Here on my island, the sea says hello!

The warm summer air has long since dissipated, the cold wind of night taking over and yet, you’re still here, sitting on the roof of Jaime’s apartment building. The lights of Palmera City twinkle below you, a shimmering array of colours that only serve to remind you how alone you are.

Jaime was meant to meet you hours ago and yet here you are, sitting out in the cold alone. You frown, checking your phone for the umpteenth time. He didn’t even bother to text.

Another gust of wind has you shivering, crossing your arms over your chest to keep yourself warm. You know he’s out there doing something important, saving lives and protecting the city. You knew this going in—so why has it been so hard to understand lately?

You click your phone on again only to immediately turn it off. Five more minutes, you tell yourself, but you’ve been promising yourself that for hours and he’s yet to show.

A sigh passes through your lips like the cold night air. Why is dating a superhero so hard?

You’re just about to leave when you hear him come stumbling out of the door. “Sorry, sorry! I know I’m late, I know—”

You don’t perk up at the sound of his voice like you usually do. Instead, the weight in your chest only grows.

Jaime’s brow furrows at your silence. “Amor?”

You’re not quite sure what to say to him, your usual insistences of ‘it’s fine’ and ‘don’t worry about it’ feel heavy on your tongue. You dig your hands into the cement edges of the roof, eyes fluttering closed to enjoy the fresh air.

“Hey,” Jaime says quietly as he  settles down next to you, the side of his thigh brushing yours. “I’m really sorry I’m late. Again.”

You nod, tight lipped and dead silence. Jaime’s grateful for the usual roar of Palmera traffic and the hustle and bustle of the street below, if only so it can cut through the deafening quiet between you.

He rests a gentle hand on your thigh. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

You finally force yourself to look up, to meet his eyes. He’s looking at you with only concern, head tilted to the side and lips pursed.

“I’m not—” You take a deep breath, trying to rationalize the thoughts racing through your mind, “I’m allowed to be upset, Jaime.”

“I-I know that.”

Anger rushes to your throat like bile, a torrent of emotions bubbling up inside you. “Do you realize how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, flashing that guilty smile that usually makes you forgive him but only serves to annoy you tonight. “A while?’

You shake your head, hot tears burning the backs of your eyes. Rising to your feet, you turn away from him. “You’re making jokes. You left me waiting here for hours and you’re making jokes.”

“Babe, it’s not—I’m not—” 

You hear the sound of his shoes hitting the gravel of the roof, hear him heading towards you. He grabs your wrist softly, spinning you around to face him.

“I know what you do is really important, Jaime,” your voice catches on his name. “I just want to feel important sometimes, too.”

His hand travels up your wrist, fingers tangling with yours. “You are important, you’re everything to me.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

You break free from his grip, the cold air seeping into the warmth he left behind until there’s nothing left. You turn back around, sights set on your original path.

Jaime goes to reach for you again, to follow you until you’re willing to hear him out. It’s when his fingers are close to closing in on you that that familiar buzzing in his spine starts, Khaji Da speaking to him.

He’s distracted for a minute, but a minute is all it takes for you to escape.

You should’ve known Jaime wouldn’t leave the issue at that, his need to fix things always superseding your will to let them rest. 

You’re wide awake when he slips through your widow, the latch unlocked for him the way it always is. He’s quiet coming in, footsteps soft and intentional when he lands inside your room. 

You sit up in bed, flicking on your lamp. “Jaime?”

He cringes, “did I wake you?”

You shake your head. You hadn’t been able to sleep without him, anyways. Not for a lack of trying—you’d gotten up four separate times, gone pee, gotten water and watched an episode of tv and still, you couldn’t drift off.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

That seems to be the main word in his vocabulary lately.

He kicks off his shoes, neatly setting them in the corner of your room. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he admits.

You draw your knees into your chest. “I see.”

“Is it—can I?” He gestures to his side of the bed, the movement slow and hesitant and filled with the uncertainty clouding your own mind right now.

You nod, patting the mattress next to you. It’s his side of the bed, anyway.

