Lunsa

Off Campus:

Beau Maxwell

Secrets out

Part 1

Part 2

Off The Record

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

One shots

Core dinner

Caught

Cape Cod gateway

Stay close

My greatest win

The Cottage

Party

My room

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

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You stood in front of the mirror in Allie’s dorm room, tugging at the hem of the simple black dress she’d convinced you to wear. Your usual weekend uniform was sweatpants and a hoodie in the safety of your own room, curled up with a book or watching something low-key with Hannah.

“I don’t know about this,” you said, voice soft as you adjusted the neckline again. “Parties aren’t really my thing. Too loud. Too many people. I’ll just stand in the corner and feel awkward the whole time.”

Allie, already in a cute red top and jeans, spun around from her vanity with a bright smile. “Come on, YN! You’ve been cooped up in your room studying for weeks. One night out won’t kill you. Hannah’s coming too it’ll be fun. We’ll stick together.”

Hannah, sitting on the bed in a soft blue sweater and skirt, gave you an encouraging nod. “She’s right. We won’t let you get lost in the crowd. And if it sucks, we can leave early. Promise.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your small bag. The three of you had become close friends quickly Allie the bubbly, outgoing one who dragged everyone into adventures, Hannah the sweet and grounded middle ground, and you the quieter, more reserved one who preferred staying in. Parties made your stomach twist with anxiety, but Allie had been begging for weeks.

“Fine,” you relented, smoothing your hands down the dress one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re out after an hour.”

Allie squealed and pulled you into a quick hug. “That’s my girl! You look hot, by the way. Someone’s definitely going to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming. “I’m not there to get noticed. I’m there to survive.”

Hannah smiled softly as she stood up. “You’ll do great. And if anyone’s too much, we’ve got your back.”

The three of you headed out, Allie chattering excitedly the whole walk to the football house party. The music was already thumping when you arrived, the front yard littered with people laughing and drinking. Your nerves spiked immediately the noise, the crowd, the unfamiliar energy. You stuck close to Allie and Hannah as they led you inside.

The living room was packed, bodies moving to the beat, red cups everywhere. You found a relatively quiet spot near the edge of the room, nursing a water (you’d politely declined the stronger stuff) while Allie and Hannah chatted with a few people they knew.

That’s when he spotted you.

Beau Maxwell the charming, golden-boy quarterback everyone on campus seemed to know was standing with Dean and a couple of his teammates across the room. His eyes landed on you and stayed there, something shifting in his expression. He’d seen you around campus before, always with Allie or Hannah, always looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. Something about your quiet presence had stuck with him.

He excused himself from the group and made his way over, that easy, warm smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away. “You’re Allie and Hannah’s friend, right? I’m Beau.”

You looked up at him, surprised he’d approached. Most people didn’t bother with the quiet girl in the corner. “Yeah. I’m YN.”

“Nice to meet you, YN.” His smile widened, genuine and bright. “First time at one of these?”

You nodded, fiddling with your cup. “Allie dragged me. I don’t usually do parties.”

“Smart choice,” he said, leaning against the wall beside you. “They can get pretty wild. But you look like you’re handling it better than most first-timers.”

You gave a small, shy smile. “Barely. I’m mostly people-watching and hoping no one spills a drink on me.”

Beau chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “I can help with that. I’ll be your personal bodyguard tonight. No spills on my watch.”

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that. Beau was charming without being overwhelming asking about your classes, what you liked to do when you weren’t being dragged to parties, sharing funny stories about his teammates that made you laugh softly. He stayed right there with you, never pushing, never leaving your side even when his friends waved him over.

From across the room, Dean nudged Allie. “Look at that. Beau’s down bad already. He’s been staring at her like she hung the moon since he walked over.”

Allie grinned. “She thinks he’s just being friendly. She has no idea how gone he is.”

Beau was, in fact, completely gone. Every quiet laugh you gave, every shy glance you sent his way, every time you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear it all hit him harder than any tackle on the field. He wanted to know everything about you. Wanted to be the reason you smiled more. Wanted to pull you closer and keep you there.

But he played it cool, keeping the conversation light, even as his heart raced every time you looked at him.

The night stretched on, the party swirling around you, but Beau stayed right there pining quietly, yearning in every glance, already completely hooked on the shy girl who didn’t realize she had his full attention.

The party noise swirled around you, but Beau’s attention stayed fixed on you like you were the only calm point in the chaos. He leaned a little closer to be heard over the music, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt intentional but not overwhelming.

“So, what do you do when you’re not being dragged to parties by Allie?” he asked, voice warm and genuinely curious. “You seem like the type who has a favorite quiet spot on campus.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by how easy the conversation felt. Most guys at parties tried too hard loud jokes, over-the-top compliments. Beau was just… steady. Listening.

“I like the library’s top floor,” you admitted softly. “Or the bench by the old oak tree when it’s not too crowded. Reading. Sketching sometimes. Nothing exciting.”

Beau’s smile softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That sounds perfect. I’m usually stuck on the field or in the weight room, but I get it. Sometimes the quiet is the best part of the day.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Allie and Hannah watching with matching grins. Allie gave you a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You felt your cheeks warm and looked back at Beau, assuming he was just being nice the friendly, popular guy chatting with the shy friend of his friend’s girlfriend.

He wasn’t. Inside, Beau’s chest felt tight in the best way. The way you spoke quietly, the small smile that tugged at your lips when you mentioned your favorite spots, the way you didn’t try to impress him it all hit him harder than he expected. He wanted to know more. Wanted to be the one who got to sit on that bench with you, sharing the quiet. He was already down bad, pining in a way that surprised even him.

“You should show me that bench sometime,” he said, voice light but sincere. “If you want. No pressure. I promise I won’t talk too much.”

You gave a small, shy laugh. “You seem like the type who talks a lot.”

Beau grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty. But I can be quiet when it counts. Especially if it means spending time with someone interesting.”

The compliment made your stomach flutter, but you pushed the feeling down. He’s just being friendly, you told yourself. Popular guys like him don’t go for the quiet girl who prefers staying in.

Allie appeared then, looping her arm through yours. “There you are! Dean’s looking for you, Beau. Something about a bet with the guys.”

Beau glanced at Dean across the room, then back at you, reluctance clear in his eyes. “Duty calls. But I’ll find you later? If that’s okay.”

You nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. Okay.”

He gave you one last warm look before heading off, heart racing as he walked away. She smiled at me, he thought, already replaying the conversation in his head. God, I’m in trouble.

Allie squeezed your arm as soon as he was gone. “He’s so into you. Did you see the way he looked at you?”

You shook your head, cheeks warm. “He’s just being nice. We were just talking.”

Hannah, who had joined you, smiled softly. “He doesn’t look at just anyone like that. Trust me.”

You brushed it off, the shy part of you convinced it was nothing more than friendly conversation. But across the room, Beau kept stealing glances your way, pining quietly, already counting down the minutes until he could talk to you again.

The night continued, the party loud around you, but every time your eyes met Beau’s across the crowd, something warm and unspoken passed between you even if you didn’t quite believe it yet.

The campus quad was quiet in the late afternoon, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the old oak tree. You sat on your favorite bench with a book open in your lap, legs tucked beneath you, completely absorbed in the story. The world around you felt distant the occasional student walking by, the soft rustle of leaves overhead. This was your place. Peaceful. Safe.

Beau spotted you from across the quad and felt that familiar pull in his chest. He’d been thinking about you nonstop since the party the way you’d smiled shyly when he approached, the quiet way you listened when he talked, the way you seemed to prefer the edges of the crowd rather than the center. He crossed the grass toward you, heart beating a little faster with every step.

He stopped a respectful distance away, not wanting to startle you. “Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, surprised but not displeased. “Sure.”

Beau sat on the other end of the bench, giving you space, but his eyes stayed on you. God, he was down bad. The way the sunlight caught in your hair, the focused expression on your face as you read it all made something warm and aching settle in his chest. He wanted to know what you were reading. Wanted to know what made you smile like that. Wanted to be the reason for more of those small, private smiles.

“What are you reading?” he asked softly, not wanting to break the peaceful moment too much.

You glanced at him, then back at the page. “An old favorite. Fantasy. Escapist stuff.”

Beau nodded, leaning back against the bench. “Sounds perfect. I could use some escape after practice today. Coach ran us hard.”

You gave a small nod, turning a page. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. Beau was content to just sit there, stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Every little detail the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the slight furrow in your brow when something in the book surprised you made his yearning deeper. He wanted to pull you closer. Wanted to know everything about you. Wanted to be the person you felt comfortable enough to share those quiet moments with.

After a while, you closed the book and looked at him. “You don’t have to sit here in silence if you don’t want to.”

“I like the silence,” he said honestly, voice warm. “Especially with you. Most people fill it up. You don’t. It’s nice.”

You gave a small, shy smile, looking down at the book in your lap. Beau’s heart did that stupid flip again. He was completely gone for you the shy girl who preferred books to parties, who listened more than she spoke, who made him feel like he could just be without performing.

The afternoon stretched on like that quiet conversation mixed with comfortable silences. Beau asked about your classes, about what you liked to read, about anything you were willing to share. He hung on every word, storing it away like treasure. Every time you smiled, even a little, he felt it in his chest.

When the sun started to dip lower, he stood reluctantly. “I should let you get back to your book. But… can I walk you to your next class sometime? Or sit with you here again?”

You looked up at him, the shyness still there but something warmer underneath. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Beau’s smile was bright and genuine as he walked away, heart full and yearning stronger than ever. He was already counting down the minutes until he could see you again.

The lecture hall was emptying out after the guest speaker on modern literature, students filing out in a steady stream. You lingered near the back row, gathering your notes with careful precision, the shy habit of double-checking everything before leaving. The talk had been interesting insightful enough to keep your full attention and you were still mentally replaying a few key points as you slipped your bag over your shoulder.

Beau had been sitting three rows behind you the entire time. He’d chosen the seat deliberately, telling himself it was just because the view was good, but the truth was simpler: he couldn’t stop watching you. The way you leaned forward slightly when something caught your interest, the small nod you gave when a point resonated, the quiet focus that made you seem like you were in your own world. He was starstruck in the most ordinary way completely captivated by how present you were in moments like this, how you absorbed everything without needing to be the center of attention.

He waited until most of the crowd had left before approaching, heart beating a little faster than usual. “Hey. That was a good talk, right? The part about unreliable narrators really stuck with me.”

You looked up, surprised but offering a small, genuine smile. “Yeah, it was. I liked how she connected it to everyday storytelling. Made me think about my own writing.”

Beau’s chest tightened at the way you shared that small piece of yourself so naturally. God, she’s so effortlessly interesting, he thought, fighting the urge to step closer. He wanted to know everything about your writing, about the stories you kept in your head, about the way your mind worked when no one was watching. Instead, he kept his tone light, friendly on the surface while his feelings ran much deeper.

“I’d love to read something of yours sometime,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you ever feel like sharing. No pressure.”

You gave a shy laugh, looking down at your notes for a second. “It’s nothing special. Just personal stuff. But… maybe. Thanks for asking.”

Beau felt that familiar pull again the starstruck kind of awe that hit him every time you let him see even a small part of your world. You thought he was just being friendly, the nice guy who chatted with his friends’ friend. He was anything but. He was completely gone, replaying every small smile, every quiet laugh, every time you looked at him like he was just another person in the room while he felt like the luckiest guy alive just to be near you.

They walked out of the lecture hall together, the afternoon sun warm on the quad. Beau matched your pace, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. She has no idea, he thought, heart aching in the best way. How much I think about her. How I replay every conversation. How I want to be the person she feels safe sharing those personal stories with.

You chatted lightly about the lecture as you walked, your voice soft and thoughtful. Beau hung on every word, nodding, asking questions that showed he was truly listening. Inside, he was a mess of yearning wanting to reach for your hand, wanting to tell you how much he looked forward to these moments, wanting to be more than just the friendly guy who happened to be in the same class.

When you reached the path that split toward your next destination, you gave him that small, shy smile again. “Thanks for walking with me. See you around?”

“Definitely,” Beau said, smiling back even as his chest felt tight with everything he wasn’t saying yet. “Looking forward to it.”

He watched you walk away, hands in his pockets, heart full and aching with how much he wanted this wanted you to be more than friendly conversations and shared lectures. He was starstruck, completely and quietly, by the girl who had no idea she’d already taken up so much space in his thoughts.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Della’s, the familiar scent of coffee and fried food wrapping around you like a warm hug. It was a quiet afternoon, the lunch rush long gone, leaving the diner peaceful with only a few scattered customers. You slid into a booth near the window, pulling out your notebook to review notes for your next paper. The soft hum of the jukebox in the corner and the clink of dishes from the kitchen made the perfect background noise for focusing.

Beau spotted you the moment he walked in with Dean. His heart did that familiar flip the one that had become routine whenever he saw you on campus. He’d been thinking about you constantly since that afternoon in the lecture hall: the way you’d smiled shyly when he asked about your writing, the quiet way you listened, the small details that made you so uniquely you. He was completely gone for you, starstruck in the quietest way possible. Every time he saw you, he wanted to know more. Wanted to be the person you felt comfortable sharing those small pieces of yourself with.

Dean noticed immediately. “There she is. Go say hi, lover boy.”

Beau shot him a look but didn’t deny it. He crossed the diner and stopped by your booth, hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Hey. Mind if I join you? Dean’s meeting someone, so I’m on my own for a bit.”

You looked up, surprised but offering a small, genuine smile. “Sure. Have a seat.”

Beau slid into the booth across from you, his eyes soft as he took you in the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the focused expression that made his chest ache with how much he wanted this to be more than friendly. “What are you working on?”

“Just notes for a paper,” you said softly, closing the notebook slightly. “Nothing exciting.”

“Everything you do seems exciting to me,” Beau replied, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed but honest. “I mean… you always look so focused. Like you’re really in it. I admire that.”

You gave a shy laugh, looking down at the table. “It’s just school stuff. You’re the one out there winning games. That seems a lot more exciting.”

Beau shook his head, leaning forward a little. “Nah. I see the same guys every day. You… you’re different. In a good way. I like hearing about what you’re working on. Makes me feel like I’m getting to know the real you.”

The waitress came by then, and Beau ordered for both of you your usual black coffee and a muffin, remembering from the times he’d seen you at the library. You smiled softly when he did, the shyness making your cheeks warm.

As you talked, Beau felt that familiar yearning settle deeper in his chest. Every small detail the way you played with the edge of your notebook when you got thoughtful, the quiet laugh you gave when he made a dumb joke, the way you listened like his words actually mattered made him want more. He wanted to be the person you called when you needed someone. Wanted to be the reason you smiled more. Wanted to pull you closer and tell you how much he thought about you when he was on the field, in class, lying awake at night.

“You know,” he said after a while, voice softer, “I keep thinking about that lecture. The way you talked about unreliable narrators. Made me want to read more. Made me want to know what else you think about.”

You looked at him, the shyness still there but something warmer underneath. “I like talking about books with you. You actually listen.”

“I always will,” Beau said, the words carrying more weight than he let on. Inside, his heart was racing. She has no idea how much I want this. How much I want her.

The conversation flowed easily after that books, classes, small stories from your lives. Beau hung on every word, starstruck and yearning, while you felt that quiet pull toward him growing stronger, even if you still thought he was just being friendly.

The afternoon stretched on like that, the diner quiet around you, the connection between you deepening one small, careful moment at a time.

One Thursday evening, Allie and Hannah convinced you to join them for a low-key movie night in their dorm instead of anything loud or crowded. You arrived feeling comfortable and relaxed, ready for the cozy familiarity of just the three of you unwinding.

You had barely settled onto the floor with blankets and pillows when a knock sounded at the door.

Allie bounced up to answer it. “Perfect timing!”

Beau stepped in behind Dean, holding a couple of takeout bags from the pizza place everyone liked. His eyes found you immediately, softening in that warm way that always made your pulse quicken just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and easy as he set the bags down. “Hope we’re not crashing. Dean mentioned you guys were doing movies, and I figured extra pizza never hurts.”

Hannah smiled and scooted over to make room. “You’re always welcome. Especially with food.”

Garrett followed a moment later, dropping down beside Hannah and pulling her close with that effortless affection the two of them shared. “Couldn’t let Logan and the guys drag me into some loud hangout when this was an option,” he said, grinning as Hannah leaned into him.

You shifted comfortably on the blanket, a small smile tugging at your lips. Beau dropped down right beside you, close enough that his presence felt steady and reassuring without overwhelming the space.

The movie starteda laid-back mystery everyone had pickedand the room filled with soft commentary, laughter, and the rustle of pizza boxes. Beau stayed right there with you the whole time. When the lights were low, you noticed him glancing your way more than at the screen, his expression warm and focused. Every quiet laugh you let out drew a matching smile from him, like he was collecting those moments.

Inside, Beau was a mess of yearning. The way you relaxed into the evening, the soft focus in your eyes during the tense scenes, the easy way you existed in the middle of the groupit all hit him deeply. He wanted to pull you closer, to wrap an arm around you the way Garrett did with Hannah, to make sure you felt as safe and wanted as you made him feel just by being near. But he kept it light on the surface, content for now to share the same blanket and the same quiet space with you.

Halfway through, Allie paused the movie for snacks. Hannah and Garrett slipped into the little kitchen area together, leaving you and Beau in a gentle pocket of quiet on the floor.

“You okay?” he asked softly. “Not too much noise or anything?”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”

Beau’s chest tightened with hope. “Yeah? Good. I like this too. Being here with you.”

The words carried more weight than either of you said out loud. You looked down for a second, still convinced he was just being his usual kind, friendly self. Beau, meanwhile, fought the urge to say everything he was feelingthat these quiet nights with you had become his favorite part of the week, that he thought about you constantly, that he was already completely gone for the girl who preferred calm evenings and still saw him as just a good friend.

When the others returned, the movie resumed, but the air between you and Beau felt warmer, a little more charged. He stayed until the credits rolled, helping clean up even when you told him it was fine. At the door later, he lingered while the others headed out first.

“Walk you back?” he offered, hands in his pockets.

You nodded, and the short walk across campus was peaceful under the evening lights. Beau matched your pace, his shoulder brushing yours now and then in a way that felt natural. At your door, you turned to him.

