🤎

John Tucker, Briar U's laidback forward was the kind of guy who took everything in stride. He had a heart of gold, infinite patience, and a Texas drawl that could melt the panties off a saint. But his life had recently become a massive, tangled wreck. Earlier in the year, a brief hookup with Sabrina James had resulted in an unexpected pregnancy. Tucker, being the thoroughly decent, stand-up guy he was, stepped up immediately, vowing to support Sabrina and the baby every step of the way.

But then, he fell in love with you.

Because of the fragile situation with Sabrina, you and Tucker had decided to keep your relationship off the radar. You didn’t want to add to her panic, nor did you want to deal with the relentless, vicious gossip of the Briar campus. But what started as a temporary protective measure had morphed into a heavy, suffocating weight. You were sick of hiding. Sick of slipping out the back door of the hockey house before his roommates could catch you doing the walk of shame. You were tired of feeling like a dirty little secret, and the brutal strain had caused a constant, underlying friction between you two.

Which led to the explosive argument in his bedroom just hours before the team’s victory party.

You were pacing the length of his floor, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, while he sat on the edge of his neatly made bed. He was watching you with those heavy-lidded, deep brown eyes, his large hands resting loosely on his spread knees. His unnatural stillness only fueled the anxious, clawing fire burning in your chest.

"I can't do this anymore, Tuck," you said, your voice trembling as you snatched your jacket off his desk chair. "I'm fucking done. We're done."

He went utterly, terrifyingly still.

"Come here, darlin'," Tucker commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that usually turned your knees to absolute water.

"No." You zipped up your jacket with shaking fingers, refusing to look at him because you knew if you met his gaze, your resolve would snap in half. "I mean it this time. I am so fucking exhausted. I feel like a ghost in my own relationship."

Tucker pushed himself off the bed. His massive, muscular frame seemed to swallow the small space of the room as he stepped directly in front of his closed door, effectively trapping you inside. His dark auburn hair was a messy halo, and beneath his calm exterior, his warm brown eyes were flashing with a dangerous mix of panic and pure, unadulterated male stubbornness.

"We are not doing this, Y/N," he said slowly, his Texas drawl thick with absolute refusal. "We are not breaking up."

"I am the goddamn side piece in my own relationship!" you yelled, the frustration boiling over as hot tears finally spilled down your cheeks. "I know you have to be there for Sabrina and the baby. I want you to be there for them. You're a good man, Tuck, the best I know. But I can't be your hidden fuck-buddy anymore. I can't watch you rush out of the room to take her calls, or drop my hand the second we step outside because someone might see us. It hurts too much. It's tearing me apart."

A muscle feathered in his tight jaw. Tucker closed the distance between you in two long strides. You tried to step back, but his large, callused hands gripped your shoulders, hauling you gently but firmly against the hard wall of his chest. You were instantly grounded in his signature scent of sandalwood and citrus, a scent that felt so much like home it made a broken sob rip from your throat.

"You listen to me," he rasped, his voice vibrating against your collarbone as he lowered his head to look you dead in the eye. "You are not second place. You are never second place. You are everything to me."

"Tuck, please—"

"No, you're going to let me speak." He brought one of his large hands up to cup your cheek, his rough thumb catching a tear before it could fall. "I know it's hard. I know I'm asking a hell of a lot of you to wait for me to sort this mess out. I hate that I'm the goddamn reason you're crying right now. But I am a patient man, Y/N. I will wait out any storm to keep you."

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as you pressed your hands against his chest, trying to physically push away the one thing you wanted most in the world. Beneath your palms, his heart was hammering wildly against his ribs.

"You have to," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Go figure out your life. Be a dad. Do what you have to do without worrying about keeping me happy in the shadows."

You pulled out of his grip, intentionally ignoring the raw, devastated look that flashed across his handsome face. You reached around him, your hand wrapping tightly around the cool metal of the doorknob.

"I'm going to be at Malone's tonight," you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the fact that your heart was breaking into a million jagged pieces. "I promised Allie and Hannah I'd celebrate the win with them. But don't look for me, I need space."

You slipped past him, yanking the door open. You left him standing there in the middle of his bedroom, his jaw clenched tight and his broad chest heaving, his heart full of absolute, uncompromising refusal to accept that this was the end.