Jaime tugs his shirt over his head before getting in with you, the bed dipping down beneath his weight. The familiar weight soothes something in you, has you gravitating towards him.

He flops down on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“I know.”

And it’s true, you understand just how sorry he is. Just how wrecked he is that he left you waiting. His guilt isn’t enough to overshadow your own sadness.

“And you are important to me, amor. You are the world to me, I don’t—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know, Jaime.”

He rolls onto his side, looking at you with those big puppy eyes like he always does when he’s in trouble. “I love you.”

You sigh, “I love you, too.”

You give in, shuffling down in bed and rolling on your side to face him. He reaches out, draping an arm across your waist, drawing you in.

“I’m gonna do better,” he says it like a vow. “No more excuses, okay? I’ll be better for you.”

“Promise?”

He tugs you into him, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “Swear it on my life.”

dc masterlist | navigation

One thing you learnt about Hannah Wells, being one of her best friends and all, was that she was normally- a very reasonable person. She was the one to keep electrolyte sachet’s in her bag during a night out, the one to book the uber a day in advance and the one to always text check-ins on the group chat during finals week. 

That was her, normally. 

Unfortunately, ever since she decided to become the first hockey WAG in the group, the captain she shared a bed with had spent their entire relationship testing that theory. The relationship was undoubtedly adorable, some may say to a disgusting, how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-days level, but sometimes Garrett would feel the need to use Hannah's tightly strung mental stability as a pair of chopsticks.

“Just, tell me again why we’re doing this?” You watched Hannah with a concerned expression, she was aggressively highlighting a sentence that had absolutely nothing to do with the paragraph she'd just read.

The yellow highlighter squeaked angrily across the page,"You know why," She gritted out. 

"No, I know why you're angry,” You pointed at the highlighter.

"I'm asking why that textbook is suffering for it."

The answer never came, but that was attributed to the fact that Hannah was still busy glaring at her notes like they had personally offended her. Beethoven was a bitch. 

The study room had fallen suspiciously quiet about twenty minutes ago, with Allie laying on the sofa in the corner going through a script for class and you and hannah sitting on the large table in the centre of the glass box, you scribbling out statistics equations and Hannah trying to compose a new piece. 

The initial productivity went out the window when Hannah began to complain about Garrett, either of you could have stopped her, put a pin in it and dealt with it at home. Instead, Allie and you happily discarded your work and quipped helpful bits of advice during her rant. 

"You know what his problem is?"

You exchanged a glance with Allie, both of you knew it was better if nobody answered- experience had taught you this was a trap.

"He says he'll call me."

Hannah pointed at her phone that she had flung across the table at the beginning of her speech, "then doesn't call me."

You nodded, the man had a habit of saying he’ll call after practice- then take hours in the locker room with the boys. Your own boyfriend had done that more times than you could count, but you made peace with it very early on; assuming it was because the boys were engrossed in some weird, hockey bro hangout while they changed. 

It was nonetheless a reasonable complaint, because the team was AWOL for nearly the entire day, and the three of you were suffering for it. Ever since Garrett returned from the bench, after the fight that led to his suspension, training was 24/7 and you were lucky to get a morning kiss at the crack of dawn and a small whisper of seeing you later before the door shut, leading their phones seeming to have fallen off the face of the planet.

So, if Graham had promised he’d “see his girl tonight” because he “missed her so much” and then had the gall to not reply to her messages for half an hour. You were prepared to ride at dawn, and steal his skates to rub against concrete for as long as your drill sergeant ordered. 

However, currently the drill sergeant was pink in the face and grabbing at her phone, stretching herself over her textbook to wave the device angrily. 

"And then when I text him asking where he is-"

You already knew this wasn't going to end well.

"He sends me a thumbs up."

The silence was immediate, you gaped at Allie, she gaped back. It was two fishes staring at each other while Hannah slumped into her chair.

It shouldn't have been shocking, it was exactly the sort of thing Garrett would do. But he was an idiot for deciding to not fight against his nature during this trying time. 