“Thanks for tonight. It was really good.”

Beau smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime. Text me if you want to hit the bench or the library tomorrow… or just hang out. Whatever works for you.”

“I will,” you said softly, that small genuine smile appearing again.

He waited until you were inside before walking away, heart full and aching with how much he wanted more. The pining had only grown stronger, quiet and steady, as he replayed every moment from the night and counted down the hours until he could see you again.

Beau couldn’t stop thinking about the movie night. Days later, the memory still lingeredthe way you had relaxed beside him on the blanket, the soft sound of your laugh during a quiet moment in the film, how perfectly you fit into the group without ever trying to take up space. It left him restless in the best and worst ways. Practice felt longer than usual, every drill interrupted by thoughts of you. He wanted more of those evenings. He wanted to be the person you looked forward to seeing, the one you turned to when the world felt a little too loud.

That afternoon, after a tough session on the field, Beau found himself back at the off-campus house Dean shared with Garrett, Logan, and Tucker. The place was familiar, filled with the usual chaos of hockey gear, half-eaten snacks, and loud banter. Dean was sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels, when Beau dropped into the armchair across from him with a long sigh.

Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Alright, spill. You’ve been walking around like you got sacked in practice but there’s no bruise. What’s going on in that quarterback head of yours?”

Beau rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor for a second before meeting Dean’s knowing look. “It’s… her. Y/N. I can’t stop thinking about her, man. The movie night the other night? I sat there the whole time trying to play it cool, but every time she laughed or leaned in a little closer to hear something, it felt like I got hit harder than any tackle. She’s just so… real. Quiet in this way that makes everything else fade. I keep replaying how she smiled when I offered to walk her back. Small, shy, but genuine. God, I’m down bad.”

Dean let out a low whistle, sitting up straighter with a grin. “Finally admitting it out loud, huh? I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve been gone since that first party Allie dragged her to. The way you parked yourself next to her the whole night, ignoring everyone else? Classic. And don’t think I missed how you brought her favorite coffee to the library last week without her even asking.”

Beau groaned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “She has no idea. She thinks I’m just being friendly because of you guys and Allie and Hannah. I sit there on that bench with her under the oak tree, listening to her talk about her books or whatever paper she’s working on, and all I can think about is how much I want to reach over and tuck that strand of hair behind her ear. How I want to be the reason she feels comfortable enough to stay out longer instead of heading straight home. I replay every conversation. The way her voice gets softer when she’s sharing something personal… it kills me. I’m out here counting down the minutes until I can see her again, and she probably just sees me as the nice guy who hangs around the group.”

Dean chuckled, but there was real understanding in his eyes. He’d been there himself with Alliechasing, wanting, figuring it all out. “Look, Maxwell, you’re doing it right. She’s shy. She doesn’t do the big parties or the loud scenes. You’re giving her space, showing up in the quiet moments. That’s not nothing. Hannah’s the same way in a lot of respectsGarrett had to learn to slow down and meet her where she was. You keep showing up like that and she’ll start to see it. The way you remember the little things? The coffee, the bench, asking about her writing? That stuff sticks. She might not realize it yet, but you’re already different from the rest of these idiots on campus.”

Beau nodded slowly, the yearning tightening in his chest like a familiar ache. “I just… I want to do this right. I don’t want to push. Last night after the movie, when I walked her back, it took everything not to tell her how much I look forward to every single time we run into each other. How the field feels easier knowing I might see her after. How I turned down a team thing the other night just because there was a chance she’d be at that low-key hangout. I’m starstruck, Dean. Like, actually starstruck by how steady and thoughtful she is. Most people fill the silence. She doesn’t. And I could sit in it with her forever.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, expression turning more serious. “Then keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Be there. The rest will come. And heyif you need backup, Allie and Hannah have been rooting for this since day one. Garrett too, probably. He gets the whole ‘quiet girl who changes everything’ thing.”

Beau managed a laugh, some of the tension easing. Talking it out helped, even if the feelings only burned brighter afterward. He spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the house, but his mind kept drifting back to youwondering what you were doing, if you were reading on that bench, if you’d text him about meeting up again.

Later that week, the group gathered again at Della’s Diner for a casual lunch. Garrett and Hannah sat close on one side of the booth, his arm draped casually behind her. Allie and Dean were across from them, trading playful jabs. You slid into the booth comfortably, and Beau took the spot right beside you without hesitation.

Conversation flowed easilystories from recent classes, Garrett recounting a funny practice moment, Hannah sharing a song she was working on. Beau hung on every word you said, asking gentle follow-up questions about your notes or the book you’d mentioned last time. Under the table, his knee brushed yours once and stayed there, a small point of contact that sent warmth through him.

Inside, the yearning surged stronger than ever. She’s right here, he thought, stealing another glance while you laughed softly at something Allie said. And I want this every day. The easy talks, the shared spaces, the way she makes everything feel calmer. He was completely hooked, pining in every quiet moment, already imagining walking you back after this, hoping for just a few more minutes alone with you.

The afternoon stretched on, filled with good food and better company, but for Beau it all circled back to youthe shy girl who had no idea she’d already taken up every spare corner of his heart. He was patient, steady on the outside, but inside he was falling deeper with every passing day, waiting for the moment you might finally see it too.

The group lunch at Della’s stretched pleasantly into the afternoon. Garrett and Hannah eventually had to head out for one of her music rehearsals, while Allie and Dean lingered a little longer before Dean dragged Allie off with a wink about “studying.” That left just you and Beau in the booth, the diner quiet around you now that the lunch rush had passed.

Beau’s heart hammered against his ribs as the comfortable silence settled. He had been thinking about this for daysrehearsing it in his head during practice, on the walk back from Dean’s the other night, even while sitting on the bench with you. Every moment with you made the yearning sharper: the way you listened so attentively, the small smiles that felt like rewards, the steady calm you brought to his chaotic world. He wanted more than friendly hangouts. He wanted dates. Real ones. But the thought of messing it up, of making you uncomfortable, had kept the words stuck in his throat until now.

He fiddled with the edge of a napkin, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… um. This was nice. Like, really nice. I always like when it’s just… us. Talking. Or even not talking.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks warming as he realized how clumsy that sounded. “What I mean is… I was wondering if maybe… you’d want to do something? Just us? Like… not with the whole group this time.”

You looked up at him, surprised, a flicker of warmth in your expression that only made his nerves worse.

Beau pushed on, the words tumbling out in a rush that was far from the smooth delivery he’d imagined. “There’s this little bookstore-café thing a couple blocks off campus. They have good coffee and it’s quiet, and they do this thing on weekends where people can just sit and read or whatever. No pressure or anything loud. Or if that sounds terrible, we could… I don’t know, walk around the quad or get food somewhere else. Or not. You don’t have to. I just… I really like spending time with you. A lot. More than just the group stuff. So… yeah. Would you want to? Go out? With me?”

He winced internally at how awkward it came outstilted, rambling, nothing like the confident quarterback everyone else saw on the field. His hands had gone clammy, and he forced them still under the table. Smooth, Maxwell. Real smooth. But he couldn’t take it back now. The yearning had built up too much; he needed you to know, even if it was messy.

You blinked at him, processing, a shy smile slowly forming. The surprise was clear, but there was something softer underneath it toolike the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Beau’s chest tightened with hope even as embarrassment lingered. “You don’t have to answer right now,” he added quickly, voice gentler. “I know you like things low-key, and I don’t want to make it weird or anything. I just… keep thinking about how much better everything is when you’re around. The bench, the library, movie nights… all of it. So if you’re free this weekend, or whenever, I’d really like to take you out. Properly.”

He met your eyes, the earnestness winning out over the awkwardness. Inside, the pining roared louder than ever. He wanted this so badlythe chance to show you how much he meant it, to be the person who made your quiet world feel even better. Every second waiting for your answer felt endless, his heart laid out more openly than he’d planned, but he didn’t regret it. Not when it was for you.

The diner hummed softly around you both as Beau waited, hopeful and vulnerable, the golden-boy quarterback reduced to an awkwardly smitten guy who was completely, undeniably down bad for the shy girl across from him.

Beau shifted in the booth, his fingers crumpling the edge of the napkin a little more as the words hung between you. The silence stretched for what felt like forever to him, though it was only a few seconds. His pulse thrummed in his ears, the yearning that had been building for weeks pressing hard against his chest. He wanted thiswanted you so much it made his usual confidence waver.

“I mean… on a date,” he clarified, voice dropping lower and a little rough around the edges from nerves. “I’d really like to take you on a date. Just us. The bookstore-café sounds good because it’s quiet and you can pick whatever you want to read or drink, and I promise I won’t talk the whole time if you don’t want me to. Or we can do something else. Anything you’d like. I just… I like you, Y/N. Like, like you. Not just as friends. So yeah… would you go on a date with me?”

He looked at you then, eyes warm and hopeful despite the awkward stumble of his delivery. His cheeks were flushed, and he rubbed the back of his neck again, clearly out of his element but too sincere to hide it.

You felt a flutter in your stomach, the surprise giving way to a genuine, shy smile. The way he had been showing up for you all the quiet conversations, the way he listened, the steady presence that never pushed had slowly chipped away at your assumption that it was purely friendly. “Yes,” you said softly, warmth coloring your voice. “I’d like that. A date sounds nice.”

Beau’s face lit up, relief and joy breaking across his expression so openly it made your own smile widen. “Really?” he breathed, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Okay. Great. Awesome. This weekend? Saturday afternoon? I can pick you up, or meet you there, whatever works best for you.”

“Saturday sounds perfect,” you replied, the shyness still there but mixed with a quiet excitement you hadn’t expected.

The rest of the time in the diner passed in a softer haze. Beau couldn’t stop smiling, even as he tried to play it cool. Inside, the yearning had transformed into something brighter, more hopeful, but no less intense. She said yes. The thought looped in his head as he walked you back toward your dorm afterward, stealing glances at you the whole way. He wanted to reach for your hand but held back, not wanting to rush. Instead, he kept the conversation light asking what kind of books you might want to browse, promising not to embarrass himself by trying to impress you with football stories.

When you reached your door, he lingered, hands in his pockets. “I’m really glad you said yes. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while. You make everything better, you know that?”

You gave him that small smile again, the one that always hit him right in the chest. “I’m looking forward to it too, Beau.”

He waited until you were safely inside before walking away, heart racing with a mix of triumph and deeper longing. The pining hadn’t disappeared it had only grown warmer, more focused. He already couldn’t wait for Saturday, imagining the quiet moments ahead, the chance to show you how much he truly saw you.

Word spread quickly through the group. Allie squealed when you told her and Hannah the next day, pulling you into a hug. “I knew it! He’s been so obvious.”

Hannah smiled softly, Garrett’s arm around her as they all hung out later that evening. “He’s a good one,” she said. “Garrett says he’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Garrett chuckled. “Understatement. The guy’s whipped.”

Beau, sitting across the room, caught your eye and offered a sheepish but happy grin. The awkwardness of the ask was already fading into anticipation. He was still quietly starstruck, still yearning for every future moment, but now there was the sweet knowledge that you had said yes. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

The Saturday afternoon sun was warm as Beau pulled up outside your dorm to pick you up for the date. He looked a little nervous but genuinely happy when you climbed in, offering you that warm, crinkly-eyed smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Ready?” he asked, gripping the wheel a bit tighter than usual.

You nodded, smiling shyly. “Ready.”

The plan had been the quiet little bookstore-café just off campus, but when you arrived, it was unexpectedly packedstudents spilling out the doors, loud chatter filling the space that was supposed to be peaceful. Beau’s face fell for a second before he recovered with an apologetic laugh.

“Wow, okay… not as low-key as I thought. We can find somewhere else, or”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. “We can adapt.”

Beau brightened at that. He drove to a nearby coffee spot instead, where you both grabbed drinks yours exactly how you liked it. Once back in the car, the ride felt surprisingly comfortable. Soft music played from the speakers as he navigated away from campus, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally gesturing as he talked.

“I’m sorry about the café,” he said after a few minutes, glancing over at you. “I wanted it to be perfect. Quiet. Your kind of place.”

You took a sip of your coffee, feeling more at ease. “This is already nice. I don’t mind the change.”

Beau’s heart did that familiar flip. God, she’s so understanding. Every small reassurance from you only deepened the yearning that had taken root weeks ago. He wanted to pull over and tell you how much this meant to him, how he’d been thinking about this date nonstop, but he kept it light for now.

While you were looking out the window at the passing scenery, Beau quickly pulled out his phone at a stoplight and typed a fast message to the group chat with Dean, Garrett, Logan, and Tucker.

Beau: Café was packed. Heading to the spot now. Everything set up?

Dean: All good, lover boy. Picnic blanket down, food arranged, fairy lights ready if it gets dark. You owe us.

Garrett: Don’t screw this up, Maxwell.

Logan: Tucker picked the flowers. Don’t say we never did anything for you.

Beau slipped the phone away before you noticed, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. His teammates had come throughsetting up a quiet spot at a secluded clearing by the lake just outside town. No girls involved; he wanted this to feel like it was just from him, even if he’d needed a little backup to make it special on short notice.

After about twenty minutes of easy driving and conversation, Beau turned onto a quieter road and parked. “Come on. I’ve got a backup plan.”

He led you down a short, grassy path with the coffee cups still in hand. When the trees opened up to the clearing, your eyes widened. A large blanket was spread out under the shade of a big oak tree overlooking the calm lake. There were fresh sandwiches, fruit, snacks, even a small bouquet of wildflowers in the center. Soft pillows were arranged for sitting comfortably, and a couple of lanterns waited in case the sun went down.

“Beau…” you breathed, genuinely touched. “Did you do all this?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and lingering awkwardness. “I wanted it to be nice for you. The guys helped set it up while we were getting coffeeDean mostly coordinated. I just… I really wanted it to be just us. No crowds. No noise. Just this.”

The two of you settled onto the blanket. Beau sat close but respectful, the yearning evident in every glance he stole when you weren’t looking. Watching you relax into the peaceful setting, the way the breeze moved through your hair, the soft smile on your face as you took in the lake view it all hit him hard. This is what I want. Her, comfortable and happy, with me. He was completely starstruck, heart full and aching with how much he already cared.

Conversation flowed naturally as you ate. He asked about your favorite quiet spots, listened intently when you shared more about your writing, and opened up about the pressure of the football season in a way he rarely did with anyone else. Every laugh you gave, every time you met his eyes a little longer, made the pining sweeter and deeper.

As the sun began to dip lower, painting the lake in golden hues, Beau leaned back on his hands, content in the comfortable silence that fell between you.

“I meant what I said the other day,” he said quietly after a while. “I like you a lot, Y/N. This… being here with you… it’s better than any win on the field. I’ve been wanting this for weeks.”

He didn’t push for more, happy to let the moment sit. The date had turned out even better than he’d hoped, and as he looked at you across the picnic blanket, the yearning settled into something warm and certain. He was falling hard, and he couldn’t wait to see where this whatever it was becoming would go next. Just the two of you, in the beautiful quiet he knew you loved.

The picnic by the lake turned out even better than either of you expected. You spent a comfortable couple of hours talking, sharing food, and watching the sunlight dance across the water. Beau kept the conversation balanced never letting it drag, always checking in with gentle questions about your classes or the stories you liked to write. When the sun dipped lower, he packed everything up with care, refusing to let you help carry the heavier basket back to the car.

The drive back to campus was peaceful, windows down, the warm evening air flowing through. Beau kept stealing glances at you, his chest tight with that familiar deep yearning. She said yes. She’s here with me. Every quiet smile you gave him on the way home made him want a thousand more afternoons just like this.

He walked you all the way to your door, lingering for a moment under the soft glow of the porch light. “Thank you for today,” he said, voice warm and sincere. “I had a really good time. Best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Me too,” you admitted softly, cheeks warm. “The picnic was perfect, Beau.”

He smiled, bright and a little shy himself. “Good. I’d love to do it again. Soon. Whenever you want.”

You nodded, and with one last lingering look, he headed off, heart racing the entire walk back.

The next couple of weeks passed in a sweet blur of new moments. Beau didn’t overwhelm you he kept things at your pace. A quiet study session in the library where he brought snacks and sat across from you, stealing glances while pretending to focus on his playbook. Another evening walk around campus after his practice, ending with ice cream from a small stand near the quad. Each time, his pining only grew. He found himself thinking about you during team meetings, replaying the way your hand had brushed his when you reached for the same book, or how peacefully you looked sitting beside him by the lake.

One evening, the whole group gathered at Garrett and Hannah’s place for a casual dinner. Dean immediately clapped Beau on the back the second he walked in. “How’s it going, Casanova? Heard the picnic was a hit.”

Beau shot him a look but couldn’t hide his grin. “It was perfect. Thanks again for the setup, man.”

Garrett chuckled from the kitchen where he was helping Hannah. “Tucker picked some solid flowers. Logan almost knocked over the lanterns twice.”

You sat comfortably beside Beau on the couch, listening to the easy banter. The group’s teasing was light and supportive, making everything feel natural. Beau’s knee rested gently against yours the whole night, a small point of contact that sent warmth through him every time.

As the weeks went on, the two of you grew closer in small, meaningful ways. Beau’s yearning never faded it simply evolved. He wanted to hold your hand on walks. He wanted to pull you close during quiet movie nights with the group. He wanted to be the person you called first when you needed someone steady.

One Friday night after another successful low-key date this time a sunset walk followed by takeout in his car he finally worked up the courage again as he parked outside your dorm.

“Hey,” he said softly, turning toward you. “I know we’ve been taking things slow, and I love that. But… I really like where this is going. A lot. Would you want to make this official? Be my girlfriend?”

The question came out a touch awkward, just like the first ask, but filled with honest hope. His eyes stayed on yours, heart laid bare once more.

You smiled, warm and genuine, the shyness mixing with clear affection. “Yes, Beau. I’d like that.”

His face lit up with pure joy. He let out a relieved laugh and, after a moment of hesitation, reached over to gently squeeze your hand. The contact felt right warm, steady, and full of promise.