By the time you pushed your way into Malone's, your hands were still shaking.

And the absolute worst part of being best friends with Allie and Hannah? It meant you were automatically dragged into the Briar hockey team's inner circle.

They had commandeered the massive, wraparound leather booth in the back corner, and you were squished right into the middle of the loud, rowdy chaos. Garrett, Dean, Logan, and Fitzy were practically shouting over the music, toasting their shutout win and passing around pitchers of beer.

And sitting directly across the wooden table from you was John Tucker.

He hadn't said a single word since you sat down. He just sat rigidly on the cracked vinyl cushion, a half-empty bottle of Miller gripped in his large hand. For Tucker, the booming bass of the jukebox and the chaotic crowd seemed to fade entirely into white noise. The only thing in sharp focus was you. Every time you dared to glance up, those heavy-lidded, dark brown eyes were already locked on you, burning with a heavy, volatile intensity that made it impossible for you to draw a full breath.

You felt like you were bleeding out invisibly. You’d done it. You’d looked him in the eye, told him you were done being his dirty little secret, and walked away. Now, forced to sit so close to him, it felt like you’d carved out your own heart with a dull knife.

Hannah nudged your shoulder, shoving a shot of cheap tequila into your hand. "Drink up! You look like you're at a funeral, Y/N/N, not a party."

Allie leaned in over Dean's shoulder, her blonde hair catching the harsh neon light. "Seriously, what's going on with you? You've been miserable all week."

You forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes and downed the shot. The liquor clawed down your throat, "Just tired. Let's go dance."

You dragged them out of the booth and shoved your way onto the small, packed dance floor near the jukebox. The music was deafening, the heavy bass vibrating through the soles of your shoes and rattling your ribs. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself get lost in the chaotic, grinding rhythm of the crowd. You laughed loudly with Allie and Hannah, desperately trying to project the image of a girl having the time of her life. But all you were really doing was trying to ignore the heavy, scorching gaze you could feel burning into your skin from across the room.

Tucker was watching you.

Usually, he was the anchor of his friend group—observant, laidback, the quiet guy who kept his head and his temper when everyone else lost theirs. Tonight, he felt like a coiled spring pulled back so tight it was about to snap.

Every breath he took felt like inhaling broken glass. You’d told him you were done. You’d looked at him with tears in your beautiful eyes and told him you couldn't be his second-place secret anymore. And the worst, most agonizing part? He knew you were absolutely right.

His eyes tracked your every movement through the strobe lights. You looked fucking breathtaking—flushed, wild, and utterly out of his reach—and he wasn't the only one who noticed.

A tall guy from the lacrosse team slid up behind you on the dance floor, his hands hovering dangerously close to your hips. Another guy, some frat bro in a backward cap, was trying to catch your eye, shouting some garbage pickup line over the loud music.

Tucker’s jaw locked so hard his teeth ground together. A dark, ugly possessiveness flared in his chest, incinerating every ounce of his southern patience.

They saw a beautiful, single girl looking to get wrecked and have a good time. They didn't know you belonged to him. They didn't know the soft, needy sounds you made when he sucked marks into your neck, or how perfectly your body bowed up to meet his. And it was his own damn fault they didn't know. He had kept you in the shadows to protect Sabrina's privacy and manage the baby drama, but in doing so, he had left you completely unprotected. He’d made you feel like you didn't matter. He'd practically served you up on a silver platter to every thirsty dirtbag in Malone's.

He watched, every thick muscle in his massive frame going violently tense, as the lacrosse player leaned in, his mouth entirely too close to your ear. Tucker saw you politely step back, your posture stiffening in clear discomfort, but the guy persisted. The asshole actually closed the distance again, flashing a cocky grin and reaching out to boldly wrap a hand around your waist.

That was it. Patience was officially dead.

Tucker’s grip on his beer bottle tightened until his knuckles turned stark white, the thick glass groaning dangerously under the pressure. With a harsh, ragged exhale, he slammed the bottle down on the sticky wooden table so hard the remaining liquid foamed over the top.

"Whoa, Tuck, where are you going?" Garrett asked, looking completely startled by the sudden, aggressive movement from the calmest guy on the roster.

Tucker didn't answer. He didn't even look at his captain. He was already moving, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowded bar, his dark eyes locked dead on the man touching what was his.

