let him walk with you anyway.

“you still have my address saved, right?” he asked, once you got to your car.

you nodded. “it’s now saved under ‘place of conception’ in my apple maps.”

nate choked out a laugh and shook his head. “you can’t prove that,” he said.

“if what the doctor said was true, about me being eight weeks, then i think that means i can prove it was at your place.”

he rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips anyway. “i’ll see you in a few minutes.”

you beat him to his house by ten minutes, not because of your head start since he had to walk back to his car and then go home. no, you knew deep down it was your reckless driving and speeding that probably attributed to you beating him by more than a few minutes.

but unlike your family, he didn't make a comment about it, he just playfully rolled his eyes and let you in the house when he arrived.

“so i was thinking on the way here,” he started as you both walked into the living room. “we could tell my sister sarah first.”

you blinked.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

“your parents won't be like, mad at you for not telling them first?”

nathan shrugged as he sunk into the couch. “they know we’re close. they'd probably be more surprised if i didn't.”

you tried to imagine how that would go down in your family, if stephen and lauren would actually accept your news or if they would be just as uncomfortable and unhelpful as they were earlier that day.

“when do you wanna tell her?”

he shrugged and pulled his phone out. “she’s probably not doing anything at the moment.” he tapped a few times on his phone before the tell tale facetime sound echoed through the room. you immediately tensed up, the sound reminding you of your own disastrous conversation with your family.

but when his sister answered, there was an obvious difference in the way they interacted versus you and your siblings. sarah was smiling, something you could hear through the phone even from your position of standing awkwardly in his living room, and teasing her brother for calling randomly.

god you hoped you didn’t fuck this up for him.

“why the fuck are you calling on a random thursday, nate?” sarah’s voice echoed through the room. 

“can’t i just call to say i love you?” he asked.

almost immediately, she gave him a resounding no.

“why did you leave the lake house so suddenly? mom and dad were wondering what happened. sid said he hadn't heard from you lately.” 

interesting, you didn't know he hadn't spoken to his best friend yet.

from across the room, you could see nathan tense up a little. he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. 

“about that....i have some news to share.”

you could imagine sarah’s stare, as she waited for him to say something. “what? you didn't get anyone pregnant did you?” she joked.

you watched as nathan’s face twisted into something akin to a little kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

the silence was deafening.

“oh my god,” she gasped. “who’s the girl?”

“she’s a friend of a friend. i met her through cale’s wife. and before you say anything, we’re keeping the baby and nothing you say will change my mind. she’s a good person.”

“whoa,” sarah replied. “i’m not judging you, nate, i’m just asking some questions to get the full picture. are you okay?” she asked. “is she okay? you are going to help her with everything, right?”

and maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but you wanted to cry. it was this. this was all you wanted from your family.

nathan met your eyes from across the room but you diverted your gaze to look out the window. you'd already cried in the doctor’s office, you didn't want him to see you cry again.

“yeah,” nate said. “we’re good. baby’s good too, we went to the doctor today and heard the heartbeat, got an ultrasound done.”

before she could say anything, you were making your way across the living room and pulling out the ultrasound photos, shoving them in view of the phone.

a soft gasp sounded through the phone. “oh my god,” sarah whispered, sounding a bit congested in the process. “my baby brother is having a baby.” she sniffled. “is she there? the girl?”

you glanced at nathan who was already staring. he nodded as if to signal that the choice was yours, so you carefully sat down next to him and popped your head into frame and awkwardly waved.

“hi, i’m the baby mama,” you tried to joke.

“congratulations, it’s nice to meet you,” sarah smiled and waved back through the screen. “i’m really happy for the both of you.”

your heart soared in your chest. from your previous conversations, you knew nathan absolutely adored and looked up to his big sister and if she’d decided in that moment you were not worthy to be associated with her baby brother, you were well and truly fucked.

but she congratulated you and smiled, something none of your family members could manage.

“thank you,” you managed to choke out. “that really means a lot.”

you could feel nathan’s stare on the side of your face, but you ignored it and just picked at your nails nervously.

he finally turned his attention back to his phone. “i think this goes without saying, but don't tell mom and dad, not until we tell them.”

“don't worry, nate. i won't tell a soul. i’m sure they’ll be ecstatic.”

when the called ended, you visibly saw nathan’s shoulders relax. “that went well,” you said. “a lot better than how it went with my family.”

“what did your family say?”

you opened and closed your mouth, unsure of how to broach the topic. would you tell him the complete truth? that your siblings didn't even respond and your parents just said they were shocked you made it this far without getting pregnant?

“they weren't as supportive as your sister, that’s for sure.” you cleared your throat before it could clog with something akin to emotion. “so when do you want to tell your parents?”

nathan reached over and gently pulled the ultrasound pictures out of your hands. his fingers lightly traced over the photos, over the form of your growing child. “if you're up for it, i can facetime them now. i didn't really give them much of a reason for leaving so soon.”

“do you think they'll be okay with it?”

nate shrugged, looking nonplussed. “they'll have to be, you and the baby aren't going anywhere.”

you nodded immediately. “of course.” you started to stand up and head to the front door. “did you want to tell your parents together or did you want to do it alone?”

“together,” he said. “they'll wanna meet you.”

you blanched, not feeling prepared to meet his parents looking like you did. nor were you expecting him to actually take you up on the offer.

it was sweet that he thought his parents would approve of you, a girl he slept with no strings attached getting pregnant aka the most attached you could become to someone. but nathan didn't know you hadn't dated a single guy whose parents approved of you.

“is something wrong?” he asked, standing to his full height, his built like a brick shit house height. “you look a little pale.”

you tried for a smile, but felt the way your lips shook. “nothing—”

“c'mon,” he said, reaching out for you. his hands rubbed your arms. “i know you enough to know when you're lying.”

despite the situation, you rolled your eyes. “knowing when i haven’t orgasmed is not the same as knowing when i’m lying.”

“but it’s working for me now,” he smirked. “so what's going on?”

you shifted on your feet. “i don't know if i should be part of the conversation.”

a cute furrow appeared between his brows. “why not?”

how could you tell him that you've never been the most popular option for your partners’ parents? that you were hardly considered in anyone’s top five, despite all your efforts to make it there.

you shrugged. “maybe i can just be in the room, but let you take the conversation. if they wanna meet me, i can come into frame, but i don't wanna bombard them when they think it’s just a normal conversation with their son.”

he nodded and gestured to the couch. “sit next to me, i’ll keep you out of frame until they ask.”

moments later, his phone was ringing as he waited for the facetime call to connect with his parents’ phones. nathan’s mom picked up first.

“graham! come here, baby, nathan’s on the phone!” she called. “sorry, sweetheart, your dad probably lost his phone again.”

nate’s chuckle reverberated inside your chest, you could feel the thrum of it all the way down to your toes.

“hi mom, how're you doing?” he smiled.

she grinned back. “i’m great, just waiting for you to come back. is everything okay? it’s not like you to leave for denver so suddenly.”

nathan scratched the back of his head. “about that...”

“nathan raymond mackinnon, what did you do?” her tone suddenly serious.

“it’s nothing bad, mom—”

“what did he do, kathy?” a male voice you assumed was his dad said.

“trying to figure that out!” she called back. she turned her attention back to her son “why do you look so nervous? what happened?”

nathan sighed and rubbed at his face with the hand that wasn't holding his phone.

“nate,” his dad said. “you can tell us, it’s gonna be okay.”

“i got a friend pregnant, we’re having a baby,” nathan finally said.

there was a moment, a pause, where no one said anything. you could feel the tension curling in your stomach like a snake. this would be the moment where you ruined nathan’s family. he'd hate you, they'd hate you—

“a baby?” his mom asked.

“yeah mom,” nathan exhaled. “a baby.”

another moment of silence passed before a loud cheer echoed through the phone. “a baby? my baby is having a baby? oh my god! graham, did you hear that? nathan’s gonna be a dad!”

it was hard to make out the phone screen from your position with your eyes getting blurrier by the second. but the sounds of nathan’s dad hooting and hollering while his mom asked a barrage of questions weren't lost on you.

neither was the comparison of the judgemental silence you endured from your family. the difference was stark. his parents, who had done everything to secure a future for nathan to get where he is now, whose face was plastered all over the city, had more to lose than your parents who were middle class and spent minimal investment on their eldest daughter (but maximum care of the younger two).

“when do we get to meet her?” kathy asked. “the girl, i mean.”

nathan glanced at you for a brief second before looking back at the phone. “we’ll have to schedule something, she’s kinda busy with work and everything right now. but i’ll be happy to introduce you whenever everyone's schedules line up.”

his mom was silent for a moment, like she didn't quite believe him, but she relented anyway. “okay, sweetheart. will you text me as soon as you find out her schedule?”

“yes ma’am.”

the call ended shortly after they said their goodbyes, leaving you and nathan to sit in silence for a brief moment.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “for not saying i was sitting next to you.”

he shrugged like it was no big deal, like it was not one of the most considerate things someone had done for you.

god were you really that pathetic? that common courtesy was a luxury?

“what does your work schedule look like?” he asked. “do you have enough pto for a trip to halifax?

you hadn't really taken a day off from your job since you started. you were more than sure you had enough. it was just a matter of letting them know when.

“i’ll request off, it’ll probably be two weeks before i can leave though. i accidentally became important at work.”

nathan snorted. “you don't say. it’s kinda crazy you managed to get pregnant between both of our insane schedules.”

and he wasn't wrong, but it didn’t feel like he was implying deceit on your end. with the shifts you worked and the roadies he had, it felt like some divine entity conspired against you.

“i’m sorry you had to fly all the way back for this,” you said before you finally got the nerve to look over at him, only to find nathan staring back at you. “you didn't have to.”

he looked close to being offended. “why wouldn't i come back? we’re having a baby together, we need to figure this out, together.”

together, what a foreign concept.

“why would you assume i wouldn't fly back to colorado?”

“to be honest,” you started sheepishly. “i wasn't expecting you to want to be a part of it at all.”

he blinked before he reeled back. “and why the hell not? do i give off deadbeat dad?”

you were losing control of the conversation quickly. so you started shaking your head over and over. “no! no no no! it’s just, i typically expect the worst from people, that’s all. so when i told you i was pregnant, i was fully expecting you to not want any part, not because you're a deadbeat, but because we were hardly friends—”

“you don't think we’re friends?”

“what? no! i mean, i would definitely feel conflicted about whether or not to invite you to my hypothetical birthday party but—”

“so we can sleep together but i can’t make the birthday list?”

dear god you were digging a bigger hole than you intended. you put your head in your hands and groaned. “nate, no, it’s not you—”

“don’t give me the it’s not you it’s me bullshit—”

“would you let me speak?” you finally said loud enough to quiet him, looking up from your hands to stare him down. “it’s nothing you did, i’m just notorious for making bad decisions, one of those is picking men. you are the first good guy i’ve slept with. so yes, i fully expected to be parenting alone and i fully expect i’m going to be awful at it. i mean, you should’ve heard what my parents said, that didn't instill a whole lot of confidence in my parenting ability.”

nathan’s face dropped, the warmth in his eyes suddenly gone cold. “what did they say?”

you sighed and your shoulders slumped. “something about how they were shocked how i made it this far without getting pregnant out of wedlock. another something about how they weren't going to support me financially because i did this to myself, something like that.” once more you put your head in your hands, too afraid to see the look on his face.

“they said that?”

there was a tightness in his voice that made you a little uncomfortable, and you weren't sure why. you'd seen enough games of his to know he was a bit intense, always ready to throw a punch in defense of his teammates, but the idea that someone, let alone nathan mackinnon, could be upset with your parents´comments was a strange pill to swallow.

so you shrugged it off and refused to meet his eyes. “yeah but i mean, they’re kind of right, ya know? like i’ve never been the most responsible person ever.”

he paused. “you're literally a nurse. you are responsible for a shit ton of patients.”

“not quite the same thing. i mean sure, i can help deliver babies, but would a responsible person get knocked up by accident?”

nathan rolled his eyes. “you need to give yourself a break. accidents happen, and yeah, this is probably the most life changing accident you could have, but you're by no means a disappointment.” he clarified.

“it’s just how my family is.”

he huffed. “they should've been more supportive.”

“i’m used to it.” a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless.

“well, you shouldn't be.”

you reached over and squeezed his arm, feeling the tense muscles beneath your palm. “worrying about what should be would make me spiral, i don't think about them that often, and neither should you.” that answer seemed to settle him down to a simmer. “but i should be going, need to get ready for work tomorrow.”

nathan stood as you did and followed you to the door. he leaned against the frame like some romantic lead in a rom com as you opened the door. “request off as soon as you can and let me know. i’ll buy the plane tickets—”

“you don't have to—”

“i can spare the money, don't worry about it.” he hit the doorframe twice with his fist. “text me when you get home, okay?”

you smiled and nodded. “i’ll see you later, nate.”

week 12

“so why did you take a week and a half off?” sophie, your alleged favorite (and nosiest) coworker, asked as she sidled up next to you.

you looked at her through the corner of your eye. “who’s asking?”

“i am! you never take off work,” she said, grabbing charts from one of her patient’s doors.

“i’m taking some personal days,” you stated plainly. nate had gone back to halifax shortly after your eight week appointment, albeit hesitantly. he thought about staying until you could make the trip, but after checking your work calendar and realizing it would be another month before you could take off, you told him you'd meet him in canada.

“you've worked here for years and you've never taken more than a few personal days let alone an entire week.”

you shrugged and grabbed one of your patient’s charts. “well, maybe this is the year i start taking care of myself.”

she blinked. “it’s july...”

but you didn't pay her any mind when your phone vibrated.

nate: attachment 1 image.

nate: here’s your boarding pass. my parents can’t wait to meet you.

before you could stop yourself, you were smiling at your phone and liking the message.

“who has you smiling like that?” sophie tried to peer over your shoulder, but you locked your phone and slipped it back into your pocket before she could see anything.

“i need to get back to work. charting won't get done by itself.”

sophie, however, didn't seem to mind, because she brought her charts to your desk and mindlessly worked on them while trying to pester you more about your personal life.

“oh come on,” she whined. “we’re friends right? friends tell each other things! i told you about that guy i hooked up with last tuesday!” it made you smile, you wouldn't lie. sophie was what you imagined having a little sister would be like. you and your sister were not close and hadn't been in awhile, if her reaction to your big news was any inclination.

“soph, i didn't ask for the details of your recently disappointing sex life, you gave up that information willingly.”

she gave you a half ass glare. “fine, keep your secrets.”

“i will,” you quipped with a smirk.

“you fucking suck—”

“excuse me?” an older woman, no older than fifty-five, walked up to your desk. “can one of you show me to my daughter’s room? i got lost on the way here.”

sophie, to her credit, pasted on a smile and nodded, walking the woman to her destination.

on the other hand, you got back to your charting, alternating between reading the papers and entering them in on the computer. you were halfway through one when your phone vibrated again.

nate: what time do you get off?

you: 7 am :/

nate: jfc do you need a ride to the airport?

you: it’s fine, i’m ordering an uber. 

nate: ask tracy, i’m sure she’d be happy to drive you.

you: it’s not that big of a deal.

nate: it is when your uber driver could be a serial killer.

you: that is statistically unlikely.

a moment passed and you thought that was the end of the conversation.

nate: call tracy, or i’ll reach out to cale and get it set up anyway. it would make me feel better knowing you're not half asleep in a stranger’s car.

“there's the smile again!” sophie pointed as she walked past you. “i’ll find out eventually!”

a sinking feeling hit your stomach. she would find out eventually, she and everyone else. maybe the baby daddy could be a secret, but when you went into labor, was it realistic to expect nate to show up in disguise?

you shook that thought off and went back to your work. the hours slowly ticked on. by the time seven in the morning came around, you were dead on your feet and the realization that you were headed to the airport after a twelve hour shift made you wanna cry a little.

thank god you had enough foresight to pack your bags and put them in your backseat prior to coming to work.

tracy: hey! nate said you needed a ride?

you could’ve cried.

you: i told him not to harass you about it. i get it if you're busy...

tracy: not at all! i needed an excuse to skip spin. meet at your place?

you: i owe you one!

it wasn't long before you pulled up to your home, the driveway looking so inviting. god you just wanted to go inside and lay down, but tracy was idling in the street. you got out of your car, locked it, and loaded your bags into tracy’s. 

“you ready?” she asked.

you nodded and climbed into her suv. “you're a godsend, tracy evans.”

the ride to the airport was mostly uneventful with tracy singing along to her playlist while you did your best not to fall asleep in the passenger seat. when the car stopped moving, a sure sign you were in the parking lot, you realized you'd dozed off at some point.

when you got out of the car, you were somewhat surprised to see tracy pulling out your carry on and handing you the backpack you packed.

“you gonna be okay?” she asked.

in that moment, you remembered you hadn't told her yet, nathan had yet to tell his teammates. it felt too early, but you wanted so badly to spill the beans. it warmed your heart to know she was kind enough to drive you to the airport to see nathan without asking any questions. “we should catch up when i get back in town.”

tracy beamed and wrapped you in a hug. “have fun,” she whispered. “and i’ll see you soon.”

the flights were pretty standard, you were asleep for most of both of them. when you landed, you shot a quick text to nathan to let him know you were now in canada, just a short drive away from his lake house.

after customs, you were walking through the halifax airport, only stopping at a bench so you could pull up the uber app and order a ride once nathan sent the address. you waited for two minutes for him to send it before you just called him.

“hello?”

“hey,” you started. “can you send me the address to your place? i’m trying to order an uber.”

“you’re off the plane?” he asked.

“yeah, i’m standing by baggage claim right now. so if you could send the address so i can get a ride, that would be great.”

“well funny you should say that, i already ordered you a ride. says it’s pulling up right now.”

you glanced outside and saw a car pull up. curious, you walked out and thought the car looked a little familiar when nate slid out of the driver’s side and opened the trunk.

“surprise,” he said.

“you're my uber?” you stood still on the sidewalk while he took your bags from your hands and shoulders. it took nate doubling back and opening the passenger door for you to come back into your body and get in the car.

“you didn't have to pick me up,” you said once he was driving away from the airport. “i could've ubered.”

“i feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” he teased. “my memory says we talked about this yesterday.”

you rolled your eyes. “not every uber driver is an axe murderer, nathan.”

“but you don't know which ones are. and that’s the issue.”

“you're ridiculous.”

nate scoffed. “that's what we’re calling chivalry nowadays?”

“i didn't think someone who fights other grown ass men over nothing was considered chivalrous.”

“well, maybe that’s not, but i think picking up my baby mama from the airport is considered chivalrous at the very least.” you spared a glance at nate whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“thanks, nate,” you said with a soft smile adorning your lips. but then you felt like it was too sentimental, too much for what your relationship was. “thanks for making sure i’m not abducted and cut up into chunks to feed a family of cannibals,” you added.

there.

much better.

he didn't laugh outright, but you did get a smile out of him, which made you want to take a photo to document the momentous occasion.

here is the time i made nathan mackinnon smile over a stupid joke.

though all thoughts of jokes went right out of your head when he pulled up to his lake house. it was modest when you considered how much money he makes in a year, but it made your palms sweat anyway.

“whoa,” you breathed.

he didn't say anything as he parked. instead, he hopped out almost immediately after turning the car off and headed to the trunk. once you got over your stunned reaction, you got out as well.

nathan held your carry on in his left hand, your backpack slung across his shoulders. when you tried to grab one of them, he simply breezed past you like you didn't exist.

“i can carry my own bags, you know!” you called after him.

“doesn't mean you should!” he yelled back over his shoulder as he headed inside.

you scrambled after him into the house. and if you thought the outside was intimidating, you weren't ready for the inside.

it at least had personality, was what you thought. you expected a man like nathan, whose regimen was intense to say the least, to treat his home like nothing more than a place to sleep. you were expecting fifty shades of brown furniture like the frat houses you ended up in during undergrad.

but he had throw pillows and blankets. he had a coffee table! and rugs!

“cozy,” was the only word to come out of your mouth.

“my sister helped me,” he admitted with rosy cheeks. “i’ll show you to your room.”

the room you were staying in was just as cozy as the common areas, arguably more so. it had a great view of the yard and black out curtains for when the sun rose too early.

the bed looked incredibly comfortable too.

you must've been staring at it longingly because nate shook his head and chuckled to himself. “you're exhausted. take a nap, we can catch up when you're feeling better.”

“thank you, nate,” you smiled. “this baby is taking all my energy.”

his eyes glanced down at your stomach, hidden by a baggy t-shirt. to be kind, you lifted your shirt just high enough to expose a teeny tiny bump that could be mistaken for bloating.

“the bump’s gotten bigger in the last month,” he noted.

you nodded. “will only get bigger from here.”

there was something in his eyes that made you pause, something that made you wanna call him out for. “you okay?”

he swallowed and nodded. “i’ll let you get some rest.” nathan walked out a beat later.

after a lengthy nap, you left the guest room in a pair of gym shorts with an elastic band and an oversized t-shirt. since your stomach had grown, it made some of your pre pregnancy clothes uncomfortable. it was a miracle that your scrubs for work had an elastic band and that the top wasn't form fitting.

you weren't ready to tell coworkers about your...situation.

when you walked into the common areas, you saw no sign of nate, so you walked outside and sat on an outdoor pool chair by the water, staring at the setting sky. it was slightly cooler than it would've been back in denver, with you being much farther north.

just when a shiver ran up your spine, a blanket was draped over your shoulders. nathan appeared at your left and took a seat on the ground in front of you. he handed you a bowl of what looked like a taco bowl with quinoa, ground beef, and all the fixings.

“figured you were hungry,” he said almost sheepishly.

your stomach growled as if on cue, but when you went to take a bite, it was all you could do not to gag. initially, you thought you were doing a good job covering up your internal war, but nathan sighed and took the bowl away.

“is it that bad?” he asked. “i know i’m not the best cook—”

but you were shaking your head and forcibly swallowing the food. “no! it’s good, i’m just, the baby’s just telling me what i can and cannot eat. i never know until i try to eat something and my body rejects it.”

his brows pulled together. “have you been eating?”

you nodded. “for the most part, it’s just hard when nothing sounds good, nothing healthy at least.”

“what sounds good to you right now?”

you didn't want to say it because you knew his regimen, you knew how seriously he took his health. you didn't want to derail his evening just because taco bowls didn't sound appetizing at the moment.

“you can tell me,” he said. “it’s not gonna bother me.”

after a moment, you finally spoke. “i want mac and cheese.”

nate pursed his lips. “homemade or does kraft work?”

“nate, i’m not gonna let you make me mac and cheese.”

“do you want some from the grocery store deli?”

“you don't need to go out and buy me mac and cheese!” you whined. “i’ll be fine, i ignore my cravings all the time.”

but nate was already standing and heading back inside. you followed, begging him to just sit down and you'd raid his pantry for something that sounded good. he, of course, wasn't listening, he grabbed his car keys and said he’d be right back before he left you alone in his house.

nate was gone for nearly an hour. in that time, you'd toured the entire house (minus his room, it felt like an intrusion to do so), even saw the infamous massive gym. the very sight of it was intense, which, given the way people talked about your baby daddy, was par for the course.

you were sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone when he came back with a bowl of mac and cheese from costco.

“hope you're hungry, didn't mean to take that long,” he said, sitting the mac and cheese on the coffee table in front of you before he walked back to the kitchen.

you picked up the food and headed to the kitchen yourself, choosing to sit at the island so you weren't sitting in the living room alone.

nate moved around the kitchen, heating up a taco bowl for himself that had gone cold in his quest to get you the food you and the baby wanted to eat. you felt somewhat bad that he drove thirty minutes both ways to get you some mac and cheese, but when you took a bite, you could've sworn you'd touched heaven.

you accidentally let out a moan and closed your eyes, not noticing the way nathan’s cheeks blushed and the tips of his ears turned pink.  “this is fucking fantastic, nate.”

“you can thank the deli workers at costco.”

“why? you're the one who got it for me.” you smiled at him. “thanks, nate.”

he nodded, then cleared his throat. “so, my parents are gonna come over tomorrow for lunch and swimming in the lake, if that’s okay.”

your stomach flipped before it sank. the pressure of meeting his parents was getting to you. in your dating history, not one set of parents had approved, always citing that their sons could do better. and they weren't wrong.

you could only imagine what his mom and dad would think of the girl who baby trapped their son. god, they'd probably hate you for derailing nathan’s priorities. what if he had a bad season? would it be your fault?

“i’m thinking of coming back to denver with you,” he said out of the blue.

fuck. now you were taking nathan from his parents earlier than normal.

“what?”

he braced both hands on the counter tops. “seeing the bump, hearing about how you have all these cravings, makes me want to be there. i told you i’d be involved and yet i’ve spent the last month on the other side of the continent in a different country.”

“it’s not your fault, it’s the offseason.”

“there's no offseason in parenting,” he said with so much conviction, you had no choice but to believe him. “i said i’d be there, so i’m gonna be there. when you fly back to denver, i’m coming with.”

“you don't have to.”

“yes, i do. and even if i didn't, i still would.”

“nathan, your family is here, sidney is here,” you tried. “i can handle the offseason alone. if it’s appointments you're worried about, i can facetime you. i can send you daily updates of the bump if you want them. i don't want you to feel like you have to cut your summer short for me.”

he dragged a hand down his face like this conversation was exhausting him. “i’m not gonna be a part time dad. i don't want to hear about your pregnancy symptoms through the phone, i don't want to have to ask the doctor questions through facetime. and i definitely don't want to be in an entirely different country than you when you're pregnant with our child.”

your eyes watered at the sincerity in his voice, at the dedication to doing right by you and your unborn baby.

“are you okay?” he asked, a panicked tone in his voice.

you nodded and wiped at your eyes. “you're too nice to me.”

but he was shaking his head. “you need to get better people in your life if you think i’m being too nice. you deserve nicer.”

the next day, you woke up when the sun was above the trees. you rubbed at your eyes as you walked into the kitchen. nate was at the stove, making what smelled like eggs, but that wasn't what had your mouth watering. the sight of his back muscles under his too tight shirt got to you. memories of what those muscles were capable of nearly had you tripping into the couch.

“you good?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“just clumsy is all.” you cleared your throat. “what're you making?”

“eggs, bacon, and—” two slices of bread pop out of the toaster. “and toast.”

“i figured you would've already eaten.”

he shrugged. “i’m hungry again and figured you needed breakfast.” you eyed the plate he sat before you warily. “i can cook!” he said defensively. “covid taught me that much.”

when you took a bite of the eggs, you were shocked that you didn't immediately want to spit them back out, both from nate’s cooking and your baby’s reaction. you ate happily, and listened as nate talked about the plans for the day. honestly, you were happy to do anything, especially if it involved the lake or the pool in his backyard. the scariest part was expecting his parents for lunch.

“it’s going to be fine,” he said, calling down the hallway from the living room.

“easy for you to say,” you argued from the guest room. the door cracked as you changed into a bikini. “you're not the one who got pregnant with a hockey superstar’s baby.”

“no, i’m just the son who knocked someone up.”

“your parents love you, nate.”

“i didn't say they didn't, just that they probably wished this was happening in a different way.” he was silent for a moment. “not that i regret this. i mean, sure the timing isn't ideal, but i don't regret you.”

your heart swelled, tears formed in your water line. you cleared your throat to get rid of the sensation as you finished putting on your bathing suit. you applied sunscreen where you could reach and walked into the common area with the bottle in your hand. “do you think you could get my back?” you asked.

nathan turned around, as if just noticing your presence. his eyes widened a little when he saw the bare bump. “your stomach—”

you glanced down. “oh it’s probably just bloating,” you said. “can you get my back?”

he nodded and held his hand out for the sunscreen.

don't read into this, you thought. he’s had his hands other places and it was just for fun, you also thought. 

nate’s hands were gentle and efficient, not wanting to linger on any one spot for too long. “are you going to go work out?” you glanced at the clock on the stove.

he shook his head. “i worked out earlier, wanted to make sure i had enough time with you before my parents got here.”

the two of you headed outside. you took a seat on a lounger while nathan sat on the edge of the pool, dipping his feet into the water. he kicked his feet a little, his shoulders were tense.

“what?” you asked.

“huh?

“you have something to say, so say it.”

nate leaned back against his hands. “we have things to figure out.”

you blinked. “like what?”

“i don't know,” he gesticulated around him. “do we wanna know the gender?”

you shrugged. “do you? i know you're a planner.”

“i—” he dragged a hand down his face. “it would be nice to know—”

“then let’s do it.” you pulled out your phone and glanced at your calendar. “i can call and schedule an appointment if you'd like. no need to freak out about it.” you set a reminder in your phone to call later. “anything else?”

“when do you wanna tell people?”

you peeped at your bump. “it’s gonna have to be soon, i don't know how long i can feasibly hide this before people start noticing.” you adjusted your position in the lounger. “i was waiting for your cue, you have more to lose than me.”

he frowned. “don't say that.”

“what? it’s true, you have a reputation to maintain.”

“and you're not some stain on it. i have as much fault in this as you do.”

you waved him off, the conversation feeling too close to vulnerability. “that aside, do you have a timeline of when and who you want to tell?”

“i should tell my teammates, gabe and cale first. should probably let my management know as well.”

you nodded. “i need to tell my job, too. we could probably tell tracy and cale together. she kept giving me funny looks on the ride to the airport.” you were quiet for a second. “you have to tell sidney before you tell your teammates. it’s only fair.”

nate nodded and pulled out his phone. “i’ll call him.”

“don’t break the news over the phone—”

“—our families found out over the phone—”

“—because they weren't down the street, nate. you can invite him over, don't break the news over the phone when telling him in person is an option.”

nate sighed and nodded, pulling out his phone from his pocket and (presumably) clicking on sidney’s contact. “hey! are you busy today?”

your eyes about fell out of your head. “today??” you mouth to nate, but he must be ignoring you because he doesn't even look your way.

“nah nah, nothing too major, just wanted to hang out, tell you something.” you were dying while he smiled and chuckled at something his best friend said over the phone. “no, it can wait until i see you in person. come over whenever. yeah, yeah, i’ll see you when you get here.”

he pulled the phone away from his ear and (presumably) hung up. “sid’ll be here in like twenty minutes, said he had to finish something up.”

your heart dropped to your stomach, you shot to your feet. at your sudden movement, nate hopped up to, his arms stretched out towards you.

“whoa, you okay?”

“twenty minutes?!” you rushed into the house, already heading for the guest room with nate trailing.

“you don't have to change—”

you scoffed. “i am not meeting the sidney crosby in a bikini.” you glanced over your shoulder where nathan stood in the doorway. “turn around,” you motioned with your finger.

he did so immediately. “you don't have to get dressed up.”

“i’m not putting on a fucking ballgown. i’m just making sure my ass and tits aren't hanging out when i meet your best friend or your parents.”

“fair enough.”

you pulled a sports bra and a random t shirt on, accompanied with a pair of jeans before giving nate the go ahead to turn around. when he faced you, his eyes landed on your stomach. a small frown appeared on his lips and you wanted to wipe it away immediately.

“what?”

“the bump is gone.”

you glanced down at the baggy shirt, the kind you'd been wearing ever since you found out about the pregnancy. “i mean, it’s still here, i’m sure it’ll make its appearance later when i’ve eaten more.”

he nodded and moved out of the way so you weren't held hostage in the guest room.

sidney arrived not even ten minutes later, which, had you known him outside of hearsay, you should've expected.

he doesn't even bother knocking, the man probably had a key that said something cheesy like “best friends forever.” you had no proof, but you'd seen interviews with nate and sid before, you wouldn't put it past your baby daddy to do just that.

you were lounging on the couch, pretending to read a self help book nathan had on his shelf to keep yourself looking nonchalant, when sidney walked in. he didn't need to announce himself, his presence alone was enough to get your attention.

“hey,” he said. “you know where nathan is?”

you blinked. “he said he was going to the bathroom a minute ago, so who knows how long that’ll be.”

sidney nodded. you weren't expecting him to laugh, you weren't sure if strangers could make the man crack. nathan and sidney’s teammates? sure. little kids? maybe. a complete stranger sitting in his best friend’s living room? fat chance.

nathan appeared a minute later, nearly silent if it wasn't for his heavy footsteps. the house was too new for the floorboards to be creaking.

“sid!” he smiled the biggest smile you'd ever seen from him as he embraced his best friend. “didn't hear you come in. how long have you been here?”

“just a minute,” sidney replied.

nathan nodded. after the excitement of his best friend being there, he finally remembered you were sitting there. “oh, sorry.” he gestured to the couch where you were. “why don't you have a seat.”

you furrowed your brows. why was he acting so weird? so formal?

sidney must've thought the same thing because he gave nate a weird look before settling in the love seat. “everything okay?”

nathan looked at you like you had the answers, before he nodded his head. “no yeah, everything’s fine, great even.”

you wanted to slam your head into the book. why was he acting like it was his first day on earth?

“this is honey,” nate said like that was your actual fucking name, and not the nickname he'd been using since that first night.

you rolled your eyes and corrected him. “nate’s the only one who ever calls me that.”

“i’m sidney,” he smiled. “i don't think i’ve ever met one of nate’s girlfriends before.”