The next few days after making things official felt like a gentle step forward. Beau still kept things at a comfortable pace, but his affection showed in the little ways walking you to classes when their schedules overlapped, sending good-morning texts that made you smile, and always making sure you had a quiet escape plan whenever the group got too rowdy.

One warm evening, after a relaxed dinner with Garrett, Hannah, Dean, and Allie, Beau offered to walk you back alone. The campus paths were quiet under the soft glow of the streetlights, the air carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. Conversation came easily as always, but there was a new, charged undercurrent between you now.

When you reached your dorm building, neither of you moved to go inside right away. Beau turned to face you fully, his usual easy confidence softened by nerves and something deeper. He stepped a little closer, eyes searching yours with that warm, steady gaze that always made your heart skip.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he murmured, voice low. One hand lifted slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, and gently cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, tender and careful.

He leaned in, hesitating for just a heartbeat, before his lips met yours in a soft, sweet first kiss. It was gentle at first almost tentative, like he was savoring the moment he’d imagined so many times. When you kissed him back, the touch deepened slightly, warm and full of quiet emotion. Beau’s free hand found yours, fingers intertwining as the world narrowed to just the two of you under the lamplight.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. His heart was racing, every part of him completely wrapped up in you the way you tasted, the shy way you looked at him now, the perfect fit of your hand in his. He was utterly captivated, already craving the next kiss, the next touch, the next quiet moment that was just yours.

“That was… wow,” he whispered, a little breathless and grinning. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first party. Probably shouldn’t admit that, but it’s true.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warm, and he kissed you once more quicker this time, but no less heartfelt before stepping back with clear reluctance.

“Night, beautiful,” he said, waiting until you were safely inside before heading off, already replaying the kiss in his mind with a smile he couldn’t wipe away.

The relationship had grown beautifully over the following weeks. You and Beau were solidly together now comfortable, affectionate, and deeply happy in that quiet way that suited you both perfectly. He still stole your breath with how attentive he was, always balancing his busy football schedule with time for you. The group loved seeing it; Dean and Garrett gave him constant playful grief, while Hannah and Allie beamed with approval.

One rainy Thursday evening, Beau came over to your dorm room for the first time. You’d mentioned it casually before, but things had finally aligned for a cozy night in. He knocked softly, and when you opened the door, his face lit up at the sight of you in your comfortable clothes, hair a little messy from the day.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside with a warm smile and a bag of takeout in one hand. His eyes scanned the small space curiously your neatly organized desk stacked with books and notes, string lights casting a soft glow, and the little window overlooking the quad now streaked with rain. “This is nice. Feels very you.”

Before he could say more, a small meow came from the bed. Your cat, a fluffy gray tabby named Whiskers, lifted his head from the pillow and blinked sleepily at the newcomer.

Beau’s expression softened instantly. “You have a cat? You never told me that.” He set the food down and crouched slowly, holding out his hand for Whiskers to inspect. “Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you.”

Whiskers sniffed his fingers, then bumped his head against Beau’s hand with a contented purr. Beau laughed quietly, the sound warm and delighted, as he gently scratched behind the cat’s ears. Watching him be so gentle and immediately charmed by your pet made something warm bloom in your chest.

“He likes you,” you said, smiling as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Beau looked up at you, eyes full of open affection. “Good. Because I’m planning on being around a lot.” He stood, pulled you into a soft kiss, then settled beside you on the bed with the takeout. Whiskers curled up between you two like he belonged there, purring steadily.

The evening unfolded lazily. You ate straight from the containers while a low-volume movie played on your laptop. Beau kept one arm around you, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder as you leaned into him. Every so often he’d press a kiss to the top of your head or your temple, completely content in the quiet intimacy of your space.

“I love this,” he murmured during a lull in the movie, voice sincere and low. “Just us. Your room feels like a little safe bubble. The rain outside, your cat purring, you right here… I could do this every night.”

He was so in love it showed in everything the way his gaze lingered on you when you talked about your day, the gentle way he played with Whiskers to make you smile, the soft kisses he stole between bites of food. Being in your personal space for the first time made him feel even closer to you, like he was being let into the heart of your world.

Later, as the rain tapped steadily against the window and Whiskers dozed on the pillow, Beau pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you in a warm embrace. “Thank you for letting me come over,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m really happy, you know that?”

You nodded, cuddling into him, and he kissed you again slow and sweet, full of all the love he felt. The night stretched on like that, cozy and perfect, just the two of you (and Whiskers) in the quiet glow of your dorm room. Beau couldn’t imagine a better way to spend an evening. He was utterly, completely in love, and every moment like this only made him fall harder.

The weeks after that first evening in your dorm blurred into a comfortable rhythm. Beau started spending more and more time at your place. What began as occasional study sessions or movie nights quickly turned into him showing up with dinner or coffee multiple times a week, lingering longer each visit until it felt natural for him to stay over.

One particular Friday night, after a long week for both of you, he ended up spending the night for the first time. The rain was falling steadily outside again, making the cozy dorm room feel even warmer. Whiskers had claimed his usual spot on the pillow, purring loudly as Beau stretched out on your bed beside you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“This is becoming my favorite place,” Beau murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. He had borrowed a pair of your oversized sweatpants (which were a little short on him) and looked ridiculously content lying there with you. “I love my house with the guys, but here… it’s quieter. Just you, me, and this little guy.” He reached over to scratch Whiskers under the chin, earning a happy trill from the cat.

You smiled, curling closer into his chest. Beau’s hand rubbed slow circles on your back, his touch warm and soothing. He was so in love it showed in every small action how he remembered exactly how you liked your tea when he made you a cup earlier, how he’d dimmed the string lights just right, how he held you like he never wanted to let go.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he replied softly, tilting your chin up for a gentle kiss. It started sweet and slow, the kind of kiss that had become familiar between you, but lingered with quiet depth. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I could get used to falling asleep with you like this every night.”

He spent the night wrapped around you, one leg tangled with yours, Whiskers curled at your feet. Beau slept better than he had in weeks, waking up to the soft sound of rain and the sight of you still nestled against him. Mornings like that quickly became routine.

From then on, Beau was at your dorm almost as much as his own place. He’d come over after practice, still a little sweaty and tired, collapsing onto your bed with a dramatic groan before pulling you down with him for cuddles. Some nights you studied together he’d quiz you on your notes while Whiskers tried to sit on his lap. Other nights you’d order food and watch shows, his head in your lap as you played with his hair

Whiskers had fully adopted him too, often demanding attention the moment Beau walked through the door. Beau never minded. He’d talk to the cat seriously while you laughed, scratching his ears and letting him knead on his chest during evening cuddles.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, as golden light filtered through the window and Whiskers dozed between you, Beau rolled onto his side to face you. “I know I say it a lot, but I’m really happy with you,” he said, voice full of warmth. He leaned in, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, pouring all the love he felt into it. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close as the kiss lingered.

These moments in your dorm tangled up together, cat purring nearby, world shut out by the rain or sunshine outside had become his safe haven. Beau was head over heels, completely content to spend as many nights as you’d let him right there with you, building something real and beautiful in the quiet space you called home.

Beau pulled you closer on the bed that lazy Sunday, his brown eyes soft as golden light filtered across the room. Whiskers dozed between you, but Beau barely noticed, too focused on tracing slow kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. “Love these quiet days with you,” he murmured against your skin, voice warm and low. His hand rested on your waist, thumb brushing gentle circles as he captured your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss. You melted into it, fingers threading through his dark hair, and he sighed contentedly when you kissed him back with the same easy affection.

The weeks that followed felt like a natural extension of what you two had built. After tough practices, Beau would show up at your door with takeout, kicking off his shoes and immediately drawing you into his arms for a lingering hug that turned into soft kisses. “You’re my reset button,” he’d say between pecks, brown eyes crinkling as he smiled. One evening, after a big win, he surprised you with a blanket fort in your dorm using extra sheets and string lights. You laughed as he tugged you inside, pulling you onto his lap for slower kisses that built warmth between you. His hands stayed respectful but intimate, holding your face as he whispered how you made every victory sweeter.

Comfort wrapped around you both like a favorite hoodie. During late-night study sessions, Beau would quiz you from across the bed, then reward right answers with quick kisses that grew longer when focus slipped. “Best study partner ever,” he teased, nuzzling your temple. On a crisp fall afternoon, he took you for a drive outside campus to a quiet overlook, parking so you could watch the leaves change. He kept one hand on your thigh, stealing glances and soft kisses at stoplights, talking about future plans like post-grad life and how he saw you in all of them.

Even group hangouts felt more connected now. At a casual bonfire with Dean, Allie, Garrett, and Hannah, Beau sat with you tucked against his side, pressing occasional kisses to your hair or shoulder while chatting with the guys. Back in your room afterward, he was all tenderness helping you unwind with shoulder rubs that led to lazy makeout sessions under the covers, Whiskers ignoring you both from the pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You pulled up to your family’s quiet suburban house just as the sun was dipping low, the driveway empty except for your car. Thanksgiving weekend, but everyone your parents, siblings, even your grandmother was running late due to flights and traffic. You’d told Beau it would be like this, and he’d grinned the whole drive, hand resting on your thigh.

“Looks like we have the place to ourselves for a while,” he said as you unlocked the front door, his voice already low with anticipation.

You led him inside, the house silent and familiar. “My room’s upstairs. Don’t touch anything.”

Beau followed you up the stairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, eyes taking in every detail like he was memorizing the place. Your childhood bedroom was at the end of the hall still mostly the same as when you’d left for college, posters on the walls, a big bed with a soft comforter, a closet door slightly ajar.

He dropped his bag by the bed and started looking around while you kicked off your shoes. “Cute room,” he murmured, running a hand along your old desk. “Very you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get sentimental. We have like three hours before anyone shows up.”

Beau grinned and wandered toward the closet, pulling the door open wider. “Just curious what my girl was like growing up.”

You were about to tell him to stop snooping when he froze. His hand reached in and pulled out a small black box from the back shelf the one you’d hidden behind old shoeboxes years ago. He opened it slowly, eyes widening at the contents: your collection of toys. A sleek black vibrator, a curved glass dildo, a small bullet, a bottle of lube, and a few other things you’d collected over time but rarely used since leaving home.

Beau turned to you, holding the box like it was treasure. His voice dropped, rough and hungry. “Holy shit, baby. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you kept your chin up, trying to play it cool. “Put that back. It’s private.”

He didn’t. Instead, he set the box on your dresser and pulled you closer by the waist, eyes dark. “Private? We’re alone in your childhood bedroom. And you have all this waiting for me to find?” His fingers traced the edge of the vibrator. “I want to see you use them. Right here. Right now.”

The air in the room thickened. You swallowed, heart racing, but the heat in his gaze made your thighs press together. “Beau…”

“Please,” he murmured, voice low and pleading as he kissed your neck. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for weeks. Let me watch. Let me help.”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded, pushing him back onto your bed. He sat on the edge, eyes locked on you as you stripped slowly hoodie first, then jeans, until you were just in your bra and panties. Beau’s breathing was already heavier, hands gripping the edge of the mattress like he was holding himself back.

You reached for the box and pulled out the sleek black vibrator, turning it on with a low buzz. Beau’s eyes darkened further as you climbed onto the bed beside him, spreading your legs and pressing the toy against your panties first, teasing yourself while he watched.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You look so good like this.”

You slipped the panties aside and pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, hips jerking at the sudden intensity. A soft moan escaped you. Beau leaned in closer, one hand resting on your thigh, thumb stroking the skin there as he watched every reaction.

“Slow,” he murmured. “I want to see everything.”

You obeyed, circling the toy slowly, then pressing it firmer, your breathing growing ragged. Beau’s free hand moved to your breast, squeezing through your bra before tugging it down to expose you. His mouth found your nipple, sucking gently as you worked the vibrator against yourself.

The pleasure built fast. You arched into his mouth, free hand tangling in his hair. “Beau… fuck…”

He switched to your other breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “Keep going, baby. Don’t stop until you come for me.”

You did. The orgasm hit hard and sudden, thighs shaking as you pressed the vibrator firmer against your clit, moaning his name. Beau watched every second, eyes hungry, hand still on your thigh.

But he wasn’t done.

He took the vibrator from your hand and set it aside, replacing it with his fingers two thick digits sliding into you easily, curling just right. “So wet already,” he groaned against your neck. “All for me?”

You nodded, hips rocking against his hand. He added a third finger, stretching you, thumb circling your clit while his mouth found yours again. The kiss was messy, desperate, his tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm as his fingers.

“Want you,” you gasped between kisses.

Beau pulled back just enough to strip his shirt off, revealing the toned athlete’s body you’d been dying to touch again. His pants followed, cock hard and leaking as he freed it. He climbed over you, settling between your thighs, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick folds.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice strained.

“I want you,” you breathed, pulling him down.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning as your walls clenched around him. “Fuck, baby… so tight. So perfect.”

Once he was fully seated, he paused, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. Then he started moving deep, slow thrusts that made your eyes roll back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking beneath you.

Beau’s mouth found your neck, sucking marks into the skin while his hips snapped forward.

You moaned louder, hips meeting his thrust for thrust. He reached between you and pressed the vibrator against your clit again, the added stimulation making you cry out.

“Come for me again,” he demanded, voice rough. “Want to feel you squeezing my cock like a little slut you are.”

You did hard, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed over you. Beau fucked you through it, thrusts growing erratic until he buried himself deep and came with a low groan, filling you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. After a moment he rolled to the side, he was still catching his breath when his eyes drifted back to the open closet. He sat up slowly, curiosity winning again, and reached deeper onto the shelf behind the shoeboxes.

“What else do you have hiding back here?” he murmured, pulling out another small box.

He opened it and froze for a second. Then a slow, hungry grin spread across his face.

Inside were more toys but these had a clear edge. A pair of soft black wrist cuffs, a leather paddle, a silk blindfold, a small flogger with soft falls, and a bottle of massage oil that smelled faintly of vanilla and spice.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice dropping lower. He held up the cuffs, running his thumb over the soft lining. “You’ve been keeping all this from me?”

Your face heated, but the look in his eyes made heat pool low in your belly again. “It’s… private. I don’t use them much.”

Beau set the box on the bed beside you, eyes dark with interest. “Private until now.” He leaned over you, kissing you slow and deep while his fingers traced the edge of the blindfold. “I want to use these on you. I wish i had known before you were such a filthy girl before.”

You nodded, breath already quickening.

He started gentle. The blindfold went on first, soft silk blocking out the light. Then the cuffs he fastened your wrists together above your head, checking twice that they weren’t too tight. “Good?” he asked, voice rough but careful.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Beau took his time after that. His mouth and hands explored every inch of you while you couldn’t see him only feel. The flogger came next, soft falls dragging lightly over your skin, then tapping harder in a rhythm that had you arching and moaning. He followed each strike with soothing kisses and his tongue, keeping you on edge.

When he finally slid inside you again, wrists still cuffed above your head, the blindfold still on, it felt overwhelming in the best way. He moved slow and deep, one hand gripping your hip, the other occasionally brushing the flogger over your breasts.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he groaned, thrusting harder. “All mine to play with.”

The combination of sensations the cuffs, the blindfold, his voice, his body pushed you over the edge fast and hard. Beau followed right after, burying himself deep with a low moan of your name.

Beau removed the cuffs and blindfold with careful, reverent fingers, kissing the faint red lines they’d left on your wrists. He pulled you flush against his chest, hearts pounding together, bodies slick with sweat and cum. His hand stroked down your back possessively, cupping your ass and squeezing as his still-hard cock twitched against your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered, voice rough but dripping with obsession. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your swollen lips, then deeper, tongue claiming your mouth like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re everything to me. My perfect, filthy girl. I’m obsessed with you this body, the way you fall apart for me, the way you came all over my cock like a desperate little breeding slut.”

You shivered at his words, heat flooding your core again despite how spent you felt. Beau noticed immediately. His hand slid between your legs, fingers dipping into your cum-filled pussy, pushing his load deeper with slow, lazy thrusts.

“Not done yet,” he growled softly, rolling you onto your back and spreading your legs wide again. “Look at this pretty, ruined pussy. Dripping with my cum. I’m gonna breed it even fuller.”

He grabbed the curved glass dildo and the bullet vibrator. After coating them in lube and your mixed juices, he pressed the bullet to your oversensitive clit on high and slowly worked the thick glass toy into your ass. The stretch made you moan loudly, back arching.

Beau lined his cock up with your pussy and pushed in deep in one thrust, filling both holes completely. “Fuck so tight. Taking everything I give you like the perfect cumdump for me.”

He started fucking you with long, powerful strokes cock in your pussy, dildo in your ass, vibrator buzzing mercilessly on your clit. The triple stimulation had you shaking within seconds. Beau leaned over you, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

“Gonna fill this womb again,” he panted, thrusting harder, eyes wild with love and lust. “Breed you so deep you’ll feel me for days. You’re mine. My obsessed little whore who hides toys in her childhood room but lets me ruin her in it.”

You came hard, squirting around his cock in powerful gushes that soaked his abs and the sheets. Beau groaned loudly, fucking you through it without mercy, the wet squelching sounds obscene.

“That’s it squirt for me again, baby. Make a mess of your old bed while I breed you.” He amped up the pace, slamming into you, the glass dildo moving in sync. Another orgasm crashed over you, vision whiting out as you screamed his name and gushed again.

Beau’s control snapped. “I love you fuck, I’m so obsessed with you.” He buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep, guttural moan, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum into your womb. He kept grinding deep, making sure it stayed inside, while the vibrator kept buzzing on your clit, forcing one last weak squirt from your exhausted body.

He finally slowed, collapsing half on top of you, cock still plugged deep to keep his cum inside. His arms wrapped around you tightly, kissing every inch of your face and neck with soft, loving kisses that contrasted the filthy words he’d growled earlier.

“You’re my whole world,” he murmured, voice soft now, still catching his breath. “I’d do anything for you. Breed you, ruin you, worship you all of it. I can’t get enough.”

You lay there in a blissful, cum-soaked, marked-up daze as Beau continued stroking your body possessively, already whispering about round four before your family arrived.