He parted the sweaty, grinding crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, his massive frame shoving through the bodies without a single apology. The rational, endlessly patient part of his brain—the part that always played the long game, the part that had agreed to keep this relationship off the radar to deal with Sabrina's baby drama—was dead and buried.

Fuck the secret. Fuck the gossip. Tucker didn't care about the whispers, the rumors, or the stares that were bound to follow. He only cared about the fact that the woman he was completely, irrevocably in love with was slipping through his fingers, and half the bar was trying to swoop in and take his place.

You spun around, desperate to step away from the persistent lacrosse player whose hands were getting way too bold, but before you could tell the guy to back off, a blur of black and silver stepped into your line of vision.

You gasped as the lacrosse player was suddenly violently ripped away from you.

Tucker’s massive, callused hand was fisted in the collar of the guy’s shirt, lifting him nearly off his feet.

"Hey, what the hell, man?" the lacrosse player sputtered, throwing his hands up. He puffed out his chest, trying to look tough.

The words had barely left the guy's mouth before Tucker’s fist cracked across his jaw.

The sickening thud cut through the immediate vicinity of the dance floor. The lacrosse player stumbled backward, crashing into a nearby table and taking a couple of empty beer bottles down with him. The crowd gasped, forming an immediate, wide circle around you, but Tucker didn't even flinch. He stood over the groaning guy, his broad chest heaving, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

"Stay the fuck away from my girl," Tucker growled, his voice dropping to a low, lethal vibration.

The guy scrambled back, holding his bleeding jaw, and frantically nodded before disappearing into the crowd.

Tucker didn't spare him a second glance. He turned to you, the violence in his frame immediately shifting into a raw, desperate need. Large, familiar hands instantly gripped your hips, hauling you flush against his hard chest.

"Tuck—" you breathed, your heart doing a wild, violent somersault against your ribs.

"Mine," he murmured fiercely.

He pulled you seamlessly into the heavy rhythm of the music. His hands slid from your hips to trail possessively up your spine, sending a shiver of blistering heat straight to your core. He spun you around, pressing your back flat against his broad chest, his thick arms wrapping securely around your waist as he swayed with you.

He could feel you trembling, feel the exact moment the adrenaline bled out of your muscles and you melted against him. This was where you belonged. Not hiding in the shadows. Not sneaking out the back door of the hockey house. It was an undeniably intimate, blatantly sexual claim, loud and clear for the entire fucking bar to see.

Over by the booths, the reaction was instantaneous. Dean’s jaw practically unhinged, his drink freezing halfway to his mouth. Garrett actually choked on his beer, coughing violently while Logan thumped him on the back. Hannah and Allie exchanged wide-eyed, completely stunned looks. John Tucker, the quietest, most reserved guy on the roster, had just knocked a guy out and put on a very public, very unapologetic show.

Tucker spun you back around to face him, completely oblivious to the shocked stares of his teammates. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, his rough thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip, parting it slightly.

"I don't care who sees," Tucker said, his voice fierce, unwavering, and laced with absolute certainty. "I don't care how complicated it is. I am not hiding you anymore, Y/N. And I am sure as hell not letting you break up with me."

Before you could formulate a response—before your brain could even process the magnitude of what he had just done—he dipped his head and captured your lips in a searing, breathless kiss.

It wasn't a gentle, hidden kiss in the dark. It was a bold, desperate, world-stopping declaration. He kissed you like a starving man, his tongue parting your lips and claiming your mouth with a consuming, dominant heat that made your knees buckle. He caught your weight effortlessly, pulling your hips flush against the hard ridge of his arousal, showing his teammates, your friends, and everyone else in Malone's exactly who you belonged to.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your chests heaving together in the smoky air.

His body was hard against yours, your clothed chest pressing against his in a way that made you wish you weren’t wearing anything. Yet, it was best to be clothed in a house full of guys because you never know when they might walk—

“Hello lovers!” Dean announced as he entered the front door, Allie in tow.

Garrett groaned with annoyance as he stopped kissing you and resorted to burrowing his way back into the crook of your neck.

“Hi Dean.” You answered for both you and Garrett.

“Looking very cosy.” Dean said, hopping over the couch and landing his ass on top of Garrett’s - causing you both to wince at the added pressure.

“Dean!” Allie tutted.