“oh he's not—”

“oh we’re not—”

you both spoke at the same time. you cleared your throat. “what we’re trying to say is we’re not dating, we’re just friends.”

sidney looked more confused the longer time went on. “okay...”

nathan sighed and ran a hand down his face. “i knew i should've told him over the phone,” he grumbled to you. “this is awkward as hell—”

“i’m pregnant,” you said, finally, taking the stress off nate’s shoulders and placing it on your own. “it’s nathan’s. i’m the one who called a few weeks ago and the reason why he got on a plane back to denver.”

if anything, sidney looked more confused on top of eyeing you suspiciously. he looked like you were the film of an opposing team, something he could crack and decode. the longer time went on without a response from him, you felt yourself sinking into the couch just a small amount. you were prepared for nathan’s parents not to like you, that was nothing new, but the idea of his best friend not trusting you? hating you? it made you want to throw up.

“the baby’s yours?” sidney asked.

“it is.”

“and you’re sure?”

you were gonna vomit. on shaky legs, you stood and excused yourself to the backyard. your eyes burned in humiliation. god, being questioned by your parents was bad enough, but by sidney crosby?

at that point, you should wear a bright red w on your shirt to broadcast how much of a whore you must be. you were wiping your face furiously as tears rained down when the back door opened. you sniffled once, twice, and rubbed at your eyes one more time before you turned around and pasted a flimsy smile on your face. it shook when you saw sidney standing in front of you with what you could only describe as a disgruntled nathan behind him.

“i wanted to apologize,” sidney started. “i didn't mean to assume you were lying.”

you shrugged lightly, trying to play the hurt off. “i get it. it’s a little sketchy. you don't know me, you have no reason to trust me.”

“but i trust nate and he trusts you. that’s enough for me.” he sighed. “i know i don’t deserve it, but can we try that again?”

you nodded and smiled, sticking your hand out to shake. “it’s nice to meet you, sidney.”

he grasped your hand in a firm grip with a smile. “congratulations, by the way.”

“thank you, really.”

“how far along?”

“a little over twelve weeks.” you cleared your throat. “sorry for taking nathan away earlier this summer.”

but sidney was brushing the comment off. “he was right where he needed to be.”

he left after about an hour when nate mentioned his parents were stopping by for dinner. as soon as the front door closed, you collapsed onto the couch, worn out from the social interaction.

and to think, you'd have to do it all over again, but with nate’s parents.

“you okay?” nate asked, taking a seat next to you. “i wasn't expecting him to be a dick about it, sorry—”

“it was a normal reaction,” you shrugged like it didn't make you ugly cry in his backyard. “i can't say i blame him.”

“doesn't make it right.”

“nathan,” you said. “it’s okay. he apologized, we’re all good.”

and if meeting sidney crosby was nerve wracking, waiting for his parents to arrive was nothing short of terrifying. however, as soon as they walked in, it was clear you worked yourself up over nothing.

kathy smiled brightly and hugged and kissed her son before her eyes settled on you. “it’s so nice to meet you!” she immediately approached you with arms open. “are you a hugger?”

normally no, but that probably had more to do with your upbringing than the actual physical touch. you nodded and let her pull you in.

being hugged by kathy mackinnon was like diving headfirst into a bed with clean sheets. or like applying neosporin to a cut on your knee.

“nathan!” she chided. “you didn't tell us how pretty she is!”

“mom—” nathan groaned.

you could feel the heat crawling up your neck and to your cheeks. “thank you, mrs. mackinnon—”

“oh please, call me kathy, everyone else does.”

graham gave you the same spiel while he shook your hand. immediately, this was better than any interaction you had with your exes’ families. they told what nate considered to be embarrassing stories and poked fun at the ever growing blush on his cheeks.

“enough about me,” he groaned. “she's heard enough stories to last a lifetime.”

kathy fixed her attention on you. “what about you, sweetheart? any fun stories?”

your smile froze on your face, all warmth evaporating. you were sure there were good moments from your childhood, you just couldn't remember.

you shook your head. “just your standard childhood, nothing to write home about.” kathy, to her credit, seemed to understand not to press the subject and went back to talking about how big of a baby nate was.

after dinner, the conversation moved to the couch, with nate and graham discussing the upcoming season amongst themselves. kathy sat next to you on the couch.

“tell me, sweetheart, how're you doing? how're you feeling? first trimester can feel really lonely.”

you weren't completely insane enough to unload years of childhood neglect on your baby’s grandmother, so you kept it simple. “we haven't told a whole lot of people yet so it’s just been a giant secret. it can feel isolating, but i don't have a whole lot of friends to begin with, so it’s not that bad.”

“that’s not true,” nate started. “you’re friends with tracy!”

you stared at him and let the silence speak for you. “oh yes, one person.” you cleared your throat and smiled. “it’s fine though,” you said, addressing his mom. “i’m so busy with work, i don’t have a lot of time to be social.”

“what do you do for work?”

“i'm a labor and delivery nurse. i work the night shift,” you replied. “lots of long hours.”

kathy smiled. “smart and pretty! your parents must be proud.”

there was a good chance your smile looked more like a grimace with how hard you were clenching your jaw.

“they have every reason to be,” graham agreed. “nursing is a hard job.”

“how long are you gonna work during your pregnancy?” kathy asked. 

“i haven’t thought about it. i haven’t told my job yet.”

“when are you due?” she asked.

“mom,” nate sighed. “you don’t need to interrogate her.”

you didn’t know how to tell him the appreciation you felt for her enthusiasm. your parents didn’t bother asking. “january 7th.”

she grinned. “that’s so exciting! it’ll fly by.”

“i need time to slow down,” you replied. “they’ll be born in the middle of the season which makes me a little nervous.”

kathy reached out and squeezed your knee. “oh sweetheart, we’ll be in town for as long as you need us. i remember when i had sarah, i was so overwhelmed. i was scared to ask for help, but by the time nathan came around, i was more aware of what i needed.” she smiled kindly. “so if you need help after the baby is born, we’ll be there.”

your eyes burned. it took every ounce of self control not to cry right then and there. “thank you, kathy.” 

by the time graham and kathy left, you were socially and physically drained. you stayed on the couch for another hour before you finally decided to get up and shower. afterwards, you bid nate a goodnight.

“you did great.” he said before you left for the guest room. “mom and dad like you.”

“they barely know me.”

“they know enough,” he said. “do we need to schedule a visit with your family?”

a laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “they live in boulder, if they wanna see me, they’ll come down.”

he looked like he wanted to say more, but you were too tired for more conversation. “good night, nate.”

It started with a roar.

Like a beast circling beneath the ground, vibrating through the soles of your shoes, rising through the iron of the balcony rail and into your chest. You felt it more than you heard it. That deep tremor of speed meeting concrete, rubber burning against asphalt, lives being risked around a corner you couldn’t hardly see. It echoed through the hills and the harbour, through glass windows and open balconies, through the bellies of every spectator who leaned forward just slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the impossible.

You gripped your drink tighter.

The flute of champagne wobbled faintly in your hand, beads of condensation sliding over your knuckles, trailing a cold path down your wrist. You didn’t even like the champagne, it made your stomach fizz and your chest feel hollow, and today, you were already trying not to breathe too hard. Your dress felt too tight, your skin too warm, even the breeze coming off the marina didn’t help. The air was thick with the scent of burnt rubber, fuel and perfume. It clung to your senses, made everything feel sharper than it should.

You shouldn’t have worn this dress.

You told yourself it was for the occasion. For the prestige, the pageantry, the glamour of a weekend that came with its own cinematic mythology. The Monaco Grand Prix. The crown jewel, an event people dressed for like it might change their lives.

Deep down though, you knew.

You had chosen this dress for him.

It was a soft ivory silk, delicate, yet precise, draped in a way that revealed more than you were used to, collarbones bared, hem just grazing your mid-thigh, cinched at the waist with intent. It looked innocent in the mirror, like you were an angel descending into the Riviera, but suddenly, it felt like you had made the wrong choice the second you stepped into the paddock.

A month.

That’s how long it had been since the email came. Since the screen lit up with a name you hadn’t expected. Since you felt your heartbeat rewire itself beneath your ribcage like it already knew. You’d told no one, not a soul. You carried it like a secret folded into your chest, something sacred and sickening all at once.

You hadn’t opened the app in weeks, you’d sworn not to check it again. However, this morning, before you got dressed, before you curled your eyelashes and swiped gloss onto your lips, you tapped it open with shaking fingers. Just once, just to see.

Match: Unopened.

Still.

A month later, he hadn’t seen it. He hadn’t seen you. He didn’t know.

Your throat tightened at the memory of it. That clean font, so calm, so clinical, as if it wasn’t holding the weight of a life-altering truth. As if it didn’t split your chest open a little more every time you remembered that you were the only one who knew.

Somewhere in this crowd, behind a visor, under a helmet, he was here, and he had no idea.

Your fingers curled tighter around the glass stem of your drink, heat spreading across your skin. You told yourself this was fine. That you didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, but your body was telling a different story.

Your pulse fluttered, and your spine was coiled tight. You kept scanning the paddock below and the stairwells, looking for something you wouldn’t know until you saw it, the broad slope of his shoulders, maybe, or those neatly tied braids. That magnetism you’d only ever felt through a screen.

You adjusted your dress again, tugging the hem just a little lower as if that could hide the fact that you’d worn it for someone who hadn’t even looked at you yet. As if it could drown out the thought that somewhere nearby, somewhere in this elegant maze of yachts, hospitality suites and VIP terraces, he was here.

Lewis Hamilton.

The name alone sent a ripple through your chest now, as though your heart had learned every letter.

The recognition hadn’t been instant. When you’d first seen the match, that golden screen, that breathtaking photo, his name, your brain had struggled to wrap itself around the surrealness of it. Yet, later that night, long after you’d shut your laptop and curled under the blanket like it could protect you from the weight of what you’d seen, curiosity had won.

You had Googled him. First, just a name, then images, then articles. A black hole of search results with headlines like Seven-Time World Champion and Lewis Hamilton Makes History. Private, Powerful, Poised.

Then came the videos. It started with a few post-race interviews. He didn’t speak the way you expected, he was quieter, softer, more measured, like he meant every syllable. His voice stirred your heart with its smoothness, warming occasionally into a boyish lilt when he laughed. He didn’t interrupt, he thanked people, he paused often, like every word he spoke carried weight, and he’d earned the right to move through the world that way.

Then came the podcast. The Jay Shetty one, the On Purpose episode, that was the one that gutted you. You’d listened to him talk about his childhood, about purpose, about believing in yourself, even with all the odds stacked against you.

Somewhere between 1am and sunrise, the ache in your chest had slowly shifted from guilt to a quiet, far away longing. You didn’t even know him, and yet you found yourself wondering if maybe your body did. If maybe there was something ancient buried inside you that already recognised him.

You’d asked Andre about the sport a few days later, as casually as you could manage. He’d been throwing on a jersey, getting ready to leave again. You’d asked what it was like, watching Formula One, the races, the world of motorsports.

He’d shrugged, distracted. “It’s fast, loud. Good for networking too.”

That was all he’d said, until two weeks later, when he told you he’d been invited to the next race, Monaco. Just your luck, he’d noticed you taking an interest, and asked you to come along, for the photos, the atmosphere, for fun.

Now, here you were. Perched on a shaded balcony above the track, surrounded by strangers hiding behind designer sunglasses and champagne flutes, pretending your pulse wasn’t racing for someone you hadn’t even met. Somewhere down there, was the man you were genetically destined to crave.

“Babe,” Andre’s voice cut through the roar of engines.

You turned towards the sound.

He was leaning against the glass railing, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing lazily as he laughed with someone in an unbuttoned shirt and mirrored sunglasses. You didn’t recognise them, maybe another exec, another invitee from the endless stream of brand partners who flitted through his life like it was one long Instagram story.

Andre looked good, of course. He always did, in his linen shirt, tan skin, and his perfect pearly smile. He gave you a look then, the same one he used in interviews, at dinners and events where you were meant to be the prize on his arm. It was charming, flawless, just hollow enough to make your chest ache.

You forced a smile, lips barely parting. It felt hollow in your mouth.

The engines rose in pitch, a sudden crescendo down the straight. Another pass. You leaned over the balcony slightly, the wind catching your hair, eyes tracking the blur of cars below, faster than sound, faster than thought. You searched the chaos for the fiery red Ferrari with 44 on the front, your match’s car, but they all looked like ghosts in motion, and the trembling in your chest still hadn’t settled.

You weren’t here for him. You were here because your boyfriend had invited you. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. That’s what you would say, if anyone asked.

Yet, as the sun glinted off chrome and carbon fibre below, the heat settled on your shoulders, and the champagne slid sour down your throat, you knew it wasn’t true.

You were here because some part of you still hoped, still ached. Still wanted to know what would happen, what it would feel like, if he finally looked back at you. If he knew.

“Come here,” Andre murmured, his voice suddenly close, low against the shell of your ear.

You hadn’t even heard him cross the balcony.

Warm fingers grazed your back as he stepped into your space. He slipped an arm around your waist like he always did in photos, as though he was claiming you for the room. He dipped his head and kissed your temple, lips grazing just behind your ear, his breath running down your neck and tickling the skin just enough to draw a tiny giggle from you.

You tried to keep smiling when he pressed his lips into your hair this time, and turned to face him fully. His cologne was familiar and expensive, but it made your eyes sting today.

His hand tightened on your hip as another car flew past below, the engine screaming with power. Andre glanced toward the circuit, then down at you. “It’s insane, right? You don’t really get the speed until you’re here.” he remarked, louder over the noise. 

You nodded, taking a small sip of your champagne and hiding the grimace with a purse of your lips.

He tilted his head, clearly pleased with himself, and pulled you in closer, his breath warm against your ear again. “See that corner down there? That’s La Rascasse. It’s brutal. Real tight, before the pit entry. If they’re even a little wide on the throttle, they’ll clip the wall. Wreck the whole lap.”

You followed his gesture, eyes landing on the bend he described. The cars swept through single file, inches from the barriers, the angle so sharp it barely seemed possible. One of them twitched through the corner, tyre brushing the kerb, the sound of downshifting echoing up toward you like the snarl of a trapped animal.

“The red one,” he added, “that’s Leclerc. Home race for the guy, pressure’s crazy. Then you’ve got the other Ferrari, that’s Hamilton. Fucking legend, that one. Still pushing at his age, though.”

Your breath caught, even though you managed to nod. Lewis. He’d said it like he was any other driver. As if his name hadn’t settled into every string of DNA of your body a month ago. You kept your face neutral, gaze trained on the circuit as the noise built again, loud enough to drown out your thoughts, if not your pulse. You leaned into Andre slightly, out of habit more than affection, letting him fill the silence and continue to play expert.

He lingered for a moment longer, as if he could feel the tension softening in your body now that he was talking. Then, satisfied, he pressed another kiss into your hairline and murmured, “Let’s get back to the others.”

Andre guided you back toward the small group of people he’d been entertaining, another football player and his partner, a luxury watch rep, someone’s agent. They were all sleek and loud, sun catching on their jewellery and champagne glasses, the sound of the engines folding itself into the rhythm of their conversations.

You stood beside him, one hand light on his chest as he tucked you into his side, and you watched the rest of the race through the screen nearby, your attention drifting. The cars zoomed past below in silver flashes and bursts of rubber, each lap a blur of impossible speed. The sound pulsed in your bones, but your mind wandered to a quieter frequency. After the race had ended, you kept catching yourself scanning the crowd, the screens, the pits. You weren’t sure what you were hoping to see, maybe just a glimpse of him? A shape that might be his? A moment your eyes would meet?

You didn’t know what he looked like behind the helmet in person. Not in motion, not this close to reality. You’d only seen him in stillness, interviews, portraits, a single match photo stamped into your chest and etched into the folds of your brain. You swore if you saw him here, you’d know. Some part of you would just know.

“Ready to head down?” Andre’s voice curled low against your temple, pulling you back.

You blinked with a tilt of your head. “Down?”

He smiled, already turning toward the stairs, with you in tow. “Yeah, couple of people I want to say hi to.”

The walk down was shorter than you expected, yet it felt like descending through layers of noise and light, the chatter of VIPs slowly giving way to the raw chaos of the post-race activity. Heat clung to the stone corridor, mingling with the scent of burnt rubber and engine grease. Your heels clicked faintly against the polished steps, echoing under the covered walkway, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the thrum of your pulse.

Andre’s hand stayed low on your back as he guided you past checkpoints and familiar staff, flashing his lanyard with ease. He belonged in these curated spaces filled with applause and camera flashes, where people smiled with their mouths, but never with their eyes. He moved like someone who expected to be seen.

“Oi, Dre!” Someone called near the entrance to the Ferrari suite, while a man with a deep tan and gold sunglasses clapped him on the shoulder. Another joined in, a few greetings thrown your way as well, the sort of casual, performative affection that made the world of sponsorships and PR spin. You smiled when expected, fingers tightening around your clutch, playing your part as you always did.

Andre soaked it in. He laughed, traded a few easy jokes, kept his arm around your waist the entire time. “This one’s mine,” he said more than once, like you were something to be presented, a curated part of the image. You played along, even as your chest hollowed slightly with each step.

Then, the crowd thinned eventually. The space changed, less champagne and designer bags, more fireproof suits and pit crews. The air turned warmer near the garages, humming with post-race energy. Technicians moved swiftly, coiling cables, checking monitors, packing equipment. Radios crackled, and rubber streaks still stained the concrete beneath your feet.

You turned a corner and the Ferrari garage opened up in front of you, red walls, red shirts, the low whine of fans cooling engines. Lights glowed harsh and clinical above the open bays, and for a second, you weren’t sure what to look at.

You scanned the blur of movement ahead carefully, knowing there was a chance he might be there. Of course he’d be around, this was his team’s garage, and if he was, if he walked around the corner, if you locked eyes across the crowd, if his voice cut through the haze, you couldn’t help but wonder, what then?

You weren’t even sure what you were expecting. Would he give you a charming smile and a startled double take like the MatchDNA ads portrayed? Would something in your soul just click at the sight of him? Would he feel familiar? Or would it feel like meeting anyone else?

Andre nudged you gently, drawing you back from your thoughts when he nodded ahead. “Come on. Charles is over here.”

Your breath stilled slightly at the name, but your feet moved before you could think. You followed automatically, nerves tight beneath your skin. Your gaze lingered over Andre’s shoulder, tracking movement, catching shadows, listening for a voice you’d never heard in real life but would know instantly if it reached you.

There was nothing yet though. Only the driver your boyfriend was tugging you towards, not the one your chest was aching to meet.

Charles Leclerc stood just off to the side, mid-conversation with a team member. He was still glowing from the race, skin flushed with the sheen of adrenaline and effort, a slight pink hue blooming across his high cheekbones. His dark chestnut hair was ruffled from his helmet, a few rogue strands falling across his forehead in that effortless way.

He had the kind of beauty that drew your eye without trying. That camera-ready handsomeness that was striking, but clean, almost too perfect like a fairytale prince. There was a softness to his features, even in the harsh fluorescent light, and yet his presence was unmistakably sharp. He laughed at something the mechanic said, the sound warm and rich, before he turned, catching sight of Andre first, then you.

“Charles, hell of a drive, man,” Andre grinned, pulling him into a handshake that turned into a one-armed hug.

Charles smiled, a little breathless but polite. “Ahh thank you, thank you. Car felt good today.”

They exchanged a few more words about tyres, the late safety car, the track temperature, and you lingered just off to the side, close enough to be seen, but not quite included. The moment was theirs, and you hovered at its edge like a footnote. 

It wasn’t long before your attention had already drifted, your senses tuned to the one voice you’d been waiting to hear all day. You scanned the far edges of the garage again, past the pit wall, past the sponsor signage, past the backs of men in matching polos, searching again.

Then, you heard it.

A voice just past the open bay doors, faint beneath the static of a nearby radio. It was smooth, and familiar even though you'd never heard it in person. Your heart jumped, caught between beats. You didn’t even realise you’d turned your head until you were already facing it.

You managed to catch a glimpse, not even a full figure, just the side of someone’s frame moving past a stack of tyres. A flash of red and white, dark braids under a cap, and the glint of diamonds at their neck. Your stomach flipped immediately, fingers curling around your clutch in anticipation.

He didn’t stop though. Whoever it was, they disappeared into the blur of motion before your eyes could focus. Another staff member blocked your view, then the voice faded. It could’ve been anyone…but you knew better.

Your pulse surged in your throat, too loud, too fast. A sheen of heat crept up your neck, under your jaw. You swallowed, forcing your gaze back to where Andre and Charles stood, and only then realised Charles had turned toward you.

“Oh-this is my girlfriend,” Andre offered at last, as though it had just occurred to him. “First time at a race.”

You stepped forward instinctively, slipping your hand into Charles’ outstretched one. “Hi. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Welcome,” he replied warmly, that gentle Monegasque lilt curling around his words. His grip was firm, assured, his smile soft. “Hope we didn’t scare you off yet.”

You smiled, though your heart hadn’t settled. “Not yet.”

The three of you exchanged a few more pleasantries, and Charles remained kind, engaged, thoughtful in a way that made it easy to see why people adored him. However, you were only half there, nodding along, a light laugh where needed, because your mind kept wandering back to the corner of the garage. To that voice, the place where you thought he might still be standing, hidden behind the chaos of cables and bodies in motion.

For a brief second, you’d felt the strange, cellular recognition you’d feared and wanted equally,  but it slipped through your fingers before you could even turn fully toward it. Now, all that remained was a hollow echo in the base of your ribs. An ache you couldn’t give a name to.

Your hands were still warm from the handshake, but it wasn’t Charles you were thinking about.

As Andre's arm curled once again around your waist and steered you back through the tunnel of light and noise, your steps felt lighter than they should. It felt…unfinished, like a string had been pulled inside your chest, then dropped. The ache curled low in your stomach, but you tried to brush it off.

Maybe he wasn’t here, maybe he’d already left. Maybe that hadn’t even been him at all.

Your fingers tightened around your clutch as you stepped back into the warm press of early evening air, blinking against the gold light that had begun to settle over the harbour. The sun hung lower now, casting the paddock in a burnished glow, everything gilded and gleaming like a dream just beginning to fade.

Your mind was already slipping forward, hours ahead to the thrum of music vibrating through polished decks, to the sound of glasses clinking and shoes clicking across teak floors, to the flash of lights bouncing off the dark mirror of the sea.

Somewhere in that floating constellation of yachts, names and champagne-soaked moments…he might be there. You weren’t sure what you hoped for more, to see him, or not to.

By the time the sun began its descent over the harbour, you were stepping onto the wide teak deck of the yacht.

It was lit like a dream against the waters of Port Hercule, floating in the afterglow of the Monaco Grand Prix like a palace on the sea. Every glossy surface gleamed under golden light, crystal glasses glittering on marble counters, silver trays piled high with canapés, the scent of expensive perfume drifting on the salt-kissed air. Music thumped low from somewhere inside, pulsing through the teak deck as guests milled about in curated decadence.

You’d boarded behind Andre, your heels clicking softly on the wooden floor, the hem of your dress whispering against your thighs as your eyes adjusted to the glow. He looked back at you once, offering his hand as you came up the gangway, then let it fall away as he moved towards a group of men by the open bar.

You smoothed your hand over your dress for the third time.

This one was darker, with an off-the-shoulder neckline that skimmed your collarbones and dipped just enough to feel flirtatious. The skirt was short but structured, hem resting mid-thigh with a side slit that revealed your legs when you moved. You’d paired it with barely-there high heels, glittering jewellery, and a glossy sheen to your lips. You had dressed like the kind of woman who belonged here, even if you weren’t sure you did.

Andre had noticed it too.

“Damn. You look…really good,” he’d murmured earlier, the compliment casual but genuine, as if it had slipped out before he could think twice. 

He complimented you sometimes, when he remembered, when his mind wasn’t pulled in five other directions, but it still caught you off guard. For every kind word, there had been an absent one, a distracted glance, or a quiet critique disguised as advice. Tonight though, you’d caught his eye long enough to register the glint of approval in it, and it landed harder than you wanted it to. You’d smiled, warm and grateful, even though part of your heart had already folded away from him.

You still loved him. Enough that moments like this still lit up in your chest. Enough to feel that familiar flicker of hope when he showed you that kind of attention, even after everything. Even after late nights, missed birthdays, half-truths and photo ops. Even after the loneliness. Validation from someone who used to mean everything felt like a lifeline, even if you weren’t sure what it was tied to anymore.

You stayed close to Andre when you first arrived, moving through the party together. Andre introduced you to a few people, a football midfielder he’d played with in Qatar, a couple of French influencers whose voices were far too quiet over the music, but he was soon swept away into a circle of men with watches the price of an entire mortgage and louder laughs.

You found yourself mingling with a group of women you’d met moments after boarding, all impossibly beautiful, glowing with bronzed skin, flawless smiles, and a curated effortlessness that made you feel like a half-finished painting. They were kind enough, asked where you were from, complimented your earrings, snapped photos with arms slung around each other. You laughed when they did, letting yourself feel normal. One of them, dark-haired and dripping in diamonds, offered you a glass of champagne from a passing tray with a conspiratorial wink.

“Better drink while it’s cold, babe.”

You laughed politely and sipped. The champagne was crisp and bone-dry, fizzing against your tongue.

The girls were sweet enough. One was American, the other Dutch, and there was a local Monegasque as well, already tipsy enough to be dancing barefoot on the deck’s smooth wood. You smiled when they looped you into a photo, and politely excused yourself when they turned their attention to some boys in cream coloured polos who’d just arrived.

As you stepped back from the circle, glass in hand, your eyes flicked across the deck again. You scanned the crowd, tracking familiar movements, silhouettes, profiles. You were looking for Andre, you told yourself. Just Andre.

You took the staircase to the upper deck slowly, your heels tapping a quiet rhythm as you climbed. The noise softened the higher you went, fading into a luxurious hush broken only by the thrum of engines below and the soft rush of waves beyond the rail.

There were still people up here, of course. A few lingered near the edge of the jacuzzi, low conversation drifting from a couple curled together on one of the padded lounges, and laughter rising briefly from a trio smoking something sweet-smelling beneath the mast light.

No one noticed you, and it was just what you needed.

The music shifted into a more upbeat rhythm as you moved closer to the railing for a bit of air, your glass still in one hand, your phone in the other. The view was unreal. The lights of Monte Carlo glittered like scattered gold dust along the shore.

You exhaled slowly, letting your shoulders drop and relax, before glancing around again. Just a flick of your eyes over your shoulder, across the top deck. A slow sweep, like maybe you were just curious who else had made their way up here.

You weren’t looking for anyone in particular. Of course you weren’t, you didn’t even know if he’d be here. Still…when your gaze met only strangers, a weight in your chest dipped slightly, like the tide retreating. You turned back to the sea and lifted your glass, letting the champagne rest against your bottom lip.

The bubbles fizzed faintly, while the breeze kissed your cheek. Then, you raised your phone. The light was beautiful now, melting into lavender and gold, refracting off the dark surface of the water like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. You tapped the shutter once, then again.

Until suddenly, the boat rocked.

It wasn’t much, just a soft shift beneath your heels, until a second sway sent a wobble through your balance. 

“Careful.” 

A voice found you just as your balance slipped from the sudden tilt of the deck beneath your heels. You felt your hand grasp the rail, your phone wobble dangerously in the other, and then your glass tipped. A sharp splash of cold liquid streaked down someone’s shirt.

Not just anyone’s.

A warm hand had caught your waist, but the fizzing spill had already hit. Golden bubbles across dark fabric, glinting under the mast lights.

“Shit.” Your breath caught, before your eyes snapped up, and the world stopped.

The person you’d just doused in champagne…was him. 

Him. 

The man your DNA had chosen.

His presence struck you before your mind had time to catch up, because your body already knew. It was cellular, as though your bones remembered something you hadn’t lived yet. A memory embedded in your marrow. A signal flashing between neurons before your thoughts could intervene.

You straightened slowly, your hand still pressed to the rail, breath twisted like a thread in your chest. Your body had gone tight and weightless all at once. Your skin thrummed with awareness as you turned. Your heart faltered, and then soared like it had heard its name spoken for the first time in years.

He blinked slowly, glancing down at his shirt with a faint furrow between his brows, then looked back up at you.

Everything else disappeared.

Time narrowed into a line, a single tiny thread suspended between your gaze and his. The laughter from the jacuzzi, the music thumping from below deck, the lapping of waves against the hull, all dropped away. His hand still anchored you, warm at your side, but it was his eyes that held you in place. 

There he was.

Lewis Hamilton.

Standing just inches from you. Breathtaking, even in the golden blur of dusk.

He was beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair, no camera could ever truly capture it. The fine scar above his eyebrow, the freckle on his cheekbone, the soft fan of his long eyelashes catching the last gold streaks of dusk. His full, defined lips parted slightly, eyes scanning your face as though he was trying to place you. There was no double take or movie-perfect gasp. Just a subtle stillness that washed over his features. An inward lean, a pause in the air, as if an invisible current had just shifted.

His brows drew in the slightest fraction, his gaze scanning your features, not impolitely, just searching, studying. Then, the barest flick of his brown eyes over you, a pause so subtle it might’ve been missed by anyone else, but you felt it.

Was it recognition? Curiosity? Surprise? You didn’t know, but it felt like you were being seen, truly seen.

A muscle ticked faintly in his jaw with a subtle restraint, his lips parting as if to speak, then stopped; a slow breath left him instead, the kind that came from deeper than thought, as though he’d felt the same gravity, the same invisible pull, and was steadying himself beneath it.

Your skin burned where his hand still rested at your waist. The fizz of champagne on your tongue had nothing on the way your nerve endings lit up under his touch. His eyes dipped slightly, it didn’t feel sleazy though, just curious. A single glance down the line of your dress, the way the fabric curved at your waist, the off the shoulder cut showing off the faint glow across your collarbones.

Then, his gaze returned to yours again. Your pulse surged beneath your skin, thudding against your ribs. The heat in your cheeks bloomed upward, brushing the tips of your ears. The world felt like it had folded inward, collapsing into the silence stretched between the space of his hand and the racing of your heart. You didn’t know him, but somehow, in every way that mattered, you already did.

A strange ache opened inside your chest. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, not from one look or a single touch, yet, the air felt changed now. Marked.

Found you, your heart whispered.

You couldn’t tell if it was relief or panic that followed.

His low, smooth voice broke through the heavy quiet. “Are you alright?”

The question landed softly, but it knocked the breath from your chest like it had been waiting to catch you off guard. His hand still lingered at your waist, keeping you steady, while your heart thudded faster, as though it was trying to leap out to meet his.

For a moment, you were suspended in him, in the sound of his voice, the heat of his skin, the faint scent of his cologne on him beneath the champagne, stirring up something deeper. Memory or myth, you couldn’t tell, but it wrapped around your spine and curled up into your throat until you tasted it behind your teeth.

His thumb moved, just barely, grazing your side in a motion that felt instinctive, as if his body was answering a question yours had already asked.

“I-” You swallowed, the word stuck behind the sudden swell in your throat. “I didn’t expect it to sway like that.”

Your voice came out smaller than you meant, more breath than sound. You saw the faint lift at the corner of his mouth, a curl of amusement. He dipped his head slightly, as if acknowledging a private confirmation between you.

“Not too much champagne, I hope?” he chuckled, withdrawing his hand from your waist slowly.

The absence of his touch left a ghost behind, a warmth that lingered even as the sea breeze teased the skin along your ribs. You couldn’t tell if it was from the champagne or from him, probably both.

A soft, started laugh escaped before you could stop it. “No-” you shook your head, cheeks burning.

Your eyes dropped to his shirt and you winced. The fabric clung to him now, soft cotton or silk turned translucent by the spray of champagne. Your gaze stalled for a moment at the open chest, then down the lines it revealed beneath, the compass tattoo at the dip of his sternum, his carved abs, then snapped back up, mortified. “I didn’t mean to-I’m so sorry.”

Your hand fluttered like it wanted to do something to save you from this utter humiliation, to dab at the mess, disappear into the sea, rewind time. Anything.

Lewis glanced down at his shirt with the most casual shrug you’d ever seen on someone dressed like a Dior campaign. When he looked back up at you, his eyes were still laced with quiet amusement.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “I’ve had worse.”

It should’ve eased the heat burning in your cheeks, but didn’t, because his eyes hadn’t left your face again, not even for a second longer than necessary. Not to check for stains or reach for a napkin. Just you.

You found yourself staring again, and you couldn’t even pretend to hide it, because this was him. Him. The match you thought you’d never meet. The man with the name you’d whispered only to yourself when the results came through. The one you’d tried to pretend hadn’t been on your mind the moment you’d seen his face.

Now he was here, inches away, smiling at you.

His attention shifted toward the glass still clutched limply in your hand. Then back to your face, a teasing glint slipping through the quiet.

“Got any left in there?” he asked lightly, like he didn’t want to push too hard. The gentleness made it feel even more intimate somehow.

You followed his glance, startled by the lack of champagne swaying at the very bottom of your glass. “Oh…no. I think most of it’s on you.”

A quiet laugh broke from him, rolled through you like warm honey, catching in all the places that had forgotten what sweetness felt like. You didn’t realize how tightly you’d been wound until his laugh loosened the tension in your chest.

“Well.” He shrugged, an almost-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Guess that means I owe you a drink, then. Only if you promise not to spill it on me again.”

You smiled in return without realising, your cheeks had finally caught up with your heart.

“That seems fair,” you managed, the words skating out on a breath that felt lighter than anything you’d felt in weeks.

His eyes crinkled faintly at the edges with a slight tilt of his head, before his gaze drifted out across the water. Below deck, the music shifted again, a slower beat rising up like a tide, distant and muffled through layers of glass and laughter. Lamplight from the yacht’s mast cut golden angles through the dusk, haloing the tips of Lewis’ braids, and brushing the edge of his jaw.