Beau held you for a few more minutes in the messy bed, his cock still half-hard and plugged deep inside you, keeping every drop of his cum exactly where he wanted it. He kissed you lazily, lovingly, murmuring how obsessed he was with you, how much he loved you, how no one else would ever get to see you like this.

But the clock was ticking.

“Shower,” he finally whispered against your lips, nipping the bottom one. “I want to clean you up… then get you filthy all over again.”

He pulled out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as a thick trickle of his cum leaked from your swollen, abused pussy. He scooped some up with his fingers and pushed it back in, making you whimper.

“Keep it in as long as you can, baby,” he said, voice low and possessive. “I love knowing you’re walking around full of me.”

He helped you up on shaky legs, supporting your weight as you both stumbled to the bathroom attached to your childhood bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut, he spun you around and pressed you against the counter, kissing you hard and deep while his hands roamed everywhere squeezing your marked breasts, slapping your ass lightly, fingers dipping back into your dripping holes.

He turned the water on hot, steam quickly filling the small bathroom. Once it was perfect, he pulled you under the spray with him, bodies pressed together. Water cascaded over you both, washing away some of the sweat but not the cum still leaking down your thighs.

Beau dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Leg over my shoulder,” he ordered. You obeyed, and he buried his face between your legs immediately. His tongue lapped at your pussy greedily sucking his own cum out of you, pushing it back in with his tongue, then moving lower to rim your ass. The combination of hot water and his mouth had you moaning loudly, fingers tangled in his wet hair.

He added two fingers to your pussy and one to your ass while sucking hard on your clit. You came fast and hard, squirting into his mouth with a cry. Beau drank it down like it was his favorite thing in the world, groaning against you.

“Such a good little squirter for me,” he praised, standing up and spinning you around so your hands braced on the shower wall. He lined his cock up and slammed back into your pussy in one thrust, the hot water making everything slicker and louder.

He fucked you hard against the tiles deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your moans echo off the walls. One hand reached around to rub your clit furiously. The other wrapped around your throat from behind, possessive but not choking.

“Gonna breed you again right here,” he growled in your ear, biting the lobe. “Fill this womb until it’s overflowing. You’re mine. My obsessed little cumdump. My perfect girl who lets me ruin her in her parents’ house.”

You came again, squirting down his cock and thighs, legs shaking so badly he had to hold you up. Beau followed right after, burying himself deep and pumping another load into you with long, guttural moans.

But he still wasn’t finished.

He pulled out, turned you around, and dropped to his knees again. This time he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and ate you out messily sucking his fresh cum out of your pussy, pushing it back in with his tongue, then moving to your ass while his fingers fucked both holes. Water streamed down your body as you came a third time, squirting all over his face.

Beau stood up, cock hard again, and lifted you completely pinning you against the shower wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. He thrust back into you, fucking you deep and slow now, forehead pressed to yours.

“I love you so much,” he panted, eyes locked on yours even as he degraded you. “Obsessed with every inch of you. You’re my everything. I’m gonna make you a perfect mommy.”

The angle hit perfectly. You came again, clenching around him and squirting between your bodies. Beau groaned and filled you one final time, holding you tight as he emptied everything he had left.

You both stayed like that for a long time under the hot water kissing softly, hands roaming gently now, the freaky intensity fading into tender obsession. Beau washed you carefully with soap, massaging your sore muscles, kissing every mark he’d left.

After the intense shower, Beau helped you clean up with gentle, loving care. He changed the sheets while you wiped down the bathroom, stealing soft kisses and whispering how much he loved you the whole time. Once everything looked normal again, you both changed into cozy, presentable clothes. You chose a soft sweater and leggings that hid the marks he’d left on your skin. Beau looked effortlessly handsome in a button-down and jeans, but his eyes still held that warm, obsessed glow whenever they met yours.

The sound of car doors and voices finally filled the driveway. Your family poured in with hugs, laughter, and luggage. Beau was the perfect gentleman charming, polite, and genuinely warm as he greeted everyone. He shook your dad’s hand firmly, hugged your mom, chatted easily with your siblings, and even helped your grandmother with her bag. Everyone adored him instantly.

You sat close on the couch while the family caught up. Beau’s arm rested around your shoulders, thumb stroking your arm in soothing circles. Every now and then he’d lean in and press a gentle kiss to your temple, whispering softly, “I love you,” with pure adoration in his voice.

Dinner was warm and chaotic in the best way. The long table groaned under turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pies. Beau sat right beside you, his thigh pressed comfortingly against yours under the table. He was attentive and sweet the entire meal passing you dishes before you even asked, making sure your plate stayed full, and laughing at all your family’s stories.

When you shifted in your seat (still deliciously sore and full of him), he noticed immediately. His hand found yours under the table and squeezed gently, thumb rubbing loving circles on your skin. He leaned over with a soft, concerned smile only you could see and whispered, “You okay, baby? Need me to get you anything?”

You shook your head, cheeks warm. “I’m perfect.”

He beamed at you like you hung the moon. “Yeah, you are.”

Throughout dinner, Beau was the ideal boyfriend engaging with your family, complimenting the food, telling funny (but safe) college stories, and constantly checking on you with small, loving touches. A hand on your lower back when you stood up. A quick kiss on your cheek when no one was looking. Quiet “I love you”s whispered between conversations.

Your mom commented at one point how happy you two looked together. Beau just smiled brightly and pulled you closer. “She makes me the luckiest guy in the world,” he said sincerely, eyes soft and completely obsessed in the sweetest way. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Under the table, his hand stayed in yours the whole time never pushing boundaries, just offering quiet comfort and love. The secret ache between your legs and the hidden marks on your skin were your private reminder of what had happened upstairs, but out here he was nothing but respectful, attentive, and utterly in love.

Dessert rolled around with pie and coffee. Beau fed you a bite of pumpkin pie from his fork with a playful grin, eyes sparkling with adoration. Later, as everyone moved to the living room for games and chatting, he kept you tucked against his side on the couch, arm around you protectively.

When your grandmother asked about his football season, he answered humbly, then immediately turned the conversation back to you bragging sweetly about how smart and amazing you were. Your family ate it up.

As the night wound down and people started heading to bed, Beau pulled you into a gentle hug in the hallway. He kissed your forehead softly, then your lips sweet and loving.

“I had the best day with you,” he murmured, eyes full of warmth. “Can’t wait to hold you later… and we’re definitely taking your dirty toys to my place. I love you so much.”

The house grew quiet as everyone settled in. Beau gave you one last soft smile before heading to the guest room, leaving you with the sweet anticipation of sneaking to each other later.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The days after the blowup blurred into a tense and fragile limbo. Dean barely spoke to you. Beau kept his distance from the hockey house since he lived at the Sigma frat house but he never stayed away from you. Late night drives in his truck quiet dinners at his apartment and stolen hours where you clung to each other like the world might end if you let go. You returned each night to the dorm room you shared with Grace.

“I hate this” you whispered one night curled against his chest on his couch. His hand stroked slow circles on your back. “I hate that we hurt him.”

Beau pressed a kiss to your temple his voice low and steady. “Me too baby. But I am not giving you up. Not for anyone. He will come around. Dean has a temper but he is not stupid. He knows I love you for real.”

You wanted to believe him. You did believe him right up until the night everything shattered again.

It was a rainy Thursday. You had convinced Beau to drive you back from a quiet dinner off campus the two of you laughing softly about nothing important his hand warm on your thigh as the wipers slashed across the windshield. Headlights cut through the downpour. Beau was humming along to the radio when a truck ran the red light.

The impact was deafening metal screaming glass exploding. Your world flipped. Pain ripped through your side your head everything. Then darkness.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You woke to the smell of antiseptic and the low murmur of voices. Your body felt like it had been hit by a freight train ribs bruised a deep gash stitched across your forehead left arm in a sling. Monitors beeped steadily beside you. A nurse adjusted an IV drip offering a gentle smile when she saw your eyes open.

“You are in the ICU honey. You have been here about twelve hours. Critical but stable. Concussion fractured ribs some internal bleeding we managed to stop. You are lucky.”

Lucky. The word tasted wrong.

“Beau” your voice cracked throat raw. “Where is Beau? He was driving.”

The nurse’s expression shifted pity softening her eyes. “He is down the hall. His injuries were more severe. The doctors are with him now.”

Panic clawed up your chest. You tried to sit up but pain and the nurse’s firm hands kept you down. “I need to see him. Please.”

“Family only right now and”

The door opened. Dean burst in eyes wild hair disheveled like he had been running his hands through it for hours. His phone was still clutched in his hand. “Jesus Christ” he rasped stepping closer. For a second the anger and betrayal from before flickered but it cracked under raw fear. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You reached for him with your good hand tears spilling. “Dean. Beau. Tell me he is okay.”

Dean’s face went pale as he sank into the chair beside your bed. The call had come while he was at the hockey house with the guys. The moment the hospital said both you and Beau had been in a serious crash everything shifted inside him. Regret hit him like a punch to the gut. All the harsh words he had thrown at his best friend the night of the party the way he had called Beau dead to him. Beau who had been like a brother for years. Now Beau might not wake up and Dean hated himself for the lost time.

“He is in a coma kid” Dean said voice rough. “Head trauma collapsed lung broken leg internal bleeding. They had to rush him into surgery twice. Docs say we gotta prepare for the worst. Swelling on the brain. If he does not wake up soon” His voice broke. He looked away the same heartbroken expression from the party now mixed with deep guilt. “This is my fault. If I had not been such a dick about you two. If I had just listened instead of storming out. Maybe you would not have been in that truck tonight. I pushed you both away and now”

You shook your head fiercely ignoring the dizziness. “It is not your fault. Some drunk asshole ran a light. But Dean he loves me. We love each other. Please do not make him wake up to you still hating him.”

Dean met your eyes red rimmed and exhausted. The fight drained out of him leaving only the big brother who had always protected you. “I do not hate him. I was pissed. Still am a little. But seeing you both like this I regret every word I said to him. He is my brother. Always has been.”

Beau’s parents arrived soon after rushing in with worried faces. Your own parents showed up too having driven through the night after Dean called them. The waiting room filled with the Off Campus crew. Garrett Logan and Tucker stayed close offering support to everyone. Hannah Grace Allie and Sabrina rotated with coffee and food keeping spirits up as best they could. But hospital rules were strict. Only immediate family was allowed in the ICU rooms with you. Dean was the only one permitted to stay by your side and the only one who could go see Beau for now.

You begged the nurses until they finally let Dean wheel you into Beau’s room.

Beau looked impossibly still in the hospital bed tubes and wires everywhere bruises blooming across his handsome face dark hair matted. The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only movement. Monitors tracked his vitals. You reached out threading your fingers through his ignoring the sting in your ribs.

“I am here baby” you whispered voice breaking. “We are both here. You have to wake up. Dean is here too. He is not mad anymore. Well not that mad. We need you.”

Dean stood on the other side of the bed staring down at his best friend his brother. He placed a hand on Beau’s shoulder grip tight. “You better fight Maxwell. You do not get to check out after stealing my sister’s heart. We have got years of you owing me for this shit.” His voice cracked. “Wake up man. Please. I am sorry for everything I said.”

On the third night as rain pattered against the window again Beau’s fingers twitched in yours.

Your heart stopped. “Beau?”

His eyelids fluttered. A low groan escaped him. The monitors beeped faster.

Dean shot upright from the chair he had barely left. “Nurse!”

The room erupted doctors rushing in. You held on tight tears streaming as Beau’s dark brown eyes clouded with pain but open found yours first.

“Hey baby” he rasped voice wrecked but there.

You laughed through sobs leaning in to kiss his forehead. “You scared me so much.”

Dean stepped closer relief crashing over his face. He gripped Beau’s other shoulder. “Welcome back asshole.”

Beau managed a weak pained smile eyes flicking between you and Dean. “We good?”

Dean swallowed the last of the betrayal and guilt crumbling. “Yeah. We are good. Just do not pull this coma shit again. And next time you date my sister maybe do not hide it like criminals. I am sorry man.”

Beau’s chuckle turned into a cough but his hand squeezed yours tighter. His parents and your family breathed sighs of relief in the hallway while the Off Campus crew celebrated quietly outside the room.

You stayed pressed close to Beau’s side Dean on the other the three of you finally on the same side of the mess you had made with Beau’s parents and your family close by.

The secret had exploded. The accident had nearly taken everything. But in the sterile hospital room with Dean bridging the gap and everyone who loved you waiting close by healing had already begun.

Beau was back. Dean was coming around. And your heart bruised but whole beat steady with the promise of more stolen kisses late nights and a future where you did not have to hide anymore.

Beau was released from the hospital after three and a half weeks. The doctors warned him to take it easy with physical therapy ahead and follow ups scheduled. You were cleared around the same time though your ribs still ached with deep breaths and your arm remained in a cast. Grace helped you settle back into your shared dorm room bringing snacks and notes from classes you had missed. She never pushed for details but her quiet presence made the adjustment easier.

Beau returned to the Sigma frat house but he texted you constantly and came by your dorm as often as he could. Dean split his time between the hockey practices and checking in on both of you. The regret from the hospital had softened into quiet determination. He drove you to a few of Beau’s physical therapy sessions refusing to let either of you go alone.

One afternoon Dean sat with you in the waiting room while Beau worked with the therapist. “I talked to his parents last night” Dean said. “They are grateful we are all okay. My folks keep asking when we are coming home for that dinner. They want the three of us there together.”

You nodded leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. “That means a lot Dean. Thank you for trying.”

He shrugged but his arm came around you in a gentle hug. “You are my little sister. Beau has been my best friend since high school. I hated the lying but I hate the idea of losing either of you more. We will figure it out one day at a time.”

Beau emerged from the session sweaty and tired but smiling when he saw you both. He moved slower than usual favoring his bad leg but his eyes lit up at the sight of you. “Missed you” he said pulling you into a careful embrace right there in the hallway.

Dean cleared his throat but there was no real bite to it. “Alright lovebirds. I will give you a ride back to the dorm. Then I am dragging Beau to the hockey house for a bit. The guys want to see him.”

Back at your dorm later that evening Grace had stepped out giving you and Beau some privacy. He sat on the edge of your bed and you curled beside him head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I keep thinking about that crash” he murmured running his fingers through your hair. “How fast it all happened. One second we were laughing and the next I was terrified I would not get to wake up next to you again.”

You tightened your grip on his shirt. “But you did wake up. And now we get to do this without secrets. Dean is coming around. Your parents and mine are okay with it. It feels like we can finally breathe.”

He tilted your face up and kissed you deeply the kind of kiss that carried all the fear from the accident and all the relief of surviving it. His hands were gentle mindful of your injuries and his own. “I love you” he whispered against your lips. “We are going to be okay baby. Better than okay.”

Over the following weeks life settled into a new rhythm. You attended classes with Grace catching up on work. Beau balanced rehab with lighter practices at the frat house. Dean brought the group together more often at the hockey house. Garrett Logan and Tucker welcomed Beau back with easy banter and support. Hannah Grace Allie and Sabrina joined for meals and study sessions turning the gatherings into something warm and familiar.

One weekend your parents hosted the promised dinner. Beau’s parents came too. The table felt full and loud with laughter and stories. Dean sat across from you and Beau trading playful jabs with his old friend while keeping a protective eye on you. No one brought up the fights or the secrets. It was simply a celebration of healing.

Later that night back at the Sigma house Beau pulled you onto his lap on the couch in his room. “Seeing everyone together like that” he said softly. “It makes me realize how lucky we are. I almost lost the chance to have this with you.”

You kissed him slow and sweet. “We did not lose it. We get to keep building it now.”

Dean still gave the occasional warning look when things got too affectionate in front of him but he no longer turned away. The brotherhood between him and Beau grew stronger through shared workouts and late talks. Your relationship with Beau deepened without the weight of hiding.

The accident had changed everything but in the end it brought you closer. With family and friends surrounding you and the man you loved by your side the future stretched out bright and full of possibility.

The weeks after Beau’s full clearance from the doctor brought a new quiet rhythm to your days. With classes wrapping up for the break you spent more time at the Sigma frat house in his room. Grace understood giving you space with a knowing smile whenever you packed an overnight bag. Beau’s recovery had reached a point where he moved with only a slight limp and his strength returned steadily. The two of you existed in your own world for a while away from the noise of everyone else.

One lazy afternoon you lay tangled in his sheets his arm draped heavy across your waist. Sunlight filtered through the blinds casting warm stripes across the bed. Beau traced lazy patterns on your bare shoulder his dark brown eyes soft as they watched you.

“I still cannot believe we get to do this” he said voice low and rough from sleep. “Wake up together. Stay in bed as long as we want. No sneaking around. No worrying about who might see.”

You shifted closer pressing a kiss to his jaw. “It feels like a dream sometimes. After the party and the crash it is like we finally get to breathe. Just us.”

He rolled you gently beneath him careful even now mindful of any lingering soreness. His kiss started slow building into something deeper and heated. Your fingers threaded through his hair pulling him closer as weeks of pent up closeness poured out between you. Clothes disappeared one by one until there was nothing but skin and whispered promises. Beau loved you with a tenderness that still carried the fear of almost losing you mixed with pure relief. Every touch every sigh felt like a vow.

Afterward you rested your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat steady and strong. “I love you” you murmured. “More than I thought possible.”

His hand stroked down your back. “I love you too baby. You are my everything. That crash made it crystal clear. I do not want a single day without you in it.”

You spent the rest of the day in his room ordering food and watching movies cuddled close. Beau told you stories from before everything the way he had noticed you years ago but kept his distance because of Dean. You shared how your heart raced every time he looked at you across a room. The conversation flowed easily no secrets left between you.

As evening fell he drove you back to your dorm but only after pulling over in a quiet spot to kiss you again like he could not get enough. “Come back tomorrow” he said against your lips. “Stay the whole weekend. I want you here with me.”

You agreed smiling as you slipped into the dorm where Grace was studying. She looked up with a grin. “You look happy.”

“I am” you replied simply.

The next weekend at the Sigma house felt like home. Beau cooked a simple dinner for the two of you burning the edges of the chicken but you ate it anyway laughing together. Later he pulled you onto the small couch in his room and you talked about the future. Plans for next semester summer trips and the life you wanted to build side by side.