“Fucking prick.” Garrett mumbled, holding you tighter to protect you from his wild best friend.

The comfort of Garrett’s arms around you was second to none. You loved feeling coddled and safe, like the world was not as scary when you were wrapped up in him.

“Dean you’re too heavy. Get off.” You whined.

“I literally weight less than Garrett.”

“And yet I have you both on top of me.”

“Well tell Garrett to get off instead.”

“No fucking way.” Garrett’s head revealed itself from your neck, showing Dean the annoyance he was feeling. “Get off.” He swatted Dean.

“Boys will be boys.” Allie laughed, sitting on the other side of the couch.

Dean shortly left you two alone and over to his girlfriend.

You and Garrett remained laid down, even though you were aware you took up an entire length of the L-shaped sofa. Your boyfriend was too happy cuddled up against you and you didn’t really have any reason to move.

Garrett’s head remained on your chest this time, giving up on trying to kiss you or bury himself deep into your neck - his safe space.

One of your hands run through his curls - something you knew he loved the feeling of. He couldn’t help the fact he was a man whose love language was physical touch.

“Did you use my shampoo this morning?” You asked quietly, as Dean was preoccupied bickering with Allie.

“Mm.”

“I can smell it.”

“At least it smells good.” He gave a slight chuckle.

“It does.”

“Reminds me of you.”

You kissed the top of his head, inhaling the smell of almond butter and something fruity.

The front door opened again and Hannah, Logan, Grace and Tucker came in. Everyone greeted each other, and fortunately no one was rude enough to jump on top of you this time.

“So what time is everyone getting ready?” Tucker asked, sitting down on the edge of the couch next to Allie with a bowl of crisps.

“Ready for what?” Grace asked, curled up besides Logan.

“Party tonight. Here.” Dean answered for her.

“Another one?” Allie threw her head back with a sigh.

“It’s fun, Allie Cat.”

“Bite me.”

You could feel the sexual tension dripping off them both from a mile away, let alone sat just across the room from them.

Instead of giving Dean the opportunity to make some gross joke, Logan chimed in. “I’m only going to take a quick shower. So… In, like, an hour Tuck?”

“Quick shower that turns into an hour long makeout session with your girlfriend.” Dean rolled his eyes and laughed when Logan threw a pillow at him.

“He does have a point.” Garrett’s voice vibrated against your chest as he spoke.

“Says you, G.” Logan scoffed.

You chuckled through a blush, noting Garrett’s own smug smirk.

“Well us girls are getting ready together. You guys are on your own.” Allie announced, making Logan pout and Dean dramatically cry out.

Garrett protests by tightening his hold on you, keeping you in his strong hold beneath him.

“Coming, Y/N?” Hannah asked.

She held her hand out to you, ready to help you escape your boyfriend.

You gripped her hand and she tugged with as much force as she could, but it barely made you move an inch. No thanks to your - as established by Dean - boyfriends heavy weight.

“Save me!” You joked.

“Noooo.” Garrett grumbled.

“I’ll get him, you get Y/N.” Dean walked along the sofa and hovered over Garrett’s body, ready to physically remove him from you.

The rest of the room were either laughing-on or filming. Allie came to stand beside Hannah, holding out her other hand for you to take.

“Ready?” Hannah laughed, “3, 2, 1…”

“Heave!” Dean shouted.

Your body moved from underneath Garrett’s more easily as Dean lifted him up. Garrett was trying to bite back a smile, but ultimately he was pissed that you were being dragged away from him - literally.

Your body slid over the side of the sofa. Your top half was on the floor, whilst your top half was still on the sofa.

“Piss off.” Garrett said, trying to struggle against Dean.

“Boys?”

Dean called the other guys over and the helped raise Garrett off you completely.

After you were cleared of Garrett - feeling surprisingly cold without him near - you hugged your girls hello. It had been a long week and you were happy to get to hang with them now. Even if your boyfriend hated the distance.

Garrett (8:08PM): I miss you.

Garrett (8:08PM): Like a lot.

“God, you two are so disgusting.” Hannah laughed as she read the notifications on your phone. She was helping you with your makeup as the messages from Garrett came through.

“Hey… rude.”

“I mean, you’re also stupidly cute together.” She shrugged her shoulders, applying more highlighter to your cheekbones.