Allie lowered the script she had folded against her legs, flopping it onto her chest as she sat up. Slowly, carefully, as if she’d been told there was a rabid animal that could sense her fear.

"A thumbs up?"

"A thumbs up."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

You shook your head and closed your eyes. This was rough, like Liverpool F.C rough. 

"I know he meant well."

That sentence was somehow worse, because she was trying to be rational. And when Hannah was angry and tried to be rational, it usually resulted in disaster. 

"Did he think?"

Allie's contribution was deeply unhelpful.

Hannah jumped and gave her a thankful clap, "THANK YOU."

"I'm just saying."

You groan and give her a look of deep regret, "You are not helping."

"I wasn't trying to." She grinned at you.

Hannah dropped her head onto the table, face first into her music sheets. The universal sign of academic and emotional defeat. 

You watched her lie there for a moment.

Then another

Then-

"I am going to kill him."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, there it was. The threat you’d all been waiting for, Allie checked her phone, nodding her head.

"Only ten minutes."

"A personal best." You added.

Hannah stood up immediately, the chair scraped obnoxiously against the floor- as if warning her not to do the thing she was absolutely going to do. Both you and Allie looked up, concerned at the way she blinked quickly, the cogs in her head turning so fast that you were sure smoke would start spilling from her ears. 

You recognised the look on her face, a dangerous determination, masked by an eerie calm. In actuality it was a complete loss of common sense

"Hannah." Allie started, warningly. 

"No."

"You haven't even heard the question."

"I know the question."

The smile spreading across Hannah's face made your stomach drop. It was a Hannah Has An Idea smile and historically speaking, those had a terrible survival rate.

You racked your brain for what she could possibly be plotting. Then your face fell.  Practice had ended approximately fifteen minutes ago. Which meant the boys were currently finishing up at the rink. A fact that should've been irrelevant, so painfully ordinary that it was similar to breathing. Instead, it somehow became the most important detail in the room.

“Hannah, no-”

She had already grabbed her bag and started walking towards the door. Allie scrambled to her feet, shoving her stuff into the tote she randomly picked up when you left that morning. You did the same, not caring that you messily crumpled up your work into your bag, instead more focussed on watching Hannah strut out of the library, stomping through the isles- not paying you any mind. 

You panted when you caught up to her, dragging a hand through your hair,

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

The door to the outside world opened and Allie squinted against the golden hour glow, Hannah’s smile widened dangerously, 

"I am going to find my boyfriend."

The first sign this was a terrible idea came when Hannah ignored the boys leisurely walking out of the athletes' building, their hair damp from showers, you recognised a few, some from the calisthenics club, you waved at the girls on the swim team and pointedly flipped off the lewd comments from the lacrosse team. Eugh. 

The second sign came when she didn’t listen to your warnings.

The third came when she barely blinked at the coach giving her a confused greeting.

By that point, frankly, the universe had done everything it reasonably could.

"Hannah."

No response.

"Hannah."

Still nothing.

The woman marched through the arena, stumbling sharply against the chairs. You inched through behind her, holding Allie's hand as she huffed and whipped her bangs out of her eyes, glaring at Hannah, who was already at the bottom of the staircase, about to turn into the back corridor. 

Neither of you were particularly interested in letting your best friend commit relationship homicide without witnesses.

"Hannah."

"What."

The answer arrived instantly. She stilled just before the dim pathway towards the locker room, hands braced on her backpack straps, her shoes tapped on the floor expectantly. 

"You do realise practice literally just ended."

"Correct."

"You do realise hockey players are probably changing."

"Correct."

You looked at Allie, whose eye was twitching at her best friend's unwavering need for vindication. 

"You're concerning me."

She rolled her eyes and dashed down the hallway, you recognised this part of the training facility instantly, it was embarrassing the amount of times you had waited here, leaning against the wall for Logan to emerge, his chain glinting in the yellow lighting as he hauled equipment over one shoulder, the other carried his own gear. 

He would kiss you quickly, mumbling against your lips about missing you, and then dump all the random sticks and bags of pucks into the storage before slinging an arm around your shoulder, slowing to a leisurely stroll as you recounted your day. 