Then, with that same quiet warmth, his voice threaded through the stillness again.

“You in town for the race?”

The question felt easy, casual, and his tone wasn’t pushy. If anything, it felt like he was trying to stretch the moment just a little longer. Hold the thread between you tighter to see if you’d let it spool.

You shifted your weight gently against the railing, feeling the sway of the boat beneath your feet like the slow exhale of a breath neither of you had released yet.

“I am,” you nodded, finding your voice again. “First time, actually.”

His eyebrow arched faintly, and the corner of his mouth lifted like interest sharpened with just a trace of amusement. “Yeah? How are you finding it?”

The way he asked it…it was such a simple question, but the way he looked at you when he did, direct, curious, and open, made it feel like he wasn’t just asking about the race. It sounded like he wanted to hear your version of it.

You glanced out over the city lights in the distance, glittering like a spill of stars along the curve of the harbour. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, even though he wasn’t touching you anymore.

“It was a lot,” you admitted, your smile giving you away before you could stop it. “Louder than I expected, and so much faster than on TV. It was really fun though.”

His gaze didn’t waver, a small nod tipping his head. “Well, I’m glad we put on a good show for you.”

You felt your smile tug deeper, warmer this time, and before you could second-guess it, you let the words slip out. “You really did.”

“So you’re not from around here then,” he added after a small pause, turning slightly, one forearm bracing lightly against the rail. His fingers curled casually, but his body stayed angled toward yours, holding the space open like he was still trying to read you, listening intently.

You shook your head, brushing strands of windblown hair from your cheek. The breeze was picking up now, stirring the hem of your dress, lifting the scent of saltwater and perfume in the air. “No, just visiting from London.”

His eyes lit just faintly at that, a glint of familiarity slipping through the dusk. “London?” he repeated, the word fitting easily on his tongue. “Not too far from home.”

You gave a gentle shrug in response, the sea breeze brushing over your bare shoulders and catching in your hair. 

“How’s Monaco treating you then?” he asked after a beat, his voice warm. 

You glanced out across the water where the coastline glittered like a broken necklace, lights flickering against the waves. The city was dreamlike and elegant, history stacked into the hills. It felt like a scene out of a movie, the kind of place you could watch from a distance but never quite touch, until now.

“It’s stunning,” you replied, the words leaving you on a breath. “It looks like a postcard, honestly. The weather has been so nice as well, really different from London.”

Lewis tilted his head slightly, considering your words. “Yeah, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Your eyes flicked back to him and you felt that strange ache pulse through you again. He seemed at home here, all sleek and in control, but the way he spoke it made you wonder how often he actually felt at home.

“It’s not like London though,” he added, leaning back toward the horizon. “I miss it sometimes.”

You smiled faintly, the word sometimes catching you more than it should’ve. “Really? I can’t imagine anyone here would be missing the grey skies.”

“Definitely not the weather, but I miss my family. My mum’s roast dinners too,” he laughed, and the smile that followed was different, laced with affection that softened the angles of his face. “You know how hard it is to get a proper roast out here?”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his words, the sound bubbled up like the champagne you hadn’t finished. “I can imagine. Not much gravy on the Riviera, huh?”

“Exactly,” he grinned, that flash of his pearly teeth sending another ripple through your chest. “No gravy, no proper Yorkshire puddings…I’m telling you, people out here think a roast is just some dry potatoes and herbs.”

You grinned back, your fingers tightening lightly around the empty stem of your glass. “That’s gotta be criminal.”

“It is,” he agreed, mock serious. 

Another shared laugh followed. The space between you seemed smaller now, not physically, but in the way the world had quietly shrunk to the two of you. The party blurred on the boat, just colour and sound muffled behind your conversation, but none of it felt real anymore.

There was an ease in talking to him, it felt natural, like you hadn’t just spilled your drink all over him. As though this wasn’t the kind of moment that could shift the axis of your world if you let it.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I’m ever hosting Sunday dinner,” you murmured, and the moment stretched between you, light yet charged.

His brow lifted, a beat of amusement in his voice. “Wouldn’t say no to a dinner invitation like that.”

You chuckled softly under your breath, fingers brushing the cool metal of the railing again, needing something to ground you. 

The sky above had darkened deeper now, soft twilight bruising into night, stars barely visible through the city haze. It all felt surreal, this moment, this place, him, the way he looked at you as if he wasn’t used to being surprised by people anymore, and yet somehow, you’d managed it.

His fingers drummed faintly against the railing, then stilled. He glanced sideways again, slower this time, and his voice came a little lower. “So what’s someone like you doing up here alone?”

The question wasn’t sharp or loaded. It didn’t come with a smirk or a knowing edge. It felt…honest, curious, even, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

Your lashes lifted, pulse skimming your throat. “What do you mean?”

Lewis shrugged one shoulder lightly, gaze trailing back to the water but not fully leaving you. “You’re too beautiful to be hiding out on your own. Feels like a waste of a view.”

It wasn’t a line. Something about the way he said it felt earnest, as though he wasn’t trying to charm you. Like he genuinely couldn’t make sense of you standing here without someone’s arm around you.

Your heart kicked in your chest, a flutter that danced up through your ribs and warmed the tips of your ears. Beautiful. The Match had said it, your gut had whispered it, but now it was here, on his lips, in a moment too surreal to fake.

You felt the tilt deep inside you, the faintest shift, the unsteady beginning of belief that maybe it wasn’t just timing, maybe it wasn’t all in your head. Maybe it was fate.

Just as quickly, reality clawed its way back in, like ice cold water splashed onto sun-warmed skin. You’d heard words like that before, from someone who’d looked at you the same way in public, only to turn his phone face down in private. Someone who always had a reason to be elsewhere when you needed proof. You’d learned not to mistake attention for intention.

So you smiled softly in response, almost apologetic, and cleared your throat gently.

“Actually, I…” you began, eyes flicking briefly down to your glass, then back to his. The look he gave you was open, unpressured, but he’d heard the shift in your tone. “My boyfriend’s downstairs.”

There was no judgment in his face, no surprise, even. Just a quiet exhale and a small, understanding dip of his chin, yet something in the air around you changed. Not colder, but…stiller, as if the night itself had paused for a beat, then moved on.

He nodded once, slowly. “Ah…lucky guy.”

The compliment was soft, barely more than breath, but not lingering or suggestive. Just a simple acknowledgment that carried more weight than it ought to have.

You looked away, eyes tracing the curve of the horizon where the sea kissed the night, your fingers tightening subtly around the rim of your glass. It shouldn’t have mattered, not what he thought, not how warm his voice was, or how easy it had felt to talk to him, but it was disarming in the way he stood there, present, but never crowding. Interested, but never invasive.

He shifted his stance, leaning a little more comfortably against the rail, forearm brushing the cool metal. “He should be careful letting you wander off all alone,” he mused, his tone light and teasing. “Could’ve fallen overboard earlier.”

“Good thing you were here to save me, then.” Your smile caught before you could stop it, lips curving around the quiet rush of amusement that bloomed in your chest. 

Lewis glanced sideways at you, and this time the smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Guess that makes me the hero tonight.”

A breeze curled between you, warmer now, laced with the scent of sea spray and alcohol drifting up from the party below. The light caught on the fine chain around your neck, the glittering rim of your now-empty glass, the faint shimmer of sweat at his temple where the heat hadn’t yet let go.

He tilted his head, that familiar quiet curiosity returning. “Think he’s wondering where you are?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, your gaze dropped to the deck below, wondering where he might be. Down the stairs, in the soft halo of deck lights, you spotted Andre. He was standing near the edge of the main deck, glass in hand, laughing with a few others casually, animated, like this was just another night, as though he didn’t even notice you’d slipped away. 

His smile was dazzling, the kind that could silence a room, charm any sponsor, and undo the damage of almost any headline. He looked every bit the man the world adored, tall, magnetic, gorgeous. What made your stomach turn wasn’t just him though, it was the woman beside him.

One of the girls you’d spoken to earlier with the silver earrings, who’d complimented your dress, asked where your shoes were from, and smiled like you were friends already. Now, she was angled toward your boyfriend as if the rest of the world had vanished, her fingers brushing his arm, laughing at something he’d said with her head tilted back just so.

You weren’t even sure what you felt at first. It wasn’t jealousy, more like a quiet, sinking humiliation. A cold awareness creeping beneath your skin and turning your blood to ice.

This was the reality of the world you lived in. The one you didn’t talk about when you posted pictures in a private jet or walked through glittery events or smiled through interviews. Andre was a handsome, talented, and wealthy athlete. Women threw themselves shamelessly at men like him, whether you were there or not. You’d grown used to it, the subtle glances, the lingering stares, the way some girls smiled at you and flirted with him in the same breath, as though it didn’t mean anything.

Only it did, especially when you’d been with someone who’d proven he could give in and burned you before.

The sharp bloom of shame at the back of your throat surprised you. You swallowed it, a subtle sigh easing past your lips.

“Doesn’t look like it,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He heard it though. His brow furrowed slightly when he followed your line of sight, the shift so small most people wouldn’t have noticed, but you did, and maybe he knew that too, because he didn’t press. Didn’t offer a pitying glance or some cliched reassurance. Just let the silence settle again, low and steady, like a tide pulling back.

You lingered there a moment longer, lips parting like you might say something else, but nothing came. Only the sound of music pulsing below, the echo of laughter, the warm pull of his gaze still settled loosely on your face.

“I should…” you said finally, voice softer than before. It trailed off like seafoam breaking against a rock, your fingers already shifting around the glass.

Lewis dipped his head, just once. “Yeah.”

You turned, not quite meeting his eyes as you stepped away from the railing, heels brushing lightly against the teak deck, but a small thread of instinct made you pause, just before the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you.” You offered, glancing over your shoulder. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile was quieter now, almost introspective, yet still warm. “Anytime.”

You nodded politely, trying not to make more of the moment than it was, and just as your hand reached for the stair rail, his voice caught you again.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

You paused and turned back slightly. The lights painted soft gold along your cheekbones, casting a glow beneath your eyes as your lips curved gently.

You told him your name.

Lewis held your gaze for a moment longer, then repeated your name back. “Pretty name.”

The way he’d said it was thoughtful, as if he’d tucked it away already, filed it under something that might mean more one day. 

“I’m Lewis,” he added, his palm settling below his sternum, gesturing to himself.

“I know.”

You left the words there, and turned before he could answer, your heels clicking gently against the floor of the yacht as you walked away, heart pounding in your chest as if it was trying to break free. Then, you were gone, down into the heat of the party, into the arms of someone who’d forgotten to look for you.

The music swelled as you descended, some deep, slow bass line that vibrated through the soles of your shoes. Laughter rose in pockets around you, glasses clinking, perfume curling in the warm Monaco air. You passed a trio of influencers posing against the glowing backdrop of the coastline, a man lighting a cigar, someone handing out shots to a group that looked barely old enough to be drinking them.

The yacht felt like a dream, too rich, too gold, too unreal, but the pit in your stomach grounded you in reality.

You moved towards Andre, who was now leaning with one elbow propped casually against the rail, the woman still beside him. She hadn’t moved much, her hand now lingering near his waist as she leaned in to say something, her long, shiny hair catching the light. He laughed again as though it was easy, like it was nothing.

Your throat tightened at the sound. You hated that it still hurt, hated that you could stand on a deck this beautiful, dressed immaculately and bathed in moonlight, yet still feel like a schoolgirl walking in on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

The woman noticed you first. She straightened slightly, her eyes flickering over your figure as you approached. A tight smile pulled at her mouth, perfectly polite without a trace of guilt or apology.

You returned it, just as cool, just as detached.

“Andre,” you called out, light and smooth, as though you hadn’t been watching the whole time. As though you weren’t replaying every shift of body language in your head. “There you are.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a second, you caught the flicker of surprise. Maybe guilt, or maybe it was just inconvenience.

“Hey, babe.” He straightened, reaching for you with ease. His arm wrapped around your waist, and his lips brushed your cheek. “You disappeared.”

You leaned into the kiss enough to play your part. “Went for some air. It was a little much down here.”

He nodded absently, then turned back to the girl beside him. “You’ve met, right?”

You had, but barely. You’d exchanged names earlier in the evening, shared compliments and champagne, laughed at something shallow and harmless. The kind of interaction women like you were supposed to have, friendly, smiling, surface-level.

She tilted her head now. “Of course. You look great, by the way.”

There it was again, the casual dismissal. The way they all did it, smile in your face, flirt with your boyfriend, and act like you were the one overreacting if you noticed.

You smiled back, saccharine sweet. “Thanks. You too.”

Andre’s hand lingered at your lower back, and you let it. You knew the choreography, this was what it meant to be the girl on his arm, to look beautiful, to look unbothered, to smile even when your heart was straining against the inside of your chest like it wanted out.

You glanced up at him as he turned away again to take a sip of his drink, and you thought to yourself, not for the first time, that love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to be something you constantly had to perform, yet here you were, playing your part to perfection.

The night spilled forward like a slow pour of champagne, rich, glittering, and deceptively sweet. Music continued to thud through the floorboards, reverberating up your calves as you walked alongside Andre, his arm slung casually around your waist like an expensive accessory he’d picked out for the evening. His hand stayed there, fingers splayed just enough to signal that you were his.

He wasn’t drunk, but the tequila was warming through him, loosening his grip on composure. The more attention you drew, a lingering glance here, a turned head there, the more tightly his fingers curled around your side.

A man across the deck watched you with wandering eyes that dipped, trailing down your figure, and didn’t bother hiding it. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught in the cadence of the conversation you’d found yourself in with someone Andre had been speaking to, but you felt him clock it. His posture shifted, and his arm tightened. Then came the kiss on your temple, just a press of lips to mark territory, his hand skimming lower along your back.

You smiled through it and bit back the sigh. This was the game, the world you moved through. You’d known it from the start.

A world where beauty was currency and attention never ran dry. Where women with slick smiles and sparkling eyes could befriend you at the bar, compliment your dress, toast your relationship, then flirt with your partner the moment you turned your head. Where fidelity was a performance more than a promise, and monogamy cracked easily under the weight of proximity and ego. 

You glanced across the crowd, a fresh champagne glass cold in your fingers. You noticed Lewis standing a few metres away, laughing lightly with a small circle. One of them, a tall man with short curls and tattoos, lounged on the low cushioned bench with a girl perched confidently on his lap, drink in hand and legs draped over his thigh. Another leaned in from the other side, whispering something into his ear, her fingers idly tracing the ink along his arm. 

The man laughed, basking in the attention, while Lewis chuckled at something one of them said. His posture remained slightly removed, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing loosely, his attention never quite locked in, as though he was present, but not participating.

Still, he looked good. Shirt unbuttoned, the patch of champagne now dried off, throat glinting with diamonds, and confident ease the way he carried himself. You didn’t know the full cast of characters he surrounded himself with, but they were beautiful. They were the kind of people who lived in nightclubs and yachts, swimming in money.

You knew you should look away. You should’ve been paying attention to Andre, who was introducing you now to a few more people, other fellow athletes, someone from a sponsor brand who’d flown in from Madrid.

You nodded politely, sipped your drink, smiled when expected, but you could feel Lewis again. A prickle at the nape of your neck, that strange pull, like gravity had shifted, and you’d felt it in your chest.

You glanced over once more, unable to help yourself, and there he was. Eyes already on you.

He didn’t smile or nod, just held your gaze for a moment that stretched longer than it should have, as though it wasn’t the first time he’d looked, as though you weren’t the only one failing to ignore the thread that kept tugging between you.

Your pulse kicked up, and you looked away. Andre’s hand was still on your waist, his voice in your ear, and his thumb now rubbing slow, proprietary circles along your hip. You laughed softly at something he said, even though you didn’t hear it. 

It was all too loud, too bright. The blur of lights, bass and perfume, a stir of emotion rising in your chest. Want, frustration, a hope that had no business being there. 

So you sipped your champagne. You weren’t drunk enough for this yet.

Then, it happened.

From the edge of the crowd, that familiar voice cut through the thump of music and idle chatter. Low, warm, rich with that calm cadence you’d felt in your bones ever since hearing it for the first time.

“Dedanović!”

Just the one word, your boyfriend’s surname, spoken like a familiar greeting, and the hairs on the back of your neck perked up. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Andre straightened, brightening as he turned. “Ayy, no way,” he grinned, stepping forward like the sea had just parted to make way for an old friend. “Look who finally showed up.”

Their handshake was casual, strong, a clasped shake and pull-in, two men who’d met before under better lighting and more controlled circumstances. There was history in it, shared circles, overlapping rooms, a familiarity that came from being mainstays in the same pantheon of fame.

“Still watching the games, yeah?” Andre asked, clapping Lewis’s shoulder in that easy, masculine way that made you feel like furniture in the room.

Lewis chuckled, flashing a slow grin. “Wouldn’t miss it. You finished strong this year, man.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is.” Andre shrugged, pleased but modest, eyes gleaming. “Carried the back end of the season, mate”

You stood quietly, drink in hand, a faint smile, perfectly placed right where you were expected to be. They hadn’t acknowledged you yet, which wasn’t unusual. Men like them often treated women like accessories in these settings, not out of malice, just a kind of unconscious hierarchy. 

Until Andre remembered himself.

“Oh-” he added, turning and gesturing toward you, “This is my girl. I don’t think you two’ve met.”

Before you could let him finish, you spoke up, your voice soft but clear, something inside you refusing to let him introduce you like a footnote. “We’ve met.”

Lewis turned to you fully now, where his eyes found yours again, darker in the shifting deck lights, but still warm. Still knowing.

“Almost took a swim earlier,” he remarked lightly, mouth quirking as he tilted his head slightly in your direction. “Lucky I was there to catch her.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Andre’s face, followed by a twist of amusement. “Sorry for the hassle, man,” he laughed, reaching over to rub your back lightly, the way someone would calm a pet. “Clumsy this one. Don’t know how she gets around in those shoes.”

You laughed softly, like it didn’t sting. As though you hadn’t just been spoken over and flattened into a stereotype you didn’t recognise. 

“It was no trouble,” Lewis replied, voice light but sure. His eyes flicked to you for a second, he wanted you to believe it, a silent don’t listen to him threaded between the lines.

He saw it, the way your smile dimmed when Andre spoke about you as if you weren’t there. The way your posture shifted, subtle yet telling, as if you were folding back into yourself to make room for his pride. You wondered if he always noticed people like this, or if it was just you.

Andre chuckled again, missing it entirely. “Can’t resist a bit of attention, can she?” he nudged you playfully with his elbow, as if that might ease the sting of the words that came before. 

The words hit like cold water poured down the back of your dress. You didn’t flinch at it outwardly, but you felt the tension tighten in your throat.

Then, without missing a beat or letting the moment breathe, Andre turned back to Lewis, already shifting gears.

“How’s the first Ferrari season going? Still with them next year?” he asked, already moving the conversation forward, like the moment hadn’t happened at all.

You stayed quiet, glass in hand, gaze flicking briefly toward the horizon, where the lights of the marina twinkled like a thousand tiny answers you didn’t have. The sea was calm now, unlike the current threading through your body.

As the two men continued their exchange, sponsorships, off-season plans, trips and upcoming events. You felt invisible again, just a lovely shape in the background, well-dressed and poised, but uninvited into the circle of real conversation. You could feel Lewis glance at you throughout, attempting to make you feel included, but you found yourself still hidden in Andre’s shadow as his hand flailed in front of you while he explained a story about one of their games against Liverpool.

That was until Lewis spoke again after the story came to a close.

“You enjoying the party?” Lewis asked, directing the question toward you, not Andre, his voice cutting through the flow with subtle precision.

It caught you off guard. You blinked, then nodded faintly, your throat dry from more than just the champagne.

“Don’t let that face fool you, she’s loving this,” Andre laughed, tugging you closer by the waist with a smug sort of fondness in his tone that made you feel more like a show pony than a person.

You wondered how you looked to Lewis in that moment, tucked in tight beside a man who touched you to make a point. You wondered if he saw the way your body stiffened, how you tilted the glass to your lips so it gave you something to do, because if your mouth was full, you couldn’t say something you’d regret.

There was a small pause then, not completely awkward, but not comfortable either, as if Lewis had registered the subtle shift in temperature. His gaze lingered just a second too long on the place where Andre’s fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. You felt it, you were seen. in a way that was terrifying and relieving all at once.

“Lewis!” Someone called from further down the deck, a man in a blazer waving toward the bar, already half turned away as if assuming he’d follow. 

Lewis’s eyes flicked up, toward the voice, then back to you briefly.

You hated how much you wanted him to say something, anything.

Instead, he offered a polite smile, then, with a low breath and a brief clasp of Andre’s shoulder, he nodded. “Alright, I better get going.”

“Catch up later, yeah?” Andre grinned, lifting his glass in farewell like old friends do. “Drinks on me.”

Lewis gave another small nod, glancing at you again. It felt like a sentence left half-written, something he couldn’t finish here, before he turned.

You watched his back as he disappeared into the fold of bodies, past the polished glass, the glittering railings, the cameras flashing toward someone important. The place where noise swallowed people whole. Then, he was gone.

Andre leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple like punctuation, completely unaware that the chapter had already turned.

The night deepened around you, thick with the sea breeze and lights. Laughter echoed from the upper decks, a glass shattered somewhere near the bar, and the sea hummed below. The yacht moved gently with the tide, a slow rock that barely registered beneath your heels now.

You'd found your way to the quieter edge of the party again, fingers hooked loosely around the stem of your glass. You'd excused yourself from Andre's side when the conversation turned to transfer windows and brand deals, your presence no longer needed once the cameras were gone and the right people had seen you wrapped around his arm long enough.

You stood alone, just outside the golden ring of light from the overhead sconces, half in shadow. Your gaze drifted again, aimless at first. Until it wasn’t, until you spotted him again.

Lewis stood a little higher up near the bar, leaning against the railing casually, with a half-empty glass in hand, and his head tilted as he listened to the woman beside him. She was stunning, the kind of woman who made you feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat. Olive skin, sharp cheekbones, blonde hair tucked neatly behind one ear, a tiny dress tight around her figure. It fit her like a second skin, shimmering every time she moved beneath the light.

Her hand was on his arm, in a way that seemed familiar, as if she’d done it many times before. A laugh slipped from her mouth, and she angled her body closer to his, the proximity too easy to ignore.

You told yourself to look away. You turned your head slightly, nodding at something one of the girls passing by had said, you weren’t even sure what the words had been, but you weren’t really there anymore. The air had gone thin, the buzz of conversation muffled beneath the pulse in your ears.

Against your will, your eyes found him again. Lewis glanced across the deck, and found you, instantly. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between you. He didn’t smile, didn’t shift, but there was a flicker of recognition, a softness that made your chest twist painfully.

The woman beside him followed his gaze. You saw her turn, noticing you, and adjusting her stance in a way that was almost imperceptible, a subtle possession. The hand that had been resting on his arm curled slightly higher, nails grazing the fabric of his sleeve as if to remind him she was still there.

You looked away too quickly, pretended to glance at the horizon, at the lights trembling along the waterline, but curiosity was cruel. You felt it gnawing at the edges until you looked back again, too late to stop yourself.

She was leaning in now, close enough that her lips brushed the curve of his ear. You watched him smile, that quiet, effortless smile that could disarm anyone, the faintest spark of amusement crossing his face, as if he’d just heard something intimate. His eyes dropped slowly from her face to her mouth.

Then, she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft by any means, it was confident, this was a woman who’d done this before and didn’t need permission. His hand came up instinctively, steadying her arm, but not pushing her away.

You felt the world tilt around you. A dull ache filled your stomach, spreading upward into a mouthwatering nausea. The sound of the music blurred, the bass dulling into a sick pulse under your ribs. The champagne in your throat turned sour, too sweet and too heavy all at once. 

You forced your eyes away, heart thudding unevenly.

It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

You were here with your boyfriend. You’d just been standing beside the man you’d built a life with, the one who had chosen you years ago.

Lewis wasn’t yours. He was never going to be yours.

You told yourself it was delusion, all of it. The flutter in your heart, the intrigue, the pull that sparked every time he looked at you, was nothing but a fantasy you’d spun out of loneliness adn neglect. The result of an algorithm and a too-late curiosity.

Because that’s all it had ever been. An email. A face on a screen. A name that made your chest ache because an algorithm told you it was meant to.

DNA didn’t mean destiny. It didn’t mean he was good, or kind, or yours. It didn’t mean anything in this world, not when you were standing on a yacht surrounded by people who measured love in status and seduction, in who could command the longest glance across the room.

This was reality.

Reality was men like Andre and Lewis. Men who smiled at you one way and looked at someone else the next. Men who could make you believe for a second that you were the only one, then remind you with a single touch that you weren’t. You never would be.

You swallowed hard around the lump in your throat, your breath trembling slightly. The air felt heavy, perfumed and hot. The laughter around you was too sharp, like glass against your skin. Your fingers tightened around your drink until the stem of the glass creaked faintly in your hand. Then, as if pulled by gravity, your body shifted toward the one thing that was still familiar.

Andre.

He was still nearby, chatting away with another group. Still effortlessly charming, a grin curving his lips, hand gesturing as he spoke. When you approached, he glanced at you, and his smile widened, that perfect, public smile that had once felt like safety.

He slipped his arm around your waist when you stepped close, drawing you in. His cologne was warm and intoxicating, the scent of it mingling with the champagne and sea air. His hand settled low against your hip, thumb tracing small, idle circles, the gesture so practiced it almost felt rehearsed.

You leaned into him, you let him hold you. You even smiled up at him when he pressed a lazy kiss to your cheek. It didn’t feel like comfort, but it was something solid to cling to while the ache inside you hollowed out into quiet resignation.

Because the flicker of hope, that soft, foolish thing that had sparked the first time you saw Lewis, was gone now. For the first time, you realised that maybe it had never really been there at all. It was all in your head.

You didn’t mean to look again, but your eyes found him anyway over Andre’s shoulder this time.

Lewis was partway obscured now by the subtle shift of bodies and laughter in the warm, salt-stained air. The girl still lingered by his side, her fingers lightly brushing the crook of his elbow. She was saying something close to his ear again, her lips still glossed and slightly smudged now. She leaned in again, laughing at something he’d said, or maybe just at the fact that he was Lewis Hamilton. He didn’t kiss her again, but he didn’t pull away, either.

You’d told yourself not to expect anything, that it didn’t mean anything. It was all a fantasy.

This was real; a girl in a tiny dress smiling up at him, the sparkle of her necklace catching the yacht lights as she tilted her face too close to his. This was what life looked like when you were one of them. Gorgeous. Famous. Powerful. Of course she’d want him, of course he’d let her in. 

You told yourself you would have, too. If someone like her leaned in, smiled like that, touched you the way she had to him, maybe you’d do the same. Maybe you would’ve smiled back too, let it happen.

Maybe that’s all he was doing, letting it happen. You tried to believe that, clinging to it like a rope in rising water. 

Because it made it easier to accept that whatever had passed between you on that balcony, whatever had crackled like live wire when your skin met his, wasn’t real. Just proximity and tension and that desperate feeling of being seen. It was easier to believe that than to consider the alternative; that the man who was supposed to fall in love with you…might already be in love with someone else.

You blinked down at your drink, only half-aware that your fingers had gone numb around the stem. The party blurred into a messy overload of lights, and chatter, but it was all just sound. None of it could reach the cold shiver unraveling slowly in your chest.

An overwhelming blanket of shame drew itself over your shoulders. Shame that you’d let yourself imagine he was different. That an app’s result had somehow meant more than circumstance, more than timing, more than the whole shiny, brutal truth of the world you lived in.

You were never going to be his person, and he wasn’t yours.

You felt so fucking stupid, like a silly girl with a crush. Someone who’d read too much into a glance, and a hand on her waist in the dark. Someone who had forgotten what this world was. You’d seen headlines and photos and stories about him, about all of them. The women, the models, the escorts. The life he lived didn’t require your permission or owe anyone an explanation. You just never thought you’d be close enough to see it happen in real time.

You never thought it would hurt like this. The Match had felt like a powerful secret. Something that could mean more, if you were brave enough to follow it. But that was the fantasy, wasn’t it? The story you told yourself in the dark when Andre didn’t come home, or when his words made you shrink into a smaller version of yourself, comforted only when he’d turn around and kiss you like a thin bandage over a deep wound. The story that maybe there was someone out there who would look at you and see you, not just what you gave to the world.

Someone who didn’t need your curated smile or the way you held a camera in your lap like a shield. Someone who wouldn’t use your silence as proof that you were weak, or spin your independence into something he needed to manage. Someone who might’ve taken your hand on that upper deck and not let go, but Lewis had let go.

Maybe that’s just who he was. Another man with a hand on your waist one hour, and his lips on someone else the next. Just like Andre. 

Your breath tightened in your throat at that. That comparison shouldn't have landed the way it did, but it did, and it stuck.

So when you turned back to Andre, warm, flushed from drink, chatting lazily with the group, you saw him not as he used to be, but as he was now. Careless with you. Beautiful, yes, and charismatic, but distracted. Possessive only when it served him. Still, he was yours, at least for now.

If this night was unraveling in ways you couldn’t control, if your stomach still twisted and your heart still stung from what you’d seen, then maybe a small act of defiance could fix it. Maybe leaning into Andre could remind you of who you were.

Of who you were meant to be with, of the story you’d told the world.

So when he finally stopped talking, you tilted your face up toward him, and pressed your lips to his softly. He kissed you back without question, his mouth curving into a smile against yours, his fingers flexing possessively at your hip, drawing you into that familiar, safe hold. The world blurred for a moment in champagne haze and the shadow of pretending.

Just as your eyes fluttered open, over Andre’s shoulder, across the length of the yacht, you saw him. Lewis was watching. He didn’t look away, and for a heartbeat, neither did you.

Until Andre murmured something incoherent against your ear, and your gaze faltered. You let yourself fold into him, you let yourself believe, if only for a moment, that this was enough.

You forced your body to soften, to fit into him like you used to. Forced your lips into something approximating affection. Because if Lewis could have someone like her, if he could smile when another woman pulled him close and still look at you like that, then you weren’t going to let yourself be the fool who lingered in that gaze.

Not anymore. Not when you had a man right here, arms around you, lips that still whispered baby in your ear, hands that still knew how to hold you close comfortably.

This was what you’d chosen, this was what you already had. Lewis was just another man. So you smiled against Andre’s shoulder, and told yourself it didn’t burn. Because if it wasn’t, you didn’t know what was, and you couldn’t afford to hope again.

You didn’t look back again until you were almost off the yacht. Just one final glance over your shoulder, barely more than a flicker, but he wasn’t looking this time. Not at you. Lewis stood near the bar, a glass in his hand, attention elsewhere, laughter rippling through the warm Monaco night around him. The woman was still nearby, leaned in close, tucked too comfortably into the moment.

You turned away before you could catch the ache forming in your throat.

Andre’s arm slipped around your waist again as you stepped onto the pier. He pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your shoulder, like he was already claiming the win. 

The silence in the car was thick enough to chew through. Andre didn’t seem to notice though, he was too busy scrolling his phone, then pocketing it when the driver turned up the music.

You sat perfectly still, fingers interlaced in your lap as if you were trying to hold together the shape of your dignity, maybe, or the last fragile piece of your pride. The kiss, Lewis just standing there, his arm around her waist. You felt it all pressing against the back of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let it spill.

So you kissed Andre instead. You reached for him when the elevator doors closed and pressed your lips to his jaw, his throat, let your fingers trail under the hem of his shirt until he grinned, low and smug.

“Someone missed me,” he growled softly against your mouth with a smirk.

He looked good tonight. Broad shoulders wrapped in linen, tanned skin still warm from the sun, tattoos peeking out from under the edge of his sleeve. His body was a catalogue of sharp lines and angles, sculpted like he was born to be worshipped, and some part of you still wanted to believe you did.

You used to love that about him, the way he moved with purpose, how he could own a room without speaking. How, when he touched you, it felt like you were being chosen by someone special. 

He kissed you like that now. Full of intent, tongue slipping through your lips, full of hunger. You let your mouth fall open for him, let his hands slide over your hips, cupping your ass through the fabric of your dress. The second the hotel room door clicked shut, he pulled you into him, deepening the kiss until you forgot, just for a second, why it had hurt.

His lips moved to your neck, your collarbone, dragging heat in his wake.

“Fuck, this dress,” he groaned, fingers sliding beneath the straps. “Knew you wore it for me.”

“I did,” you lied softly.

He pulled back, looked at you like he believed you, like you were still everything he wanted. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

You smiled, and this time it wasn’t fake. There was still a part of you that wanted him to see you, to want you, to reach for you the way you had once reached for him.

The fabric of your dress pooled to the floor in seconds. You undid the buttons of his shirt yourself, tugging it open slowly, deliberately, letting your fingers trail down his chest like you’d done it a thousand times, because you had. Tonight, though, you kissed him like you were trying to forget. As though if you kissed him hard enough, deep enough, you might burn the memory of Lewis’ hand on your waist straight out of your bloodstream.

“Fuck, you looked so good today, baby,” you whispered against his skin, your voice syrupy-sweet.

You let him guide you toward the bed, let your hands find the waistband of his trousers. You undressed him like you meant it, like every touch was just for him, like you couldn’t wait to feel him again, and in a way, you couldn’t.

But because sometimes, this was the only place you felt truly wanted. Not emotionally of course, but physically, wanted, desired, claimed. The girl in the pretty dress he got to take home, the girl who looked good on his arm and even better underneath him.