“I talked to my parents” he said quietly. “They are excited for you to visit over break. You know they love you”

You nodded tracing his collarbone with your finger. “I would like that. And maybe we can see Dean too but for now I just want this. You and me.”

Beau kissed you deeply his hands roaming with familiar warmth. The night unfolded in slow touches and quiet moans the kind of intimacy that healed old wounds and built new memories. In the morning you woke to his arms around you and the soft press of his lips on your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The party at the Sigma house was in full swing, bass thumping through the walls so hard you could feel it in your chest. Red Solo cups littered every surface, and the air smelled like cheap beer, sweat, and too much cologne. You hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but Dean your overprotective older brother had practically dragged you along, insisting you “needed to get out more.” What he didn’t know was that the real reason you’d agreed was standing across the crowded living room, pretending not to watch you.

Beau Maxwell. Star quarterback. Dean’s best friend since high school. And, for the last three months, your secret boyfriend.

You two had been so careful. Stolen kisses in his car after games, late-night texts that disappeared after they were read, quiet weekends at his off-campus apartment when Dean was away. The guilt ate at you sometimes, but the way Beau looked at you like you were the only person in every room made it impossible to stop.

You caught his eye from across the party. He gave you the smallest, softest smile before turning back to the group of teammates around him, laughing at something someone said. Your heart fluttered the way it always did.

You stayed in the kitchen with a couple of girls from your lit class, sipping a weak vodka cranberry and trying to look normal. Then a guy you vaguely recognized from your Intro to Psych lecture stumbled over, clearly wasted. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Heyyy, you’re Dean’s sister, right?” he slurred, stepping way too close. “You’re like… really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you said politely, trying to create space. “I’m actually ”

Before you could finish, he grabbed your face with both hands and planted a sloppy, aggressive kiss right on your mouth. The taste of beer and shots hit you instantly. You shoved at his chest, heart leaping into your throat.

Two seconds. That’s all it lasted.

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s voice exploded over the music like thunder.

The next thing you knew, your brother was barreling through the crowd and slamming his fist into the guy’s jaw. The boy hit the floor with a sickening thud. Dean didn’t stop. He dropped on top of him, fists flying as people screamed and backed up.

“Dean, stop!” you cried, rushing forward.

Beau was suddenly there too, pushing through the chaos. His broad shoulders cut through the crowd as he grabbed Dean from behind, locking strong arms around his best friend’s chest.

“Dean! Chill the fuck out, man! He’s wasted stop!” Beau shouted, voice strained as he tried to pull your brother off the guy.

Dean shoved Beau hard, breathing like a bull. Blood dotted his knuckles. “This piece of shit just kissed my little sister! Right in front of me!”

The words landed like a bomb.

You watched Beau’s face change in slow motion. His jaw clenched tight. His dark brown eyes usually warm when they looked at you went flat with shock, then raw hurt. A deep, disappointed look settled over his features, the kind that made your stomach twist painfully. He didn’t yell. He didn’t throw a punch. He just stood there, shoulders rigid, staring at the floor like someone had punched him in the gut. The disappointment radiating off him was worse than any anger could have been.

Your heart shattered. “Beau…” you whispered.

He didn’t look at you. He just turned and started walking toward the front door, fists clenched at his sides.

Panic exploded in your chest. You pushed past people, ignoring the whispers and stares. “Beau, wait! Beau!”

The cool night air hit you like a slap as you burst outside. You ran down the sidewalk after him, heels clicking against the pavement. “Beau, please stop!”

He reached his black truck parked down the street and yanked the door open. You grabbed his arm just before he could climb in.

“Beau, listen to me it wasn’t what it looked like! He was drunk, he just grabbed me. I didn’t kiss him back. I swear to God, I pushed him away immediately. Please talk to me.”

He finally turned to face you. That devastated, disappointed expression was still there, deeper now. His eyes searched yours, full of hurt and questions he clearly didn’t want to ask in the middle of the street. His jaw worked like he was fighting back words. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head slowly. Without saying a single word, he climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

“Beau!” You knocked on the window, tears burning your eyes. “Don’t do this. Please.”

The engine roared to life.

Behind you, heavy footsteps pounded down the sidewalk. Dean appeared, still breathing hard from the fight, eyes wild as he took in the scene his little sister standing way too close to his best friend’s truck, tears on your face, Beau gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him together.

Dean stopped dead. The suspicion hit him like lightning.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.

You froze. Beau stared straight ahead through the windshield, knuckles bone-white.

Dean’s gaze flicked rapidly between the two of you. The pieces clicked together in real time your panic, Beau’s silence, the way you’d chased after him. His face twisted from confusion to pure betrayal.

“No,” he said, voice rising. “No. Tell me this isn’t what it fucking looks like. You two?”

“Dean, I can explain ” you started, voice cracking.

“Explain?” Dean laughed bitterly, the sound breaking into a shout. “You’ve been sneaking around with my best friend?! Behind my back? My little sister and my brother? After everything I’ve told him about keeping you safe? After I trusted both of you?!”

Tears streamed down your face. “It’s not like that. We didn’t mean for it to happen ”

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Dean snarled at you, turning his face away like the sight of you physically hurt him. His eyes were glassy with rage and heartbreak. “My own sister. Lying to me. Sneaking around like this.”

He turned on Beau, who had stepped out of the truck, standing tall but silent.

“And you,” Dean growled, stepping closer, voice shaking with fury. “You’re dead to me. You hear me, Beau? Dead. To. Me. After all the years we’ve been brothers? You go behind my back and mess with my little sister? I trusted you with everything. Get the hell away from her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. We’re done.”

Beau’s face remained tight, pain etched into every line, but he still didn’t speak. He just gave you one last heartbroken look before getting back into his truck.

Dean grabbed your arm not roughly, but firmly and started pulling you away. “We’re going home. Now. And don’t you dare say another word to him.”

“Dean, please,” you begged, sobbing. “Let me explain. I love him ”

“I said I don’t want to hear it!” he yelled, refusing to meet your eyes. “Both of you betrayed me. I can’t even stand looking at either of you right now.”

Beau’s truck pulled away slowly down the street, taillights disappearing into the night. You stood on the sidewalk, shaking, as your brother furious and heartbroken dragged you toward his own car without another glance in your direction.

The ride back to Dean’s off-campus hockey house he shared with Garrett, Logan, and Tucker was suffocatingly silent. You sat curled in the passenger seat, tears sliding silently down your cheeks, while your brother gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful. He wouldn’t even glance at you. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle you couldn’t hold back.

When he pulled into the driveway, he killed the engine and sat there for a long moment, staring out the windshield.

“I trusted you,” he finally said, voice low and raw. “Both of you.”

“Dean…” you tried, your voice cracking.

“Don’t.” He turned his head away, refusing to look at you. “You’re my little sister. The one person I’ve always tried to protect. And Beau… he’s been my best friend since high school. We’ve been through everything together. And you two have been lying to me for months?”

“We didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered. “We tried so hard not to let it happen, but… I love him, Dean. It’s real.”

Dean let out a bitter, broken laugh. “Love? You don’t even know what that means yet. And him? He was supposed to have your back, not go behind mine and ” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

He got out and slammed the door. You followed him inside on shaky legs. The house was quiet; the other guys were still out. Dean went straight to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water like he needed something to do with his hands.

You hovered in the doorway. “Beau’s a good guy. You know that better than anyone. He respects me. He makes me happy.”

Dean slammed the fridge door. “Yeah? Well I was happy trusting my best friend and my sister. Guess none of us get to stay happy tonight.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out with trembling fingers.

Beau: I’m not mad at you, baby. I know it wasn’t your fault. I just… need some air. Shits all messed up .

You typed back quickly

Y/n: please don’t shut me out. I love you.

No immediate reply.

The Next Morning

You barely slept, tossing and turning in the guest room Dean always kept ready for you. When you finally dragged yourself downstairs, Dean was already in the kitchen, nursing a black coffee. His knuckles were bruised and swollen from the fight. He looked as exhausted as you felt.

He didn’t turn around when you entered.

“Dean… can we talk? Please?”

For a second he didn’t answer. Then, quietly: “I still can’t look at you. Every time I do, I keep seeing you running after him last night like I was the bad guy.”

Before you could respond, the front door opened. Beau stepped inside, still wearing the same clothes from the party, dark circles under his dark brown eyes. He looked wrecked. His gaze found you immediately full of quiet pain, love, and that same deep disappointment that had haunted you all night.

The tension in the room became suffocating.

Dean slowly turned around. His entire body went rigid when he saw Beau.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s voice was dangerously low.

Beau stood tall, shoulders squared, but his expression was tired. “This isn’t about the house, man. We need to talk. All three of us.”

Dean stepped forward, chest heaving. “Talk? After you stabbed me in the back? You’re dead to me, Maxwell. I meant every fucking word last night. Stay the hell away from my sister.”

“Dean, stop,” you pleaded, moving between them. “This is exactly why we kept it secret. We knew you’d react like this.”

“React like this?” Dean’s voice rose, cracking with betrayal. “My best friend since high school the guy I’ve trusted with everything sneaking around with my little sister? Behind my back? After I’ve spent years warning guys away from her? After I told you she was off-limits?”

Beau’s jaw clenched, but his voice stayed calm, even though the hurt was clear in his eyes. “I know how it looks. And I get why you’re pissed. I’d be losing my mind too if the roles were reversed. But this isn’t some game to me. I’m in love with her, Dean. I have been for months. We tried to fight it because of you. We hated lying.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to you, then back to Beau. The pain in his expression was brutal. “Love? You expect me to believe that? After you watched me punch that asshole last night and then just… walked away looking like your world ended? You didn’t even defend yourself. Because you knew you were wrong.”

“I didn’t defend myself because I didn’t want to make it worse for her,” Beau said quietly. “She doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this.”

You reached for your brother’s arm. “Dean, please. I love you. You’re my big brother. But I love him too. Don’t make me choose.”

Dean yanked his arm away, eyes glassy with anger and hurt. He looked at you for a long moment, then turned his face away like it physically pained him.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” he said, voice thick. “Either of you.” His gaze landed on Beau one last time. “You were like a brother to me. Now? You’re dead to me. Don’t come around here. Don’t talk to her. We’re done.”

Beau’s shoulders dropped slightly, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded once, eyes full of regret.

Dean grabbed his keys and stormed toward the door. “I need air. Don’t be here when I get back.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving you and Beau standing in the heavy silence of the kitchen.

Beau crossed the room in two strides and pulled you into his arms. You collapsed against his chest, sobbing quietly as he held you tight, one hand stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered against his shirt. “I never wanted this.”

“Neither did I, baby.” His voice was rough, thick with emotion. He kissed the top of your head, then tilted your chin up so he could look at you. That disappointed look was still there, but so was the steady love you’d come to depend on. “We’ll give him time. Dean’s stubborn as hell, but he loves you more than anything. And deep down, he knows I’d never hurt you.”

You nodded, clinging to him. Outside, the sound of Dean’s car roaring away echoed down the street. The secret was out. The fallout was brutal. But standing in Beau’s arms, you still felt safe.

(Dean btw)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The private little cove at the lake was like stepping into another world far enough from campus that the usual Briar chaos felt miles away. Golden afternoon sunlight danced across the calm water, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Beau had picked the perfect spot: a soft grassy patch shaded by trees, hidden from any trails.

The picnic had been his idea. A wicker basket packed with strawberries, crusty bread, sharp cheese, cold sandwiches, and a bottle of sparkling lemonade. You’d spent the first couple of hours eating lazily, feeding each other bites between laughter and soft kisses, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare thigh beneath the hem of your short white sundress. The thin cotton fabric fluttered easily in the breeze, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh, perfect for a warm day like this.

Every so often his fingertips would slip just a little higher, teasing the sensitive skin there and drawing quiet giggles from you as you tried to focus on the food.

Now the food was packed away. You lay on your stomach on the large blanket, propped up on your elbows with a paperback novel open in front of you. The sun warmed your back, and the dress had ridden up just a little from your position, exposing more of your thighs. Beau lay on his side beside you, one arm bent under his head, eyes half-closed as he rested. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his white t-shirt stretched nicely across his broad quarterback shoulders.

For a while, it was peaceful. The only sounds were birds, the soft lap of water, and the occasional turn of a page.

Beau shifted. You felt his gaze on you before anything else that warm, intent stare that always made your skin tingle. He moved closer without a word. His large hand settled lightly on your ankle, thumb stroking the delicate bone there in slow circles.

You smiled into your book but didn’t look back. “Comfortable?”

“Very,” he murmured, voice low and lazy. “Especially with this view.”

His hand began to move upward unhurried, fingertips grazing the back of your calf with feather-light touches. He leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just above your ankle. Then another a little higher, warm and deliberate. Each kiss lingered, his lips soft and slightly parted against your sun-warmed skin.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the words on the page as his mouth traveled higher. Kiss after sensual kiss along the curve of your calf… the sensitive spot behind your knee… up the back of your thigh. His breath was hot, sending little shivers racing through you despite the warm day.

“Beau…” you whispered, half-protest, half-invitation.

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly. “Keep reading if you want, baby. I’m just enjoying my dessert.”

His hand slid beneath the hem of your sundress, slowly pushing the light fabric upward. The cotton bunched and glided over your thighs, then higher, until it pooled around your waist, fully exposing the curve of your ass and the delicate lace underneath. The breeze kissed your newly bared skin, a delicious contrast to the heat of his mouth.

Beau let out a low, appreciative sound deep in his chest. He shifted fully onto his knees now, positioning himself beside you as his lips continued their worship. He kissed the soft underside of one thigh, then the other slow, sensual presses of his mouth that grew wetter, more lingering. His hands joined in, large palms smoothing over your skin, gently squeezing and massaging as he worked his way up.

He took his time at the backs of your thighs, alternating between kisses and gentle nips that made you squirm. When he reached the curve where thigh met ass, he paused, pressing a particularly slow, open-mouthed kiss there, tongue tracing lightly. One hand stayed firmly on your lower back, holding the dress in place and keeping you gently pinned to the blanket in the most delicious way.

“You’re killing me,” you breathed, the book now completely forgotten, pages fluttering shut.

“Good,” he whispered against your skin, voice husky. “Been wanting to do this since I saw you in this little dress this morning.” Another long, sensual kiss, higher this time, dangerously close to where you ached for him. His fingers traced the edge of your lace, teasing, exploring, never rushing.

He spent long minutes like that worshipping every inch with his mouth and hands, the lake’s quiet sounds mixing with your soft sighs and his low groans of appreciation. The sun filtered through the trees, warming your exposed skin as Beau’s touch grew bolder, more possessive, yet still achingly slow and sensual. He brought you to a shattering orgasm with his tongue and fingers, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were trembling and gasping his name into the blanket. Then he took you right there on the blanket in long, deep thrusts, bodies moving together in perfect rhythm until you both came undone.

Later, after cooling off in the sparkling lake, he held you weightless in the water and fucked you again, the gentle waves lapping around your joined bodies as another powerful orgasm crashed over you both.

Eventually he moved up your body, kissing along your spine through the thin dress fabric before settling beside you again. He tugged the dress back down modestly but left one hand resting high on your thigh, thumb stroking lazy circles.

“Still wanna read?” he asked, eyes dark with heat and that signature Maxwell grin playing on his lips.

You turned your head to look at him, cheeks flushed. “I don’t think I remember a single word since page one-forty.”

He laughed softly and leaned in, capturing your mouth in a deep, unhurried kiss that tasted like strawberries and sunshine. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Best picnic ever,” he murmured.

You smiled, heart racing. “We should do this more often.”

“Anytime you wear that dress, baby. I’ll find us a private lake.”

Beau’s forehead rested against yours, his dark brown eyes dark with want, the playful grin softened by raw hunger. The breeze off the lake whispered across your skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat building between you. Your sundress was still bunched high around your waist, leaving you exposed from the waist down, the lace of your panties slightly askew from his teasing touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me in this dress,” he murmured, voice low and rough. His hand slid back down, palming the curve of your ass possessively before slipping between your thighs. His fingers stroked you through the damp lace with slow, deliberate pressure, drawing a shaky breath from your lips. “So fucking pretty like this… all spread out for me.”

As the sun began to dip lower, casting longer golden rays across your bodies, Beau kissed you deeply once more. “We’re not heading back to campus tonight,” he whispered against your lips. “I rented the cottage just up the path for the whole weekend. It’s completely private, no one around for miles. We’ve got all night, all day tomorrow, and I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Your stomach fluttered with fresh anticipation. “Good. I don’t want to leave this bubble either.”

The cottage was adorable rustic wooden exterior, a wide porch overlooking the water, and complete seclusion. Beau carried you inside after another steamy round against the outdoor shower tiles near the lake, where cool evening air mixed with hot water cascading over your joined bodies. You both slipped into comfortable clothes you wearing nothing but one of his oversized t-shirts that fell just past your hips and nothing else, him in low-slung shorts that hung perfectly on his hips.

The kitchen glowed under soft lights as evening fully settled in. Beau opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients he’d clearly pre-stocked ahead of time. “I’ve got a craving,” he said with that signature Maxwell grin. “Help me make banana bread?”

You laughed and hopped up onto the counter beside him, legs swinging playfully. “Only if I get to lick the spoon.”

“Deal,” he replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I get to lick it off you.”

You mashed the ripe bananas together in a big stainless steel bowl while Beau measured out flour, sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla, and a pinch of cinnamon. Soon the two of you were working side by side, the kitchen filling with the sweet, comforting aroma of batter. Flour dusted the counter and your arms. The mixture grew thick and sticky as you combined everything.

You reached deep into the mixing bowl to scrape down the sides when Beau’s larger hand suddenly covered yours, pushing your fingers further into the thick, gooey banana bread batter. The mess was instant and glorious both your hands coated thickly in sweet, sticky batter, flour streaked across your skin, arms, and the counter, exactly like the photo. You laughed as he lifted your hand to his mouth first, eyes locked on yours in that heated, intense way that made your pulse race.

He slowly licked the batter from your fingers, tongue swirling around each digit with deliberate, sensual strokes, sucking gently and thoroughly until every bit of sweetness was gone. The warm, wet heat of his mouth sent sparks straight through you. You shivered hard, heat pooling low in your belly again.