You rounded the corner, and froze. Allie bumped into you, whining as she rubbed her nose. 

The locker room doors sat at the end of the corridor. You stared ahead, and blinked when Hannah barely stopped- charging forward.

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

You cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted after her, jogging behind. "What exactly is your plan here?"

"I am going to find Garrett."

"Then?"

"Then I am going to explain why sending a thumbs up was stupid."

Allie threw her hands up and blocked her pathway to the door, "Hannah."

"No." She tugged down Allie’s arms, and pushed the girl out of the way. Before either you or Allie could stop her, Hannah grabbed the door handle, and it was like the world slowed.

"HANNAH!"

The door opened and you immediately regretted the day you were born. The silence hit you like the torrential stream of water in a car wash, burning your eyes as a gasp got stuck in your throat. 

Then your brain caught up with what was in front of you- because unfortunately, disastrously, hockey practice had ended, extremely recently. So recently in fact, that half the team were still in the showers hooting and hollering, while the other half were dripping wet in front of their cubbies. Staring straight at you, towels paused mid-dry.

You froze.

Hannah froze.

Allie froze.

The hockey team froze.

Time itself appeared to freeze.

"Oh my God." Allie giggled shrilly, her eyes wide as her hand came up to stifle a mix between a gasp and sob.

It wasn’t the shirtless hockey players that disturbed you. It was the penis’.

Everywhere. 

Anywhere. 

Dicks floor to ceiling, no matter where your troubled eyes would take you, it was phallic body parts all around. A sight that would haunt you until graduation.

The team were the first one to snap out of the trance, some of them barely phased at the intrusion, the other half silently covered their junk and shouted brokenly for the people you were actually looking for. 

“What?” Logan’s voice shouted from beyond the showers, luckily you were far enough away to avoid the sight of your boyfriend and his teammates in the steamy, tiled cheap porno setting. 

You accidentally made eye-contact with one of the freshmen on the team, and he winked at you. The expression on your face must've been unbelievably unimpressed because he rushed to get dressed immediately after his failure. 

That made your survival instincts finally activate.

You spun around immediately, a sensible decision on your part. 

Unfortunately, Allie had chosen the exact same strategy.

The two of you collided at full speed.

"OW."

The yelp escaped simultaneously. One second you were turning around, the next your shoulder crashed into Allie's.

Your foot caught on your other ankle, and suddenly gravity joined the party. The floor rushed upwards, the world tilted and you were convinced this was your rapture. 

Two seconds away from meeting your untimely demise, strong arms caught you before impact.

"Oh my God, babe?" The voice sounded familiar and you braced yourself for his bewildered expression when you squinted your eyes open. Logan’s face was approximately six inches away and you felt the towel he had hurriedly wrapped around himself slip low down his hips against your waist. 

"Nope, don’t ask." You closed your eyes against the water droplets splashing onto your face from his hair. The tickle of his silver chain against your cheek made you wave your hands between the two of you. You could feel him gearing up to ask something, 

A finger wag in his face and a simple, "Nope." made him laugh as he hoisted you up. 

Across from you, Dean had already reached Allie, looking equally concerned and delighted.

"Are you okay?" His arms were bound securely around her, pressing in front of him.

Allie flicked his forehead, "Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling."

"You absolutely are."

Dean was moments away from framing the incident and hanging it on a wall, it was when Allie had steadied herself and stepped fractionally away from him that you noticed Dean hadn’t managed to grab a towel. And stood naked, right in front of you. As bare as the day he was born. 

You retched loudly and tried to run out the door, forgetting that Logan was still holding you upright, an arm around your waist- hand steadying your shoulder.

Deeply and violently, you groaned- accepting that this was your life right now,  "Please tell me I died."

The laughter around you doubled in volume, a few of the guys chirping at you.

Somewhere behind Logan, Garrett appeared, towel around his waist- completely oblivious to the chaos playing out with his team. 

"What happened?"

The silence that followed was immediate, the boys pursed their lips together, you and Allie were engrossed in anything that didn't involve Hannah. 