He pressed you back onto the mattress, mouth dragging over your neck, your collarbone, your chest. He made the kinds of noises that told you he liked what he saw, what he tasted, what he had, and you let yourself respond to it, arching into him, playing your part perfectly. Performing just the way he liked with soft, pretty moans that made him feel like a king.

Because if you couldn’t have that stupid soulmate fantasy you’d let yourself dream of for just a moment, you could have this.

The first thrust stole your breath, a jolt of sudden, practiced pleasure slipping inside you. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively, fingers tangling into his curls as he moved.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, voice thick with lust. “You always do.”

He didn’t ask how you felt. He didn’t notice when you started to move differently, slightly off-rhythm, one hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit, quiet and efficient.

It wasn’t the first time. You’d stopped keeping count, because he didn’t always notice, and if he did, he never asked why. Never asked if there was anything he could do for you. So you chased it the way you always did. 

Andre moaned when he felt you tighten around him, but he didn’t notice your breath catching for a different reason. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, faked the tremble in your thighs. He didn’t need much, just the sound of his name on your lips and a few breathless gasps as you came, barely, just enough.

He was close, chasing his own high with focused, selfish precision, and you moved in sync, hips rising to meet him, your free hand curling in the sheets like you could claw your way out of yourself. 

When he collapsed against you a moment later, satisfied and breathless, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your body responded automatically, a soft laugh, a hand through his hair, a sigh that could pass for bliss. A soft whisper of I love you.

He lingered there a moment, breath hot against your cheek as he whispered that he loved you too, before pulling out and rolling away. You watched him move carefully, your chest still heaving. Then, he stood, bare feet padding softly over the hotel carpet. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and disappeared inside, taking his phone with him. You heard the lock click shut.

You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, letting the silence stretch around you, and fill every hollow space you thought sex might soothe. The air was too cold now. Your skin felt sticky and used. You were left bare on a hotel bed that smelled like sweat, cologne and too many lies. The soft sheets were cool beneath your thighs, and your own hand rested beside you, still slightly sticky, your heartbeat slowing back to normal.

Andre didn’t come back out.

The soft whir of the bathroom fan spun on through the closed ensuite door. You heard the water running. Then a low, muffled laugh, the soft ping of a message, and the telltale click of his phone locking again.

You stood slowly, tiptoeing across the room and opened the main door to the hallway, heading toward the other bathroom. The suite was way too large for just two people, but at least it meant you wouldn’t have to wait for Andre. You flicked the lights on with a soft buzz, casting everything in soft gold.

You turned on the shower, steam beginning to rise around you, softening the edges of your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t look at yourself just yet. Instead, you slipped your bra off and stepped beneath the spray. Water beaded on your shoulders, sliding down the slope of your spine in warm rivulets. You let it run over your body like it might wash everything away, the ache, the doubt, the bitter taste of disappointment.

You reached for the little bottle of cleansing oil tucked into the corner of the tiled shelf, left here from last night, an afterthought that now felt oddly deliberate. You pumped a few drops into your palm and began to massage it over your face, watching your makeup melt away under your fingertips.

Your mascara had already smudged beneath your eyes. Your lip gloss was long gone. Still, you rubbed gently, pressing the oil into your skin as if you could erase more than just the surface.

The water ran over your closed eyes, over your mouth, over your cheeks, as your thoughts drifted back, uninvited, to the yacht.

To him.

To the way Lewis had looked at you, as though he already knew something about you that no one else had figured out. His voice still echoed low in your mind, soft and smooth, laced with humour and depth. He had looked so beautiful in the warm dusky light of the yacht, turning his skin into burnished bronze, making the brown of his eyes look like melted honey.

You remembered the way your breath had caught when he smiled, the flutter in your chest when he said your name.

Then, the kiss. That girl. Her arms around him. His silence, his stillness. The way he let it happen.

You clenched your jaw and pressed your face into your palms, letting the water run down your back, as if you could wash him out of your thoughts. 

It wasn’t that you thought Lewis would rescue you. You weren’t that naïve, but still, a small part of you had imagined something different. You had let yourself believe, just for a moment, that a stranger who looked at you like that might be different. That maybe it meant something.

But he didn’t know you.

He didn’t know your last name, your favourite colour, or your favourite food. He didn’t know the voice you used when you read old texts out loud to yourself, or how your chest tightened when Andre pulled his phone into the bathroom. He didn’t know what it cost you to stay.

He didn’t know anything at all. Yet, still…your heart had raced at the sight of him.

You dried yourself off, and changed into a soft champagne satin set, piped in cream. It was delicate and feminine, the kind Andre liked on you. Carefully, you completed the steps of your skincare routine, giving your face a glow that might fool him into thinking everything was fine. Then, you padded back into the bedroom, skin damp and warm. Andre was already in bed, one hand behind his head, phone tilted toward him again, until he saw you. He set it down just in time, face down as always.

When you slipped in beside him, he gave you a sleepy smile, pressing a kiss to your temple. “There’s my good girl.”

You let him lay his head on your chest, his weight familiar, comforting in the way routine can be. Your fingers threaded through his curls without thinking, the movement slow and gentle until his breath began to even out.

You remained still, watching the ceiling, listening to Andre’s quiet rhythm of breaths, feeling every inch of distance between the man laying on you…and the one you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You reached for your phone with a guilt you’d almost grown used to. One last check. 

Your fingers moved before your brain could catch up. Tap. App Store. Install. The MatchDNA app lit up your screen. You signed in, and the screen loaded with a soft hum of dread. You held your breath.

Match: Unopened.

Still unopened, still pending, still Lewis.

Your thumb hovered…then pressed down on the app icon.

Delete app?

You stared at the screen for a long moment, jaw tight. Then, with a flick of your thumb, it was gone.

You placed your phone back onto the bedside table and closed your eyes, trying not to think about the sound of his voice, or the way his eyes studied you.

You tried not to think about him at all.

What you didn’t know was that somewhere across the city, Lewis lay in the dark, a glass of water untouched on the table beside him. The bed smelled faintly of floral, sweet perfume, lingering in his sheets hours after the woman had left. He hadn’t asked her to stay. He never did.

Now, he lay alone, one arm behind his head, staring at the shadows moving across the ceiling. His mind wouldn’t quiet, not after the sex, or the silence.

He didn’t know your last name. He couldn’t remember what you’d ordered to drink, but your face was etched into his mind. That dress, the tilt of your head, the way you’d looked up at him when the boat rocked beneath your heels, the way you felt in his hands for that brief moment when he’d caught you.

He’d seen a lot of beautiful women, that wasn’t new.

There was something about you…He didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t put it into words. Maybe it was nothing, maybe he was just tired from the race.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

And for a man who didn’t believe in fate, that unsettled him more than he was willing to admit.

They said the science was foolproof.

A single strand of hair, less than an ounce of DNA, fed through an algorithm that promised the impossible; to be matched with the one person that you were genetically guaranteed to fall in love with. 

Your one true love. Your soulmate.

Not the person you might grow to love, or the one who loved you back out of effort or routine.

It was the one you were biologically wired to crave.

And people believed.

It was the kind of technology that once lived only in science fiction novels and late-night thought experiments. Now it lived in the cloud, accessible with a login and a legal disclaimer. 

Some submitted their samples with shaking hands and breathless anticipation, watching their inboxes for weeks like it might deliver God’s own signature. Others rolled their eyes, tore the ads from magazines, mocked it at dinner parties, until it found someone they knew. Until the algorithm threaded together two people who could no longer be explained by logic or luck.

The database grew relentlessly, quiet like roots under a house.

One by one, names flickered into matches, like stars blinking into place on a digital constellation.

One match.

One chance.

Your apartment was too quiet that night.

It wasn’t the familiar quiet that soothed you into bed, or the warmth of evening after a long day, when the air still smelled like dinner and music still lingered faintly through half-open doors. This was the other kind, the hollow one, where the walls had forgotten how to hold sound, and the silence had teeth of its own.

You were still sitting on the couch, exactly where you’d sunk into it two hours ago, the weight of the blanket twisted around your legs as if it had fused to your skin. Your cold dinner sat on the coffee table in front of you, half-open cartons of Thai slowly congealing in their own sauce. The noodles had hardened into a sad clump at the bottom of the box, gleaming faintly in the blue light from the TV.

You had barely taken a bite. The soy sauce packet had leaked across the napkin and into the wood grain of the table. You watched it for a moment, the slow stain blooming like something rotten, and wondered distantly if it would leave a mark.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care though, not when your eyes kept drifting back to your laptop. The screen had dimmed, falling asleep when you’d spent too much time staring rather than typing, but alive in that way things were when waiting to be unraveled. Especially when they held something inside them that could change everything.

Your arms crossed tighter around yourself beneath the blanket, but it didn’t stop the cold from crawling up your spine, and nestling behind your ribs like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to you. There was a sharpness to the stillness in your chest, as if a pebble was caught between your lungs. Every breath dragged across it, slow and uneven. You tried to swallow, but your throat stayed dry, thick with something that wouldn’t go down.

The email was still there, sitting unread at the top of your inbox like it had been waiting all day to ruin you. It had arrived hours ago, and yet it felt like it had been waiting all day to ruin you. Waiting to catch you in this exact moment, alone, too tired to pretend and too wired to sleep. Its presence wasn’t loud, but it was impossible to look away from, a match already struck, burning just slow enough to tempt you.

MatchDNA: Your Match Is Ready.

Those four words stared back at you in clean Helvetica font, as if they didn’t hold the power to split your life clean down the middle. You knew what they meant.

You hadn’t even remembered sending yours in at first, until the subject line fished out a memory you hadn’t meant to keep. It had been one of those nights that lingered at the edge of insomnia, where the hours stretched too thin and the air felt thick with heartbreak, disappointment, and desperation. 

You were home alone. Andre was away for a match, or training, or maybe just somewhere else entirely. You could barely remember. You didn’t ask anymore when he said he’d be gone, and he didn’t always offer. You’d stopped pushing, learned to play the part, learned when to stay silent.

The apartment had been painfully still that night, all the warmth of your shared life cooled into a dull emptiness. You remembered walking through the living room barefoot, the wooden floor cool beneath your steps, the TV still on, but muted. You hadn’t wanted the noise, just the movement, something to fill the room so you didn’t feel like it might swallow you whole.

You had seen the ad before, on billboards, between YouTube videos, wedged into the middle of your Instagram stories. 

Take The Test. Find The One. 

It always lingered in the background, soft-voiced, always too perfect to believe, but that night, with nothing but silence for company and too much space in the bed, it slipped past your defenses.

You clicked, almost mindlessly. The website had been sleek, minimal, almost clinical in design. The voiceover had played again in your head, even as you filled in your name, your birthday, your details. You remembered your hands shaking as you pressed your thumb to the digital form, how surreal it felt to hold the MatchDNA packet in your palm once it arrived, so small, and sterile. A single envelope that would flip your life upside down.

You’d slipped a strand of your hair and sealed the envelope as though it wasn’t a betrayal. Watched the label print from the kitchen printer you’d never used before, as though it wasn’t a question your current relationship shouldn’t survive, but the ache in your chest had been louder than your guilt, and the idea of knowing, truly, had felt worth the risk in that moment. 

Maybe you hadn’t thought you’d match with anyone. Maybe you hadn’t believed the science. Maybe you just wanted proof that your loneliness wasn’t just in your head.

Now, here it was. The answer to the questions that had swum through your mind. You could feel it sitting within the casing of your laptop. A name, a face, a possibility you had no right to want.

You hadn’t told Andre. Of course you hadn’t.

He wouldn’t have understood, or worse, he would have made you feel ridiculous for even wanting to know. He always had a way of twisting your curiosity into insecurity, of making your questions sound like accusations. 

This though…this had never been about him. At least, that’s what you told yourself when you set your account up and sent your DNA sample in. It was just a harmless decision made in a quiet moment. A secret curiosity you didn’t owe anyone, especially not him.

Andre Dedanović had been your boyfriend for nearly four years. A forward for Arsenal F.C, adored by fans, worshipped by headlines. He was the kind of man who knew how to own a room before he even stepped into it, charming, gorgeous, gravity itself in designer shoes. He was the kind of man who didn’t just walk into your life, he rewrote it. 

You still remembered how it started. 

The girls’ trip to Mykonos, the rooftop bar, the way his eyes found you across the noise, as if he already knew you, as if he had been looking for you his whole life. He had walked up with that fucking stunning smile, the one that got him sponsorships and magazine covers, and told you, without a hint of irony, that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d told you that you were the one before you even learned his middle name.

He made you feel chosen, out of everyone in every room he’d ever entered, he had picked you.

The dream he built around you shimmered from the beginning. There were rooftop dinners, lit by candles, and jewellery engraved with your initials. Private jets, hotel suites where your name was stitched into the robe, and bouquets that arrived before you even asked. Andre loved the performance of love, the public spectacle of it, the image of being the man who adored his girlfriend more than anything in the world.

For a while, it had worked. It felt real, and safe.

Until it didn’t.

Until the perfume clinging to his collar was no longer yours.

Until you found a strip lash tucked into the crease of his backseat.

Until he started flipping his phone face-down when you sat down for dinner.

Until the slow, insidious creep of Instagram follows began, filled with women that all looked the same, perfect bodies, pouty lips, and curated feeds. 

It was always women who either looked nothing like you, or too much like what he wanted you to be.

You knew though, the way women always do. That sick little intuition that gnawed at your gut, that made one name glow brighter than the rest when you scrolled through his Following list, that drained the life from your spark every time he kissed you with the lips that sealed his betrayal.

When you’d asked him about it, gently, carefully, he didn’t even deny it. He didn’t yell or defend himself, didn’t even pretend.

Instead, he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, as if that could ever be enough to soothe the ache in your chest. He’d pressed his lips to your temple, and whispered over and over that he’d stop, that it meant nothing, that you were the only one he loved. That it was just social media, and you were the one. That he wanted to marry you, raise a family with you, build a future that started and ended with your name.

You wanted to believe him, you needed to believe him. You loved him, you couldn’t stop loving him.

So you did what you’d been taught to do. You swallowed your instincts, hushed your own gut.

You let him kiss your forehead and call it closure, let him hand you silence, and pretend it was love.

You’d tried to fix things, more times than you could count. Asked if he’d talk to someone with you. Offered to take a break, to figure things out together. You told him when you were hurt, told him what you needed, love, time, honesty, but he always found a way to make you feel like you were asking for too much. As though your pain was a problem he didn’t want to solve. So eventually, you stopped asking. You shrank your needs down into something quieter, more acceptable, until even you stopped recognising them as real.

Still, you stayed.

Because leaving meant starting over, it meant being alone. It meant admitting out loud what your heart already knew, that the man you loved had stopped seeing you a long time ago. Because hope in love doesn’t fade, it festers in your soul, slowly rotting into a poison you keep drinking, praying that one day it’ll taste like honey again.

You’d clung to the ghost of him, the version who had made you feel like the only girl in the world. The version who used to text you love notes from across the room, who used to kiss your shoulder and say he couldn’t believe you were his. You waited for him to come back to you, even as he slowly became someone else.

Yet somewhere in the silence between those days, you’d sent your DNA to a lab. Because some part of you, a small, desperate part, wanted to know if real love might live somewhere outside the ruins of what you already had.

You had to know, and now, here it was. Staring at you, waiting to be revealed.

You shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as if it could shield you from what came next. Your fingers moved tentatively, sliding out from beneath the warmth of the blanket to reach for the trackpad. You hovered there, the tips of your fingers barely grazing the edge of the device. Even that much contact sent a tremor through your chest, like you were already mid-fall, and this was just gravity catching up.

You couldn’t move for a long moment, couldn’t even breathe.

Then, with the gentlest pressure, you brushed the trackpad.

The screen blinked awake instantly, too bright, an image of you and Andre flashing onto the screen like a warning, asking you again if you were truly ready to see who was waiting for you. You shoved the thought aside, typing your password in with shaky fingertips. When it unlocked, the cursor was still frozen over the subject line, exactly where you’d left it. Four words glowing back at you with maddening patience.

Your Match Is Ready.

Your heart picked up again, thudding unevenly against your ribs. You swore you could hear the sound of your own panic as the blood roared in your ears. You hadn’t even clicked yet, and your entire body was reacting like it already knew. As if your DNA had started shifting the second the test came back, recognising what was waiting on the other side.

Your hands were trembling against the device now, enough that it made the cursor stutter slightly as you moved. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down, knowing you’d jump whether you wanted to or not. Because this was the moment, the point of no return.

You hadn’t even realised you were whispering to yourself until the words fell into the silence.

“It’s just a match. Just a name.”

But you knew better.

Your thumb shifted, hovered over the trackpad, and then, you clicked.

The page opened to a golden background with sleek branding. A gentle pulse of light that felt like a heartbeat that wasn’t your own.

There, in the corner of the screen, small, unobtrusive, but impossible to miss, were two words that made your stomach drop.

Match: Unopened.

They hadn’t seen it yet, hadn’t opened this screen, hadn’t looked at you yet either.

Whatever you were about to see, you’d be seeing it alone.

You swallowed hard, the weight of that knowledge sitting heavy, staring as the screen reconfigured itself, the content loading in real time, the browser wheel spinning at the top of the tab, a glowing loading icon, followed by a gentle transition that felt almost too slow, as if the website wanted to make sure you felt it. The reveal didn’t come all at once. It unfurled, bit by bit, pixel by pixel.

First, the name.

Then, the photo.

Then, when it fully loaded, when all the pixels settled into sharp focus, your breath snagged in your chest.

Everything inside you…stopped.

Lewis Hamilton.

That was the name beneath the photo.

At first, it didn’t register. You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up, heart drumming far too loud in your chest to make room for logic. You thought maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was someone else. Some random man who happened to share the name of a celebrity. Maybe they’d sent the wrong result, or maybe this was someone else’s match.

The website confirmed it again, with the serene confidence of science. A soft pulse of gold behind the text, a halo of assurance.

Match Confirmed: Lewis Hamilton.

You stared, re-reading the name three, maybe four times, as if it might rearrange itself into something familiar. Then slowly, your eyes shifted towards the photo.

It was professional, a simple headshot, softly lit, his face relaxed and turned slightly, not smiling, but not stoic either. Just present and…breathtaking.

His skin was golden, glowing even in the digital light. Rich brown eyes, that looked deep, thoughtful, and framed by impossibly long eyelashes. His braids were neat, pulled back in a low tie that revealed the clean structure of his face, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw softened only by the careful grooming of his beard. There were small, silver studs in either side of his nose, catching the light in a way that made him look almost celestial. His lips were full, defined, and heartbreakingly symmetrical.

There was a calmness to him, a quiet power. Not the type that demanded attention, but one that drew it in effortlessly like gravity.

Your fingers curled slightly against the trackpad, the smooth edge of the laptop pressing on your hand as heat surged beneath your skin. It prickled across your cheeks, your ears, the back of your neck, blooming under your collarbones. Your mouth had gone dry. You licked your lips, not realising you were holding your breath until your lungs begged for air.

He was…beautiful.

But more than that, he felt real. Real in a way that made your stomach twist, because this wasn’t just a name or a photo. He was real.

You didn’t know him. You’d never met him, never crossed paths, but the name had brushed against your memory before, an athlete maybe? Something about racing. Formula One? Andre loved being invited to races every now and then. You vaguely recalled his name spoken by Andre, maybe even a friend once sharing an article about him, talking about how quiet he was for someone so famous. Notoriously guarded, only a few posts online and minimal appearances outside of the racing world.

You hadn’t known this face. You didn’t remember seeing him on your screen, hadn’t heard his voice in interviews or watched him race. He was a name you’d heard in passing, maybe once or twice, attached to distant conversations or headlines you didn’t linger on.

Yet looking at him now, seeing the depth in his eyes as they stared back through the screen, it felt like an invisible thread had been tugged loose from your chest, and you didn’t know if it would ever settle again.

Your heart thundered loudly in your ears, a pulse off-rhythm.

You hadn’t expected this.

You’d gone over every possible scenario in your head, catalogued the what-ifs like talismans. Maybe it would be someone quiet with a regular nine-to-five. Maybe someone from another continent, another time zone. Maybe older, or younger. Maybe a woman. Maybe someone with kids. You’d even let your mind wander to darker places, what if it had been someone with a criminal record? Or someone already married? The unknown had scared you, but the algorithm didn’t make promises about perfection, only connection.

Still, never, not once, had you imagined someone like him.

Because this man looked nothing like Andre.

Andre had always been gorgeous in the obvious way. The kind of beauty that turned heads and demanded attention. He carried himself like a man who knew he was being watched, always performing, always on. His swagger was sharp, electric, designed to dominate a room. Perfect dark curls, carved jawline, stunning hazel eyes, everything about him was a curated piece of art. 

Lewis on the other hand didn’t look like he needed to be seen. He looked like he noticed.

He had a centered confidence in him, a kind of self-possession that couldn’t be taught. He looked like he’d lived a thousand quiet lives beneath the surface and chose to carry them alone, as though silence didn’t scare him, because he’d made peace with it.

His eyes were rich with experience, but not arrogant, as if he’d been through storms and come out stronger for having felt every drop. He looked like he listened, as though he’d look you in the eyes and really see you for the person you were, not just the surface.

There was a feeling of intimacy in the photo that made your chest ache. A magnetism, like his presence alone, could pull secrets from you you didn’t even know you were holding.

For a moment, just a flicker of disbelief, you wondered; why would a man like that sign up for this? He didn’t look like someone who needed help finding love. Didn’t look like someone who’d ever been overlooked or left waiting. His presence felt full, self-assured, magnetic in a way that seemed incompatible with loneliness. Yet…here he was.

Here you were.

Matched.

It made your stomach twist with awe, a kind that came from realising someone you never imagined reaching for might already be reaching back.

You didn’t even know what to do with it.

Your throat tightened dryly. You didn’t even realise your hand had risen to your collar until the back of your fingers brushed the base of your neck, skin hot, pulse fluttering just beneath the surface. The laptop suddenly felt too warm under your palms, its edges sharp beneath trembling hands. Or maybe that was just you. Everything was heightened, almost fragile. 

Because suddenly the idea of a match wasn’t hypothetical anymore. It wasn’t sitting in an email hiding behind curiosity.

It was this. A name, a face, a heartbeat somehow, echoing inside you. It had a name now.

Lewis Hamilton.

You stared at the name, the photo, the presence of him still glowing on the screen like it might breathe if you waited long enough. Your heart hadn’t slowed, it galloped inside your chest wildly, as if it was trying to outrun a knowing you hadn’t dared name yet.

You wondered what he’d think when he opened his screen. When your face, your name, appeared where his now sat for you. Would his heart race the way yours was now? Would he stare at your picture and feel the same irresistible pull? Would it scare him, too?

The thought made your throat close.

Because if this was real, if the science wasn’t wrong, if the algorithm hadn’t glitched, then this man was your match.

Not just someone who might love you.

Someone who would.

Someone who was designed to.

You were meant to love him, too.

That was the part that made your head spin. Not just the idea that he could want you, but that your body was already preparing to want him back. That some invisible thread had started pulling the two of you together long before you even knew his name.

The thought of it overwhelmed you, swelling in your chest and stirring in your mind, so you closed the laptop slowly, the click of the hinge louder than expected in the stillness. It felt like shutting a door, even though you knew it hadn’t really closed anything at all.

He hadn’t seen it yet, but you had, and there was no going back from that.

You sank deeper into the couch cushions, body curled tight, hands hiding beneath the blanket.

Somewhere in the city, Andre was probably laughing in someone else’s ear. Whispering promises that sounded beautiful but meant nothing. You couldn’t bring yourself to think about him now. Not when your pulse was still trying to keep up with something else entirely.

Not when the truth was already alive inside your chest. Not when you’d just seen the face of the man you were destined to love.

They said the science was foolproof, and maybe it was.

Because now, with your heart pounding and your breath shuddering in your throat, you finally understood.

This wasn’t magic, it was biology.

Your one.

user3: The best princess I’ve ever seen.

user12: This is too funny.

user34: POV: How to pretend not to be a princess.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: POV: It’s not a POV.

user34: YNNNN!!!!

Ynofficial: Yes, that’s my name.

yourbrother: What am I going to do with you? ❤️ Like to author

user78: What do you have to do today?

Ynofficial: Another one of those shoots for something, honestly, I don’t even know.

user23: Wait, you’re doing a photoshoot and you don’t even know what for?

Ynofficial: Exactly.

Ynofficial

Description: At least I have him to keep me company.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8.483.939.

user45: How cuteeee.

user67: The luckiest little dog in the world.

user221: Yn doesn’t need a boyfriend; she has her dog.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I totally agree.

yourbrother: He’s the only one who deserves to live in the palace.

Ynofficial: I know you love my son more than me, thanks.

yourbrother: I never said that.

Ynofficial: So, you love me?

yourbrother: You trapped me. ❤️ Like to author

user21: The last photo is worthy of a queen.

user34: Maybe you meant goddess?

user56: Guys, doesn’t that dog look like Leclerc’s dog?

user7: Who’s Leclerc?

f1lover: How can you not know? He’s a god on earth.

user90: He’s an F1 driver who has a dog of the same breed named Leo.

user50: Now that I think about it, they adopted them around the same time.

user54: Coincidence?

Ynofficial

Description: Okay, okay, I have to admit I had fun this time.

Liked by user43, checoperez, and other 98,453.

yourbrother: I told you.

Ynofficial: You usually tell a lot of lies.

user45: I love the relationship between Yn and her brother.

❤️ Like to author

user6: The heir to the Monaco throne.

user7: He’s very kind, I met him.

Ynofficial: Try living with him, then we’ll see.

user21: Were the jewels real?

Ynofficial: Yes, and they’re really heavy too.

user6: I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.

Ynofficial: The clothes are super uncomfortable tooooo.

user67: But they’re beautiful.

user0: They look amazing on her.

Ynofficial: I can’t wait to take them off.

Ynofficial

Description: A date before saying goodbye.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 4.784.839.

user21: Who are you with, girl?

Ynofficial: With a human being.

user6: The luckiest human in the world. ❤️ Like to author

user5: YN OF MONACO WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

user34: Thank you, Yn.

user1: Whoever it is should thank their lucky stars every day to be with someone like Yn.

❤️ Like to author

user45: So, is she engaged??

user41: Yn, don’t play these tricks on us.

user67: It’s not funny.

user3: I love the dress.

Ynofficial: I don’t, they forced me to wear it.

user56: No way we could afford it.

user32: I wish I were a princess.

Ynofficial: Wish granted, please come take my place.

user6: Guys, isn’t the Monaco GP today?

user5: Oh God, you’re right.

user43: Do you think she’s going to the GP?

user8: I didn’t know she was into F1.

user09: Neither did I.

user5: Yn is the black sheep of the family.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: You’re absolutely right.

user56: That description doesn’t sound like you.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Sorry, too poetic.

yourbrother: Mom wants to talk to you.

user6: Trouble’s coming.

Ynofficial: Time to run off to Mexico. Checo, will you host me?

checoperez: Whenever you want. ❤️ Like to author

user32: Wait, they know each other???

user9: Did I miss something?

user78: What does this dialogue even mean?

user76: YN?

Ynofficial

Description: Guess who’s not supposed to be wandering around the paddock?

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 877.473.738.

gp1: YN OF MONACO.

vroom: Wait, they allowed her to go to the GP??

race: I think at least someone from the royal family always has to be there?

user43: YN, DID YOU MEET CHARLES?

Ynofficial: 🤫🤫.

16_55: IT’S A YESSS.

user2: MY TWO FAVORITE PEOPLE MEETING. ❤️ Like to author

yourbrother: Where did you go? Mom’s going to be very angry.

Ynofficial: Cover for me.

yourbrother: Wait, what?

Ynofficial: Thanks, love you.

yourbrother: No, Yn, come back here, we agreed to stay low-key.

Ynofficial: No one will see me.

yourbrother: That includes me too, right?

Ynofficial: Maybe yes, maybe no.

63_: I love this woman.

user42: Is the car comfortable?

Ynofficial: My princess ass didn’t appreciate it.

user21_: That’s why you’re my favorite princess.

Ynofficial: I don’t think you know any others.

danielricciardo: Princess Yn is a fan of mine.

Ynofficial: You’re my childhood.

danielricciardo: I’m not that old.

Ynofficial: Don’t worry, Daniel, it’s hard to accept.

landonorris: Wait, Daniel met her and I didn’t?

maxverstappen1: He’s just privileged.

Ynofficial: I’m coming to you, don’t fight.

user98: Everyone wants Yn. ❤️ Like to author

81_4: She’s anything but a princess.

f1lover: Please marry me.

Ynofficial: Sorry, I’m a bit busy.

Ynofficial

Description: As a good princess, I have to congratulate Charles Leclerc for winning his home race, Monaco. Congratulations, Predestined One.

Liked by charles_leclerc, f1, and other 42.457.473

f1lover: How sweet, Yn.

ferrarifan: After this post, I’m over the moon.

race_: The Monaco curse is broken.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Yes, but now Charles has to endure at least a month of bad luck.

charles_leclerc: Thank you, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: I thank you, Your Highness, for wasting two minutes to make the post. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Consider yourself lucky.

landonorris: Will the next victory post be dedicated to me?

georgerussell63: Keep dreaming, mate. ❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Charles has reached the pinnacle of his career after this post.

carlossainz55: I can hear him laughing and blushing from here. ❤️ Like to author

maxverstappen1: Princess, may I humbly request your attention? ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I always have my full attention on you, Max Emilian Verstappen.

charles_leclerc: No, today is my day, step aside. ❤️ Like to author

user56: Is Charles jealous??

user45: Max asking for Yn’s attention?

Ynofficial

Description: I can officially say I’m off-limits.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 98,457.633.

yourbrother: I’m so happy for you, little sister.

❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Can I be the best man?

Ynofficial: No, you might show up to the wedding already drunk.

maxverstappen1: You said yesss! ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I said yesss!

georgerussell63: Congratulations, guys.

❤️ Like to author

lewishamilton: Congrats, but honestly, I expected it.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: He has the eyes of love.

❤️ Like to author

user44: No, okay, we need to figure out who it is.

f1lover: It’ll be the most beautiful wedding ever.

ynlove: Our little girl is growing up.

charleslec_: I hope it’s Charles.

race: It’s definitely a driver.

vroom: I don’t know; it could also be a prince or noble.

user32: I doubt it, knowing Yn.

ynqueen: Love is blind.

user3: Whoever it is, I’m so happy for you.

user77: I’m going to drop a bomb: I think it’s Max.

maxie_: Oh God, yes, can you imagine??

1_11: The best couple ever.

Ynofficial: I like your theories.

user66: Yn, help us, please.

cl16: Has anyone noticed Charles didn’t even comment?

55_: Strange.

Ynofficial

Description: Goodbye, Monaco.

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and other 757.648.

yourbrother: I can’t believe mom let you go.

carlossainz55: Knowing Yn, she would’ve gone anyway. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: My friends know me too well.

user43: Wait, how long have they known each other???

formula1_: More importantly, since when does Yn love F1?

f1lover: It’s a new thing, actually.

race: Yn, princess of the people.

Ynofficial: Always at your service.

landonorris: Now she’s getting a big head.

charles_leclerc: As soon as they offered you to skip your duties, you accepted right away.

Ynofficial: You shouldn’t talk to a princess like that.

charles_leclerc: And you shouldn’t talk to a prince like that.

f1love: WAIT, WHAT DID CHARLES MEAN???

charlesmylife: Guys, Yn deleted it.

charelsofmonaco: No, I don’t understand.

16cl: I arrived too late 😭😭😭.

Flove1: Finally, we have proof that this man exists.

user65: I was convinced it was a joke.

user90: Secret agents of the world, unite, we need to find out who Yn’s boyfriend is.

user67: YN, WE HAVE TOO MANY QUESTIONS.

Ynofficial: And I have zero answers.

user56: Where are you running to, girl?

Ynofficial: Away from nobility.

Ynofficial

Description: I had to try the ice cream in Italy.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 74.673.883.

yourbrother: Bring me some.

Ynofficial: No.

charles_leclerc: I’ll bring it to you.

Ynofficial: Since when are you two so chummy?

f1lover: No okay, we missed something.

race: Something important.

Formula1: Is that Leo or Yn’s dog?

f_1: The numbers don’t add up.

user78: I can’t tell them apart.

user1: They look the same.

landonorris: Good job, Yn, distract him so I can win in Monza.

carlossainz55: NO, YN, BRING CHARLES HERE NOW.

Ynofficial: Now I don’t know what to do anymore.

user56: Yn is a princess even outside of Monaco.

user09: How cute is the guy tying her shoes?

TWITTER

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y/n.jpeg

liked by, landonorris, maxverstappen1, ybsf_username and others

y/n.jpeg pre-race-week pizza day :)) someone is now banned from the kitchen after almost setting the AirBnB on fire.

1,234 comments

landonorris it’s not my fault it had a hard oven to use 🙄

→ y/n.jpeg says the one that left the pizza in the oven for MORE THAN TWO HOURS??? → username1 TWO HOURS???? → username2 don’t let that man cook ever again. → y/n.jpeg trust me, i plan on it → landonorris you just don’t know real gourmet dishes. → y/n.jpeg okay buddy 💀

maxverstappen1 i think chrales met his match for worst cook

→ charles_leclerc the next race it won’t be just a inchident. → maxvertsappen1 🤐 → username3 THAT’S CRAZY 😭😭

ybsf_username WE NEED TO HANG OUT SOON :(( i don’t want to see you spend time only with this stinky man

→ y/n.jpeg DW I GOT YOU 🙏🙏 → landonorris STINKY?!?!?!

iMessages

TWITTER

Instagram

y/n.jpeg has posted a story!