“Your turn,” he murmured, voice rough and low, offering his hand.

You brought his long fingers to your lips and sucked the sticky banana bread batter off them one by one, humming at the sweet taste while holding his gaze. Beau groaned deep in his chest, stepping between your spread thighs on the counter. Batter-smeared hands slid under the hem of your t-shirt, leaving sweet sticky trails along your bare hips, stomach, and breasts as he kissed you deeply, the taste of banana and sugar shared between your tongues in a messy, passionate kiss.

The bowl was quickly forgotten on the counter. He lifted you onto the kitchen table, peeling his t-shirt off you completely and painting more streaks of batter across your breasts, stomach, thighs, and even between your legs before following every messy trail with his mouth licking, sucking, and teasing until you were moaning loudly and arching beneath him. Your sticky hands gripped his shoulders and ran through his dark hair as he slid into you right there on the table, thrusting deep and steady while the oven preheated.

The kitchen smelled like baking banana bread and sex as you both came hard together, tangled, sticky, laughing breathlessly, and completely lost in each other.

Later, after sliding the loaf into the oven and cleaning up mostly in another quick, playful shower where hands wandered and laughter turned into more moans, you curled up on the couch together with warm slices of fresh, fragrant banana bread on a plate between you. Beau fed you bites, licking a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap for more slow, deep kisses.

The night unfolded in waves of heat and tenderness. Beau was insatiable, but incredibly attentive always checking in with soft whispers, making sure every touch left you breathless and wanting more. He carried you to the bedroom and took you again from behind, slow and sensual at first, savoring every glide, then harder and deeper, one hand fisting your hair gently while the other rubbed your clit until you came apart around him with a cry.

Afterward, spooned together and still connected, he kissed the back of your neck and rasped, “Give me twenty minutes. Then I’m eating you again in the shower.”

You laughed breathlessly, pressing back against him. “You’re insatiable, Maxwell.”

“Only for you.” He nipped your shoulder, already half-hard again inside you. “And we’ve got this whole cottage to ourselves until Sunday. I plan on being very, very freaky with my girl.”

The evening and night stretched on endlessly lazy, thorough oral on the couch that had you shaking, slow passionate sex under the stars on the private porch while the lake glittered below and the night breeze cooled your overheated skin, shared showers where he took you against the tiles again and again, and more rounds wherever the mood struck. By the time you finally collapsed back into the big bed, the sheets were thoroughly tangled and both of you were deliciously exhausted, bodies marked with faint love bites, flour smudges that somehow remained, and the pleasant ache of a perfect day and night well spent.

Beau pulled you onto his chest, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rested possessively low on your back. “You’re everything to me, you know that?” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Not just the crazy chemistry… though damn, baby, that part is insane. But waking up with you, laughing at the lake, getting messy making banana bread together, all of it. I don’t want any of this without you.”

You snuggled closer, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, Maxwell. Especially not when you rent cute private cottages and plan perfect picnic days that turn into messy, delicious, unforgettable nights like this.”

Sleep came easily after that, wrapped up in each other under the soft blankets with the lake breeze drifting through the open window. The next morning dawned bright and peaceful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The chaos of Briar University felt like another lifetime. Beau Maxwell once the cocky star quarterback was now an NFL starter, but some things never changed: that easy swagger, those dark brown eyes, and the way he still looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Two years after graduation, you’d married him. Now, the whole Maxwell family had gathered at the countryside estate for the weekend. While his parents and sister Joanna filled the kitchen with laughter and the promise of a big family feast, you’d been gently sent outside to rest.

You lay on the wide porch swing-bed, propped up on pillows under a soft quilt, one hand resting on your rounded belly. The late afternoon sun warmed your skin, and the gentle rocking of the swing had finally calmed the little linebacker kicking inside you.

The screen door creaked. Beau stepped out in a simple white t-shirt and shorts, carrying two glasses of lemonade. He set them aside and climbed carefully onto the swing behind you, spooning you close. His hand slid over yours on your belly.

“Hey, mama,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder. “How are my two favorite people?”

“Peaceful,” you sighed, leaning back into his chest. “Your baby finally decided to take a break from practice.”

Beau chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your neck as he rubbed slow circles over your stomach. “Good. Can’t have my little guy wearing you out before dinner.” He nuzzled closer. “You look so damn beautiful like this.”

The swing swayed gently in the breeze. From inside, Joanna’s bright laughter mixed with their dad’s storytelling and the clink of dishes.

A few minutes later, Joanna poked her head out, grinning. “Mom wants to know if the pregnant lady needs extra strawberries. And Dad’s asking if Beau’s actually going to help grill or if he’s staying in full lovesick-husband mode.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Beau called back lazily, not moving an inch. “My wife and baby is my only priority me.”

Joanna rolled her eyes with fond amusement. “You’ve been milking that excuse since college.” She winked at you. “Holler if you need anything, sis.”

Once she disappeared, Beau’s arms tightened around you. A strong little kick thumped right under his palm.

He stilled, breath catching. “Was that…?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling.

Beau’s voice went thick with emotion. “That’s our kid.” He kissed the side of your head, holding you closer. “Can’t wait to bring them here every summer. Teach ‘em to throw a spiral. Come home to you both after every season.”

You turned your head for a soft kiss, the porch swing rocking you both in quiet rhythm. The golden fields stretched out ahead, the distant sounds of family warming the air. The kiss lingered, slow and sweet, until another little kick made you both laugh against each other’s lips.

“Already showing off,” Beau whispered, his hand gently pressing where the baby had struck. “Definitely mine.”

You stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other as the sun dipped lower, painting the fields in deeper gold. The swing’s quiet creak mixed with the evening breeze and the distant clatter of plates being set inside.

Eventually, Richard Maxwell’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Alright, you two lovebirds. Food’s ready before it gets cold!”

Beau groaned but helped you up with careful hands, keeping one arm securely around your waist as you walked inside. The long dining table glowed under warm lights, piled with grilled steaks, fresh salads, roasted vegetables, and Joanna’s famous garlic bread.

Elena Maxwell lit up the second she saw you. “There’s our beautiful mother. Come sit right here.” She pulled out a cushioned chair and tucked a pillow behind your back without asking.

Joanna slid a plate in front of you piled high with extra strawberries on the side. “As promised. And I added whipped cream because my future niece or nephew deserves it.”

“You’re spoiling them already,” Beau teased, sitting beside you and resting his arm along the back of your chair.

“That’s the job of the favorite aunt,” Joanna shot back with a dramatic hair flip. “You just focus on keeping the little one from becoming as cocky as their dad.”

Richard chuckled from the head of the table, raising his glass. “To family, to new additions, and to Beau finally settling down sort of.”

“Hey,” Beau protested with a grin, “I’m plenty settled. I’ve got the ring, the house, and the most amazing wife in the world carrying our baby. I’d say I’m winning.”

Elena smiled softly, watching the two of you with misty eyes. “You two make it look easy. Just like your father and I did… back when we were young and foolish.”

The meal passed in comfortable chaos stories from Beau’s childhood, Joanna’s latest theater disasters, and gentle teasing about baby names. Every so often Beau’s hand would find yours under the table, or drift to rest on your belly like he couldn’t help himself.

Later, as the sky turned deep purple and fireflies began to flicker over the fields, you and Beau slipped back out to the porch swing. The house lights glowed behind you, full of warmth and laughter, but out here it was just the two of you again.

He pulled the quilt over your legs and tucked you against his chest.

“Best decision I ever made was chasing you down after that first game,” he murmured, voice low in the quiet night. “Best life I could’ve asked for.”

You laced your fingers with his over your belly and smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We’re just getting started.”

The swing rocked gently under the stars, carrying you both forward into the beautiful unknown together.

—————

The nursery was finally complete. Soft gray walls with navy accents, a wooden crib Beau had assembled himself (twice, after he decided the first try wasn’t perfect), and tiny onesies folded neatly in the dresser drawers. You stood in the middle of the room at nine months pregnant, one hand on your lower back, the other gently touching the mobile above the crib.

Beau came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. His big hands splayed protectively over your belly.

“Still can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Our kid’s gonna sleep right here.”

You leaned back into him with a tired smile. “I keep coming in here just to look at everything. It feels like we’re actually ready.”

Beau turned you gently in his arms so you were facing him. Even at full term, he made you feel small and cherished. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his baby-blue eyes soft with emotion.

“You’ve done so much already, baby. The bag’s packed, the car seat’s installed, and I’ve got my phone on loud 24/7.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips. “I cleared everything with the team. I’m not missing a single second.”

A strong contraction rippled across your belly not quite labor, but close enough to make you wince. Beau noticed immediately and guided you over to the rocking chair in the corner. He knelt in front of you, strong hands gently massaging your swollen feet and ankles.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. “What do you need right now? Tea? Heat pad? Me singing terribly off-key so the baby laughs at me instead of kicking you?”

You laughed softly, the sound turning into a sigh of relief as his thumbs worked a sore spot. “Just this. Keep rubbing my feet.”

He kept rubbing, patient and focused like he was on the field calling a game-winning play. “Joanna’s been blowing up my phone with memes and ‘emergency aunt tips.’ Mom and Dad are ready to fly in whenever we say the word.” His smile turned a little shy. “I told them I want the first night just the three of us before the whole Maxwell circus descends.”

You reached down to thread your fingers through his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Beau rose up on his knees, pressing a slow kiss to your belly before resting his forehead against it. “Hey little one,” he whispered, “we’re right here waiting for you. Take your time… but not too much time, okay? Your mom’s a superstar, but I hate seeing her this tired.”

The baby gave a big kick in response. Beau grinned up at you, eyes shining.

“Already got opinions. Definitely a Maxwell.”

You cupped his face, heart full as you looked at the man who went from cocky quarterback to devoted husband and soon-to-be father.

“Come here,” you whispered.

Beau stood and carefully pulled you up into his arms, holding you close in the quiet glow of the nursery. No spotlight, no roaring crowd just the two of you in the home you’d made together.

“I love you,” he said against your hair. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You smiled into his chest. “We’re so close now.” He nodded, arms steady around you.

Labor hit hard and fast that night.

You woke Beau just after midnight with a sharp gasp as the first real contraction gripped you. He was instantly awake, calm but alert, helping you breathe through it while timing the contractions on his phone.

“Alright, baby, we’ve got this,” he said, voice steady even as his hands moved quickly. He grabbed the hospital bag, helped you into loose clothes, and had you in the truck within minutes. The whole drive he kept one hand on your thigh, talking you through every wave.

“You’re so strong. I’m right here. Just keep breathing like we practiced.”

By the time you reached the hospital, the contractions were close. The staff moved fast, getting you settled in a private room. Beau never left your side changing into scrubs, holding your hand, wiping your forehead with a cool cloth, and feeding you ice chips between pushes.

Hours blurred together. You were exhausted, sweating, gripping his hand like a lifeline.

“I can’t….” you gasped during a particularly rough contraction.

“Yes you can,” Beau whispered fiercely, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re the toughest person I know. Our baby’s almost here. I’m so proud of you, mama. Just a little more.”

He stayed right there through every push, encouraging you, never flinching. When the doctor finally announced, “One more big push!” Beau’s voice cracked with emotion.

“Come on, baby. You’ve got this.”

With one final effort, a loud, healthy cry filled the room.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor said warmly, lifting your daughter onto your chest.

You sobbed with relief and joy as they placed her warm, wriggling little body against you. Beau let out a shaky laugh, tears slipping down his face as he leaned over both of you, one arm around your shoulders and a trembling hand gently touching his daughter’s back.

“Oh my God… look at her,” he whispered, voice thick. “She’s perfect. You did it, baby. You were incredible.”

Your daughter quieted as she settled against you, tiny fingers curling. Beau kissed your forehead, then the top of her head, his baby-blue eyes shining with pure awe.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m your dad. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The room felt quiet and sacred after the chaos. Just the three of you in those first golden moments. Beau stayed glued to your side as the nurses finished up, his hand never leaving either of you.

Later, once you were moved to a recovery room and the immediate rush settled, Beau climbed carefully onto the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you both, cradling his girls like they were the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair. “For her. For us. I love you more than anything.”

You leaned into him, exhausted but glowing, watching your daughter sleep peacefully between you.

The Maxwell family would descend with love and chaos soon enough Joanna already texting nonstop but right now, it was just the three of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The project was finally finished on a Wednesday afternoon, which honestly felt a little unreal after the amount of time spent staring at editing software, interview footage, and enough notes to qualify as their own small library. The final video exported successfully, the written profile was done, and the presentation slides were finished.

For the first time in weeks, there wasn’t another deadline immediately waiting for you. You sat in the editing room, staring at the completed file for a solid thirty seconds before Lucas looked over from the other side of the room and asked if you were planning on crying.

“I’m considering it,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve spent so much time looking at Beau’s face that I think I could identify him in a police lineup from three states away.”

Lucas laughed. “That’s a weird thing to say about your boyfriend.”

You immediately threw a pen at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying, normal journalism students don’t smile at interview footage.”

You pointed at the door. “Leave.”

“I’m literally helping you carry equipment.”

By the time you got back to your apartment later that afternoon, the relief still hadn’t fully worn off. Your laptop ended up on the coffee table automatically, and after staring at it for a few seconds, you pulled out your phone and opened Beau’s messages.

Y/n

-Finished.

A couple minutes later your phone lit up.

Beau

-you okay?

Y/n

-idk… I've spent three weeks looking at your face.

Beau

-Sounds like a privilege to me.

Y/n

-You're so stupid.

-Do you want to see it?

Beau

-The interview?

Y/n

-No Beau. A documentary about squirrels.

Beau

-I'd watch that too.

-But yes. I do want to see it.

You looked around your apartment for a second. The laptop was already open. The project was already loaded. There wasn't really any reason to wait.

You

-You can come over now if you’re not busy.

The three dots appeared immediately. And after full 5 minutes he answered.

Beau

-Okay.

-send me your address.

About twenty minutes later there was a knock at your door.

When you opened it, Beau was standing there holding a cardboard drink carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He looked like he'd come straight from practice, dark hair slightly messy, hoodie pulled over a Briar t-shirt, and somehow completely comfortable standing in your doorway.

You frowned upon seeing him with drinks and a paper bag. "You brought coffee?."

"And food. You definitely forgot to eat."

"I mean.. i did have a granola bar."

Beau stared at you for a full second before stepping inside. "Every time you tell me something about yourself it becomes more concerning."

"I knew you'd be supportive." You laughed, taking one of the coffees while he set everything down on the counter.

The smell from the paper bag immediately filled the apartment and your stomach betrayed you by growling almost instantly. Beau looked way too pleased about that.

A few minutes later both of you were sitting on the couch with food spread across the coffee table. Beau had already kicked his shoes off and somehow taken over half the couch despite only being there for ten minutes. The laptop sat open in front of you, the completed project waiting on the screen, but neither of you had actually started it yet because Beau had become distracted looking through the photos and clips saved beside the final file.

"You have so many videos."

"You give Lucas a camera and told him to film, half of them are complete mess. You also apparently make a lot of facial expressions."

"I do not."

You clicked on a random screenshot. Beau immediately regretted saying it. The image showed him mid-sentence with one eyebrow raised and his mouth halfway open. You didn't even have to say anything.

"You chose the worst possible frame." Beau groaned while you laughed, and for a second the apartment felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the coffee or food.

Somewhere between the first interview, the coffee date, the diner, and all the texts in between, being around each other had stopped feeling like something either of you had to think about.

Eventually you closed the folder and looked over at him. "Okay."

Beau glanced up.

"Now you actually have to watch it."

He sat back against the couch and picked up his coffee. "Should I be nervous?"

"Probably."

That made him laugh as you pressed play, both of you settling into the couch while the opening title appeared on the screen. For a second neither of you spoke, just watching the project finally come to life after weeks of work, and despite all the hours you'd spent editing it, you found yourself watching Beau's reaction more than the actual video.

The opening music started and the first shot of the football field appeared on screen. Beau settled a little deeper into the couch beside you, one arm stretched along the back cushion while his coffee rested against his knee. At first he looked relaxed, but the second his own face appeared on screen he immediately groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

“Oh, absolutely fuck not.”

You smiled without looking away from the laptop. “We’re ten seconds in.”

“I already hate it.”

“You haven’t even seen anything yet.”

His expression made you laugh quietly, and Beau pointed at you accusingly.

The interview continued, clips from practice blending into footage of campus and classroom shots you’d spent entirely too long editing. Beau watched more carefully after that, his teasing gradually fading as he focused on the screen. Every once in a while he glanced toward you like he was trying to figure out how much work had actually gone into it, and every time he did, you pretended not to notice.

A few minutes later a section started playing that included footage of him during practice.

Beau immediately pointed at the screen.

“Look at that guy, now he looks very athletic.”

You rolled your eyes. The smile he gave you was quick and completely unapologetic.

When the video reached the interview portions, the apartment got a little quieter. Beau stopped making comments every thirty seconds and actually paid attention. You stole a glance at him and immediately regretted it because he looked genuinely focused, eyes fixed on the screen, one hand resting loosely against his jaw while he listened.

For some reason that made you nervous. Which was ridiculous. You’d already edited this thing twenty-seven times. But still, you found yourself watching his reaction instead of the laptop.

The video continued playing while both of you sat a little closer than before without acknowledging it. At some point your shoulder ended up resting against his, and somewhere between one clip and the next Beau reached into the paper bag on the table, pulled out one of the leftover fries, and held it in front of your face without looking away from the screen.

You stared at it and them looked at him. “Seriously?”

“You haven’t eaten enough.”

“You sound like my grandmother.”

He shook the box in front of you more persistent. “Eat the fries.”

You laughed but took it anyway. Beau looked ridiculously satisfied about winning that argument.

The project finally reached the ending segment, the last interview clip fading into the closing credits. The room went quiet for a second after it finished. The laptop screen reflected softly across the living room while neither of you immediately said anything.

You suddenly felt nervous again.

You looked over at him. “Well?”

Beau stayed quiet for another second before turning toward you. His expression had softened completely. “I really liked it.”

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding finally escaped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Then he leaned back against the couch and looked at you for a moment longer than necessary.