She glared at him slowly, dangerously. Garrett took one look at her expression, and his eyes ping ponged around the changing area, the open door, the duo of embarrassed girlfriends- one of them looking at her boyfriend seductively, the other hiding her face in her hands. And finally the boys, Dean who was playing into Allies flirting- butt naked. And Logan who was stifling a laugh against your shoulder as you shook your head silently into your palms.

Understanding dawned, making him rush over to his bag and dig out his phone, his eyes widening at his girlfriend, "Oh."

The idiot actually laughed. Hannah looked ready to gouge his eyes out with his stick.  And somehow, unbelievably, things were about to get worse.

By dinner the same day, everybody knew, not just the team, not just other teams. The entire student population. 

People in your classes, people in the library, people in the campus cafes. Somehow all of them must've collectively received an email.

You still didn't know how, no matter how hard you searched the gossip account, your dm’s, hunted through stories. There was no way to determine how the hell the situation had reached every set of ears at Briar. You'd spent the better part of twelve hours trying to figure it out.

The incident had happened at approximately 9 am that morning.

By six-fifteen, two members of the lacrosse team had smirked at you in passing.

By seven, somebody in a study group asked if you were "recovering."

By eight-thirty, a girl in your dorm-block had winked.

"Tell me again why I haven't transferred,” You dropped your forehead onto the cafeteria table.

Across from you, Hannah looked equally traumatised as she picked at her dinner, Allie looked murderous as another pair of irrelevant students giggled as they passed by. 

The three of you had spent the entire day suffering.

Allie slumped in her chair, "Because we're seniors."

You stabbed aggressively at your salad. "Unfortunately,” mouth half-full of lettuce you continued, "You know what the worst part is?"

Nobody answered, mostly because nobody wanted to encourage you.

"The fact we literally didn't do anything."

"THANK YOU."

Allie pointed dramatically.

"THANK YOU."

The cafeteria table rattled slightly, you winced and gave her an accusing stare. While the passion was appreciated, the volume was not.

"We walked into a room." Hannah shrugged

"Accidentally." Allie added.

"Then left."

"Immediately."

You threw your hands up, "And somehow everyone is acting like we joined an orgy."

The three of you sat in offended silence, completely justified silence. Silence that lasted approximately four seconds.

Then somebody cleared their throat and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever god that put you in that situation this morning, wasn’t just deciding to test your self control.

You swore, if you opened your eyes, and the person who you thought it was, was standing in front of you. There would be a search warrant for your name, and a blown up ice rink in your wake. 

"No."

Across the table, Hannah groaned and Allie made a sound like she was ready to throw something. The answer came before you opened them, pressing your lips to your hands that were held together in a praying position, you shook your head, "No."

Because standing directly behind you was, Dean who was grinning so wide, you’d think Santa Clause gifted him a dildo, Garrett, currently more occupied in flashing his puppy dog eyes at Hannah and Logan, the only useful one, who came bearing gifts with an apologetic yet amused smile on his annoyingly handsome face.

The Three Horsemen of Making Things Worse.

"Oh, come on.” Dean looked genuinely offended, hand on his chest as he pulled out the seat next to you, in front of Allie.

She threw one of Hannah’s chips at his face, which he caught in his mouth, "We came to support our girlfriends! amidst their public cancellation from society."

"You came to laugh at us." You corrected, ignoring the paper container that slid in front of your tray and the weirdly shaped Logan entity that sat on the other side of you. 

The smile on Dean's face widened, "How ‘bout both?"

Hannah dropped her fork and lunged at him, only held back by Garrett- who had two fingers looped into her belt loop. 

During this, you peeked into the container, flicking open the lid to see a slice of your favourite cake- red velvet from the bakery just outside campus.

You glanced at Logan and stuck your tongue out at him in response to his pleading expression. There it was, you thought- your eye twitching, the complete lack of shame astounded you.

You hated the smug bastard. A deep, passionate hate. But you still gave him a quick peck, intertwining your hands beneath the table and placed them on his thigh. He suppressed a grin and leaned back in his chair watching you cut into the pastry with your fork.