“How are things going with Justin?” You asked her, leaving Garrett on delivered (so needy).

“Okay, yeah. We’re taking it slow.” She smiled.

“Slow’s okay.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure he agrees though.”

“Well that’s shitty of him. You deserve happiness on your own timeline.”

Hannah smiled at you with her kind eyes. She gave you a hug at that comment and you squeezed her tight.

“Love you.” She said.

“Love you too.”

Allie and Grace walked into Garrett’s room then, which you had all taken over to get ready together. Garrett had been allowed to grab some clothes and cologne, but after that he had been banished.

They walked in with two drinks each.

“What are we cuddling for?” Allie asked, placing one drink on Garrett’s desk for you - Grace doing the same for Hannah.

“Love.” Hannah smiled.

“Oh I can get in on that.” Grace laughed, pulling herself around you and Hannah. Allie joined next.

“Ugh okay. Let’s get drunk!” Hannah escaped the hug, forcing you all to disperse.

“Hell yeah!”

“Aye!”

The next half an hour was spent doing finishing touches on makeup, hair and outfits.

Allie had borrowed clothes from Hannah’s closet. Grace had borrowed Allie’s makeup. You stole some of Hannah’s jewellery.

This was what girlhood was about.

You were wearing your own high waisted, black, pin-stripe trousers along with a ridiculously flattering burgundy corset top from Hannah’s wardrobe. Your shoes were your platform Doc Martens.

After you’d taken a fair amount of pictures with each other, as well as some solo-shots, you decided that you were finally ready to join the party.

Technically the party had started at 7PM and it was now almost 9PM, but no one ever turned up this early.

The girls left Garrett’s room and you told them you’d be there in one moment, because you almost forgot to put back on the necklace that your boyfriend had bought for you. You’d had to take it off whilst getting ready, at risk of it getting damaged.

You were stood by your overnight bag, watching out of Garrett’s window as party-comers arrived, and fiddled with the clasp of your necklace to secure it.

When Garrett’s arms melted around your waist you didn’t panic, because you knew it was him.

His lips kissed your neck, causing you to automatically lean away for him to have better access.

“Stop.” You laughed.

“Stop?”

“Yes, I’m trying to put my necklace back on.”

“But,” He kissed your neck again, “You’re,” Kiss, “So,” Kiss, “Beautiful.” Kiss.

“You’re intolerable.”

“Maybe.” He kissed you one last time, before taking his arms from around your waist and bringing them up to help you clasp your necklace together. “Or maybe I just love you.”

With your necklace secured, you turned around to face him.

His eyes were darkened as he looked down at you - genuinely, probably, undressing you with his eyes.

From this distance you could smell his cologne and it was so delectable. You subtly breathed him in and tried to keep calm over how feral it made you.

He was wearing a forest green sweater, with a white t-shirt peeking from underneath and his classic gold chain on show.

“What?” You smiled, blushing.

Garrett didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

His hands came to cup your cheeks and tilt your face to an angle where he could kiss you better.

You melted like butter as he kissed you.

It was only a safe peck, but one that you could get lost in for a moment. You could tell he knew that you’d be mad if he messed up your makeup at this point in the night.

He pulled back an inch, with a smirk, only to lean back in and kiss you again because he really couldn’t get enough of you.

“You taste like cherry liqueur.” He said.

“Allie made us do shots.”

“Sounds about right.”

Garrett’s hands dropped from your cheeks down to the waistband of your trousers, looping his finger into the belt holds.

Your own hands slid up his chest, scrunching the material there.

Both of you stared at each other for a few moments. A silent conversation passing between you both with nothing but sparkling eyes and breathing tempos to go off.

“Ready to go downstairs?” You asked.

“I mean… We could just stay in here..”

“That’s not an option.”

“So there is an alternative to going downstairs?” He raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head, “I promise I’ll be in your bed at the end of the night, Graham. Just not yet.”

You leaned up to kiss him one more time, but before he could get too into it and completely make you ignore what you’d just promised you broke away from him and walked over to his open bedroom door.

“C’mon.” You held out your hand for him.

He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, before pretending to be reluctant in joining his hand with yours and head downstairs.

There are surprisingly more people downstairs than you thought there would be.

Dean and Allie are already on the makeshift dance floor. Tucker and Logan are doing shots. Hannah and Grace are chatting to some new people.