“You know what’s kind of unfair?”

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“You spent weeks studying me for this project.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “And?”

His grin returned immediately. “I think I deserve equal research opportunities.”

You stared at him for a full minute before you laughed. “You want to interview me now?”

“I think that’s only fair.”

The look on his face made it obvious he had absolutely no intention of letting that idea go. Which, unfortunately for you, was already making you smile.

You let out a slow breath through your nose, still smiling as you leaned back into the couch like you were considering whether this was actually worth entertaining or just another one of Beau’s ideas that sounded better in his head than in reality, and he was already watching you like he expected you to say yes anyway.

“You can’t just demand equal research opportunities,” you said, picking up your cup again even though it was mostly empty, and Beau immediately shifted closer on the couch like distance had never really been part of the situation in the first place.

“I’m not demanding,” he replied, too quickly to sound convincing, then softened it with a small shrug like he was trying to act casual while very clearly not being casual at all, “I’m offering a very reasonable follow-up project.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with that look that made him feel like you were always figuring him out a second ahead of himself, and he hated how much he liked it.

“A follow-up project,” you repeated slowly, like you were testing how ridiculous it sounded out loud, and Beau nodded once like that confirmed everything.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning one arm along the back of the couch again but this time not even pretending there was space between you anymore, “you got three weeks of my life, I think I deserve at least one evening of yours.”

That made you laugh properly, head tipping back slightly before you looked at him again, eyes a little softer than before like the joke had turned into something else without either of you naming it.

“You’re really trying to turn this into a formal exchange system,” you said, and Beau’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile too much.

“I think it keeps things fair,” he replied, then added after a beat, a little quieter, “and I’m curious.”

That last part landed differently , and you noticed it immediately, the way his tone shifted just slightly like he wasn’t hiding behind jokes anymore, and you didn’t answer right away, just looked at him for a second longer than necessary.

“Curious about what exactly?” you asked finally, voice lighter than the moment felt, and Beau exhaled like he was deciding whether to say it properly or keep it half-safe.

“About you,” he said simply, like it was obvious, like there wasn’t a smarter way to say it without ruining it, and that honesty made your expression shift in a way you didn’t fully hide fast enough.

You looked away first, just for a second, then back at him with a small smile that wasn’t teasing anymore. “That’s a bad idea,” you said, but there was no real warning in it.

Beau raised an eyebrow slightly. “Why?”

“Because I’m not very interesting,” you said, like it was fact, and he immediately shook his head once like he wasn’t even going to entertain that.

“That’s not true,” he replied, then paused, eyes flicking briefly to your face like he was choosing his words more carefully now, “you just don’t notice it.”

That made you go quiet for a second, and for once you didn’t have an immediate comeback ready, which Beau seemed to notice because his expression softened again, less confident, more honest in a way that made the space between you feel even smaller.

“So,” he said after a moment, trying to pull it back into something lighter but failing slightly, “can I interview you or not?”

You finally smiled again, slower this time, like you were giving in on purpose rather than being convinced. “You’re going to ask me stupid questions, aren’t you?”

“No?” he said immediately, then added after a pause, “maybe one.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you set your cup down on the table, and Beau watched the movement like he was paying attention to everything now, not just the conversation.

“Fine,” you said, shifting slightly so you were properly facing him now instead of the screen,

There was a pause, small but loaded in a way neither of you broke, and then Beau spoke again, quieter this time. “Do I start now?”

You nodded once. “Go ahead please.”

He hesitated for half a second, then looked at you like he was actually trying to understand you without anything in the way.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and it was simple, but the way he said it made it feel like he already knew it mattered more than the question itself.

You blinked at him. “That’s your first question?”

“Feels important,” he said, almost shrugging, but his eyes didn’t move away from yours.

You smiled a little, softer than before. “You already know my name.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, leaning back slightly like he was thinking, “but I want to hear you say it.”

That made your smile falter just slightly, not disappearing, just changing, and for a second you just looked at him, like you were deciding what kind of answer this was really supposed to be.

“…It’s Y/n,” you said quietly.

Beau nodded once like he was storing it somewhere carefully, like it wasn’t new information but it still mattered hearing it directly.

“Okay,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“That’s it for question one,” he replied, a faint smile returning, and then he shifted slightly closer again like he couldn’t help it, like this was just how he existed around you now.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m learning,” he said, and then, after a pause that felt just a little too real, “your turn.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I didn’t agree to this being reciprocal.”

Beau’s smile widened a little. “You did when you told me to come over.”

That made you roll your eyes, but you were still smiling as you leaned back into the couch again, watching him like you were about to decide what kind of question would actually make him suffer a little.

“Okay,” you said finally, “first question then.”

Beau straightened slightly like he was preparing for impact. You looked at him, and your expression softened just enough to make it unfair again.

“Why are you still here?” you asked.

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean,” you added lightly, leaning your head against the back of the couch, “you finished your interview. You got your coffee. You saw your life on screen. So why are you still sitting on my couch?”

There was a beat of silence, and for the first time he didn’t answer immediately.

Then he exhaled slowly, looking away for half a second before coming back to you.

“Because I don’t want to leave,” he said simply.

Just for a second, neither of you moved, the apartment suddenly feeling a lot smaller than it had a few minutes ago.

You studied him quietly, then let out a small breath like you were letting the answer settle properly. “…That’s a better answer than I expected,” you said.

Beau let out a short, quiet laugh. “Yeah?”

You nodded once. The silence came back again, but this time it didn’t feel like space.

Beau shifted closer to you, just enough that you could feel his breath on your fave, but neither of you acknowledged it, but neither of you moved away either. His hand rested near yours again on the couch, closer than before, and when you finally looked at him again, it wasn’t like the interview anymore.

For a second, nothing really moved. It was so close it almost wasn’t happening yet, like the moment was sitting right on the edge and neither of you had decided to tip it over. Beau wasn’t rushing you. He was just there, steady, eyes flicking between yours like he was still trying to make sure he wasn’t reading it wrong. His hand hovered near your waist but didn’t fully settle, like he was still holding back on instinct.

You could feel your heartbeat in a way that made everything else feel too quiet.

Beau’s voice came softer than before. “Can I…”

You didn’t even let him finish. “Yes,” you said.

It came out quicker than you meant it to, like you were afraid you’d lose the courage if you waited even a second.

And before you knew it he kissed you.

Carefully at first, like he was still testing the moment, still giving you space to change your mind even though neither of you were moving away anymore. His hand finally settled at your waist, warm and steady, like he needed something real to hold onto to stop himself from overthinking it.

You froze for half a second, just long enough to feel it fully land, like your brain was trying to catch up with what your body had already agreed to.

Then your hand moved without you thinking, catching lightly at the front of his hoodie. Beau kissed you a little more fully after that, still gentle but no longer uncertain, like the hesitation finally stopped being louder than the moment itself.

When he pulled back, it was barely enough to separate you. Not distance. Just enough to look at you.

Neither of you spoke.

Beau let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh that didn’t know how to come out properly. His eyes stayed on you like he was trying to understand what had just happened without breaking the moment by saying too much.

“Okay,” he said softly. He nodded more to himself than you, a small smile forming like it was trying not to get out of control. “That was real,” he said.

Your breath came out uneven, somewhere between a laugh and disbelief. “Yeah.”

That made him smile a little more for real this time. The second the quiet between you settles, it doesn’t stay quiet for even a second.

You move.

It’s fast, almost reckless, like your body decides before your mind does. You launch yourself straight at him at the exact same moment you kiss him, no pause, no buildup, just impact and lips and momentum all at once.

Beau barely has any time to react.

The force of you hitting him takes him straight back into the couch. His shoulders drop into the cushions with a sharp, surprised exhale against your mouth, but he doesn’t break the kiss. His hands come up instantly, catching you at your waist and upper back like it’s pure instinct, holding on tight so you don’t slip.

For a second he’s frozen under you, eyes half-lidded, processing it, then it clicks and he kisses you back properly, immediate and full, like something in him just switches on.

His grip tightens at your waist as he adjusts you closer, pulling you in so there’s no space left between you at all. His fingers spread against your back, steadying you, anchoring you there like he’s making sure you don’t even think about moving away.

When you break the kiss for air, it’s sudden, your breath a little uneven, your forehead hovering close to his.

Beau is already looking at you like he’s not fully recovered from it. His lips are slightly parted, his chest still rising a bit faster than normal, but his hands don’t leave you. One stays firm at your waist, the other at your back, holding you exactly where you are.

His eyes flick over your face like he’s checking if this is real, then he exhales once, soft, almost shaky, and pulls you back in again immediately, kissing you slower this time but just as sure, like now that you’ve started it, he’s not letting go of it.

Beau’s eyes stay locked on yours, dark and intent, as the weight of what’s happening settles between you. His hand lingers at your waist, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch is light, almost reverent, like he’s giving you time to pull back if you want to.

Instead, you lean in and kiss him again. This time it’s slower, exploratory. His mouth moves against yours with growing confidence, tongue tracing your lower lip until you part for him. A quiet sound escapes him when your fingers slide into his hair, gripping just enough to pull a low hum from his chest.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, then down the side of your neck, open-mouthed and warm. Every press of his mouth sends little sparks across your skin. When he finds the spot just below your ear that makes your breath hitch, he lingers there, sucking lightly, teeth grazing in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Beau…” His name slips out softer than you meant it to.

He smiles against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

His hands grow bolder. One slips fully under your shirt, palm gliding up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. He takes his time, mapping you with touch slow strokes, gentle squeezes, learning what makes your breath catch and your thighs press together.

You tug at his hoodie and he helps you pull it off, revealing the hard lines of his shoulders and chest from years of football. Your hands explore him in return, tracing the warmth of his skin, the definition of muscle that tightens under your fingertips.

Clothes come off gradually.

He lifts your shirt over your head, pausing to look at you, eyes heated but patient. Then his mouth is on you again collarbone, the swell of your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand teases the other. The wet heat and gentle suction draw a moan from you that makes his grip on your hip tighten.

You shift restlessly beneath him, needing more. Beau seems to understand. He kisses down your stomach, slow and deliberate, hands sliding your pants and underwear down your legs together. He settles between your thighs, broad shoulders keeping you open for him. For a moment he just looks, breath warm against your inner thigh, then glances up at you like he’s asking permission one more time.

When you nod, he leans in.

His mouth is devastatingly gentle at first soft kisses, then broader strokes of his tongue that have your fingers twisting in his hair. He finds a rhythm that makes your hips lift off the couch, one hand pressed flat against your stomach to hold you steady while the other slides between your legs. Two fingers press in slowly, curling just right as his tongue keeps working your clit in steady, focused circles.

The pleasure builds in waves. Your thighs start to tremble around his shoulders. Every moan you make seems to encourage him more, his pace quickening just enough to push you closer to the edge without tipping you over yet.

“Beau…fuck…” Your voice breaks.

He groans against you, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. His fingers move deeper, faster, perfectly in sync with his mouth until the tension snaps. You come hard, back arching, a broken cry escaping as pleasure floods through you. He stays with you through it, gentling his movements but not stopping until you’re shuddering and tugging weakly at his hair.

Only then does he kiss his way back up your body, lips shiny, eyes dark with want. You pull him down into a messy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and reach between you to palm him through his sweatpants. He’s hard and straining, hips jerking into your touch with a rough exhale.

You help him get the rest of his clothes off. When he settles over you again, skin to skin, the heat between you is almost overwhelming. He braces himself on one forearm, the other hand cupping your face as he kisses you deeply.

“Still okay?” he whispers, voice rough.

“More than okay.” You wrap your legs around him. “Come here please.” You whimpered.

He enters you slowly, carefully, letting you adjust to every inch with shallow thrusts until he’s fully seated. Both of you groan at the feeling. For a moment he stays still, forehead pressed to yours, breathing together.

Then he starts to move deep, rolling strokes that build steadily. The couch creaks beneath you as the pace quickens, skin sliding against skin, hands gripping wherever they can reach. Every thrust hits perfectly after the thorough foreplay, pleasure sparking sharp and bright.

You come again with his name on your lips, clenching around him. Beau follows moments later, burying himself deep and groaning against your neck as he finishes.

Afterward he collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapped tight around your waist. His lips press soft, lazy kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, anywhere he can reach while you both catch your breath.

Beau stays buried inside you for a long, quiet moment afterward, both of you catching your breath. His forehead rests against yours, one hand gently stroking your side as your bodies cool together. Eventually he presses a soft kiss to your lips, then another to your temple, before carefully pulling out. You let out a small, shared sigh at the loss.

He doesn’t move far. Instead, he sits up on the edge of the couch, keeping one hand on your hip like he can’t quite let go yet. “Stay right there,” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You watch, still a little dazed, as he stands and walks toward your small kitchen area, completely unselfconscious and beautifully naked. He returns a minute later with a damp clothwarm water, you realizeand a fresh towel from the counter.

Beau kneels beside the couch, gentle and focused. He parts your legs just enough to carefully clean you up, the warm cloth soothing against your sensitive skin. His touch is tender, almost reverent, wiping away the evidence of what you’d just shared without a hint of awkwardness. Every stroke is slow and considerate, his free hand resting comfortingly on your thigh.

“You don’t have to” you start softly.

“I want to,” he says simply, glancing up at you with a small smile. His eyes are soft, almost protective. “Let me take care of you.”

When he’s finished, he dries you gently with the towel, then cleans himself quickly before setting everything aside. He grabs the throw blanket again and lies back down, pulling you into his arms so you’re tucked against his chest. The blanket settles over both of you, cocooning you in warmth and the faint scent of his skin.

You nestle closer, one leg draped over his, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. Beau’s fingers trace lazy circles along your bare back, occasionally brushing through your hair.

“You okay?” he asks again, quieter this time.

“Very okay,” you whisper, smiling against his chest. “That was… a lot.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through him. “In a good way, I hope.”

“In the best way.” You tilt your head up to look at him. His hair is tousled, lips still a little swollen, and there’s a contented glow in his expression that makes your heart feel too full.

Beau leans down and kisses youslow, sweet, and lingering. When he pulls back, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. I’m not ready to leave yet.”

you murmur. “Because I don’t want you to go either.”

He tightens his arm around you, pulling the blanket higher. “Bed might be more comfortable long-term,” he says, lips brushing your forehead, “but I like you right here for now.”

You smile, already feeling sleep tug at the edges of your mind in the safety of his arms. “We can move later. Stay like this a little longer.”

“Deal.” His hand keeps stroking your back in that same soothing rhythm. “And tomorrow I’m making actual breakfast. No more surviving on granola bars while I’m around.”

You laugh quietly, the sound muffled against his skin. “You’re so bossy.”

“Only when it comes to taking care of you.”

The apartment grows quieter, the laptop long forgotten on the coffee table. Just the two of you, tangled together under the blanket, trading soft kisses and even softer words until your breathing evens out and you drift off against himwarm, safe, and perfectly content.

The next morning sunlight filtered softly through the blinds of your apartment, casting warm stripes across the bed. At some point during the night Beau had carried you from the couch to your bedroom, and you’d both fallen asleep tangled together under the covers his arm heavy around your waist, your back pressed to his chest.

You woke first, blinking against the light, aware of the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you. His body was warm, one leg hooked over yours, and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. You stayed still for a minute, just feeling the solid presence of him, the quiet intimacy of waking up like this.

Beau stirred a moment later. He pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, voice gravelly with sleep. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you whispered back, still smiling.

He tightened his arm around you and pulled you closer, nuzzling into your hair. “Told you I wasn’t leaving.”

You laughed softly and turned in his arms to face him. His hair was adorably mussed, eyes half-lidded and content. The sight made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest.

Beau leaned in and kissed you slow and sweet. When he pulled back he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you said honestly. “Really good.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that always made your stomach flip. “Good. Stay here. I’m making breakfast.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I promised,” he interrupted, already rolling out of bed. He found his sweatpants on the floor and tugged them on, then leaned down to kiss your forehead. “No granola bars while im here only real food.”

You watched him pad out of the bedroom, appreciating the view of his bare back and the easy confidence in how he moved around your space like he already belonged there. A few minutes later you heard cabinets opening, the clink of a pan, and the low hum of him quietly singing something off-key.

By the time you’d brushed your teeth and pulled on an oversized t-shirt, the smell of eggs, toast, and coffee had filled the apartment. You walked into the kitchen to find Beau at the stove, flipping eggs with surprising competence. Two plates were already set on the small counter with buttered toast and sliced fruit he must have found in your fridge.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you. “Perfect timing. Coffee’s on the table.”

You slid onto one of the stools, accepting the mug he handed you. “You look way too comfortable in my kitchen.”

“Getting used to it already,” he said casually, sliding the eggs onto the plates.

He came around the counter and sat beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. “Eat. You need actual food after yesterday.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you took a bite. It was good warm, and made with quiet care. For a few minutes you ate in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing, his hand occasionally resting on your thigh under the counter.

Beau eventually set his fork down and turned toward you. “So… last night. That wasn’t just a one-time follow-up project, right?”

The vulnerability in his voice was subtle but there. You set your own fork down and met his eyes.

“No,” you said softly. “It wasn’t.”

Relief flickered across his face, followed by that warm smile. He leaned in and kissed you again, tasting like coffee and orange juice. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours.

“Good. Because I’m kind of all in here.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I want to do this more. More dates. More nights like last night. Mornings like this. All of it.”

Your heart felt too full. You kissed him deeper this time, slow and sure, the breakfast temporarily forgotten.

The next few weeks slipped by in a blur of stolen moments and careful scheduling. Beau’s football schedule ramped up with the season hitting full swing practices, film sessions, games and your own life stayed its usual chaotic sprint of deadlines, group projects, and late nights in the editing lab. But somehow, you made it work.

He texted you good morning every day, even when he was on a bus at 5 a.m. heading to an away game. You sent him stupid memes at 2 a.m. when you were still editing. He showed up at your apartment with takeout on nights you forgot to eat. You started showing up at his practices sometimes, sitting in the stands with a notebook or your laptop, pretending to work but mostly watching him move across the field with a focus that still surprised you.