"How's recovery going?" Dean rested his chin on his palm, twirling a blonde strand with his finger.

Allie flipped off her boyfriend, "Leave."

Garrett laughed immediately, "You have to admit-"

"No." Hannah interrupted, hands slapping at his wrist which comfortably kept his hand looped into her jeans. 

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It was funny."

"It wasn't."

"It really was."

The idiot looked entirely too pleased with himself, which was particularly annoying because he wasn't even the one receiving the worst of it.

That honour belonged to you and Allie. Specifically because both of your boyfriends had apparently become the main characters of the story. A fact you deeply resented.

"You know what?" You sat up, “How come nobody is talking about Hannah?”

The entire table went quiet.

Hannah blinked.

"Oh my God." Allie said slowly, "You're right."

"I know."

Hannah immediately looked suspicious, "Why aren't they talking about me?"

Then Allie pointed dramatically, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING."

"You haven't said that."

"I've been thinking about it."

Somehow, the entire college manipulated the story into a desperate cliche- that you and Allie were dying to see your boyfriend’s and just. couldn't. wait. for them, so you burst into the changing room, ovulation phase at it's peak and boned down in front of the entire team.

Completely cutting out the bit where you both were trying to stop Hannah from social suicide.

Mission accomplished apparently. The problem now, was that you’d stepped in front of the bullet, and forgot that it meant you’d get shot. 

"You started the whole thing." You whined at her.

"EXACTLY."

Dean and Garrett looked delighted.

"You stormed across campus." You held up one finger.

"Correct." Hannah nodded.

"You opened the door." Another finger.

"Correct."

"You ignored approximately fourteen warnings." A third.

"Correct."

"And somehow everyone else became the main characters." You harrumped and slumped back into your seat, glaring at Logan whose arm came up to rest behind you- but you didn’t pull away when he pecked your forehead.

Hannah looked genuinely aghast at her lack of involvement within the gossip mill, "You know what?" She folded her arms, "That is offensive."

"There she is." Dean blew an exaggerated kiss at her, "The victim complex."

Hannah threw a napkin at him.

The situation somehow got worse, a possibility you never thought could be true.

By Wednesday morning, people had started inventing details, ones that didn’t even make sense. Especially because the original story was already embarrassing enough.

Now there were rumours.

Terrible rumours.

Wild rumours.

Factually incorrect rumours.

"I heard somebody say we were recording."

Hannah looked flabbergasted, the pen in her hand creaked as her first tightened.

Across the corridor, Allie stopped walking, "We weren't?"

"Exactly."

"We were too busy being surrounded by cockfest 2026."

The three of you continued toward class, united by shared trauma- forged entirely through public humiliation. 

The campus buzzed around you, students heading between lectures, athletes carrying equipment bags, people drinking coffee they absolutely couldn't afford. The usual. Until somebody shouted out your name, the voice was gratingly familiar in a way that made you want to spit out your tonsils. 

The guys sitting outside the student centre weren't even subtle about it, the one who called out for you nudged another, the second looked up and smirked.

They were two guys from the lacrosse team. Arguably, you’d think such a fancy sport would produce gentlemen, but the game manufactured slime-balls like the two currently snickering at your deadpan expression. 

"Oh look." The smile spread, "The locker room girls."

You stopped mid-step, and you’d known it was a mistake the minute your foot paused, because now they knew you'd heard. The embarrassment hit instantly, like a slap to the face that reached down your throat, hot in a way that made your body burn. 

Beside you, Hannah looked ready to throw hands, her eyes narrowing at the boys. 

“You got only fans? We’d love to see what happened in the locker room.” 

Allie grit her teeth and just as she was about to bite back, a voice interrupted her.

"Say that again."

The atmosphere chilled behind you, one second the lacrosse pair were giggling like little goblins, the next, their faces were frozen with teetering smiles. 

You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Logan stood next to you, his thumb rubbing soothingly on your arm. 

Dean was walking up to Allie, his hands still cupped around his mouth from his interruption. Garrett hung back, but welcomed Hannah into his side when she begrudgingly shuffled up to him. 