Garrett holds your hand as he leads you down the stairs, looking back every so often to get a glimpse of you. He's always had a hard time keeping his eyes off you for more than five minutes at a time.

"Want a drink?" He asked.

You both walked into the kitchen area. "Not yet." The drinks you'd had upstairs with the girls kind of felt like your limit already.

"Okay." He kissed your forehead and let you go so he could grab himself a beer from the fridge.

You looked around the room as Garrett took a long drink.

There were some people here that you knew, through friends, hockey or another reason, but there were also so many people that you didn't know. Like the crowd of girls that were sat on the sofa and shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

“Garrett Graham, holy shit.” You could hear them from over here.

You looked down at yourself then, tugging at the bottom of your top to cover the slither of skin that had started to appear on your waistline.

Garrett's hand slunk around your waist moments later, pulling you close to his side.

Your gaze lifted to his, smiling when you realised he was already smiling down at you.

"G! What's up?" A guy shouted as he entered the kitchen area.

Garrett smiled, his hand leaving the comfort of your body to give the guy a bro-hug. "Hey, man. You know Y/N, right?”

"Yeah of course." The guy nodded at you, before moving onto the next guy to greet.

Garrett's hand came back home to land on the small of your back, watching carefully to make sure no one bumped into you whilst they were greeting one another.

You watched on as Garrett keep greeting new people, but always keeping you close.

He would kindly introduce you to everyone you didn't know, even if most of them never stuck around long enough to actually learn anything about you. There were only a few things guys at parties ever really wanted to talk about; hockey, sex, and girls. Since Garrett no longer participated in conversations about two of those things, people tended to drift away pretty quickly - especially when they realised his girlfriend was standing right beside him.

As Dean came over and started talking about some inside joke, you noticed that Garrett was hanging on to every word his best friend was saying.

This was a good moment for you to let him have his fun with the guys.

“I’m gonna go find the girls for a bit.” You said.

"Okay baby.” He smiled and kissed your forehead.

You walked out of the kitchen area feeling weird.

Like the second you stepped downstairs, the party had stopped feeling like Garrett’s home and started feeling like everyone else’s territory instead.

You smiled politely at someone who walked past you, rubbing your arm subconsciously as you weaved through the growing crowds of people to your girls.

As you spotted the girls jumping up and down, whilst simultaneously grinding on each other, you overheard a couple of girls voices on the sofa in front of you - the same ones that had been ogling Garrett before.

"Wait, that's his girlfriend?"

One girl had her phone open on Garrett's Instagram, looking at a photo from a charity hockey ball of the two of you. She clicked on the photo, bringing up your tag and clicked on it to bring her to your page.

"Y/N." The other girl said, "Doesn't she work at Malone's?"

"Yeah."

"Got Garrett Graham as a boyfriend and yet still has to work a side-job? Yikes."

Your gaze focused back on your friends having a great time with each other, but you couldn't find it in your heart to go and join them now.

You were becoming so aware of yourself in that moment. Your clothes suddenly feeling wrong and you don't know where to stand.

Before you could overthink it, your feet were already carrying you back toward the stairs.

Back to Garrett’s room.

Back to somewhere that felt familiar.

"Ready for another round of shots?" Dean asked, causing a chorus of cheers from the surrounding guys in the kitchen area.

Garrett laughed to himself, sipping on his first and last beer.

He looked towards the makeshift dance floor, looking for you but his eyes could only pick out Allie, Hannah and Grace from the crowd.

Garrett's eyebrows furrowed as he pushed off the counter he was leaning on to get a better view. His hand reached for the phone in his trouser pocket, checking to see if you had messaged but there was nothing.

Perhaps you had gone to the toilet.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered to Dean before moving through the crowd toward the girls.

A hand on his sweater tugged him away from the direction he was going and he turned around instantly, thinking it would be you, but his gaze only darkened when he realised it was a random girl he had hooked up with years ago.

"Hey Garrett."

“Hey,” he answered politely, already trying to step around her.

"Do you want to, maybe..."

"No." Garrett interrupted before she could even finish asking. Garrett sighed, not unkindly, just distracted.

"But..."

"I have a girlfriend."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Garrett stared at her for a second like she’d said something genuinely confusing. “Yeah, not really how this works.” He walked away from her before she could even reply.