[Caption!]: Me and Pookie #1 cheering for Pookie #2! (w/ @ ybsf_username)

y/n.jpeg

liked by landonorris, ybsf_username charles_leclerc and others

tagged; ybsf_username and landonorris

y/n.jpeg congrats to my boy and everyone for the tremendous job they did! congrats to @ mclaren for their placement this race.

p.s. Y/Bsf/N and Lando met for the first time today! I think they like each other 🙃

2,345 comments

ybsf_username my gf is so pretty 😍😍😍

→ landonorris who said she’s your gf?? → ybsf_username why are you asking??? → username5 not them fighting over Y/N 💀

ybsf_username i hate him i’m gonna chop his weenie off

→ landonorris im feeling rather unsafe right now. → username4 LMAOOO

username5 SHES SO PRETTY

landonorris i don’t like your friend she’s scary.

y/n.jpeg

liked by ybsf_username, landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

therealyn_ln they are friends now! nothing a little partying can’t fix 🥂

tagged; ybsf_username and landonorris

3,456 comments

ybsf_username okay he’s not the worst 🙄 🙄

→ therealyn_ln :)) → landonorris i’m honored → ybsf_username don’t think this would be a usual thing for me to admit mr. norris. → landonorris yes ma’am 🫡 → username11 I can’t be the only one sensing some romantic-ish tension here am i? → username12 time for your meds gram-gram!!

username6 oh god

username7 after the last post celebration post I don’t know what to expect…

username8 i’m so happy the duo is expanding into a trio

username9 someone check on Y/N

→ y/n.jpeg no need! I’m fine! → oscarpiastri how many drinks did you have again? → y/n.jpeg 12 why? → oscarpiastri yep we’re taking you home.

y/n.jpeg guys, is it normal to think you guy best friend is hot?

y/n.jpeg why don’t I like it that they are laughing together

y/n.jpeg i don’t want him to forget about me

**THESE COMMENTS HAVE BEEN DELETED….**

username10 i can’t be the only one that saw those comments… right?

y/n.jpeg i think i had too much to drink…

→ oscarpiastri you think?

TWITTER

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INSTAGRAM

y/n.jpeg

liked by ybsf_username, georgerussell, landonorris and others

y/n.jpeg the vienna balls are pretty cool. absolutely loved it in austria! 3 days till race day :)

tagged; ybsf_username and landonorris

4,563 comments

username13 idk guys this rubs me the wrong way.

username14 this feels… so forcibly positive?

username15 she literally looks like the third wheel not even a friend :(

landonorris haha balls

→ ybsf_username you re literally so immature → landonorris piss off, suck these balls.

ybsf_username my girl looks so gorgeous

→ y/n.jpeg right back at you wifey → landonorris so does mine 🥴 *Liked by ybsf_username!* → ybsf_username no. → username16 uhm! → username17 Oh!!

iMessages

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landonorris

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landonorris bone apple teeth as the french say

tagged; ybsf_username

5,231 comments

charles_leclerc that is not how you say it in french.

→ landonorris oui oui baguette Monsieur Leclerc → charles_leclerc 😐 → pierregasly 😐 → estebanocon 🥖 🍷

username18 who is that? where is y/n for pre-race-week pizza day? :(

→ username24 it’s never pre-race-week pizza day without y/n :(

username19 guys… that’s not Y/N’s hair color…

username20 call me crazy but i think that’s Y/Bsf/N

→ username21 that makes no sense… → username22 i mean, lately, lando has been spending more time with her… → username23 not only that, y/n looks like her own third-wheel to friends that just met each other. Have you seen their posts together over the past couple of weeks?

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y/n.jpeg

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y/n.jpeg girls grils glirs !!

tagged; franciscac.gomes, lilymhe, lailahasanovic, flavy.barla

2,874 comments

lailahasanovic the best 🩶

→ y/n.jpeg mwah mwah → mickschumacher :( → lailahasanovic still love you though lovey 🫶 → mickschumacher :)

lilymhe FUNTIME FUNTIME FUNTIME

y/n.jpeg guys don’t drink if you are under 18

y/n.jpeg or 21 if you are a weird american

→ logansargeant this feels aimed. → y/n.jpeg noooooo

y/n.jpeg guys i’m at my limit!!! and not with alcohol!!

→ username24 Y/N :((( → franciscac.gomes literally call me right now. we’ll have a pasta night! :) → y/n.jpeg what about pierre?? → franciscac.gomes he won’t mind! → pierregasly I won’t??? → franciscac.gomes now you won’t!

TWITTER

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y/n.jpeg

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y/n.jpeg pasta night with my girl is better than pizza :)

ps. thank you big brother pierre for the photos 🫶

tagged; franciscac.gomes

pierregasly anything for my girlfriend’s girlfriend

→ franciscac.gomes mwah mwah ❤️ → y/n.jpeg best honorary big brother → pierregasly normally I don’t like this… but I’ll let it slide. → franciscac.gomes 😼 😼 😼

username24 BIG BROTHER PIERRE!!

username25 i hope Y/N finds someone that loves her :(

alexandrasaintmleux sorry I couldn’t join :((

→ y/n.jpeg don’t worry alex 💕 it’ not our fault charles stole you from us

charles_leclerc what is the pasta recipe? it looks delicious 😋

→ y/n.jpeg one you can’t make and one you definitely can’t serve to alex. charles_leclerc enough. 😒 😒

y/n.jpeg men ain’t shit ladies!!

**COMMENT HAS BEEN DELETED**

iMessages

Thankfully, Jordan still didn’t know about what you were doing behind his back but either way your guilt of cheating on him was reducing by the day. Mostly, because the way Trent treated you was vivifying. He listened to you genuinely, he made sure you were okay, he helped you with things you needed help with without having to ask him. He made you feel special everyday and he was not even the one in your bed at night. Although it was getting easier to ignore Jordan and sneak around with Trent, you still hadn't brought yourself to leave Jordan. 

At night when he fell asleep you’d think about what you could say - what excuse you’d give if you brought up you two should separate. Your relationship definitely had problems but knowing Jordan he’d just say they aren’t that serious or you two could get over it if you brought it up as a reason for breaking up. You also knew you definitely couldn’t tell him you found someone else. Jordan would likely get very angry about that and you especially didn’t want to find out that the someone else was Trent. Then there was the issue of how deep rooted your relationship actually was. The house you were in was shared between you two, where would you even go if you broke up? 

You could move back home to your parents but the thought of that at this stage was almost as stressful as thinking about remaining to live with Jordan. You spoke to Trent about it and he of course suggested solutions that were simple to him but ridiculous to you. Last night when you called him while sat in your car to hide from Jordan he suggested if you leave Jordan you could come stay with him. There was no way you were doing that so Trent was realistically no help. 

“Jordan I’m leaving!” you shouted from the front door about to leave for work. He responded with a flat bye from somewhere in the house beyond where you could see him. You opened the door, in a rush to leave as you were already running late but as you stepped outside you saw Trent pulling up to your house. You stood where you were in front of the closed door, lost in watching him for a moment and completely forgetting about work. He noticed you, so he gave you a small wave before refocusing on parking the car and getting out. You had been smiling silly from the moment you saw him and you had not yet been able to wipe it from your face. 

“Hey,” he smiled at you, walking around the front of his car toward you. 

“Hi,” you smiled, biting your lip. He came up to you and stood in front of you, reaching to gently hold your hand at your side. “The neighbours might see,” you warned him without much strength. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” he asked you, ignoring your weak warning and continuing to hold your hand. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, not even considering what plans or responsibilities you had for the night before agreeing. 

“Great,” He smiled, “Hope you have a good day,” he kindly told you, implying your covert conversation was over. You thanked him and stepped to walk to your car but he pulled you back by your hand that was still in his grasp. You turned back and looked at him with a questioning brow. 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he confessed, making you giggle. 

“I’ll see you tonight Trent, have a good day,” you smiled at him and pulled your hand from his gentle hold. He blatantly watched you walk to the car and get in. It was only after you’d driven off did he knock on the door and call Jordan that he was at your home. 

The entire work day you could only think about Trent. You found yourself re-reading messages he’d sent, giggling like a schoolgirl. The warm feeling in your body when you thought about him was undeniable. You were definitely in your feelings about him, there was no going back on that. The only problem now was if you could actually see it through. 

After work you went shopping and bought a brand new set of lingerie. You still hadn’t made up your mind if you were really going to cross that line with Trent but you thought you might as well be prepared. You weren't sure about actually doing it but you sure did want too. You thought about what it would be like to be with him an incalculable number of times now since you met him. Your fantasies about him had only heightened since he made you cum on his tongue some time ago.

When you got home, fortunately Jordan wasn’t there so you had the freedom to take a long preparatory shower without his knowledge. You took your time, being in a great mood knowing you were going to see Trent later. You got dressed, feeling more confident about taking things further with Trent when you looked at your self dressed in lingerie for him in the mirror. You smiled at yourself and then put on a track suit set so over your skimpy lingerie so Jordan wouldn’t think anything. You were spraying on your favourite perfume, almost ready to leave, when Jordan walked through the door of your room. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked, noticing you weren’t dressed to stay home. 

“Yeah, by Lori,” you gave him your planned lie. 

“Oh, I was actually wondering if you could help me with the work stuff tonight,” he asked, sitting on the bed. 

“Not tonight J,” you quickly denied him, still focused on your reflection in the mirror. 

“I asked yesterday and you said you were tired but would help tonight,” he reminded you. You barely remembered him asking last night because last night you told him you were tired but really went up to your room to text with Trent and not sleep. 

“Oh, well tomorrow,” you told him to hopefully get him to drop it. He wasn’t pleased because he frowned and complained that you always used to help him and now you weren’t. You really didn’t have it in you to reassure him because your mind was elsewhere so you simply told him you promise to help tomorrow. 

You snuck away from a complaining Jordan and finally were on your way to see Trent. When you pulled up to his house you were already feeling happy from the anticipation of seeing him. Before you even shut off your car he was at the door waiting for you. You bounced out of the car and practically skipped over to him, he smiled at you, took your bag from your hand leaving you with the freedom to wrap your arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest. 

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. He lifted a hand to your cheek and stroked it with his thumb. 

“Hi,” he returned, kissing your nose before you pulled away from him. He took your hand and led you into the house and up to his room. 

“How was your day?” he asked you as he put your bag down. 

“Same old same old,” you shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back only our hands. He hummed and walked over to you, coming to stand in front of you. 

“How was yours?” you asked him, looking up at him with a smile on your face. 

“Same old, same old,” he repeated your words as he leaned forward bringing his face closer to yours. He smirked at you, now having you trapped between his big arms with his hands rested on the bed besides you. He looked at you with those big brown eyes and slowly inched toward your lips. You couldn’t take it any longer so you closed the gap, pressing your lips against his. He smiled against your lips, he was being gentle but you weren’t in the mood for gentleness. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on to you. He chuckled between kisses. He lifted your body slightly, pulling you further up the bed so you were both laid on the bed with his broad body hovered over yours. He pulled away but you greedily pulled him back into a kiss, poking your tongue into his mouth, showing him you wanted more. He obliged, equally deepening the kiss and sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his. He pulled away first to catch his breath but you didn’t care to stop, you kissed his jaw and then his neck now that his lips were off yours. 

“Well you certainly are in a mood,” he teased, looking at you with a smile on his perfect lips. You pulled away from kissing his neck to meet his amused eyes. 

“Shut up,” you playfully rolled your eyes, tapping his chest with your hand. He chuckled and kissed your cheek, rolling off your body. 

“Seriously, how was your day?” he asked, looking across at you and taking up your hand to play with your fingers. You took a breath and moved to straddle him. 

“I don’t want to talk about work Trent,” you more firmly told him. 

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, letting go of your hand and resting his hands on your hips, “What do you want to do then?” he asked, his smirk showing he knew what you did want. 

“I could think of some things,” you confidently told him, pulling your sweater off and revealing the lacey, sheer bra you wore for him. His jaw slackened as his eyes fixed on your boobs, cradled and emphasised in the lingerie bra. He cleared his throat and forcibly refocused his eyes to your face. 

“L-like what?” he stuttered to ask. You rolled your eyes at his coyness and leaned down, pressing your boobs against his chest and putting your lips to his ear. 

“I want you to fuck me like you own me,” you boldly spoke into his ear. You pulled away to see him slack jawed and looking up at you with wide glassy eyes. 

“What about your boyfriend?” he asked, slowly moving his hands up your sides. 

“The same one who can’t make me cum?” you harshly said, making Trent’s eyes widen. You were so horny at this point, you were speaking without a filter. All day you’d been thinking about Trent and what it would feel like to have him inside of you. Your urge for him had come to a head and now, all you wanted was to rip his clothes off. 

“Is that true?” he asked you, intrigued and a bit surprised. 

“Do you really think Jordan cares enough about if I finish or not?” you sassily asked. Trent’s brows furrowed in thought for a moment before his hands stopped on your hips and his face fell. 

“Are you still having sex with him?” he asked you, looking right at you. You sighed and shook your head annoyed that things were going this way. You didn’t answer him, you just got off of his lap and moved to sit  beside him. 

“Are you?” he asked again when you didn’t answer him. 

“Can we not talk about this,” you folded your arms in annoyance. 

“I mean I think we should, we never really spoke about the rules here,” he said to you. 

“Rules!? Trent I’m literally cheating on my boyfriend here. What are you talking about with rules?” you huffed and over exuberantly questioned him. You didn’t mean to sound so snarky but you were frustrated that things weren’t going to plan. He looked at you surprised at your tone and attitude. 

“You are, aren’t you?” he surmised based on your diversion from the question. You sighed and got off the bed, walking over to the other side to fetch your sweater in loud silence. Trent watched you storm around his bed and aggressively pick up your sweater from the ground, fighting with it to turn it back on the right side. 

“Would you stop all that?” he asked you with a slightly more amused tone. You didn’t stop, you continued to roughly pull the sleeves of the sweater to the right side. He sat up in the bed, swinging his legs over the edge to sit facing you. “Babe, stop,” he gently said, pulling you by the elbow as you stuck your hands in the bottom of the sweater ready to put it on. 

“What?” you snappily answered him, stopping what you were doing. He took the sweater from you, threw it back on the ground and pulled you by the hips to him. 

“Where has all this attitude come from?” he asked with raised brow as he stroked his hands up your naked sides. You didn’t answer him, you pouted your lips still fired up from not immediately getting your way. He chuckled at your expression and kissed your belly. “Talk to me,” he encouraged you, swiping his thumbs against your skin. You still refused, folding your arms under your boobs to emphasise your annoyance while still stuck in your bratty mood. He remained amused, a smile on his lips as he easily pulled your arms apart and rested them on his shoulders. He pulled you even closer, slotting you between his legs and putting his hands on your back. 

“I don’t want to talk about him, I just want you,” you grumbled your answer. He smiled, sneaking his fingers under the back of your bra. 

“Hmm…you want me to fuck you like I own you is that right?” he asked, his voice deep and sultry as he smirked at you. If you weren’t so blindly horny you’d feel embarrassed about what you said earlier but you couldn’t think beyond the fire in your belly for him. You just nodded, answering him with the desperation for his touch behind your eyes. 

“Alright baby, come let me show you what you deserve,” he said, unclipping your lace bra and swiftly moving his hands down to your thighs, pulling you on to him to straddle him. Just as quickly as he pulled you on to him, he flipped you to pin you down to the bed beneath him. 

He kissed you, slipping into the kind of deep kiss that made you moan into his mouth as he peeled the straps of your bra off your shoulders, leaving you completely topless beneath him. He left your lips to kiss your neck, down your chest and finally to your breast. He gently nipped at the skin just above your nipple making you jump and arch you back into him, before he moved down to pull your taut nipple between his plump lips. You dared to look at him, watching him as he swirled his tongue around your nipple in his mouth. He looked up to you, smirking at you as he pulled away, grazing it slightly with teeth and making your spine shiver. 

He slid his hands down your body and smoothly pulled your pants down your hips. You eagerly helped, lifting your hips for him to pull them off and attached your hands to the bottom of his shirt, rushing him to take it off. He chuckled at your hasty actions but leaned back and pulled off his shirt. You looked up at him, positioned between your legs and on his knees as he pulled his shirt off revealing his perfectly sculpted body. You licked your lips and reached out for him, he smiled and leaned it, wrapping his hand around your wrist when you put your hand on his chest. You reached your other hand out to wrap around his neck, using it to pull him back in to kiss him. 

When your lips were together again and your tongues dancing with each other, he slid the hand he held with his wrist down his body, guiding your fingers across his taut abs and down to the waistband of his  joggers. You didn’t need much prompting so when he moved your hand down to what you wanted from him you keenly slid your hand into his pants, finding yourself between his skin and boxers. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth and wrapped your hand around his hardening cock simultaneously, making him moan with your actions. 

He kissed your neck as you stroked him but he made it hard for you to focus when he slid his hand down between your bodies and pulled your panties to the side. He slid his thumb down your slick folds, pressing his thumb against your clit purposefully to make you whimper. He made smooth taunting circles around your clit with his thumb, still kissing at your neck. 

“You’ll leave a mark,” you breathlessly tried to warn him as he continued to nip at your skin. Your words were discouraging him but your body encouraged him as you arched your body into his tantalising touch. 

“If I could I would mark my name on you,” he pulled his lips off your neck to say into your ear. He took his hand from your pussy and grabbed your face with it, sticking his thumb that was just on your clit in your mouth forcing it open. 

“You’re mine, remember?” he asked to which you nodded in eager agreement. He pushed his thumb further into your mouth, so you wrapped your tongue around it, tasting yourself until he pulled it out and moved it back down your body. This time he moved as well, taking himself down between your thighs. 

He pulled your lace panties to the side again, teasing with a stroke of his wet thumb down your pussy before spreading you with his fingers. 

“Trent please,” you begged him, your skin burning from the anticipation. His lips twitched into a smile as you squirmed beneath him. He leaned into your pussy but still didn’t touch, he flickered his eyes up to you, teasingly blowing warm air on to your wet clit making it pulse in greedy anticipation. 

“Please,” you begged with a weak voice and a fogged mind. He finally gave in to your pleas and licked your pussy. He ate your pussy like it was his profession. He licked and sucked at you until your vision was blurry and you were grabbing at his hair. He tried to pull your panties off but you snatched at him to keep his tongue on your aching pussy. He chuckled against your pussy but followed your wordless demand and reattached his lips around your clit, this time slipping his fingers into you as he sucked your clit into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you chanted as he pumped and stretched you with his long fingers. Your thighs were tight and you felt like you were going to burst. He sent you over the edge when moved his fingers in you, hitting the spot as his tongue rapidly flicked against your clit. You were so loud when you came on his tongue you were sure anyone else in the house must have heard you. Trent wasn’t bothered, he continued to lap at you, licking up your wetness that was now dripping down your pussy. 

You still hadn’t caught your breath when he pulled your panties off your hips, tossing them to the side along with his bottoms he had swiftly pulled off. You were so dazed you didn’t notice his nakedness until he was laid over you again and you felt his hard cock press against your pussy. 

“Tell me it’s mine,” he demanded of you as he reached beyond you for the condom. 

“All yours, you’re all think about,” you overzealously admitted to in your post orgasmic haze. He smiled at that, satisfied with your answer. 

“Are you sure about this baby?” he asked you as he slid his cock down your pussy, resting at your opening. 

“Yes, please I only want you,” you hastily told him, pulling your thighs further back for him. He looked down at your pussy and back to you. He nodded and slowly slipped his cock into you. You held your breath as he did, closing your eyes as you felt the pressure of his big cock inside of your body for the first time. He slowly pulled back, letting you breathe, but then quickly snapped his hips into yours, sending his cock so deep into you, you yelped and slapped your hand over your mouth shocked at how loud you were being. He smiled and pulled your hand from your mouth. 

“I wanna hear you baby, I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel,” he said to you. He didn’t give you time to respond, he only drove you crazier by adding to the deliberate and deep strokes of his cock into your body. 

The way you were so loud from him putting you in position after position, bending your body in ways you didn’t even know you could bend and making you feel him in places deeper than any man had been, you were sure even the neighbours knew his name. He fucked you for so long and so good you were begging for him to cum by the end. You were spent in a way you didn’t think possible. All this time you thought you had great stamina but he put you in your place and showed you the truth quickly. 

After he was tender with you, gently cleaning you up and pulling you to his chest. You were in such a daze at this point you barely noticed his actions. You must have fallen asleep on his chest because the next thing you heard was your phone screaming as it rang. You groaned from being forcibly awoken by your phone. You pushed off Trent’s chest with tired eyes and rolled on to your stomach and reached for your phone on the side table. You were so tired you didn’t even check the caller ID. 

“Hello,” you answered, sounding groggy from sleep. 

“Y/n, when are you coming home?” Jordan asked into the phone. Your eyes opened wide, realising it was him calling. You blinked a couple times, forcing yourself into wakefulness to speak to him. Before you answered you checked the time to see it was already after midnight. 

“Y/n?” Jordan called your name into the phone when you delayed to answer. 

“Oh, what time am I coming home?” you repeated his question because your brain was still moving too slow to think. Trent woke up from your movement and reached out to rest his hand on your back, rubbing it as you tried to speak to Jordan. 

“Yes, y/n when are you coming home?” Jordan asked again, annoyed with your response or rather lack thereof. You looked across at Trent who still laid with his eyes closed while gently caressing your back. 

“I actually am just going to spend the night,” you told him, implying you were spending the night with Lori and not Trent. 

“Are you sure?” Jordan asked, not happy with that solution. 

“Yeah yeah, we’re still talking so I’ll just spend the night, see you tomorrow,” you rushed hoping to get him off the phone. 

“Hmm, alright fine,” he said, seemingly believing your lie. 

“Okay bye,” you rushed and hung up the phone, hoping he wouldn’t call again. 

“Everything alright?” Trent asked, you nodded and crawled back into his side, resting your head on chest. 

“Yeah it’s fine,” you assured him as he wrapped his arm around your body again. 

The following morning you woke up in Trent’s arms. It felt so good to be held by him that you didn’t want to get him. Eventually you did, mostly because you both had to get to work. Despite your scheduled responsibilities Trent insisted you stay for breakfast with him. 

“Do you do this for all your girls?” you cheekily asked him as he handed you a copy of his fruit and yoghourt bowl. 

“Only the pretty ones,” he smiled, making you roll your eyes. 

“You’re supposed to say I’m the only one,” you sassed him while putting a spoon of your breakfast in your mouth. He chuckled and walked around the counter to sit next to you. 

“You surely are the most special one,” he said to you but you still looked at him crossed for implying you weren’t the only one. “It’s alright baby, don’t get upset you’re the only girl I’m seeing,” he pinched your cheek with his assurance in an attempt to get you to smile. 

“Am I ?” you asked for confirmation of his implication. 

“Yeah, of course,” he reassured you with a smile. You looked at him but then down into your bowl trying to hide your matching smile. Trent took your smile as a sign you were happy with his answer and didn’t push it further. After breakfast you reluctantly left his home and went back to yours to get ready for work. 

When you got home, Jordan wasn’t there. You didn’t know where he went but you were grateful because now you thought you could for sure just grab a quick shower, get dressed and leave. You ended up taking longer because when you looked over at yourself in the mirror you noticed the darkening hickey on your neck that Trent left was peeking over your work shirt.  You went back to your closet, changed outfits still thinking you’d just run out now but Jordan walked into your room at that moment you finished getting re-dressed. 

“Oh, hey,” you said to him, surprised to see him home. 

“Hey,” he said to you, “I didn’t see you this morning,” he remarked, standing at the door of your bedroom and folding his arms. 

“Yeah sorry, I overslept,” you told him, “I should get to work,” you added hoping to escape. 

“How was the sleepover with Lori?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Good,” you kept it short, hoping he wouldn’t ask anything further. He narrowed his eyes at you and dropped his folded arms. 

“I was just at the petrol station just now and guess who I saw?” he asked, making you nervous with his tone as he stepped toward you. 

“Who?” you asked, trying to keep your cool. 

“Lori,” he said, instantly making your face fall. You didn’t say anything back, you couldn’t as your breath caught in your throat. “Funny story, she and I were in the same row so I asked her about your sleepover but she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about,” Jordan added, making your heart fall into your stomach.

“Where were you y/n?” Jordan asked, standing right infront of you now. 

“Umm…actually after Lori’s I went to my friend Samantha’s,” you quickly lied. 

“Who’s Samantha?” Jordan asked, not having heard of that friend before. 

“A work friend,” you added to the lies, you knew a woman at work named Samantha but she was hardly your friend. 

“Where does she live?” Jordan asked quickly, interrogating you on your response. 

“Not far from here,” you added to your web of lies. Jordan narrowed his eyes at you, finding your story hard to believe. 

“Why didn’t you come home then?” he asked seeing as you claimed to not be far from home. 

“Samantha, she was upset…her boyfriend just broke up with her so I stayed,” you smoothly added to your web of lies, hoping he couldn't see through you. “She asked me to stay with her,” you added, hoping to negate any further questions. Jordan looked you over with critical eyes, looking unconvinced.

“Alright, fine,” he shrugged and let it go, “Don’t make a habit of it though,” he added before you could escape. You nodded and told him okay, faked a smile and kissed him on the cheek before rushing out to your car to go to work.

You got in your car and rushed out of the house but the first red light you came to you dropped your head on to the steering wheel and screamed at how close you were to getting caught. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you said to yourself, the panic of what happened earlier washing over you. The honk of the cars behind you snatched you out of your outburst and you were forced to refocus on the road. You weren’t sure if Jordan really believed you or if just he didn’t care enough to look deeper into it but you knew now that you couldn’t get away with spending long hours with Trent without Jordan noticing something was off. It was getting easier to lie to Jordan but even with being able to come up with a tale, you barely got out of this morning’s problem. Any more suspicion from him and you might actually get caught. 

After work you meet up with Trent before going home. Earlier in the day you messaged him in panic about what happened with Jordan and he told you he’d meet with you later to talk about it. The nature of your secret affair meant the only real place you could meet up was at his house. 

“So what exactly happened?” Trent asked you as you both walked into his living room. He sat on the couch, relaxed in comparison to you pacing in front of him before opening your mouth to relay the story. You told him what happened, how Jordan saw Lori and caught on to your fake story but you thought you covered up well enough. 

“Well, hopefully he believes what you said,” Trent shrugged, not getting too bothered after hearing your recollection of this morning. 

“Maybe but he said he doesn’t want me to stay out like that again and I have a feeling he’ll be more watchful over what I’m doing,” you explained to Trent. Jordan was always the possessive type and though he would usually let you hang out with your friends, you knew he was serious about not wanting you to stay out overnight again. Trent sat back in the chair and looked at you expressionless as you panicked. 

“I just really don’t want him to find out, we got to be more careful, I don’t think I should spend the night here again he will definitely know something is up,” you added in a racing pace of speech, filled with anxiety over the thought of getting caught. 

“Or you could just break up with him,” Trent said plainly amidst your aura of anxiety. You looked at him and your face fell.

“Trent,” you said, annoyed at his simplest suggestion, placing your hands on your hips.  

“I mean that is the only answer. You have to pick at some point,” Trent continued, only adding to your anxiousness rather than soothing it. 

“Trent,” you sighed this time, dropping your hands down. “You know it’s not that simple,” you added in a quieter voice, dropping your head to look at the floor. 

“It is though, tell him to fuck off and pick me,” Trent continued to simplistically explain. You shook your head and put your hand on your forehead at his words. He got off the couch and walked over to you. He took your face in both his hands and forced you to look at him. 

“I know you can do better, you know you can do better, so just leave him and let me treat you better,” he bore into you with his brown eyes and his words. You sighed and leaned your head onto his palm. 

“I wish it was that easy,” you said to him and yourself. 

“It is, I know you’re scared to leave him but we can’t keep doing this forever, you have to choose,” he firmly said to you, making his opinion known.

You frowned and stepped closer to him, pressing your head against his chest and wrapping your arms around his body. He sighed and hugged you back, rubbing your back to comfort you. You wanted to be able to easily follow Trent’s instruction. You knew you had to choose, you weren’t stupid, you knew you couldn’t keep this up forever but stepping out of Jordan’s gravity was easier said than done. To Trent things were as easy as you leaving Jordan and coming to him but you feared the reality of taking that step would not go as smoothly  as Trent made it seem.

.

thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part & do let me know what you thought ☺️

You drove home with a smile on your face, thinking about what you were going to wear to go over to Trent’s later. You considered being casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard but then you thought maybe you should try and be sexy. What if you two ended up having sex? Maybe you should put on something sexy. You stopped at the red light, chewing your lip over if you were ready to take the sex plunge with him. You definitely wanted too. Well in your head you did, you’d thought about it many times. Actually doing it though was a different story. What you were doing was bad enough but actually sleeping with another man behind your boyfriend’s back? You weren’t sure you could do that despite how much you desired to be with Trent like that. Well rather you weren't sure you could live with the guilt.

You walked into a quiet house, perplexed at how untouched the downstairs looked despite knowing Jordan was home. You shrugged and went upstairs, thinking he must have gone out with a friend and didn’t tell you. Jordan going out without informing you was commonplace, he hated when you did it but he often did it himself. 

You stepped into your bedroom, head down in your phone messaging Trent that you’d just got home. 

“Y/n,” you heard Jordan call you in a groggy voice. You looked up surprised to see him tucked into bed with the cover up to his chin. 

“I thought you were out,” you said to him, putting down your handbag.

“I’m not feeling well,” he frowned. You looked over his face and noticed his tired puffy eyes that confirmed his words. 

“What’s happened?” you asked. You left for work before he was out of bed in the morning so you didn’t notice he was sick. 

“I feel weak and I think I might have a fever,” he explained, the low energy he described evident in his tone. You looked him over again and sighed, taking your body over to the sit on the edge of the bed beside him. You rested your hand across his forehead and neck, feeling his warm skin beneath your hand.

“Have you been in bed all day?” you asked him, dropping your hand to rest on his chest. 

“Most of,” he quietly replied. Your phone pinged and you looked without Jordon seeing, to see Trent asking what time you wanted to come over. 

“What is it?” Jordan asked, noticing the frown on your face. 

“Umm, I was supposed to go out with Lori,” you quickly made up an excuse for whose messages you were looking at. Lying to Jordan had become easier the longer you snuck around with Trent. 

“Can you stay?” he softly asked you, wrapping his hand gently around your wrist. You looked at his hand on yours and back up to his face. He sniffled, emphasising his sickness. You thought about saying you had to go but ended up sighing and nodding in agreement to stay.

“Yeah sure, I’ll go get you something for the fever,” you agreed and got off the bed. Jordan thanked you as you walked out of the room.

On your way down to the kitchen you texted Trent that you wouldn’t be able to make it anymore without an explanation. You didn’t want to tell him you couldn’t come because you were stuck having to take care of your sick boyfriend.

You sighed, disappointed with the turn of events as you swung open the fridge to retrieve water for the dramatically ill Jordan. By the time you got the water and the bottle of paracetamol your phone was loudly ringing. You saw T flash across your screen and took a deep breath, already knowing you weren’t getting out of the cancellation as easily as you planned. 

“Hello,” you leaned on the kitchen counter and tentatively answered him. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah, it is,” you answered and regretted not thinking of a believable non- Jordan related reason to say things weren’t okay and that's why you couldn't come over. 

“Oh…so why can’t you come over?” he asked the inevitable that you weren’t prepared to answer. Unfortunately, as much as lying to Jordan had become easier, you weren’t practised in lying to Trent.  “Y/n?” he asked when you hesitated to answer. 

“Jordan is sick,” you just confessed, quickly spewing out the truth. Trent didn’t say anything right away and you nervously bit your lip. 

“Jordan,” he said your boyfriend’s name through his teeth, “So what does that have to do with you?” he asked with clear disregard for Jordan. 

“I have to take care of him,” you told Trent quietly, knowing he wouldn’t approve of your excuse. Once again, Trent didn’t respond right away but you could almost hear his jaw click together at your words. 

“Take care of him when he doesn’t care fuck all about you?” Trent snapped at you. You were a bit taken aback by his harsh words and rough tone. You leaned off the kitchen counter, standing straight in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -,” Trent started to apologise, feeling your shift in mood through your silence. 

“No, I get it you think I’m dumb for caring,” you finally spoke, annoyed with Trent now. 

“Y/n, it’s not like that I just -,” he started to say but you cut him off. 

“I have to go, Jordan is waiting on me,” you quickly issued and hung up the phone. You were not in the mood to get reprimanded by Trent. You were already annoyed that your cheerful mood from earlier in the day was snatched from you. You knew you had to take care of Jordan regardless of what you actually wanted to do and you weren’t in the mood to field arguments about why you shouldn’t be doing what you just had to do. 

You went back upstairs to Jordan and gave him the water and paracetamol. He dramatised his illness now that you were home. He asked you to rub his head and hold him. You were stuck in bed with him while he cuddled you to sleep. In the early days you would have found it sweet. You used to enjoy being with him and stroking his back as he laid on your chest but now it wasn’t the same. It felt like work, like you were sacrificing your time for him. It didn’t bring you the warmth in your heart it used to but you were committed to him so you still dutifully fulfilled your role of being his girlfriend. 