They had apparently finished a team strategy session, an unfortunate coincidence for the boys in front of you, who suddenly looked significantly less dick-ish. 

The one with slicked back, blonde hair looked to his friend- who shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, his lip visibly quivered when he spoke, "What?" the question came out weak.

Dean smiled, two hands braced on his girlfriend's frame. Leisurely almost. "Oh, don't do that." He tilted his head with a pout, "You were really confident thirty seconds ago."

Nobody answered.

Garrett called out, still maintaining a generous distance from the situation- probably not wanting to get too involved with another team as the captain, “You seem like the type to be on only fans Jackson. Is that what you do when you lose to Eastwood?” The disappointment in his voice somehow made it worse.

"Seriously,” Dean shook his head, "Dude, if you're going to talk shit about my girlfriend at least be creative." Allie smacked the front of his chest, but nodded in agreement. 

Then Logan spoke, "Find something else to talk about."

Jackson, and the other guy- equally as greasy, dissolved into pitiful excuses and throwaway comments, scoffing as they retreated into the building.

"Holy shit."

Dean grinned, "You're welcome."

"You enjoyed that." Allie poked him accusatorially, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek a few times, leaving lipstick prints against his dimple. 

"I enjoyed that immensely."

Nearby, Garrett wrapped an arm around Hannah's shoulders and joined the rest of you.

"You know," Garrett said thoughtfully, "I feel like people would've stopped talking about it sooner if Dean hadn't told literally everyone."

The silence was beautiful. The three of you slowly turned to look at Dean, who was gritting out threats at Garrett, a horrified expression gracing his features as he timidly caressed Allie's hair. 

"I did not."

Logan punched his shoulder jokingly, like bros talking about whose basketball team won last night, "You absolutely did."

"I told one person."

The universe was finally smiling down on you, since Tucker walked up to the six of you, pushing his curls out of his face.

"You told Tucker." Garrett laughed. 

Tucker blinked between the two, who were now engaged in a heated conversation using their eyes. 

"That's still one person."

"Dean."

"One person."

"You told the biggest gossip on the hockey team that our girlfriends walked into the changing room after practice and saw everyone's dicks. by accident."

Tucker finally nodded his head with an affirmative sound, “Oh yeah, I’m just annoyed I left practice early for a doctor's appointment.” He patted Dean on the shoulder, grinning as he stirred the proverbial pot, “luckily Dean here, my best friend, the person who tells me everything. Recounted it in perfect detail.”

An argument exploded instantly, involving Allie smacking Dean upside the head and she bickered about how the last 48 hours had been a living hell.

Hannah wasn’t letting Garrett off the hook easily, nagging him that if he had just “replied to her goddamn messages” the three of you wouldn’t have been in there, she quietened and blushed when he whispered in her ear.

Tucker had joined Allie in bashing Dean, but the three of them groaned when Dean promised, “mind-blowing orgasms on every surface of the house”. Allie didn’t say anything further, just glared at him when he hooked a hand onto her waist and pulled her in.

They drifted ahead while they bickered. Leaving you slightly behind with Logan, who had somehow presented an iced coffee from behind his back and was watching you sip it. 

"You didn't have to do that." You said mid-sip.

Logan looked over, "What?"

"That."

You gestured vaguely toward the now-empty student centre steps. Logan’s expressions softened slightly as he took your bag from your shoulder and pulled you into him, tucking a hand into your back pocket. 

"Yeah." he paused, "Actually, I kind of did."

Your stomach performed a deeply inconvenient little flip.

"Why?"

Logan looked ahead, then to the ground in an almost bashful kind of way, then he shrugged. Like the answer was obvious, "I don't like people making you feel bad."

You cooed at him, grabbing his face with your free hand and squishing his face between your fingers, “You’re such a softie.” 

Smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek, you returned to the drink, gulping it down appreciatively.

He snickered to himself and added unhelpfully, “Plus, kind of owed you since you saw Dean’s cock.”

“Logan!”