The girls cheered when they spotted him approaching, but Garrett barely reacted.

He felt as though he wasn't completely right without you standing next to him.

His hand felt lost without having a place to hold against you. He shoved his beer-less hand into his trouser pocket for something to replace the feeling of yours.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked immediately.

"I... don't know." Allie's expression visibly softened when she realised that Garrett was concerned.

"I haven't seen her since she came downstairs." Hannah said. "Why?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll catch you in a bit." He nodded at them in thanks.

As Garrett migrated his way through the house, he tried checking every corner of the room. People were constantly greeting him, but he was only focused on finding you.

After he had done a couple laps of downstairs and outside and still hadn't found you, his eyes drifted towards the stairs.

Garrett handed his half-finished beer to some random person before ascending the stairs.

You were laying on Garrett's bed when he came in.

"There you are."

You watched Garrett's eyes soften when he saw you. He closed his door behind him, locking it too, but not once taking his gaze off you - at risk of you disappearing again.

"Hey." You smiled.

"Hey."

He climbed on his bed, laying down next to you but slightly angling his body towards yours. One of his hands picked up one of yours to hold, his other softly brushing some hair off your forehead.

“Been looking for you.”

To anyone else, having Garrett Graham hovering just above you and focusing on nothing but you might be really intimidating, but to you there was no place you felt safer... or seen.

"Sorry. Just needed a minute."

You can tell your struggling to convince Garrett that you're okay, no thanks to the avoidance of eye contact and the fact you'd started rubbing your thumb against Garrett's hand anxiously. He didn't make any move to stop you though.

There was no way that you could hide how you were feeling for too long.

Garrett knew you too well.

There was no doubt that he could see the tension in your body and the way your smile hadn't fully reached your eyes.

"Talk to me, baby."

Garrett waited patiently beside you, thumb still brushing slowly over your knuckles. You focused on the movement, otherwise you were going to fall apart sooner than you wanted to.

“I don’t know.” You admitted quietly.

“You don’t know?”

“I just…” You huffed softly through your nose, staring somewhere near his shoulder instead of at him. “I suddenly felt weird downstairs. Like everybody else just… fit there better than I did.”

Garrett moved a little, rolling his neck slight, "“Did somebody say something to you?”

“Not really.”

"Baby... Help me understand." You focused on him then, and you could see his heart break when he noticed the pools of tears in your eyes. "Hey..."

"I'm sorry." Your lower lip wobbled. “It’s so stupid.”

"No, no. Don't do that. If you're upset, it's not stupid." He furrowed his eyebrows, desperately trying to understand you.

"I'm sorry I'm ruining your night."

"You're not, baby. At some point Dean is going to do a shot out of Beau's belly button and that will ruin the night."

You laughed at that, your chest raising up and down that let Garrett know it was a real life. He smiled at the sight, relieved to see the sparkle in your eyes come back to light.

“There she is.”

Once you stopped giggling over his Dean comment you felt ready and comfortable to let him in.

"I just didn't feel like I fit in down there. And it’s nothing you did. Or the girls. Or the guys. I don’t know. I sound insane trying to explain it."

Garrett shook his head softly.

"Sounds pretty human to me." He said.

"Garrett..." You scoffed.

"Y/N..." He returned the sentiment.

"I just zoomed out and felt uncomfortable being there. Just wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

"And you chose my room?" Garrett made the moment sound so sweet.

"Of course." You nodded and Garrett’s expression softened so completely it almost made your chest ache.

“Baby…” he murmured. He stopped holding your hand, so he could cup your cheek gently, thumb brushing beneath your eye. Your throat tightened immediately. “I don’t want you feeling alone in a room I’m standing in."

"And I don’t… I didn’t feel alone. I think I just got in my head. It's probably that time of the month." You brushed it all off, feeling silly now.

"Not for another 13 days."

You gave Garrett the side eye with a knowing smirk, "13 days huh?"

"Precisely." He smiled, "So whatever you felt tonight was still okay to feel."

Garrett leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before pulling you against his chest. You melted into him easily this time, the tight feeling in your chest finally beginning to loosen.

Downstairs, the bass still rattled through the floorboards and Dean’s voice echoed loudly through the house - no doubt doing that belly shot.