You spent the whole night with Jordan, tending to his needs and stroking his head while he slept. The next day you had off from work and you busied  yourself with errands and cleaning the house. Jordan was feeling a bit better but he didn't offer to help. He was home but he spent most of the day ignoring you for his video games. The evening came and he was totally engrossed in the screen before him while you were finishing up dinner for you both. You’d just turned off the oven when your phone started to vibrate on the counter. You bit your lip seeing T light up across the screen, considering if to answer given your last brief but tense conversation before ultimately doing so. 

“Hey…,” you gently answered. 

“Hey, are you home?” he asked to which you nodded before realising you actually needed to answer. 

“Yeah,” you verbally answered. You hadn’t spoken to him since your small tiff last night and you weren’t sure how he felt toward you now. 

“Are you busy?” he asked, hopefully that you weren’t. 

“Not really, I just finished up dinner,” you told him quietly so Jordan wouldn’t hear. Not that he could hear you over the headphones over his ears. 

“Can you meet me outside?” he asked, making your face fall. 

“What do you mean meet you outside?” you asked him in a whisper shout. You walked over to the window and peaked out to see Trent’s big black mercedes outside of your house on the street. You quickly closed back the curtain and started to panic.

“I wanna talk,” he calmly said as if he wasn’t literally outside your home with your boyfriend right there. Your heart was beating so fast you barely heard his words. 

“Are you crazy!? You know he’s here right,” you hushed but hurriedly spoke into the phone, you peaked into the living room to see if Jordan had any clue about your call but he hadn’t moved an inch. 

“We can go up the street,” Trent calmly suggested. You looked up to Jordan again, considering the plan. 

“Okay fine, give me a minute and please move from right in front of my house,” you quickly instructed him, fearful Jordan would spontaneously get up and notice Trent outside. He agreed and you peaked out through the curtain to see him drive off. You took a breath and thought about what you were going to tell Jordan so he wouldn’t come looking for you. 

You ended up telling him Lori was dropping something off for you so you were going outside to meet her. He didn’t even look at you while you explained the excuse so you didn’t think he’d take much notice of how long you’d be outside.

Once you dealt with Jordan, you ran upstairs to throw on some clothes. You pulled a hoodie over your bralette and left on your shorts, thinking you wouldn’t be outside for long. You stepped over to the mirror and almost screamed realising you were properly ready for bed with your head scarf on and face shinning from serums and thick moisturiser. You thought about taking your hair down and trying to pull yourself together to go see this boy but you were harshly reminded about the time constraint when he texted you asking if you were coming. You took a breath and accepted your situation. You hurriedly moved down the stairs but quietly slipped out the door. Once outside you quickly sped walked up the street to Trent’s car, hugging your body in the cold. 

When you got to the window of the passenger side of his car, he lent over opening it for you and you quickly jumped in, running from the cold you grossly underestimated. Once inside, you rubbed your bare thighs that now covered in goosebumps from the cold while Trent chuckled at you. 

“You alright?” he cheekily smiled at you. 

“I’m cold,” you complained, “Didn’t really dress to be outside,” you added, slowing your hands on your thighs as you warmed up. 

“I can see that,” he quipped, earning a quick sharp glare from you. He smiled and leaned over a bit, taking your chin in his hand. “You look cute though,” he pecked your lips with his comment, instantly making you smile. 

“I’m sorry by the way,” he apologised, letting go of your face and resting his hand over yours. 

“For?” you asked, but then recalled your little argument the day prior.

“For being rude to you, I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologised and you quietly turned your hand to lace your fingers with his. 

“You were right though,” you quietly admitted to him. You didn’t like to hear it from him but you knew Jordan didn’t really deserve effort from you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to turn your back on him. Trent didn’t say anything, he quietly stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, the only sound was the soft hum of his music over the radio. 

“I got you something,” he broke the tranquil silence and opened the centre console, pulling out a dairy milk bar. Your eyes lit up and a smile spread across your lips at the site of your favourite chocolate. 

“My fav! How’d you know?” you asked him, taking it from him. 

“You told me,” he shrugged and you struggled to remember when you would have mentioned it to him. It must have been in a passing comment so it warmed your heart he would have remembered. 

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled and kissed his cheek.

Naturally, you relaxed in Trent’s presence. You turned in your passenger seat, stretching your legs across the seats to rest in Trent’s lap while you ate the chocolate bar he got for you. He asked for a bite while you chatted and you held it out for him to bite, pretending to be annoyed he wanted some. An hour passed by of just talking about your days in his car a few houses down from your own. It was so easy to talk to him the time just slipped away.

“Can I ask you something?” Trent precursored his actual question while stroking your legs that laid in his lap. You nodded encouraging him to continue. 

“Why are you still with him?” Trent asked, looking up to meet your eyes. You averted your eyes on hearing his question and dropped them to your hands in your lap. You picked at the side of your nails, chewing your bottom lip trying to find the words to explain. 

“It’s complicated,” you mumbled out. That answer was obviously not enough for Trent because he gave you a dissatisfied look when you looked up to meet his eyes. You sighed and slowly started to explain more, “We’ve been together for a long time and it is not that easy to walk away, clearly our lives are very intertwined, we live together,” you started to explain. 

“You have a good job, you don’t need him,” Trent quickly pipped in with his simplistic solution. 

“I know but it’s almost like I don’t know myself without him,” you shrugged, looking down again, feeling a bit ashamed of your truth. 

“But do you like who you are with him?” Trent asked you directly. You looked up at him and sighed. You didn’t, you knew the answer to that but you didn’t want to say it out loud. Trent read the reluctance on your face and let the topic go. He took your hand, stopping you from picking at them and kissed your fingers. 

“Take your time, I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave him,” he assured you with another kiss to your hands before lowering it. 

“How are you so sure that I will?” you asked him, curious to why he was so determined to stick by you although you had a boyfriend. 

“Because I know you deserve better and I know I’m the man that can give it to you,” he confidently professed. You looked at him, studying his earnest expression deciphering he really did mean that. You nodded in acknowledgment of his words but didn’t say anything because you weren’t sure what to. You believed him and it wasn’t the first you’d heard you deserved better than Jordan but hearing that and turning it into taking the plunge and leaving what you had with Jordan were totally different things. 

You stayed with Trent a bit longer but eventually you said you should go back to the house before Jordan started to ask questions. 

“I’m going to drive you back to the house,” Trent insisted. 

“What if he sees,” you complained. 

“He won’t,” Trent confidently assured you, “It’s too cold and too dark for you to walk there alone so I’m driving you,” he added to his instance. 

“It’s 3 houses Trent,” you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. He gave you a stern look, shutting you up from insisting against his plans. He was adamant and you’d just have to roll with it. He drove you up to the house and you were about to jump out but he pulled you back to kiss him. If you could maintain your senses when kissing him you would’ve pulled away to reduce to risk of getting caught but you couldn’t. You couldn’t because when his lips pressed against yours you felt like you were on a cloud. He finally released you from his spell, slowly pulling away and peppering your lips with a few light pecks before sitting back in his seat. 

“I’ll call you,” you told him, holding on to the inner door handle. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he smiled, sending your heart rate back up. You finally got it together and got out of his car and went into your house.

You peaked in on Jordan but he was still sitting in the same place, not seeming to have noticed how long you were outside. You didn’t push your luck, you quietly went up to your room and got ready for bed. When Jordan finally came up he didn’t ask about your chat with Lori which was really your chat with Trent. He just quietly got ready for bed and went to sleep without much acknowledgment of you. Tonight you weren’t too bothered that he was blind to you because your mind was far away from Jordan and very much on Trent. 

It had been a week or so since you saw Trent because he was busy with a packed week of away games. You knew you were really starting to like him because you genuinely missed him not seeing him around your house. You still talked but between his training, games and recovery you didn’t talk as much that week as you usually did.

When he was finally back and had a light day he asked you to come over for dinner - he told you he was going to cook so you were naturally intrigued. Truthfully, he could have asked you to come over to watch paint dry and you would have been excited. 

You got lucky because Jordan was going to be out with his friends so you made up an excuse you would be with yours and snuck over to Trent’s. When you got to his he smiled that dazzling smile at you, only pumping more butterflies into your belly when he told you how pretty you looked. 

“Okay, cover your eyes,” he told you once you’d gotten off your shoes. 

“For what?” you asked with furrowed brows at the door. 

“Just follow me,” he said and came behind you, covering your eyes with his big hands and taking the responsibility away from you. He led you blindly into the house and you repeatedly asked him what all the fuss was about while you slowly and blindly walked through his house. After a short walk he stopped you and took his hands off your eyes. You blinked to adjust and giggled at the set up before you. 

He set up a candle lit dinner for two with a small vase of flowers decorating the table. Your smile grew bigger at the plated pasta and bottle of wine on the table. 

“This is the only dish I know how to cook so I hope you like it,” he nervously said, stepping out from behind you and walking to pull your chair. 

“I love it already,” you beamed at him, holding his face in your hands and kissing him rather than taking a seat. You pulled away from the kiss and gave him a quick hug before taking your seat that he politely pushed in. When he came around to sit opposite to you, you were smiling ear to ear. 

“This is really cute of you,” you smiled at him as he opened the wine. 

“Anything for you,” he smiled back, picking up your glass and pouring the wine in it. 

“That’s a big promise,” you raised your eyebrow at him. 

“One I’m willing to keep,” he quickly replied, putting your glass down. You picked it up and brought it to your lips, trying to hide the blushing smile on your face. 

The two of you sat there at the candle lit table, talking lightly about your busy weeks first but as time went on, the deeper the conversation got. You found yourself telling him all about not only your achievements but your disappointments. You easily told him about things you hadn’t really spoken to Jordan about despite all the years you’d been together. There were things he was by your side for but never truly knew how you felt because you didn’t think he had the capacity to really take on your emotions. You didn’t realise then how much you held back form him but talking to Trent made you realise how reluctant you were with Jordan. 

After you ate dinner with Trent you two decided to watch your favourite movie. Well more so you suggested it and Trent went along with what you wanted without complaint. Despite the fact to the otherside world you weren’t single, being held in a man’s arms while you watched a film you enjoyed was not something you were accustomed to. It felt so good to have your head laid against Trent’s chest while he gently stroked your arm that you started to doze off in his arms. You only woke when you heard your phone ringing in your purse. You groaned and got out of Trent’s arms, dragging yourself over to where you left your bag and answering the phone. 

“Hello,” you answered the unsaved number. 

“Hey y/n, Nate here,” the man said, making you sigh because you knew Nate was Jordan friend. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked knowing it must have been something with Jordan. 

“Jordan is really drunk here, he can’t drive home. Do you think you can come pick him up?” Nate asked, making you drop your head. You asked Nate if he could take Jordan home but he said Jordan was specifically asking for you and didn’t want to leave with anyone else. You pinched your nose bridge thoroughly annoyed with your inebriated boyfriend before you’d seen him face to face. 

“Fine, whatever I’ll be there,” you begrudgingly agreed. You hung up the phone, not waiting to hear Nate's thank you. You turned to look at Trent who was watching you with questions in his eyes. You sighed and walked over to him. 

“Who was that?” he asked as you sat on the couch next to him. You looked at him not wanting to admit what the call was about just yet. He raised his eyebrow at you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. 

“It was Jordan’s friend,” you quietly explained, resting your hand on his chest. Trent didn’t say anything so you were forced to continue your explanation, “Jordan is really drunk at his friend’s house and they want me to come pick him up,” you explained the whole story. Trent sighed heavily and put his hand over yours. 

“Why do you have to go?” he asked, looking at you.

“I’m his girlfriend Trent,” you emotionlessly reported. These were just the things you had to do.

“Right...he’s your “boyfriend”,” he snarked, lifting his hand over yours to airquote the term. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” you asked him, more amused than annoyed. 

“Because the idea that Jordan is good enough to be your boyfriend is a joke,” he sassily explained. You looked at him and the scowl on his pretty face for a moment, smiling at his sassiness before sighing at the truth in his words. 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you considered before pushing away from his body and getting up. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, reaching out and taking your hand. 

“I have to go pick him up,” you explained directly. Trent groaned and got off the couch as well. 

“You’re seriously going?” he asked, standing less than an inch from you as you fixed your clothes. 

“I have to,” you quietly answered. Trent didn’t like that answer. He took your face in his hands and gently lifted your face to look at him. 

“You don’t have to,” he tried to bargain with you. You didn’t have to and you didn’t want to but you did feel like it was your responsibility to. You had to make sure Jordan reached home safely. You looked at him, not having the words to argue because you wanted to agree with him. 

“You’re going to though, aren’t you?” he frowned, looking into your apologetic eyes. 

“I have to,” you frowned, repeating your reality with a pout on your face still in his hands. He sighed and stroked your cheeks with his thumbs before letting go of your face. 

“Message me when you get home,” he requested and you nodded in agreement. He walked you to your car and after a lot of stalling and a lot of stolen kisses after saying you were going to leave you finally left to collect Jordan. 

When you got to him you were deeply annoyed and he was boisterous and clumsy. 

“Y/n! What took you so long?,” He greeted you loudly as his friends helped him into the back seat of your car.  You didn’t respond, you just waited for them to buckle him in, thanked them and drove off. 

“Can you play my song, you know the one,” Jordan requested but you denied him. 

“Babe come on please, it’s too quiet in here!” he continued to shout. You rolled your eyes and turned on the radio. “The song y/n! Play it!” he pushed for his request as you hadn’t played his specific music. He was very much like a child when he got this drunk and you had to be the pandering adult. You turned on his music to which he shrieked more than rapped along the rest of the drive home. Once you got in you had to drag his body out of the car and help support his weight as he wobbled his way to the door. You let him go to lock the front door behind you thinking he’d drift into the house but when you turned around he was standing there watching you like a starving lion. 

“You look so fucking good,” he commented, stepping toward you. You ignored his statement and tried to step away but he pulled you by the waist and held you to him. 

“Jordan, I’m not in the mood,” you sternly told him, putting your hands on his chest to put distance between your bodies. 

“Oh come on please,” he whined and placed messy kisses on your neck.

“Jordan, not tonight,” you maintained your stance. He groaned and pulled away from you. 

“You’re so boring!” he complained, walking off to the living room. You sighed and followed him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. “It’s always no no no with you, what the fuck does a guy have to do to get laid in his own damn house!” Jordan continued to boisterously complain. 

“Well for one not be an asshole,” you grumbled, too low for him to hear in his drunken state. 

“It’s like dating a fucking nun,” he continued, pulling his shirt off his body and throwing it aside. 

“Jordan, you should come upstairs and shower,” you suggested calmly, ignoring his digs toward you. 

“I am not doing that,” he snapped while struggling to un-do his trouser button. You watched as he struggled to get out of the pants, tripping a bit and falling back on the couch. 

“Are you going to come to bed?” you asked him in a paced emotionlessly tone. 

“Are you going to fuck me if I do?” he snappily asked, pulling his pants off his ankles. 

“No,” you bluntly told him. 

“Well then no I’m not coming to the fucking bed y/n,” he snarked, obviously still drunk as he fumbles to grab the televison remote in front of him. You watched him for a moment but decided to give up and walk away. You brought him home and made sure he was safe, you did your part. You couldn't continue to fight with him. You could only handle so much of him when he was like this. 

You got ready for bed yourself, alone in your room. You messaged Trent, telling him you wished you were with him instead. He went along with you being sweet with his response but you knew he was peeved you left to pick up Jordan. He was nice about it but you could read between the lines. Truly, you were a bit mad at yourself for once again bending to Jordan’s will and his needs. Eventually you fell asleep alone in your shared bed only thinking of the man you wished you were sharing it with. 

Jordan didn’t remember his drunken attitude and you didn’t bring it back up, mostly because you just couldn’t care to argue with him. You slipped back into your routines of moving around each other. That was most comfortable for you. 

"When are you finishing work?" Trent asked you, having called while you were at work.

"Not till late unfortunately," you frowned, looking over all the work in front of you.

"Did you eat?" he asked, noting the time was well past lunch as he drove to your house to meet with Jordan.

"I didn't," you quietly admitted. You were so stressed you skipped lunch.

"Y/n...," Trent sighed your name with disappointment.

"I'm just really busy," you tried to defend yourself, "I didn't have time to go buy it," you told him. Trent paused, thinking about how to help before telling you his plan.

"I'm going to buy you something and bring it for you," Trent explained his plan.

"You don't have to, aren't you going to meet with Jordan?" you asked him, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"Yeah but he can wait, what do you want?" Trent asked you, already determined execute his plan. You tried to talk him out of it but that didn't work. You eventually conceded and he agreed to get you what you wanted. When you met him downstairs of your building you couldn't stop the smile on your face when you saw him.

"You really didn't have to but thanks," you thanked him, standing at his car window.

"It's no problem, anything for my girl ," he smiled at you, handing you the food.

"Your girl?" you asked him with a raised eyebrow at his term.

"Do you mind me calling you that?" He asked as your questioning look. You shook your head no, because you did feel a flutter in your belly hearing him call you that. "Good because I intend to make you my girl," he winked, furthering the flutter in your body. Your moment was interrupted by Jordan calling him, asking how long he'd be. You took a breath to calm your heart and stepped away from his car telling him you'd call him later. Trent complained that he'd rather talk to you but you both agreed you had to get back to your lives and you'd talk later.

Trent finally met up with Jordan, lying that he had a family issue and that's why he was late. The two of them went out running, mostly in silence along the way.

At first Trent genuinely became closer to Jordan. However, as his interest in you grew he admittedly used his relationship with Jordan to get closer to you. The more he wanted you, the more things about Jordan annoyed him. He couldn’t understand how he could be so unappreciative of you. Trent would often hear Jordan say offhanded unkind things about you. He stayed quiet when Jordan complained that you didn’t cook or you hadn’t cleaned or you were too busy lately. He didn’t want to say anything because he didn’t want to cue Jordan into how he felt about you but inside he raged about Jordan’s lack of respect for you. Jordan unfortunately didn’t need responses from Trent to be a loud mouth. 

“Don’t settle down mate, it’s pure stress,” Jordan suddenly brought you up as they paused to stretch. 

“Y/n seems nice though,” Trent responded, unable to resist defending you any longer. 

“She’s a nag,” Jordan countered snidely. Trent clenched his jaw, trying to stop himself from arguing with Jordan as the anger of his nasty comments brewed. 

“At least she’s still hot, not like I’m getting any though,” Jordan continued to speak negatively about you. 

“She works a lot, she’s probably tired,” Trent added in your defence, trying not to sound too interested. 

“Well that’s what she says she’s always tired,” Jordan rolled his eyes. Trent narrowed his at Jordan trying to swallow a snarky reply. 

“Why are you still together then?” Trent asked, a bit too harshly to sound casual but Jordan didn’t seem to notice his tone. 

“As much as she can be annoying, life is easier with a woman around,” Jordan commented as if you were an assistant rather than a partner.  Trent looked over Jordan, seething that he didn’t appreciate you, certainly not in the way he wanted to but he kept his mouth shut. If he spoke again he may have found himself audaciously ridiculing Jordan over you and he couldn’t risk raising that level of suspicion when you were technically still Jordan’s girlfriend. 

-

thanks for reading! 💕

hope you liked it, stay tuned for part 4 that will hopefully be soon

Feeling anxiety starting to creep in, you tossed the heavy white duvet to the side and quietly made your way out of your bedroom, baby monitor on one hand, careful not to wake up neither Lily nor Mason. The low light coming from the street guided your lazy steps all the way to the sofa, where you threw yourself and closed your eyes, trying to push away all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

Feeling anxiety starting to creep in, you tossed the heavy white duvet to the side and quietly made your way out of your bedroom, baby monitor on one hand, careful not to wake up neither Lily nor Mason. The low light coming from the street guided your lazy steps all the way to the sofa, where you threw yourself and closed your eyes, trying to push away all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Fuck-” You gasped, your right hand placed on your chest, feeling your heart pound against your chest when Mason’s voice woke you up, almost making you wet your pants. And not in the way you knew he was good at. “Are you trying to kill me or what?”

“Sorry,” He grinned. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Right.” You frowned. “But uh- no, I can’t sleep.”

“She can, apparently.” He gave you a funny face and a wide smile, pointing at the baby monitor on your hand, Lily’s snores coming from it. “Very loud for a little girl.”

You nodded, smiling back, a soft giggle parting your lips. “It gets louder when it’s football day at school and there’s ballet after.”

“You think it’s okay if I go see her dance, someday? After we tell everyone she’s mine.” You noticed how careful Mason was when deciding what to say; though there was no reason for that, you appreciated how thoughtful he was.

“Whenever you want, Mason. Anything related to her, just let me know beforehand so I can plan myself too and I can take her to you, or you can come and pick her up-”

“Or maybe drop her off at Jaz’s?” He interrupted you.

“I wouldn’t want to bother her, with the new baby coming…” You shrugged, and Mason nodded, agreeing that perhaps it wouldn’t be the best idea but he knew you two would manage this co-parenting thing. “It’ll be challenging, but everything will be fine.”

Giving you a wink, Mason nodded again, going back to rest his body on the sofa. You mimicked him, feeling how heavy your body felt, begging for sleep. “Nice place you got here.”

“We moved in recently, I wanted a bigger space in case my dad decided to surprise Lily with a puppy for Christmas.” 

“The gunner dad. Can’t wait to meet him.” Mason groaned, hands brushing his face as his lips parted in a long yawn that made you yawn too, making you share a laugh.

“You shouldn’t worry about that, he’s still under your World Cup effect.”

“Does he…?”

You shook your head. “I never told anyone besides Willow.”

“So your family doesn’t know I’m her dad?”

“No, they don’t.” You shrugged. “That’s private and they’ve always respected my choices, and it’s not like they hate you either. They hate the fact you weren’t around for her but also understand that’s on me.” 

“Well, that’s fair enough.” Mason had his legs up, placing them onto yours as if it was the most natural thing for him. You frowned, a smile playing on your lips. “What?” 

Pushing his legs from yours, you mimicked him and made him snort when you threw your legs onto his. He rested both hands on your thighs, making your body instantly warm with the contact and you were glad your skin was fully covered, or he’d see how hard you shivered. Still, you moved on the sofa, a bit uncomfortable and also quite satisfied - noticing how it affected you, Mason softly squeezed your thigh, apparently amused by the fact he made you feel something. 

The silence that fell between you didn’t bother you and it didn’t seem to bother him either, you were both very relaxed around each other as if you’d been in each other’s lives for years. Somehow you were, and Lily was responsible for that. It felt natural, being around him. So natural you allowed your eyes to close when you noticed Mason closed his.

You blinked a few times when tiny fingers poked your face, finding Lily with the cheekiest grin on her face, her favourite teddy bear upside down on her other hand. Smiling at her, you pouted, waiting for a morning kiss - which she was more than glad to give you. A loud, long snore coming from Mason made her brown eyes wide; Lily covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back a giggle. She really got all that snoring from him.

“Why don’t you wake him up with a cuddle and some kisses, peanut? I’m sure he’ll love it.” You encouraged her before any hint of doubt could be seen in her eyes. 

Holding her hand, you helped her climb you so she could get to Mason, who was peacefully sleeping right next to you. She carefully laid down on him and watching Mason automatically wrap his arms around her small frame made you instantly smile; then, she moved up a little, cupping his face with her tiny chubby hands and spreading soft kisses across his face. When she kissed each of his eyelids, your smile grew wider - that was Lily’s love language, the morning eyelid kisses. 

“What a wonderful way to wake up.” He poked her ribs, making her giggle, and nestled her in his arms. 

“Morning, Masey!” Lily kissed his cheek again, finally resting her head on his chest as Mason played with her hair. 

For a moment, Lily allowed herself to close her eyes and breathe in her daddy’s scent. It made her feel complete, she wanted to scream all the happiness out. When she opened her eyes earlier, it felt like it was just a dream, but seeing him still there calmed her heart; he kept his promise and that meant the world.

As promised, you made pancakes for breakfast, with the help of your little chef. The way Mason closed his eyes when he had his first bite made you feel oddly proud of your cooking skills, which had always been great and you only mastered it after you became a mum, always looking for healthy meal options for Lily - the little one also had pride spread across her face as she watched her daddy eating her mum’s pancakes. When she finished eating, Lily went to feed Moana, the fish, and made sure Mason would say ‘hi’ to her pet. Which he gladly did, and was proud seeing how responsible she was. Maybe she deserved a puppy for Christmas, afterall. 

Mason watched his daughter walk back to the kitchen with a soft smile on his lips; suddenly, the events from the past 24 hours blurred his vision and got his head spinning. He was a dad now. He didn’t have any time to prepare for it like other dads, the typical 9 months before he could meet his daughter. Mason was a fantastic uncle, but being a dad was immensely different, it came with way more responsibilities and he’d have to also be part of that little girl’s education - he’d help shape her for the future and whoever she becomes, would be 50% on him. He could allow him to slightly panic, but emotional control was something he was getting good at, and panicking would be useless; especially because he knew you, so far, was doing a fantastic job because that little girl was precious - kind, thoughtful, loving, funny… Lilian Maisie was everything he dreamed about when he caught himself thinking how much he wanted kids. He had a perfect daughter now and he couldn’t wait to tell his family and closest friends.

“Mason?” Your voice pulled him back from his thoughts. Mason shook his head, let out a long sigh, finally paying attention to you. Lily watched him curiously, holding your hand as she waited. “Bubble bath time for Lils. Do you have to leave or could you wait and take me to Jaz’s? I left my car there yesterday.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” His gaze moved to a pouty Lily. Mason knew this would be the hard part of co-parenting, not being able to be with her all the time. A sigh parted his lips again, but he focused all his attention on his daughter, kneeling down and softly squeezing the tip of her nose.

“Told you I’m never leaving again, I’ll be around as much as I can but daddy-” It overwhelmed him when he said it, calling himself a dad. Your reaction was pretty much the same, you held your breath and you could swear your heart was about to explode with so much love because you never thought you’d see this happening. “-I’m a bit stinky, eh? Don’t you agree?” Lily giggled when Mason tickled her ribs. “I’ll shower, change and come back to pick you and mummy and take you to see Summer.”

Saying her bestie’s name was enough to cheer the little one up, but it wasn’t just her bestie anymore. Lily let go of your hand and jumped on Mason, tiny arms tightly wrapped around his neck as she kissed his cheek repeatedly. 

“My cousin Summer!” She let out a soft scream, making both you and Mason share a laugh at your daughter’s excitement.

Mason nodded at her. “Your cousin Summer. We’ll tell her together, okay?”

“Yes, Masey!”

Mason kissed her forehead before leaving, and gave you the most awkward hug, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that ran through your body when his cologne hit you like a heavenly punch. You held your breath for a few seconds, trying to keep his scent on your mind for as long as you could - until Lily impatiently pulled you towards the bathroom and you undressed her and yourself once the bubbles were the way she liked. 

You mostly nodded and hummed to her endless chattering, your mind elsewhere, thinking how your parents would react when you shared that Lily’s dad was now part of hers and your life too and that he was none other than Mason Mount. You also thought how happy Willow would be, considering she had been the only consistent friend after you became a mum and always encouraged you to go after him. And last but not least, you wondered how you’d keep yourself - and, most importantly, Lily - out of the spotlight considering Mason’s high profile status - losing any sense of normality in your life made you slightly panic; you had a job you loved, your privacy, and although it was barely existent at the moment after ending a two years relationship, you had a love life too.

When the doorbell rang again, you still had the white fluffy towel wrapped around your body and head too. Though she was quite independent for her age, since Mason left almost two hours ago, Lily was unusually clingy, demanding for full attention while getting dressed and while you were blow drying her hair, making you stop for ‘mumma smooches’ as she said. But knowing it was him on the other side of the door, Lily was fast enough to rush and pick it up, leaving you blushing hard as you stood on the hallway and Mason had the cheekiest grin curling his lips. 

Was he going to make a big deal about it or had he forgotten that you were only back to each other’s lives because he put a baby in you?

You rolled your eyes and locked yourself in your bedroom, knowing Lily would entertain him while you got dressed and blow dried your hair. Not even two minutes later, your phone buzzed with a notification. Mason.

Ripping off the towel that wrapped your body, you used it to muffle an odd mix of a muffle and a scream, and then your phone buzzed again. Jasmine.

“Hurry up, mummy!” Soft knocks on your door made you sigh in frustration. You loved that kid but, sometimes, you just needed time to freak out over the things a 25 year old would. 

Your only reply was the noise from the blow dryer; though you knew you needed to rush, you didn’t because you needed time to think about what would come next. Telling Summer would be the easiest thing, but facing Mason’s parents before your own was terrifying - Debbie was a sweetheart, but you had no idea what Mason’s dad was like even if Lily told you he was the funniest. But who wouldn’t, when a kid was involved? And you were no kid.

It didn’t take you more than 40 minutes to get ready; you wanted to cause a good impression on Mason’s dad even if you weren’t Mason’s significant other, because you were still the mother of their granddaughter. The outfit approval came from your daughter first, when she clapped her hands together and let out the softest scream, telling you looked beautiful - then, Mason took his time to capture every little detail of you and how fantastic you looked, making you blush just as hard as he did earlier. 

Mason was glad he had a child car seat always ready for Summer in his car; once Lily was safely tightened to it, they made their short way to Jaz’s place under the little girl’s usual chattering with her daddy giving her all the attention she deserved, answering her questions and asking her about everything he felt he needed to know about her - favourite food, colour, friends from school and whatever popped his mind. You liked that, it helped ease the anxiety of meeting his parents today as the mother of their grandchild. Even if their connection was clearly already strong, Mason was making sure it’d only grow stronger.

As anxious as ever, Jasmine didn’t mind how cold it was outside as she waited for Mason to park the car - the woman had both arms resting on her immense bump, a wide smile on her face and Summer on her side with her arms wrapped around her mummy’s leg. Sam was watching it from inside, face almost glued to the window, and you knew how happy they were seeing the three of you arriving - finally - as a family or, at least, with the expectation of the cute family you were going to be while co-parenting Lily. She secretly hoped you and Mason would get along well enough so you’d end up together, because she liked you and would love to have you as her in law.

Once you were all out of the car, Lily wasted no time letting go of yours and Mason’s hand and rushed to hug her bestie, and this time was the longest and tightest hug because even if Summer had no idea yet, it was a cousin hug from Lily. Holding each other’s hands, they walked inside the house once Sam opened the door and you could notice that Mason’s mum was there waiting for them with her arms wide open, ready for a double hug. Debbie clearly liked your daughter, but how would she react when she found out that Lily was her granddaughter? Jaz seemed to notice how tense you were and wrapped an arm around you, walking inside the house with you on her side in a subtle gesture of welcoming you to the family because that’s what you were now.

“Oh, hi Y/n! It’s so lovely to see you again.” Debbie welcomed you with two kisses and a smile stamped on her face, you mentally asked yourself how they were always smiling. “Hope you’re feeling better from that heartbreak.” She winked at you and although it was discreet, you noticed Mason’s grin when he walked by after kissing his mum’s forehead. You blushed.

“Quite well, Debbie. He’s not that important.” You groaned, making the woman giggle. He was important, he was the goddamn father of your child.

“Good, good. I didn’t know you and Mason knew each other, I’ve seen you two arrived together.”

Trying not to panic again, your eyes searched for Mason, who quickly showed up again and stood next to his mum, not really knowing what to say.

“We met a few years ago, I didn’t know he was Jaz’s brother.”

“Mum, I-” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to discuss with you and dad.”

“Oh, Mason…”

Debbie frowned when, walking into Jaz’s reading room, Mason reached for your hand and held your pinky with his - you walked in together, sitting on the sofa right next to each other, and you allowed yourself to hold his hand instead so you’d stop shaking. His hand was sweating, so was yours, and this whole situation felt like when you were about to tell your parents that you were pregnant. Debbie and Tony, who you just met, curiously watched you two.

“All this to tell us you two are together?” Tony raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Mason swallowed hard. Judging by how hard he squeezed your hand, you knew he’d do it like ripping off the band-aid of a very bad scratch.

“Lily is my daughter.”

You watched Debbie’s jaw drop as she blinked multiple times, trying to assimilate Mason’s words; and Tony’s face go pale, his arms dropping to the sides of his body - they were both speechless, and you could see confusion sparkling in their eyes, but before they could assemble the right words to say, Mason told them the whole story. Your eyes teared when he, not once, blamed you for him not being in Lily’s life from the beginning and you felt Debbie’s most understanding and loving gaze landing on you - she’d understand because she was a mother too.

“Why now?” Again, Tony raised an eyebrow, but at you.

“I’m not one to punish my daughter for my own mistakes, sir. She loves Summer, you know how close they are and how much those little ones love each other because you’ve seen it yourself.” He nodded at you, sighing. “And I wasn’t planning on hiding forever, so I guess it was a timing thing.”

“I’m guessing you’ll want to register her?” He turned to face Mason, who quickly nodded, and Tony rubbed his face with his hands. A groan escaped the man’s body, so full of frustration and worries that you were starting to panic. “This is going to be a shit show.”

“Tony, dear-” Debbie tried to start, but stopped once her husband furiously shook his head.

“It will. The media will feed from this for the longest time, they’ll make sure to hunt every tiny detail about Lily and-” Turning to face you, much to your surprise, Tony’s eyes were full of compassion. “About you too, and your family.”

“Dad, we don’t have to tell anyone now.”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t, but we should focus on taking baby steps now.”

Baby steps were good, considering how hard anxiety was creeping in at the moment judging by how tight you were squeezing Mason’s hand without noticing; only when he moved a bit uncomfortable next to you, his eyes falling to your hands together, you realised it. Giving him an apologetic look, you let his hand go only for him to hold your pink with his, again. 

“I’m assuming Jaz already knows about it?” Debbie questioned, the softness in her voice calms your nerves a bit because it reminded you of your mum. You nodded, calmly, getting a smile from her.

“She was the first to know,” you said. “Then Sam because I didn’t want her to carry this on her own until I could tell Mason, and everyone else.”

“She told me yesterday, by the way.” Mason added.

You all agreed that Lily’s safety and well being came first, making her feel comfortable in this new environment with so many new people - even though she was much of an extrovert - could be a little overwhelming, although she seemed extremely excited to meet the new additions to her already big family. You had no siblings, but your parents did so there were plenty of cousins for her from your side of the family.

When she walked in the room, alone, her big brown eyes instantly searched for you and her dad. Lily relaxed as she took short steps towards you, seeking comfort in your arms with her gaze never leaving her daddy’s, who softly smiled at her. Surprisingly, she was shy this time, perhaps because she felt a bit insecure whether her grandparents would like her now that they knew who she was.

But they already loved her.

The most special moment was Summer’s reaction when her uncle shared the news; you could see her trying to put together all the information that was given her, her mouth opened a few times as she tried to form a sentence while her gaze moved from you, to Mason and then Lily. After a few minutes, it stopped on Lily and Summer just opened the biggest and brightest smile, throwing her small arms around Lily’s neck as the latter tried to balance herself, but failing - they both went to the floor, not caring if it’d hurt them, and you all shared a laugh. Summer gave Lily a long kiss on her cheek, and though it was just whispers, they were loud enough so you could hear Summer repeating ‘cousin, cousin, cousin’.

“What is happening here?” Lewis’ cheerful voice filled the room, he curiously watched the two girls on the floor, hugging each other. Debbie and Tony in a corner, both trying not to cry; Jaz and Sam in each other's arms, sitting on the sofa and you and Mason standing, holding each other’s pinky. Jaz was quick to give him an answer.

“Mase is a dad.”

***

Telling your parents wasn’t the easiest task, but it was definitely not as hard as telling Mason’s. Still, as intimidating as ever, even being the biggest softie, your dad’s mouth dropped open when you told them who exactly Lily’s dad was. Staring at you with eyes wide open too, he didn’t know what to say when you showed him a picture of Lily and Mason the night before when you three were having pizza for dinner, in a way to provide him proof that you weren’t lying even if he’d never doubt you. 

Your mum was the most calm and peaceful person in your life and you couldn’t be more thankful for it, her eyes sparkled with tears he was forcing herself to hold back as her face slowly flushed pink - she knew how hard it was for you not having Lily’s dad around and how much Lily wanted to meet him. When she finally wrapped her arms around you in the most comforting embrace, and you felt safe. While in her arms, you knew things would eventually work out, even if at first it’d be hard.

“I hope you don’t expect me to support Chelsea.” Your dad said, clearing his throat while trying to mask a sniff. Seeing your dad crying was rare, but anything related to Lily made him feel extra emotional.

“Not even for the sake of your granddaughter?” Raising an eyebrow, you teased him.

“You’ve got some nerves.” He scoffed, making you and your mum chuckle. “I’d like to meet him, and his family. Make sure you and Lily are protected when you both decide to make it public.”

That was half your dad, half one of the best lawyers in England now. You knew he’d want to get involved as much as he could. He even had a different posture, hands rubbing together and pushing his chest out with such confidence you just wish you had more of him, maybe you’d be able to make more logic and less emotional decisions.

You nodded at him. “I’m sure they’d appreciate that. And Mason wants to register Lily before making it public, maybe you could help us out with that?”

“Absolutely, love.” Your dad approached, wrapping his arms around you and your mum in a protective way. “Anything you need, always.” He kissed your forehead, then your mum’s. “Except supporting Chelsea.” You rolled your eyes.

“Is Lily with him now?”

“She’s at his sister’s, with Summer, but he’s there too. His whole family is there and I think he’ll start telling his closest friends this week… But I wanted to give them some time together, and Lily feels so comfortable and happy around them. That’s why I didn’t bring her with me.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” Your mum said, rubbing your back with her warm and soft palm. “It was a good decision, she needs to get used to being with them without you around.”

You gulped, realising that your time with your own daughter would shorten a bit. Not wanting to feel anything bad related to the situation, you shook the bad thoughts away and let out a sigh. This wouldn’t be easy, at all, but Lily’s happiness was your priority. 

*****

Knowing your daughter all too well, you saw it coming when the biggest pout formed on her lips when you were back at Jaz’s late afternoon. You pouted back, and though reluctant to let her daddy go at first, Lily ran to you with arms open ready to be nestled by you.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me, baby.” You cooed, rubbing your nose against her soft chubby cheek. 

“I am, mummy.” Her tiny hands cupped your face, and Lily mimicked your gesture, making your heart almost burst with all the love. “But I don’t want to leave. Can’t Masey come with us?”

You gulped, side eyeing Mason who had his lips pressed together forming a thin line - he lowered his gaze, his Nikes seeming a lot more interesting now. Being a parent involved saying lots of ‘nos’ and you knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it for a long time, considering Lily could be extremely convincing with her pouting and those big puppy eyes. But you also didn’t want to be the bad one in this story.

“Why don’t we let him go home and rest a bit, sweetheart? You can invite him to ballet tomorrow and we’ll take him to drink that coco you love.”

“Can he have cake too?”

Mason’s nasal chuckle made your attention move from Lily to him, he had his hands in his pockets as he approached you and your daughter; bending down so he could look her in her eyes, Mason’s hand rubbed Lily’s back, his fingertips slightly brushing your forearm as he did it.

“I can, princess. I promise I’ll see you tomorrow and whenever you want to see me.”

*****

The following weeks were surprisingly calm.

After a mutual agreement, you and Mason were constantly communicating to make sure that co-parenting would be as smooth as possible to both of you and, most importantly, to Lily. Asking her to keep it a secret for a while was tough, especially with their interactions whenever Mason went to see her and Summer at ballet, but somehow, you managed it and were making it work - suddenly, you two considered yourselves as a great team, though Mason almost let out the word ‘family’ once. With Lily’s school already on Christmas break, you’d often leave her either at Debbie’s or your parents’ house, while you were still on full time at work before getting your much deserved break.

“Cotswolds for Christmas?” Oliver, your coworker, asked. You looked up from the amount of papers you had to sign to him; he had his toned arms crossed over his chest, the navy blue knit fitting well all those muscles. It matched perfectly with his bright blue eyes and sand blond hair. Your jaw dropped a little.

You shook your head, blinking repeatedly when you found yourself staring for longer than you should, which seemed to amuse him. “Uh-yeah, I guess. I’m not sure yet.”

“Let me know if you stay in London, you still owe me dinner.”

“Do I?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I thought you were just being nice offering me a ride that day. As the gentleman you are.”

“I was being a gentleman but I also want to take you out.” Oliver winked at you, tapping his fingers on your desk before leaving your office. You couldn’t remember the last time you flirted with a guy, although Oliver often tried it and you mostly resisted because you two worked together, and going out with coworkers rarely ended well. 

Waking up from your thoughts, you noticed your phone buzzing with a message from Mason, asking if you and Lily would still attend his first match back after the World Cup. Deep down, you wanted to believe he wasn’t insisting so much just because of Lily, considering how well you two were getting along - he even told you that Willow was more than welcome to join you.

So, when that Sunday match came, you found yourself wearing a Chelsea shirt for the first time in your life, something that’d give your dad a stroke, but it was all about supporting the father of your child. Lily looked extra adorable on hers too, and she made you promise you’d never tell her grandpa that she was wearing a Chelsea shirt, which made you laugh at how anxious and nervous the little one was. 

Considering how things had always been since Lily was born, you never really thought that someday you’d end up at Stamford Bridge for a match, to support him, with his entire family. Surreal was the word, and it was enough to make your head spin a bit once you felt the stadium’s energy engulfing you. With Willow by your side, you two glanced at each other when Mason’s mum waved at you while she poked Jaz, who opened the biggest smile. Lily wiggled her little legs so Willow could put her down and she ran straight to Summer.

“So happy you two came!” Debbie wrapped her arms around you in the most loving embrace, excitement loud and clear in her words.

You also finally met Stacey and her family, and weren’t really surprised to find out they were all nice and kind. Much to your surprise, while Willow bonded with the ladies, you’ve found Tony practically glued to you and asking lots of questions. Lewis also seemed oddly happy to be around you.

“Mason said your dad is a gunner.” A cheeky grin played on Tony’s lips. You nodded, softly giggling. “I assume he doesn’t know you’re wearing a Chelsea shirt today.”

“He doesn’t, but he’ll understand once he recovers from the stroke this will cause, especially when he sees Lily.” Your eyes went straight to your daughter, happily playing with her cousins. “And he likes Mason, so… He should be fine.”

“I’m hoping we can all meet soon, before Christmas.” 

“That would be lovely, sir. I’m sure we can arrange something, my mum loves hosting dinners and dad is a show off when it comes to his whiskey collection, so they’ll love to have everyone together.”

“You had me at the whiskey collection.” 

Growing up with a family who was obsessed with football and die-hard Arsenal fan, even if you weren’t the biggest fan, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the atmosphere of a match. Fans chanting, children screaming and clapping - you could feel that familiar knot on your stomach and a smile forming on your lips, because it was indeed really fun. 

Lily reached out for you and climbed you once you were sitting comfortably, she pointed at Mason when she realised he was on the pitch, a shy smile on her lips. Leaning forward a bit, you pecked her left temple and whispered a ‘that’s your daddy’ - to which she happily nodded. 

But nothing could control Lily, or anyone in the stadium, when Chelsea scored their first goal. 

And nothing could control you when Mason scored. An odd and powerful wave of pride wrapping you, even more when Lily jumped straight to Tony’s arms, laughing so loud and so cheerfully you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen her like this.

That was the moment you finally realised, once for all, that it wasn’t just Lily’s life that would never be the same. Yours wouldn’t either, and it scared you how at ease you felt about it.

It scared you how at ease you felt walking down the tunnels at Stamford Bridge, with your daughter in your arms, to meet Mason. 

It scared you how at ease you felt seeing Mason widen his smile once he spotted you two, and his family right behind you. How he stretched his arms to take Lily and kiss her cheeks, and how he wanted you to come with him to meet two of his closest teammates: Kai and Ben, the latter being one of your dad’s favourites, which seemed to amuse him when you told him while shaking his hand.

“She’s beautiful. I was really looking forward to meeting her, after Mase told us.” Ben said, standing next to you as you botch watched Mason play with Lily, Kai and Summer. “And he wouldn’t shut up about you two coming today.” You blushed at his words.

At first, you didn’t want too many people to know, but Mason insisted that he had to share it with his closest friends and there was no way you’d take that from him, seeing how happy he was around Lily. This was his world, and you were part of it now because whatever involved your daughter, involved you too.

And whenever you felt scared, running away from your feelings sounded like a lovely idea.

“Nice shot,” a raspy voice near your feet spoke.

Your hands shook violently, but you still weren’t able to let go of the gun. 

“I don’t even know how to shoot this thing,” your voice was shakier than your hands.

“Yeah, well, I’d say you did alright,” Charles Leclerc, the Devil himself, spoke, propping himself up slightly to see who you’d just shot. He looked back up at you, “Darling, I’m gonna need you to call someone for me.”

“The police?”

Too nervous to drive, with your hands constantly shaking and your mind everywhere, you thought it was better to get an Uber home and leave your car at Jaz’s - for yours and, mostly, Lily’s safety. Trying to act normal around your daughter when she was such a sensitive kid was the toughest task, but she seemed convinced when you mentioned it was just a bad migraine, like the ones you usually had when you were worried about work. Instead of just asking loads of questions, Lily kissed your temple and held your hand the entire way home.

How would you tell her that she was to meet her daddy tonight? That, actually, she already knew who he was and called him ‘uncle’ because her bestie said she could, because he said she could. You digged your brain, trying to find the right words, as you watched Lily throw herself on the sofa and let out a long tired sigh. 

“Why don’t we change you into something more comfortable, peanut?” She nodded but closed her eyes instead of getting up. You made the short way towards her and took her in your arms, Lily half asleep. “Come on, gorgeous. Don’t sleep on me now, I need you wide awake for your surprise.”

Though that was usually the magic word, Lily’s reaction wasn’t what you expected.

“But I’m so tired, mummy. Summer made me run after her all the time at the Zoo,” She mumbled, brushing her eyes with the back of her hand as her head now rested on your shoulder. You walked into her bedroom, turning on just the lamp on the side of her bed. “Can’t you wake me up when it’s here?”

“I suppose I can.” You replied, watching her nod with her eyes closed as you put her in bed and grabbed a pair of flannel pyjamas so she’d sleep more comfortably. Lily had both arms tightly wrapped around her stuffed bunny and didn’t help much when you started to change her, to which you just sighed, wondering for how long you’d keep doing it as she was starting to get really heavy. But then, it hit you - there was someone else who could do that, now… Mason. After they meet, he starts to become a constant presence in both of your lives.

A smile curled the sides of your lips when you heard a little snore coming from Lily and you couldn’t help but softly kiss her cheek, but as the heavy sleeper she was, she didn’t move. Making your way out of her bedroom, leaving the door slightly open just in case she woke up looking for you, you went to the kitchen and searched for that almost empty bottle of red wine in the back of the fridge. Drinking straight from the bottle, you let out a long sigh as your phone buzzed with a few notifications, all from Mason. Two follower requests and a message. You chuckled when he questioned your dad being an Arsenal fan, that amused you enough to think how it’d be when you tell your dad that Lily’s father is a Chelsea player - it amused you even more the idea of them meeting because your entire family was die hard fans of Arsenal and even Lily’s first word was ‘goal’, during a match. You were on the other side, with your mum, who didn’t care much about football.

When the sun was down and you were already slightly tipsy - not drunk, though! -, you got a message from Mason saying he’d be there in about 40 minutes and it was right when Lily woke up and silently made her way to the kitchen, looking for you and asking for water. As the grown up girl she said she was, Lily refused her bottle and opted for a Moana cup instead. 

“Sweetheart,” You called her, big brown eyes looking at you as she gulped each sip as if it'd be her last. Taking her in your arms, you took Lily to the living room, sitting on the sofa with her on your leg. “Mummy needs to talk to you about something.”

Noticing your voice was serious despite the soft smile on your lips, Lily quickly asked if this was about her surprise and you just nodded. “It won’t be a surprise then, mummy.”

“It will, baby. But it’s a fantastic surprise.”

“Am I getting a puppy?” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Not yet, peanut. This is about something else you’ve been wishing for…”

Lily’s jaw dropped, brown eyes widened at you and you could swear there was a sparkle there you’ve never seen before. Next thing, her tiny arms wrapped around your neck and she hid her face on your chest, your shirt getting instantly wet with silent tears. Your arms cradled her, giving Lily the comfort she needed that moment and though your eyes also burned a little with tears, you could only smile.

“Is it my daddy? The surprise?” She looked at you again and you brushed her cheek with your thumb, wiping off her tears. She sniffed a few times, the back of her hand scratching her little nose. 

“He’ll be here in a bit to meet you.” 

“Mummy! I have to wear something pretty or he won’t like me!” She jumped off your lap and rushed to her bedroom as you followed, a loud laugh parting your lips.

“He’ll love you no matter what, baby girl!” Searching for something to wear, Lily let out repeated groans of frustration. Her face lit up when she found her Arsenal shirt but you quickly took it from her hands and tossed it aside. “Not this, love. He’s a Chelsea fan.”

Lily pouted, but quickly let go of the fact her dad was a Chelsea fan, and you wondered how she’d react knowing he was way more than just a fan and that she knew who he was, although she never made any funny comments about Summer’s uncle playing for a rival team, only that she still loved her best friend and that her family was kind, that she liked them. “Mummy,” Lily called you after opting for a mini Nike set of lavender sweatpants and hoodie that Willow got her a few months ago, changing it from her pyjamas herself, without any sort of help from you. Each day, she was growing more independent - much like you were at her age.

“Yes, baby?”

“Do you really think he’ll love me no matter what?”

Lily’s eyes sparkled in a way you’ve never seen before, they were full of expectations, happiness, hope; although her question came off nearly as a whisper, there was also excitement there. He really was everything she’s been wanting lately. Going to school holding his hand, having him picking her up and taking her to ballet, baking chocolate chip biscuits because they were her favourite and she hoped they were his too. You often heard Lily call him in her sleep - ‘daddy’, she repeated relentlessly, sometimes followed by a giggle and others by a soft cry that broke your heart into a billion tiny pieces. And you wanted him there too, you needed him there to watch her grow and educate Lily in a way she’d be the kindest and smartest woman you’ve ever met, and also the most successful. You knew that once Mason got to know her and see the wonderful kid she was, he’d want the exact same.

“There’s no way a person could not love you, whether it’s your daddy or any other.” Sitting on the floor, next to her, you took Lily in your arms and softly kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle with her eyes closed. Once big brown eyes met yours again, you felt your chest clench with all the love you felt for that little girl and wondered how that love would extend to Mason now that he’d be part of your lives. Simply because she was just like him and it felt obvious that if you loved her, you loved him too. If not romantically, then for giving you Lily.

“What is his name?” You hoped she’d ask you that before his arrival. Holding her tight, you leaned a bit as you were about to tell her a secret.

“Mason.” You whispered in her ear, causing Lily to gasp almost instantly and cup your face with her hands.

“Mason and Maisie?” Nodding, you kissed her cheek, and watched your daughter grow silent this time. No giggles, no smile, just a frown on her face that you thought it could become permanent at how fast her mind was working now. “You said he’s a Chelsea fan, mummy?” You nodded again and, this time, your moment with Lily was interrupted by the bell ringing, an always discreet sound that now made you feel instantly anxious. 

“It’s him, baby. Let’s do this together?” Lily shook her head and you’ve decided to respect her space and time, allowing her to be wherever it felt most comfortable to meet her dad and if she wanted to wait in her bedroom, with all her toys and teddy bears, you’d let her. “I’ll pick up the door and bring him here then. Is that okay for you?”

“Yes, mummy.” She pulled away from you, rushing to pick up all the clothes that were spread on the floor as you walked out of her room and took large, quick steps towards the door.

Taking a deep breath before opening it, you found Mason standing there almost ready to ring the bell again and giving you a shy smile when your eyes met. His nose was pink from the cold outside and so were his cheeks, but from the anticipation of meeting his daughter. Mason’s hands were sweating, he constantly rubbed them in his hoodie, not trying to hide his anxiety. You liked that he wasn’t shy about showing off his emotions, it was important to you knowing how important this moment was for him. 

“Come in, Mason. She’s been waiting for you.”

“She knows?” He walked in when you gave him space and after quickly scanning your living room without you noticing, he watched you close the door behind you.

“Yes and no. I told her you were coming and she was about to connect the dots about who you are when you rang the bell. I think that’s what she’s probably doing now.” You knew that because you could hear the familiar sound of tiny footsteps quickly pacing around coming from Lily’s room. Part of you couldn’t help but let a grin curl the sides of your lips, Mason watching you curiously, but apparently getting the fun of it; of how Lily was so smart for her age, a mini adult, always observing around and capturing every little detail so she’d never be left behind by absolutely nobody - not even her own mother. You didn’t know if Mason was like that too, but you secretly hoped that he wasn’t so Lily would have at least that in common with you.

In her room, Lily walked in perfect circles, her mind and heart racing as she held her teddy bear as tight as she could against her small frame. A desperate attempt of trying to control the unfamiliar feelings that suddenly weighed so much on her little shoulders. She was finally meeting her dad. She could remember every night she whispered for him, hoping that the love she felt for him - even not knowing who he was - would, somehow, reach him and bring him to her. The greatest gift she could ever ask for, even better than when her fish Moana came home for Christmas. Lily hoped he would love her just as much, that he’d find her pretty and loved the sound of her laugh because she loved his smile too, the first time they met.

Lily knew it was no coincidence - his smile was just like hers, she recognised herself on that man who was smiling at her, on the other side of the screen.

Mason and Maisie.

There was a knot forming on her throat when Lily finally decided to sit on her bed, anxiously waiting, a sniff filling the quiet room when she heard her daddy’s voice. It really was him, she knew his voice from when they FaceTimed. Lily quickly wiped her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie before they could fall, she didn’t want her daddy to see her crying. Hoping he’d be just as happy to meet her for the first time, Lily wanted to open the biggest smile in the world for him and tell him how much she missed him everyday even if they’d just met.

The sound of soft and slow steps getting close to her bedroom woke her up, and if it was any possible, she held the teddy bear against her body even tighter. Her mind now raced on what she’d say first and although she didn’t know, on the other side of the door, Mason felt just the same. He was taken by anxious, hopeful and also uncertain feelings. The only image he had of her was that adorable giggle she gave him, and how her nose scrunched a bit when she smiled, and her eyes closed in pure innocent bliss. She had his dimples, too. 

Now, every detail about Lily that went almost unnoticed at first, were back in Mason’s mind and if anyone asked, he’d describe her perfectly. Bottom nose and all - because she was pretty much just like him and Mason found himself amazed by that. The sudden urge to take Lily in his arms and tell her he’d never leave her side took his entire being, he just wanted to burst into that room and try to understand what was all that he was suddenly feeling. 

Mason watched you giving him a soft, reassuring smile before opening the door. He wanted to stretch his neck and peek inside, but he didn’t want to creep the little girl out, so he just waited both patiently and impatiently, watching you open the door enough you could see Lily and she could see you too.

“Hi mummy,” That soft, warm voice made him instantly smile. His chest clenched, and Mason unconsciously grabbed your pinky with his again.

“Hi peanut. There’s someone here I know you’ve been wanting to meet for a while. Can we come in?” 

He deduced Lily said yes with a nod, because you were now leading him inside the room. Finally, you moved to the side, giving him the perfect vision of that tiny human watching him with her two big brown orbs with curiosity and amazement. Lily beamed at him shyly, her little legs anxiously wiggling, breathing becoming now faster but at a pace that didn’t worry you because you knew all she wanted to do was jump from her bed straight to his arms. You only noticed tears now were falling freely down your cheeks when your vision blurred and you had to wipe them with the back of your hands as you watched Mason slowly approach Lily.

You could feel it - those two being pulled towards each other like magnets, four years of being apart, something always missing but Mason not knowing what it was while his daughter called him every night before falling asleep. You watched him kneeling in front of your daughter, stretch out his hands so she could place hers on his - as she did, finally letting go of the teddy bear - and softly squeeze them as his thumbs brushed his daughter’s hands.

Mason took a long, deep breath, and finally opened a wide smile. The one that made his nose scrunch, and Lily mimicked him. “Your mum said you wanted to meet me, but did you know I couldn’t wait to meet you too?”

Lily’s jaw dropped in amazement, as if he had just told her a big secret, and she let out a giggle. “Do you promise?”

“I do, princess. She told me you’re very smart and funny, and that your laugh is the greatest sound in the world but I already knew that.” Still holding her hands, Mason tickled her ribs, making Lily let out a loud laugh. “There it is.”

Wrapping your arms around your body, you swallowed a sob.

“Can I-” Lily lowered her gaze to Mason’s hand still holding hers and, after a soft squeeze of encouragement from him, she looked at him again. “Can I hug you?”

Mason nodded, still smiling, letting go of her hands and opening his arms so he could nestle her in a long awaited hug. He had to hold himself on her bed when Lily threw herself into his arms, tiny hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie so tight she pulled it against her body - hiding her face on the crook of his neck, Mason felt his skin getting warm and wet from tears Lily wanted to hide. He rubbed her back, up and down, and the other hand cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft her dark brown hair was under his touch. If there was anything missing in his life before, there wasn’t now, because he instantly knew that Lily was the missing piece.

“Shh, no need to cry. I’m never leaving.” With flushed cheeks and puffy, teary eyes, Lily finally looked at him when he said the words she’s been longing to hear. She felt safe in her daddy’s arms and although she wanted to say it, say the word, Lily was shy to do it because in her mind he was her daddy but also Summer’s cool uncle. 

“My cousin.” Lily whispered, watching Mason frown. “Summer!!”

This time, Mason chuckled. He didn’t say anything, just nodded, and pulled Lily on a tight hug again. The little girl finally looked at her mummy, not sure how she felt about seeing you cry so much because she knew you weren’t sad, so she shouldn’t be sad too but your tears bothered her.

“Mummy,” She called you, stretching her arm at you so you could hold her hand. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting on the floor, next to Mason. “Don’t cry. He said he’s never leaving.”

“I know, baby.” You cooed, pressing soft kisses on her hand, the smell of baby cologne and the warmth of her soft skin instantly calming your fast heartbeat. 

Mason finally looked at you, but you couldn’t figure out how he felt about you at this moment and although it bothered you a bit, it also didn’t matter because it was all about how Lily felt, and how much his presence would positively impact on her life. 

It took some time for Lily to pull away from Mason, and you all agreed that moving to the living room would be more comfortable. With Lily still in his arms, Mason carried her as you followed, until you were comfortably sitting on the sofa. 

Mason wanted to know everything about her, from her. He asked about her days at school, at ballet, asked what her favourite movie was and if she liked super heroes - Spider Man, to be more specific, to which Lily replied that although she did like it, it wasn’t as much as her mummy did. He also asked what her favourite food was, and Maisie was quick to ask if he liked chocolate chip biscuits because those were her favourites in the world. They learned that both shared a passion for spag bol, and Mason seemed to be amused by the fact that his own kid played football at school. Lily made him promise he’d play with her, someday. 

She danced around the living room when pizza arrived and you couldn’t ignore how Mason’s eyes sparkled as he watched her with a wide smile spread across his lips; he was loving every bit of the night, not holding back every loud laugh at Lily’s witty and sassy personality. You wanted to hit your head against the wall when you noticed that even the way they chewed the food was similar, how they just switched off and focused on eating, humming softly at every bite. 

Mason offered himself to be in charge of the dishes as you prepared the living room for a late night Moana session, after Lily practically begged him to stay a little longer, almost threatening to cry thinking she’d never see him again, although Mason was constantly reassuring her - and you  - that he wasn’t going anywhere and that he’d never let Lily go too. That was going to be the hard part of him being in her life, now. She’d want him constantly around, for everything, and you couldn’t blame your daughter, especially because you also wanted him around for her and whatever she needed from him. 

Much to your surprise, Lily managed to stay awake for the first 30 minutes of the movie, but you noticed how sleepy she was, constantly blinking and yawning, fighting against it and eyes never moving from Mason. She checked him constantly and, as he nestled her in his arms, her hands were back gripping his hoodie. Again, you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to let him go - as far as you could remember, Mason radiated this comforting warmth as he was the sun. Sitting close enough to him, you could swear that it was him also keeping you warm. 

“Masey,” She called him, and the look of pure adoration he gave her - not mad at all that she wasn’t comfortable yet calling him ‘daddy’ - made you sigh in pure bliss. “Mummy makes the best pancakes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow at her, a soft grin playing on his lips when he quickly glanced at you, making your cheeks blush a little. “Does she, really?”

“Mhmm…” Lily nodded, yawning before continuing with her logic. “Can you come for breakfast?”

“I suppose I can, beautiful.” He was quick to give her the answer she wanted, and you knew he’d do anything for that girl. Mason would spoil her, do all of her wishes and she wouldn’t even have to ask - it felt like he’d always be one step ahead. He’d give her the world. 

With the answer she wanted, Lily felt safe enough to give in and sleep take her to dreamland, even if reality felt much better. She’d dream about it - about her dream coming true. You and Mason shared a laugh when Lily let out a sigh followed by a hum and a low, soft snore that was getting louder as she breathed heavily.

“She didn’t get that from me.” You whispered, and it was Mason’s turn to blush. “Can you take her to bed?”

“Absolutely.”

The way he carefully stood up still holding her warmed your entire being, your heart pounding so hard against your chest that you could almost hear it. That was something you’ve always wanted to see, it just made you feel sad that he wasn’t around when she was a baby too, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You should’ve tried harder, should’ve made him listen even if he behaved like an idiot that day. 

Watching him carefully put Lily in bed, cover her and kiss her forehead before leaving her bedroom, your eyes burned with tears as you waited in the hallway, your body leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, forcing yourself to swallow the knot that formed on your throat. “I’m sorry for keeping her away from you, all these years.”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/n.” Mason sighed, hands in his pockets as he mimicked you and leaned on the wall in front of you. “What matters is that I’m here now, and that I’m not leaving. I’m here for her and for you, too.”

“For me?” You raised an eyebrow, watching Mason shrug with a nod.

“You’re her mum, we’ll always be in each other’s lives. I’ll look after you too.”

“I’ll look after you too, then.”

Mason seemed content with your answer. For him, there was no point bringing back the past because it wouldn’t be good for anyone, especially not for Lily - if you two were on good terms, she’d always be happy and her happiness was what truly mattered. He’d find a way to tell his parents as smoothly as possible, his friends, his teammates and the fans, eventually, always respecting yours and Lily’s privacy so it’d be a calm transition from the life you all had to the life that included Lily in every situation of his, and the attention the media would give to Mason Mount being the father of a four year old and how it’d turn things upside down.

“It’s too late for you to drive home, Mason. We have a spare room.” You pointed to the closed door on his left. “Stay for early morning pancakes.”

It indeed was too late and Mason could feel his eyelids getting heavier by each second. He nodded, covering his mouth when a yawn parted his lips. “You don’t have to insist, I accept the invitation.” 

“Good”. You chuckled. “You’ll find clean towels in the closet if you want to shower, and clean clothes too. I had some friends over a few weekends ago and they just left their stuff here.”

You watched Mason nod and pull away from the wall, arms stretching in front of his body, letting out all the tension from today’s events. Suddenly, the awkwardness of not knowing what to say nor do weighed a ton between you; Mason watched you curiously, and you could swear there was a hint of a smile curling his lips.

You threw him a confused look, stopping in your tracks so that he could catch up to you. “Hey, me?”

“Yeah I mean, there’s really not that many people around,” Jude smiled, as he came and stood beside you, the smell of soap and shampoo engulfing your senses.

“Um, I guess not.” You eyed him suspiciously. “I’ve never seen you linger around the library.”

“Are you implying that I don’t study?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sure you do,” You stated, “Just not at the library.”

Jude laughed, throwing his head back slightly. “Damn I have been caught fairly quick. No, uh, I was just waiting for you. I felt coming inside and standing over your head would cause you to throw something at me.”

You felt your mind reel back in as you did your best to not look too surprised at Jude’s confession. “Well here I am, what’s up?”

Jude shuffled his feet, passing the bottle to his other hand. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“…what?”

“Yeah you know, I got done with my training and I’ve worked up a bit of an appetite and I know for a fact that you haven’t had dinner yet otherwise I’d have seen you in the dining hall and I know a great place for burgers if you’re interested.” He rushed out, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “The only penalty is that you’ll have me as company.”

“Ah yikes,” You winced, “That really does cause a problem for me.” You looked him up and down as he stared at you intently. “I think we can work out a way for you to not be too infuriating like sit facing towards the wall or something.”

Jude playfully rolled his eyes, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Unbelievable. How about I treat you? So as to atone for my crimes?”

“Food that you’re gonna pay with your money AND guilt?” You perked up. “Oh yeah for sure, let’s go!”

  Shaking his head at you, Jude hung his head low as he trampled behind you, letting you lead the way to the burger shop.

“How do you even know which burger place I was planning on taking you?” Jude called from a few steps behind you.

“Because princess,” You emphasized the word princess, hearing an irritated click of tongue from behind, “You’re not the only one who lives on campus. Stop being so delusional.”

Jude pouted as he fell in step with you, “God, you are so mean.”

“Someone needs to humble you and I will gladly take that responsibility.” You brought your hands to your face, cupping both your cheeks. “Ohmygod its Jude Bellingham!! The star footballer!! I can’t believe he looked in my direction!!”

Jude burst in laughter, doubling over. “My god what was that?”

“That is your string of fangirls,” You said in an amused tone.

“Why do you know so much about my fangirls?” Jude teased. “Are you secretly one of them?”

“What? No!” You snapped, whirling your face to glare at him. “I’d rather have you pour a drink on my whole backpack than be your fangirl.”

As the pair of you neared to the place, Jude jogged a few steps ahead, holding open the door as he gestured for you to go inside, bowing his head a little as he hit you with a dazzling smile. Trying to control your somersaulting stomach, you stepped inside, the warmth making a strong contrast against the cool air outside.

You concentrated on the menu as the two of you stood in line, eyes quickly going over all the choices not realizing that your lips had slightly parted at the idea of finally being able to eat. The smell of cooking burger patties filled your nostrils as an angry rumble of your stomach followed not a few seconds later. You bit your lip in shame as Jude chuckled beside you.

“I’m really hungry okay? Shut up,” You whisper-shouted at him in annoyance.

Jude put up his hands in surrender, making the motion of zipping his lips. The line moved up as the two of you finally placed your order, the cashier ringing up the bell as you both reached for your wallets simultaneously.

“Hey woah,” Jude protested, “Put that back this instant, I told you I would pay!”

“No Jude don’t be ridiculous,” You waved him off, bringing out the cash for your half.

“You really are infuriating,” Jude said, exasperated as he slowly nudged his way forward to stand in front of the cashier, holding out his hand to pay the full bill.

You grabbed at his elbow pulling his hand back, “Jude stop!”

“No-! Oh my days, stop tugging so hard!”

 “You stop paying for it all first and I’ll stop!”

“So violent geez- no ugh, c’mon, I thought we had a deal.”

The cashier let out a huge sigh, irritated at the scene unfolding in front of him as they continued to argue ignoring both him and the queue of frustrated people forming behind him. “Oi, could you just pay up and move to the side? Bunch more people here to eat too.”

Jude glowered at you as you pursed your lips, letting go of his arm sheepishly allowing him to pay for both of your meals. The two of you shuffled to the side, waiting to pick up your food as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Fishing it out you saw a text from Mia.

Its late. Hope uve taken dinner.

Smiling at her impeccable timings, you lifted your phone, taking a picture of the counter and sending it to her with a reply telling her not to worry.

Jude eyed your smile. “Is that the disapproving, doting boyfriend?”

You shook your head. “That is the disapproving, doting mom-friend.”

He relaxed his shoulders. “Does the disapproving, doting boyfriend not care about your eating habits?”

Turning off the screen, you put the phone back in your pocket. “I don’t think imaginary, made up people can care about things.” A few moments of silence passed. “Shouldn’t you be having dinner with your girlfriend?”

Jude shrugged his shoulders, fixing the strap of his bag. “I don’t think imaginary, made up people can eat dinner and such.”

You felt your heart loosen up a little, not realizing it had been tense. Coughing, you looked to the opposite side of where Jude was standing, pretending to read the specials as he danced slightly on his feet, shifting his weight from one hip to other. The silence stretched on for a while, getting slightly awkward as the order was finally announced at the register, prompting Jude to jump up from his position and grab the bag.

Feeling the glare of the cashier on his head Jude bent down slightly to whisper to you, hot air tingling your ear. “We should probably-”

“Go outside? Yeah good idea.” You pinched his shirt at the shoulder, quickly pulling him along as the cool air greeted you once again.

Glancing around the seating area, you noticed it was full. The urgent scuffle to get outside had attracted a bit of attention as people twisted their necks to be met with the sight of Jude standing in the centre scouring his eyes across the area for a free seat with your hand still on his shirt. Jude did not notice the glares but you sure did. Anxiety ruffled your system as you saw the girls eyeing you up and down, throwing you dirty looks with their mouths turned upside down, almost seemingly waiting to spit on you.

“You know what Jude?” You felt your mouth dry up, letting go of his shirt as though it had stung you. “I just remembered I had to meet up with Liam tonight about an assignment.”

His eyes immediately went to yours, confusion evident on his face. “What?”

“Yeah,” Your eyes darted around the place, “He needs my help with something. I’m really sorry.”

“No worries,” Jude sighed, trying not to sound too disappointed. He brought out your half of the food, wrapping it carefully before handing it to you. “I’ll uh see you around then?”

“Yeah,” You let out breathily, taking the food and almost running off in the opposite, away from the prying eyes that you could still feel on your back, trying not to feel guilty about abandoning Jude as he stood there clutching the food he no longer had an appetite for, wondering if it was something he did as he watched you walk away.  

------

You nervously tapped your foot against the bar, shuffling on the barstool as you twisted your neck towards the door for the hundredth hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends walk in. It was Saturday night which meant a student discount in the pub just outside campus. You really should have waited and come with your friends but you already had some errands to run off campus and it did not make sense to go all the way back and then come here again.

But now as you sat alone at the bar, fingers tapping nervously on the side of your drink, you regretted the decision. There was a reason for your nerves and he was sat across from you in the far end at one of the booths, eyeing you without shame the second you had taken your seat. He was not a student and certainly did not look like one, the wrinkling face giving away his age. You had accidentally made eye contact with him twice now and had sent out a silent prayer that he would not come to where you were seated.

 You fixed your gaze at the bottles display behind the bar, feeling dread creep up your spine as you saw the man approach you, angling your body away from his, hoping he would take the hint. He did not.

“Hey there gorgeous,” the man said in a sleazy tone. “What’s a beautiful thing like you doing sitting alone at the bar at this hour?”

You forced yourself to face him, plastering on your please-don’t-murder-me-but-please-don’t-think-I’m-interested-in-you smile. “I’m just waiting for my friends.”

He reached out with his hand, covering yours, sliding fingers up to your wrist, “Well I don’t see them anywhere, so why don’t we get you some new friends.”

“Uh, no thank you.” You pried your hand away from his grip, noticing the silver band around his ring finger. “I’m just going to wait.”

“C’mon baby, I’m being nice and I can show you a better time than any of the uni lads.” He whispered, inching closer to you, hand gripping the back of your seat, thumb reaching out to touch your spine.

Never before had you wanted the ground to swallow you up like you did now. Panic filling your system, you darted your eyes around the place, hoping to see a familiar face from university that you could seek solace in. The loud clatter of snooker balls drew your eyes to the group of boys hanging around it. Your eyes remain fixed on the back of one particular person who was facing away from you, leaning against the snooker stick to his side, the maroon shirt stretching across the expanse of his shoulders, shaking his head in mockery at his friend’s poor shot.

You lept out from your seat from the end opposite to where the creepy man was sitting and practically ran to the snooker table, ignoring his calls aimed at you. The familiar scent of soap and shampoo engulfed you, calming your anxiety as you came and stood next to him, slipping your hand around his bicep, clutching on for dear life. Jude snapped his eyes to his left, gaze softening as he saw who was holding on to him.

“Hey,” You said breathlessly.

“Hey,” Jude repeated, taking note of your wide eyes and heavy breathing.

“Mind if I stand here with you for a bit?” You asked, timidly, peering over your shoulder to see if the man was still on your heels.

Jude looked at you quizzically, following your line of sight as his eyes fell on the older man who was standing a few feet away from the two of you, scowling at you. Jude tightened his jaw, hand going around your shoulder protectively, pulling you flush against his side as he stared daggers at the man. The man started to walk towards the pair of you causing Jude to immediately turn to face him, face set as he gently pushed you behind him, obscuring you from view as all you saw was his back, hands shooting up to fist his shirt in nervousness. The other two friends, who you recognized were Trent and Phil, noticed the increase in tension as they all straightened up from their positions around the table, coming around to flank Jude.

“Oi mate, I think you’ll want to fuck off now,” Phil said, palm raised to stop the man’s advances.  

He glared at him, eyeing the three tall well-built boys before deciding against whatever he had planned to do. “You can keep the bitch,” he spat, “She’s fucking hideous anyways.”

Your heart fell to your stomach at his comment, tightening the grip around Jude, hearing footsteps fading away.

Jude turned around to face you, gently holding one of your wrist as you avoided looking him in the eye. He turned to Trent, stepping out enough to whisper something in his ear but not too far away from you as Trent nodded, patting Phil on the back as they made their way towards the bartender. Jude refocused his attention towards you, swiping the inside of your wrist softly with his thumb, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you shivered at the sensation, “He just called me a bitch, could have gone worse honestly.”

He craned his neck around as if in search for someone. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah.” You shielded your face in embarrassment, feeling stupid. “What else did I expect to happen coming to the pub alone?”

“Hey no c’mon, don’t blame yourself,” Jude said softly. “It’s assholes like him that shouldn’ be allowed in here. Trent and Phil are talking to bartender right now and getting the dickhead and his gang kicked out.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You became hyperaware of the fact that Jude’s fingers were wrapped around yours, his stance feeling protective as he stood shielding you from the light commotion of arguments coming from behind him. You tried to glance over his shoulder to see what was happening causing Jude to shuffle closer, towering over you as he squeezed your wrist lightly prompting you to look at him. “Don’t worry about that, just look at me.”

You pursed your lips, averting your gaze and instead focusing on a spot on the wall to your right. The night had taken a strange turn. You just wanted to have drinks with your friends without emptying your entire bank balance; not be responsible for kicking out a few people from the pub, but truly it had to be done. You stood there in each other’s presence, body heat radiating off and mixing with the other’s as the noises died down with a final shut of the door.

“Alright,” Jude smiled at you, letting go of your wrist and taking a step back as you resisted the urge to reach out for him, “How about we go and get a drink?”

“I thought footballers weren’t supposed to drink right before a game?” You wondered out loud as he guided you towards the bar.

Jude gave you a bewildered look, pulling out a chair for you as he took one beside you, “How do you know I have a game tomorrow?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “I might have asked around a few people. And you know, it’s not like you guys have the most annoying Instagram that pretty much posts every little detail downright to when Trent inhaled air from which nostril.”

Jude let out a laugh, holding his head against the bar before straightening up and throwing you a look. “Well they also post a lot of when I exhale.”

“Yeah I saw.” You gave him half a smile. “After all what will all the Jude girls do if they aren’t reassured that you breathed?”

Jude nodded his head, expression serious as he folded his arms. “Exactly. You get it! If they don’t know, then it’ll be a matter of national security.”

You hummed in agreement, “People would take to the streets.”

“Riots would break out over all of the country-”

“-the borders would be shut down-”

“-they would have to call in the army-”

“-and the state would have to declare an emergency!” You realized in horror. “All because of one missing crucial Instagram update.”

Jude sighed, “I just can’t help but be so important and charming.”

“Oh wow, yeah,” You said with mock sympathy, giving him a small pat on the back, “It must be so hard for you.”

Jude pretended to wipe a tear from his eye using a tissue that lay in the little box. His eyes connected with yours and that caused the two of you to burst in a fit of giggles. Still chuckling, you scratched the little space behind your ears and brought your hands in front of you, intertwining them together. You glanced at him to see a smirk on his face, lips twitching as if he was holding back saying something.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just,” Jude scratched the patch of beard on his chin, his tone teasing, “I think it’s great that for someone who doesn’t have time to eat or drink food on a daily basis, took time out to stalk me on social media.”

“Okay hang on a second there!” You put up your hand in defense, heat coming off from your ears as you tried to not let Jude’s teasing derail you. “I was just simply taking a break from studying and a post just popped up on my feed- oh shut up don’t look at me like that.”

“No no, I’m flattered! It’s good to know that you think about me even when I’m not around,” Jude shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “I mean I would definitely stalk your socials too if you had added me.”

“Oh God,” You said, burying your face in your hands. Peeking from your fingers, you glanced at the door hearing the jingle of the door in anticipation of your friends walking through but only facing disappointment as a group of freshies that you had seen around campus walk in. Jude must have seen the disappointment on your face as he turned to look where you just had.

“I hope you don’t still think of me as bad company,” Jude softly said.

Your eyes snapped back to his, “The jury is still out.”

Jude simply smiled, flicking his nail as he fixed his eyes on the scratched wooden surface in front of him. “I thought you were here on a date.”

You felt your heart jump a little, a nervous chuckle loosening from between your teeth. “Oh God, no. That’s just not gonna happen.”

Jude’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “No one sees me in that way I guess.”

“That is such bullshit,” He rolled his eyes at you.

“What!? It’s true!”

“I just think that you should give yourself a little more credit and maybe see that there are people around who genuinely like you in that way.”

You fell silent, feeling the chatter and noises of the pub fade into the background as Jude looked up at you, eyes boring into yours. Olivia’s voice flashed in your head, chastising you about your self destructive tendencies when it came to your dating life. Your mouth felt dry as you intently watched Jude’s long lashes flutter against his cheekbones, the motion causing a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

You opened your mouth, immediately interrupted with the loud jingle of the bell and the echo of a familiar laugh. Jude and you turned your heads towards the sound. Relief flooded your system as your eyes fell on Mia, who was waving you over to her as the rest of the gang poured in.

You got up from your seat, shooting Jude an apologetic look. “I guess I’ll have to take that offer of a drink sometime else then.”

“Oh.” A look of disappointment ghosted over his face, disappearing just as quickly as it had come. “No for sure, maybe someday where I don’t have a game the next day and can actually have a drink with you.”

Smiling, you nodded at him, giving him a small wave as you began to walk away from him to your friend’s usual booth where Olivia was looking at the whole interaction unfold with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Hey!” Jude called out to you.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to look at him scratching the back of his neck.

“See you at the game tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” You winked at him. “Gotta see what the hype is all about, Mr. National Treasure.”

 Before you could lose any more courage you whipped back around and started to walk hurriedly where your friends were settling in, cringing and mentally face palming yourself at the wink you had impulsively dropped at him.

“Is this why you decided to come here early by yourself? So you could get with the golden boy himself?” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows at you suggestively as you finally walked up to her, making blood rush to your cheeks as you slapped her shoulder.

“No!” You rolled your eyes at her giggles, as you glanced back to where Jude was with his friends to find him already looking at you. You gave him a small smile that he returned with a huge grin accompanied with a thumbs up. You whipped your eyes back to Olivia who was looking at you smugly.

“Oh shut up,” You huffed, trying to calm your racing heart. Feeling your phone buzz, you reached for it, glancing at the screen to see the cause of the disturbance. judebellingham has requested to follow you. With an erratic heart rate, you accepted.

--------

Despite having set the alarm for Jude’s game, you could not believe that you had overslept. Panic had constricted your throat as you leaped up from your bed, kicking the sheets away, cursing at the time. The game would be over by the time you would manage to get down to the field but you decided to go nonetheless; you would find him. apologize, and promise to come to the next one.

You hastily folded your sheets, leaving your bed in a somewhat presentable state as you changed into your already picked out clothes; a yellow shirt and black jeans as you tried your best to match the colour scheme of the team. Slamming the door of your dorm room behind you, you began the run to the football field.

You could see people walking from the ground and heading in the direction of their dorms or the various restaurants scattered across campus. The light glow of a vending machine made you stop in your tracks as you spotted the image of a blue Gatorade bottle plastered on its front. Shuffling on your feet, you contemplated whether or not you should buy one for him. Jude was bound to be thirsty after the game and now that the two of you were on good terms, surely he would appreciate the joke.

You nervously played with your wallet as you stepped up the vending machine fighting an internal battle as you tried to justify the purchase. Does he even like this drink? Would he get the joke or just look at you blankly causing you to fumble out an explanation? Would he think of this gesture as something more than friends or maybe worse, think of it as simply a friend thing?

Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you decided to be impulsive for once in your life. Inserting your money in and pressing the buttons, the blue drink finally dispensed. A smile etched its way on your face as you held it in your hand, quickly coughing and looking up to see if anyone had caught you staring fondly at the bottle.

Finally reaching the grounds, you looked around to find most of it empty save for a few players that were still packing up and ground staff that were surveilling the pitch, making sure it was alright and picking up any stray cones. Scanning the faces of the players, you failed to spot Jude among them. One of the players standing to the side that you recognized as Trent, having been introduced to him at the bar, spotted you craning your neck around. Fixing the strap of his bag, he walked over to you giving you a small wave that you returned.

“Hey, are you looking for Jude?” He asked.

Nodding, you scratched behind your ear. “Yeah. Did he go back to the showers or something?”

“No, uh,” Trent looked over shoulder, “I think he went past those bleachers over there.”

“Okay thank you.” You began to follow where he had pointed, before stopping and turning around. “Did you guys win?’

“We sure did!” Trent beamed. “We won 3-1. Jude put one in the net himself.”

Grinning, you gave him a thumbs up before restarting on your path. You never thought the fate of a football match would be responsible for the giddy feeling in your stomach. The team had won and Jude scored as well; that was surely a cause for celebration and you were in the mood to ask him to have dinner with you, feeling a pang anticipation at the thought of seeing him.

Rounding up on the bleachers, you saw that they were empty and no one was in sight. Tapping the side of the bottle in your hand, you stepped between the pathway walking forward slightly, hearing noises. You stopped dead in your tracks, mouth turning into the Sahara Desert as your eyes fell on Jude’s figure with his back against the wall with a girl you had never seen before flush against him, her hands on his chest, Jude’s own circled around her wrists.

You felt like someone had just pulled the rug from under your feet, as you stumbled backwards, eyes burning as your vision began to blur. The giddiness was long gone replacing it with embarrassment and anger. Hadn’t Jude mentioned that he was not dating anyone? You let out a small laugh, angrily wiping away your tears as you tried to get out of the venue without anyone spotting you. How stupid of you to believe him. So what if he did not have a girlfriend, he was still an athlete and probably had a long string of girls following him around like lost puppies. And you were one of them; how foolish to think that you were special.

The weight of the bottle grew heavy in your hand as you looked down at it with seething rage. You probably should have chucked it towards him. Stopping in front of the trash can, you threw it in with the rest of the garbage without hesitation, where it belonged.

Saturday with Summer

Lily wanted to storm inside and hug Summer when Sam opened the door of the car for her, but she kept thinking what her mummy said: ‘don’t forget your manners!’, so as the good girl she wanted to be, she behaved and held the man’s hand as they walked through the front yard. Her mouth was formed in an ‘O’ shape, brown hazel eyes widened when she noticed how big that house was. Not even her grandpapa’s house was this big. She wondered how big Summer’s playroom could be, with all the dolls and teddy bears to play. She also wondered if Summer’s grandmama baked delicious biscuits like hers did, so just in case, she brought some to her bestie — even if they were the last ones because she had eaten almost all of them with her mummy the night before, watching Dumbo.

“Lily!!!” The way Summer hugged her made Lily happy. She had lots of friends from school, but that was her best friend and she was happy they could finally have the day together to play and dance. 

Lily stopped on her tracks before Summer could drag her to the play room, and shyly, thinking of her mummy’s words, asked her friend where auntie Jaz and Debbie were. Summer frowned, as if it was obvious that both women were waiting for them there. Lily wasn’t really a shy kid, her mummy always told people she was like a golden retriever puppy and she thought that was a good thing because golden retriever puppies were the best — Lily often wished she could have one for Christmas, but she got Moana instead, the fish. Which was also great because she loved her fish. 

Lily stopped on her tracks before Summer could drag her to the play room, and shyly, thinking of her mummy’s words, asked her friend where auntie Jaz and Debbie were. Summer frowned, as if it was obvious that both women were waiting for them there. Lily wasn’t really a shy kid, her mummy always told people she was like a golden retriever puppy and she thought that was a good thing because golden retriever puppies were the best — Lily often wished she could have one for Christmas, but she got Moana instead, the fish. Which was also great because she loved her fish. 

The little one shook her head, in a way to push her random thoughts away, and followed Summer into the playroom where Jaz and Debbie were indeed there, waiting for them. 

“Hello, Lils.” Jaz cooed, arms open ready to embrace the four year old. “Can I get a hug?” 

Lily nodded and, not letting Summer’s hand go, she went for the tightest hug her tiny arms could give Jasmine and Summer, at the same time. For some odd reason, Debbie’s heart melted seeing that. “What about me? Do I get a double hug too?” The little girls giggled together and hugged Debbie when Jaz let them go.

“You’re warm just like my grandmama.” Lily stated, letting a long sigh out of her lungs. Sighing while hugging people was how she’d tell them she felt comfortable. 

“It’s a grandmama thing, sweetheart. Just don’t tell anyone or they’ll all want our hugs.” Debbie winked, making Lily giggle. 

They had lunch together, ate the biscuits Lily had carefully packed on a paper bag and Summer convinced her mum to give them chocolate chip ice cream. Coincidentally, that was Lily’s favourite too, and she had a special way of eating it.

“I like it a bit melted.” She explained, making Debbie raise an eyebrow at her but there was a soft smile curling the sides of her lips.

“Do you remember Mason did the exact same thing, Jaz?”

Lily heard that name multiple times throughout the day, and found out that it was Summer’s uncle. Her favourite, but her other uncle Lewis couldn’t know or he’d get sad. She didn’t care much, though, focusing her energy a lot more on enjoying the great time she was having with her best friend and how nice her family was. She met Summer’s grandpapa, her other uncle Lewis - who squeezed her chubby cheeks when she called him ‘uncle’ - but the best part of the afternoon, besides Debbie’s perfect biscuits and sandwiches, was feeling the baby inside Jaz’s tummy kicking. Mummy Y/n had briefly explained about how a baby stayed inside a mummy’s tummy, eating and sleeping until it was time for them to meet the family, but that was the first time Lily felt a baby kick. She asked Jaz if it hurt, and the woman explained that it did sometimes, but the baby didn’t mean it.

There was a permanent frown on Lily’s face as her brain was almost on fire at the thought of that baby kicking, but she also thought it was marvelous, so her tiny chubby hand just rested there, on Jaz’s bump, waiting for it to kick again. It suddenly felt way more interesting than playing with dolls.

“Lily, come see my uncle Masey!” Not leaving Jazmine’s side, she shook her head, but still looked at her friend as Summer pointed at Debbie’s phone and the stranger had a wide smile on his lips. Summer, giving up with a defeated sigh, walked towards her friend so she could properly ‘meet’ her favourite uncle.

“Hello. Can I call you uncle too?” Lily asked, watching him nod. That smile never leaves his lips. 

“Are you the friend that Summer can’t stop talking about?” He asked, making her blush a little. 

“Mhmm, I’m Lilian Maisie.”

“Maisie? Are you telling me, little lady, that Summer’s besties are Masey and Maisie?”

Lily let out a cheerful laugh at his reaction to her name when she noticed how fun the coincidence was. Another thing added to the list of things that made her absolutely love being Summer’s friend and how much she wished the girl would stay around forever. Lily would never let her go. 

For the next few minutes, Mason made a whole bunch of comments on how cool it was that they shared names, with Summer singing ‘Masey and Maisieee’ in the background while she danced, twirling around her best friend with the phone on her hands until Jasmine told her to stop so she wouldn’t get hurt. 

They talked for a few more minutes before Mason said his goodbyes, said he’d be back home soon from wherever he was, Lily didn’t pay much attention to it because the baby kicked again, making an almost inaudible giggle part her lips as she covered her mouth with her hand. 

When it was dinner time, the girls went out with Debbie and Tony for pizza, with Y/n’s blessing even if her daughter already had way too much junk food for a weekend. They had fun, took pictures and shared a supermarket trolley when Debbie made a quick stop to buy some essentials Jaz needed. 

Lily didn’t know the hard word for it, to explain what she felt, but it made her little heart pound so hard against her chest she could almost hear it. That Saturday had been the best she ever had, and holding Summer’s hand under the duvet as they prepared to sleep, she rolled on her side to find a sleepy bestie next to her.

“Summer,” With much effort, Summer opened her eyes, squeezing her friend’s hand so she’d continue. “I love you. Promise you’ll always be my bestie?”

“I love you too, Maisie. I promise.” Summer mumbled, eyes finally closing as she moved closer to put a chubby arm over her best friend’s body.

Jasmine felt oddly happy when she overheard the confessions and promises of two girls who knew nothing about life, but sounded so wise knowing what love and true friendship was. Perhaps, they were wiser than her. Still, she had never seen such a strong bond before but was more than happy that her daughter had someone she could count on at a young age. Jaz hoped it’d last forever and that the bond could be extended to the rest of both families because Y/n seemed like a fantastic young woman, a fantastic mum too, raising that beautiful and loving little girl on her own, despite having support. 

“She’s so full of energy, isn’t she? I mean,” Jaz started as Sam, her husband, turned his attention from a book he’d been trying to finish to her. “Summer is just the same, they’re two little hurricanes but it’s not chaotic at all when they’re together.”

“And I was expecting some chaos.” Sam added, getting a chuckle and a nod from his wife.

“Mase was like them when he was a kid, and he was also the most loving little boy, so thoughtful. Like Lily.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what Summer needed while he’s away. A friend just like him.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

PRESENT DAY 

“Mummy,” With tiny hands resting on her waist, Lily rolled her eyes, impatience making chubby cheeks flush pink as a sigh parted her lips. You watched your daughter close her eyes as if she was mentally counting to ten, which he most likely was. Lily, always the mini adult. “Take me now!”

If Lily had any idea what reason was behind you trying to convince her to miss ballet class on that typically rainy Thursday, she’d make you feel embarrassed with yourself. She was like your personal little voice of reason, always so patient despite having so much energy all the time, always trying to make you see things the way she did. Lilian was smarter than the kids her age, and it wasn’t hard for her to notice how weird her mummy had been acting lately, although she couldn’t figure out why. 

You had been able to escape Jasmine for almost two weeks since Lily spent the weekend at her place, at least in person, because you texted all the time. It was easier to lie this way, not seeing in her person, because that woman was too kind for you to simply hide from her the fact that your daughter was her niece. Without even noticing, you and Jaz were slowly becoming very good friends, the only problem was how much she insisted on seeing you for whatever it was — shopping, dinner, taking the girls out… you always had to come up with an excuse. It was nearly suffocating. Not because you didn’t like her, but because you had no idea for how long you’d be able to keep things from her.

With a defeated look on your face and a victorious smile on Lily’s, you two were welcomed by the typical warmth from the ballet studio, and the smell of orange blossom mixed with wood. It was comforting, happy — it fit the place. The teacher always welcomed you with a quick hug, and then her attention was all Lily’s as both left holding hands to meet the girls who had already arrived for class. 

When Jasmine waved cheerful but discreetly, you wished you had changed into full mum instead of mummy mode and insisted on the ‘no’ you so wanted to give Lily about ballet today. But it really was about not punishing her, about not taking away the things she liked the most only because her mummy was such a coward. 

Jaz had both hands around her bump, which made you instantly miss being pregnant although the first 6 weeks were the hardest, with you being diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum and your life turning into severe nausea and vomiting, dehydration, fatigue, among other symptoms. 

“I thought I’d never see you again!” You blushed, wishing you could run away and hide somewhere until class was over and she wouldn’t see you.

“Been busy.” You replied, making Jaz narrow her eyes at you. She shook her head, clearly not buying your excuses all this time. Still, she linked her arm on yours and carried you outside the studio. You frowned. “Do you mind sharing where we are going?”

“Coffee, or tea. Then you’re joining me on baby shopping.” Then she started rambling about how could you two be friends by only texting, and how could you make your daughters’ friendship stronger if you never met, how important it was for them that you’d have some sort of bond too. Jasmine had no idea that no matter how much you liked her, there was no need for a special bond between the two of you for Summer and Lily to love each other so much. It was natural for them because they were family. 

All that rambling annoyed you, and you started to feel way too hot for someone exposed to the cold and rain, as if your blood was boiling as it ran through your veins. It’s not her fault, it’s not her fault - you kept thinking. And she was also a pregnant woman, heavily pregnant, so lashing out at her wasn’t an option, even if you wanted to tell Jaz to back off a bit and just let you breathe. 

You both decided to go for hot tea. Jaz because she avoided coffee as much as she could and you, because you thought coffee would increase your anxiety. It really was hard being around her and hiding the truth as she praised your daughter.

Baby shopping soothed your nerves. All those tiny clothes, toys, the smell; it all took you to a place free of any kind of worries because they made your mind go back to the past and its happy memories of Lily as a baby. Her chubby and tiny hands, the look of love on her big brown eyes and the toothless smile always followed by a laugh that’d fill the room with joy. 

Lilian was your everything, and there was no reason to keep forbidding her to live life to the fullest because as long as you kept hiding the truth, that also meant there’d be a missing piece in her life. 

“The first 6 weeks of my pregnancy were the hardest, you know,” You started, not caring if you finally had interrupted Jaz on her endless chattering about how expensive those tiny things for babies could be. She gave you a sweet smile, nodding, knowing what you were talking about. “Besides the stress, HG kicked my arse, I was always in and out of the hospital. It was fucking hell.”

Reaching for your phone, you opened the album ‘Lilian Maisie’ in your gallery, showing photos of your bump, videos of your baby shower, as a wide smile spread across her lips. The next pictures were the ones of you and your family at the hospital, the night you gave birth. 

“How was it for you?” Jaz asked, pointing at the birthing pool when you showed her a photo of you inside, peace sign on your fingers, messy bun and the most exhausted smile. She really didn’t mind you turning their baby shopping into you showing Lily’s life as you were both still at the store, standing between the onesies and the teddy bears aisle.

If you were going to do this, if you were going to tell her… it had to be where you felt comfortable. Oddly, it was there.

“The complete opposite of the entire pregnancy. Giving birth to Lily was calm and peaceful, despite all the pain, obviously.” You both shared a laugh, she knew exactly how it felt. The next photo was the first ever taken of you and Lily, while you were feeding her for the first time. “I never thought I could love that little girl so much until I started breastfeeding her, it was the most special thing of the whole ‘I’m a mummy now’ thing.”

“It’s how we bond with them.” You nodded, agreeing completely.

Next, you allowed Jaz to have a blast scrolling through photos of Lily growing up. The first fruit, first steps, first tooth and first birthday. She never stopped smiling, letting a few ‘awww’ as you told the story behind a few photos. A two year old Lily in a yellow bikini and her face all dirty after having her first mango on your first trip to Greece got Jaz giggling for a few minutes.

“He was never around, was he?” Jaz asked, you just sighed in return, knowing who she was talking about. “Her dad was never around.”

“I tried to tell him, but he just… Gosh, I went to his place and I was ready to tell him but he shoved me off. Politely, but he did. He never let me say whatever it was that I had to say, Jaz. He thought I went there for a whole different reason!” Finally, you took a long deep breath and all Jaz did was to hug you. Her hands rubbing your back, trying to calm you down. “I met part his family recently.”

Holding your arms, Jaz stepped back, her eyebrows raised at you. “You did? How was it?” 

“They’re so lovely I feel guilty for hiding this from them.”

“Oh, Y/n… it’s not your fault!” She hugged you again, squeezing you so tight it only made you feel worse. 

“No, Jaz. It kinda is, I should’ve insisted. If not for him, for Lily, so she’d have her fantastic auntie around, so she’d have her other grandparents. On top of that, I took from Lily 4 years of the most beautiful bond I’ve ever seen.” Taking a long, deep breath, you pushed Jasmine away and gave a soft squeeze on her arms. “With Summer.”

“W-what?” Her jaw dropped, her bag almost fell to the ground but you took it before and handed it back to her. “What do you mean, Y/n? What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I named her Lilian Maisie for a reason.” You lowered your head, not wanting her to see how your eyes now sparkled with hot tears that you wouldn’t allow to roll down your cheeks. “I wanted Lily to have something of him. Of Mason.”

A sniff coming from Jasmine and how she broke down the next second made you look up, she was so much better at not hiding her emotions. Tears fell freely down her flushed cheeks. She reached for your hand, linking your fingers on hers. 

“We’ll, Y/n… that explains a lot. Let’s pick up our girls and we can go to yours, I want you to tell me the whole story.”

The walk back to the studio was quiet but, thankfully, not an awkward quiet. You shared glances and smiles, one comforting the other, knowing how shitty that situation was and how there was just one person who should be a priority: Lily. And when Jasmine saw her for the first time since you dropped the truth, you watched every already expected reaction, but as much as she was great at sharing her feelings, Jaz was also perfect at not letting the girls notice something was off. She hugged both when class was done, but the way she looked at your daughter was different. The look in her eyes was of pure love and joy.

When you walked into your apartment, apologising for the unusual mess, Jaz made herself comfortable on your large sofa as her hands rested on her bump. Still in silence, she watched you settle everything for a spag bol night until the doorbell rang and, for her surprise, Sam walked in.

“I don't want you carrying the weight of this alone, Jaz.” She squeezed your hand as a ‘thank you’, knowing that having someone to talk about the fact that her brother had a daughter he didn’t know would make it easier for her, it would make it easier to wait until he and the rest of the family knew. Until you felt ready to tell.

“I’m sorry for this.” You frowned at her words but was quick to reassure she had absolutely nothing to apologise for, Jasmine had offered you nothing but support and kindness, her reaction had been free of any kind of judgment and not once she questioned your actions, knowing that all this time your priority was doing what you thought that was better for Lily.

While the girls were in Lily’s bedroom, playing, you told Jaz and her husband the whole story. You watched her cringe a bit when you mentioned the condom getting stuck, Sam chuckled but was quick to apologise when he noticed you blushing and when Jaz slapped his thigh. “I know it’s awfully pathetic, and I hope I never have to tell my kid all these details.” You admitted, wanting to disappear between the cushions. 

“I know you’re not asking for our opinion, but I think you should’ve insisted on telling him.” Sam added when you finished the story.

“I know.” You mumbled, your fingers now seemed more interesting than anything else as you played with them. “I didn’t know him. I mean, I still don’t. It felt like I wouldn’t get much support from him considering his behaviour. And I felt miserable all the time.”

“He would’ve supported you. He will.” Jasmine’s words made you feel safe. Not for you, but for Lily, as it was all about her. “We’ll think of a way to tell him and make it as smoothly as possible.”

When they decided to leave, Jaz asked Sam to take a sleepy Summer to the car while she said her goodbyes. You guessed she wanted a moment alone with you and Lily, and as you watched how loving she was with her niece, the way she hugged her and softly squeezed the tip of Lily’s nose, you couldn’t really find the right words to thank her. For everything, but mostly, for not judging and not questioning if Mason really was Lily’s father. Sharing that with her, when Lily left for her bedroom again, you first got a giggle as a reply.

“Y/n, she looks so much like him I could never question that. It’s not only her looks, but her entire personality, her laugh… it’s all Mase.”

With busy days, you rarely thought of him. But late at night, Mason would often show up to haunt you. Either in your dreams or keeping you wide awake, making you think how he’d be as a father, and how you’d be as family because once you’d finally tell him the truth, it’d make you a family. Mason would have to be there for her, to support Lily through it all, to be part of her education. He’d be there for special occasions, he’d be around…

Forever.

*******

BONUS: social media - lily maisie and summer // baby lilian maisie

jazbenham

Liked by yourusername, masonmount and others

jazbenham just two besties matching outfits on their first Saturday night out! Love these cuties!

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yourusername my heart 🥹

jazbenham I know!!!

masonmount 💙 cute

staceymount_muchmore omg who’s this??!! So adorable!!

jazbenham that’s Lily, she’s Summer’s bestie from ballet 🤍

BABY LILIAN MAISIE / your gallery