One Thursday evening after a particularly brutal practice, he came straight to your place, hair still damp from the shower, shoulders tight with leftover tension. You didn’t even ask questions. You just pulled him inside, pushed him down onto the couch, and climbed into his lap.

Beau let out a low, grateful sound when your mouth found his. His hands slid under your shirt immediately, warm and possessive, thumbs stroking your ribs like he needed the reminder that you were real.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips between kisses.

“You saw me two days ago,” you teased, but you were already tugging at his hoodie.

“Two days is too long.” He lifted his hips so you could pull the fabric off, then flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion that made you laugh breathlessly. “I’m spoiled now.”

He took his time that night, slow and thorough, like he was determined to memorize every sound you made. By the time you were both exhausted and tangled in your sheets, his head resting on your chest while your fingers played with his hair, the tension had melted completely out of him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss just below your collarbone.

“Good death though?” you asked, smiling.

“The best kind.”

The first real test came during his team’s homecoming week. The campus was chaos bonfires, parades, alumni everywhere and Beau was in high demand. You understood. You really did. But when he had to cancel your planned Friday night because of an unexpected donor dinner, something small and ugly twisted in your chest.

You told him it was fine. You finished your work, ate actual food for once, and tried not to stare at your phone.

At 11:47 p.m. your door buzzed. You opened it to find Beau standing there in his suit, tie loosened, looking exhausted but determined. He had a slightly crumpled bouquet of flowers in one hand clearly grabbed from somewhere on the way and a guilty expression that made your irritation dissolve instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said before you could speak. “I hated every second of that dinner. All I could think about was getting back to you.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to hold onto a little bit of your annoyance. “You could’ve texted.”

“I know. I was being stupid.” He stepped closer, offering the flowers like a peace offering. “I kept thinking if I checked my phone I’d just want to leave more. Which… yeah, that still sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”

You took the flowers, their petals slightly crushed from his grip. Something warm bloomed in your chest despite yourself. “You look really good in a suit.”

His smile was slow and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed his tie and tugged him inside. “But you’re still in trouble.”

“I’m okay with that,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him. His hands were already on your waist. “Punish me however you want.”

You laughed as he walked you backward toward the bedroom, but the sound melted into a soft moan when his mouth found your neck. He was gentle that night too, but there was an edge of desperation in the way he touched you like he was trying to make up for every minute he hadn’t been with you.

Afterward, curled against his side with the flowers now sitting in a water glass on your nightstand, you traced idle patterns on his chest.

“I get it, you know,” you said quietly. “The football stuff. The schedule. I’m busy too. We both are.”

Beau’s arm tightened around you. “Doesn’t mean I get to be a shitty boyfriend about it.”

You went still. “Boyfriend?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes soft but serious in the low light. “If you want that. I know we kind of skipped the official-label part, but… yeah. I want to be your boyfriend. I want you to be my girl.” A small, almost shy smile tugged at his mouth. “I want to do this right.”

Your heart did something complicated and warm in your chest. You leaned up and kissed him, slow and deep, pouring everything you didn’t quite have words for into it.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his. “I want that too.”

His grin was immediate and blinding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, football guy.”

He groaned, rolling you beneath him again as you laughed. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Never.”

The rest of the season blurred by. You went to games when you could, sitting with some of the other girlfriends and friends, learning the rules slowly and cheering louder than you expected when Beau made plays. He’d always find you in the stands afterward, pulling you into a sweaty hug that made you pretend to complain even while you held on tighter.

One night after a tough loss, he showed up at your door quiet and frustrated. You didn’t try to fix it. You just let him in, made him tea he didn’t drink, and eventually pulled him into bed where he buried his face against your stomach and let you run your fingers through his hair until the tension eased.

“I hate losing,” he mumbled.

“I know baby.”

“But coming home to you helps.”

You smiled in the dark, heart full. “Thats good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed your stomach, then worked his way up until he reached your mouth, the kiss turning heated and needy. You spent the rest of the night reminding him that some things mattered more than any scoreboard.

By the time finals rolled around, you were both exhausted but happier than you could remember being in a long time. Beau had become a permanent fixture in your apartment his hoodie in your closet, his protein shakes in your fridge, his laughter filling the space that used to feel too quiet.

One night you were sprawled across your bed studying when he walked in, dropped his bag, and immediately crawled over you, pressing kisses along your spine.

“Beau, I have a final in two days,” you protested weakly, even as you arched into his touch.

“You’ve been studying for eight hours straight,” he murmured against your shoulder blade. “You need a break.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”

“Best kind of break,” he said, grinning as he flipped you over. His eyes were warm, full of that same mix of mischief and tenderness that had hooked you from the beginning.

Later, when you were both catching your breath and he had you tucked against his chest again, he spoke softly into your hair.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“After the season ends… I want you to come home with me for a weekend. Meet my family.”

You lifted your head, surprised. “Really?”

“Really.” He brushed hair out of your face. “They’re going to love you. Mostly because you make me less of an idiot.”

You laughed, pressing your face into his neck. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You kissed the underside of his jaw. “I would love to meet your family, Beau.”

His arms tightened around you, and for once neither of you had anywhere else to be. No interviews. No practice. No deadlines waiting. Just this. Just you two. Now and always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beau had been staring at his phone for way too long, your name sitting there like it had weight to it now, like typing anything next to it meant something he wasn’t fully prepared for, and every version of the message he wrote somehow sounded worse the longer he looked at it.

Dean noticed immediately from the couch across the room, of course he did, and didn’t even try to hide it when he said, “you’re not still texting her in your head again, are you,”

Beau muttered small “stop talking” without looking up because he was already struggling enough on his own.

He finally typed something simple like “hey, are you free sometime this week,” then deleted it, then rewrote it again like “coffee sometime?” and immediately hated how desperate it sounded, because it wasn’t even supposed to be a big deal, it was just asking you out, but somehow it kept turning into something he overthought like it actually mattered more than it should.

Dean leaned over again, reading his expression more than the screen this time, and said, “just send it, worst thing she says is no,”

Beau immediately shot back “that’s not helpful,” even though it kind of was, which made it worse, because now he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know what to do.

He looked up right at the worst possible timing because you were suddenly there across the space, walking toward the building like you always were, fast and focused, like the world was constantly trying to catch up with you, and the second your eyes landed on him everything in his head went completely blank in the most annoying way possible.

Dean followed his gaze and said, “oh my god, she’s right there,”

Beau muttered “I see her,” like that wasn’t obvious, already shoving his phone into his pocket.

You reached them a second later, not stopping your pace until you were basically in front of him, and when you looked up your expression shifted into that familiar calm recognition that made his chest tighten a little every time.

“Hey Beau,” you said, like it was normal now, like it had always been normal, and he nodded too fast, immediately hating how obvious it probably looked.

“Hey,” he said, then added too quickly, “you’re busy, right,” which made you pause mid-step and look at him like you were trying to figure out where that came from.

“I mean, yeah,” you said slowly, “but I can be un-busy for like… a minute if you need something.”

Dean, very quietly behind him, said “he needs more than a minute” but Beau ignored him completely and just nodded again like that helped anything.

He tried to say it normally,

“I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee sometime, or I don’t know, dinner, or anything, I just…”and he stopped himself mid-sentence because he realized he was making it worse by continuing.

You blinked at him once, then tilted your head slightly like you were actually considering it instead of reacting immediately, which somehow made him even more nervous, because now there was space for a real answer.

“You’re asking me out,” you said simply, like you wanted to confirm it first.

“Yes,” Beau said immediately, then added, “I mean I think so…. I mean, yeah. Yeah. I am.”

That made you smile, like you weren’t surprised, just mildly entertained by how long it took him to get there.

“Okay,” you said.

Beau paused. “Okay… as in okay or okay as in I misunderstood everything about language?”

You let out a short laugh at that, actually stopping properly now instead of half-moving away like you usually did when you were busy, and said, “okay as in yes, Beau.”

He just stared for a second like he needed time to process that, then exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for ten minutes straight without realizing it.

“Right… Yeah,” he said, then immediately added, “cool. That’s cool. I’m cool.”

“You are not cool,” you said, still smiling, and that made him laugh despite himself.

Dean, from behind him, said “I’m leaving before I throw up,” and walked off, but neither of you really reacted to it.

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder again, looking at him like you were waiting for him to say something else, and Beau realized he still hadn’t actually made a plan.

“So,” he said carefully, “coffee then?”

You nodded once. “Coffee.”

Then after a beat, like it mattered less than it probably should have but still did, you added, “just text me.”

Beau immediately nodded too fast again. “Yeah. I will. I definitely will.”

You smiled a little more at that, like you already knew he would overthink even that part, then gave him a small look that lingered just long enough to feel like something before you finally started backing away again into your day.

“Don’t take too long,” you said lightly.

Beau let out a short laugh. “No pressure.”

You turned around this time, walking off like you always did, fast and already somewhere else, but this time he wasn’t just watching you disappear.

This time he was already planning what he was going to text next.

Beau texted you three different versions of the same message before finally just sending the simplest one, something like “you free this week?” and then immediately locking his phone like that would stop him from checking it every five seconds, which it didn’t, because he still checked it anyway, just more aggressively.

You replied faster than he expected.

“Yes, when?”

He stared at it for a moment like it had more meaning than it actually did, then typed back something way too careful like “this Saturday?,” then hated that too because it sounded like he had no life, which he did, but still.

You answered fast “see you,”

Saturday came slower than it should have.

Beau showed up early, which he immediately regretted because now he had time to stand outside and think about every possible version of how this could go wrong, including the very realistic one where you just didn’t show up at all, even though you literally had a plan.

“You’re pacing,” Dean said from behind him.

“I’m not.”

“You’re pacing in a circle, like a dog.”

Beau turned slightly, irritated. “Why are you even here?”

“I came to witness your downfall,” Dean said casually, then added, “or success. I’m rooting for success obviously.”

Beau ignored him and checked the door again, and then you walked in.

It was immediate, the way everything in his head kind of shut off for half a second, because you looked exactly like you always did but somehow different in a way he couldn’t explain, maybe just because now he knew you were actually here for him.

You saw him, smiled, and said his name “hey Beau, you’re early,” and he nodded too quickly again, instantly aware of it, which made it worse.

“You’re on time,” he replied, then immediately realized that made no sense.

That made you smile a little more.

“I like early,” you added, and then nodded toward the counter, “you getting coffee or are you just standing here panicking?”

“I’m not panicking, i was just thinking.”

“Cmon,” you said, already walking toward the counter like you expected him to follow, which he did immediately, because apparently that was how his brain worked around you now.

You ordered first, something simple, and then looked at him like you were waiting.

Beau blanked for a second. The barista asked again.

“Oh…uh, just the same,” he said quickly, then immediately hated how unoriginal that sounded.

When you both stepped aside, you looked at him over your cup like you were mildly amused already.

“You always overthink about ordering coffee?.” you asked.

“No,” he said too fast, then sighed, “yes.”

That made you laugh, actually properly, and the sound did something completely unfair to his focus.

Dean, from somewhere behind them, had followed in at some point and muttered, “this is going to be a long day,” but neither of you really heard him.

You ended up sitting near the window without even discussing it, and at first Beau was very aware of everything, his hands, the cup, the fact that he was sitting across from you on an actual date and not just accidentally existing near you on campus.

You noticed it immediately. “You look nervous,” you said.

“I’m not,” he repeated, then added honestly, “I’m just… aware.”

“Of what?”

“Of you,” he admitted before he could stop himself, then immediately looked away like that was too direct.

Instead of making it weird, you just nodded like that was fine, like it was normal to say. That somehow made it easier.

The conversation started slow, like both of you were easing into it without trying too hard, and then gradually it stopped feeling like effort at all.

You told him about classes, about how everything always felt like it was overlapping, like your entire life was stacked in too many tabs open at once, and Beau laughed when you said you sometimes forgot what day it was because it genuinely sounded believable.

You looked at him for a second like you were deciding something, then leaned slightly on the table and said, “what about you? besides football and awkward coffee ordering.”

“That’s basically my personality,” he said.

“That’s depressing.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, then smiled a little, “but I’m working on it.”

That made you tilt your head again, like you liked that answer more than you expected to.

At some point you moved from the café to just walking, because sitting still started to feel unnecessary, and the weather was decent enough that neither of you questioned it. You ended up on campus paths, then near the edge of town, talking about anything that came up.

Beau realized at one point that he’d stopped thinking about what to say next, which was new for him, because usually he was always slightly ahead of himself in conversations.

You bumped his arm lightly at something he said, laughing, and he did it back without thinking, and neither of you made it weird.

When you got tired later, you ended up sitting on a low stone ledge near a quieter part of campus, coffee long gone, the afternoon shifting into that soft early evening light.

You leaned back slightly, looking at him “You’re less intimidating than I thought you’d be,” you said.

Beau laughed immediately. “That’s a backhanded compliment, but i will take it.”

He hesitated for a second, then looked at you, the kind of look he kept catching himself doing too often now, and said, “I’m still kind of surprised you said yes.”

You shrugged slightly. “I was curious.”

“That’s it?”

You smiled a little. “And you’re not annoying.”

“That’s also backhanded.”

“You’re very sensitive for someone who plays football.” You said smiling at him like you wanted to make him forget his own name.

“That’s new information,” he said, pretending to be offended, but he was smiling.

The sun was lower now, and neither of you seemed in any rush to leave. At some point your shoulder brushed his again, and this time neither of you moved away. Beau looked down at it briefly, then back at you, like he was still adjusting to the fact that this wasn’t a random coincidence anymore.

“So,” he said finally, quieter now, “do I get to take you out again or was this a one-time situation?”

You raised an eyebrow slightly. “That depends,” you said.

“On what?”

“If you survive the first date without overthinking it into extinction.”

Beau let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I think I did okay.”

You looked at him for a second, then nodded once and said, “you did.”

That answer made something in Beau’s chest loosen in a way he wasn’t fully used to yet, like he’d been holding his breath all day without noticing and only now realized he could actually breathe normally again.

He nodded once, trying to play it off like it wasn’t doing anything to him, but the small smile on his face gave him away anyway. You noticed, of course you did, and instead of calling it out directly you just shifted your weight slightly and looked at him like you were already deciding what to do with the rest of the day.

“So,” you said after a beat, still sitting on the stone ledge, “what now. Do we end this here, or are you going to prove you can survive more than a few hours in my presence.”

Beau let out a short laugh, shaking his head like the idea itself was ridiculous, and answered a little too quickly that he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, which made you smile in that quiet, satisfied way that hit harder than it should have.

“I mean,” he added after a second, glancing at you properly again, “if you’re not bored of me yet.”

You tilted your head like you were genuinely considering it, then leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on your knees, eyes on him in a way that made him very aware of the fact that the space between you suddenly felt smaller than it had a minute ago.

“I’m not bored,” you said simply, then added after a pause, “you’re actually better in person than your reputation.”

Beau raised a brow at that, trying to ignore how much he liked hearing it. “My reputation?”

“Yeah,” you replied, like it was obvious, “football guy, apparently intense, slightly intimidating, party animal, probably lives off protein shakes and silence.”

That got a loud laugh out of him, and he shook his head like he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or impressed.

“I don’t even know which part of that is worse,” he said, still smiling.

“You do drink protein shakes though,” you added calmly.

“…that is true.”

There was a small pause after that, not uncomfortable, just full in a different way, like neither of you were rushing to fill it anymore. Beau looked at you for a second too long without meaning to, then cleared his throat slightly like he’d caught himself doing it.

“Do you want to keep walking,” he asked, then immediately added, “or we can do something else.”

That made you smile a little more again, and you stood up first, brushing off your jeans before looking at him like the decision was already made in your head.

“Walking is fine,” you said, then paused, glancing toward the street beyond campus, “but we can also steal your car and leave if you’re feeling brave.”

Beau blinked once, then let out a small laugh. “That sounds vaguely illegal.”

“Only slightly.”

That was how he ended up driving.

The car was quiet for the first few seconds after you both got in,Beau started the engine but didn’t immediately pull out, one hand still resting lightly on the wheel while he glanced over at you like he was checking if this was still real.

“Why are you acting like I might disappear if you look away.”

That made him exhale through his nose, half a laugh, half something else, and he finally pulled out of the parking spot.

“I’m not” he said, though his voice didn’t have much conviction.

You leaned back in the seat a little, watching the road ahead now instead of him, “it’s kind of cute though.”

The word landed differently than it should have, and Beau’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly before he forced himself to relax again, pretending he was just focused on driving.

“Good to know my nervous habits are entertaining,” he said.

“They’re not entertaining,” you corrected, glancing at him briefly, “they’re just you.”

That made him glance over at you this time, just for a second longer than necessary, before looking back at the road like that was safer.

The drive didn’t really have a destination at first. He just kept going, letting the roads outside campus stretch out into quieter streets, then slightly wider ones, like neither of you had bothered deciding where “next” was supposed to be.

You rested your arm against the window, head turned slightly toward him now.

The road curved slightly and the light outside started shifting warmer, that late afternoon stretch where everything looked softer than it actually was. A few minutes later he turned down a quieter road without really deciding to, just following the instinct to keep the drive going a little longer. You didn’t question it, just reached over to adjust the radio slightly, letting low music fill the space between you.

Beau glanced over at you again, then said your name for the first time that day like it still felt new on his tongue.

You looked at him immediately.

“What,” you asked, but not sharply.

He hesitated for a second, then smiled slightly like he was finally letting himself relax into it.

“I’m really glad you said yes,” he admitted.

You held his gaze for a moment, then leaned back again, watching him.

“Me too,” you said simply.

And this time, neither of you rushed to fill what came after. The car kept moving without either of you really deciding where it was going anymore, the road stretching out into quieter streets where the traffic thinned and everything felt a little more suspended, like the rest of the world had taken a step back without being asked.

Beau kept one hand on the wheel, but his focus kept slipping in ways he had to actively correct, because every time he glanced over you were either looking out the window or back at him like you belonged there, in his passenger seat, like it wasn’t something he still needed to get used to.

At a red light, the car slowed to a stop, and the silence between you shifted again, You turned your head slightly toward him, resting your elbow on the door, and he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye before fully looking over.

The red light turned green and Beau didn’t say anything for a moment, just eased the car forward like he was letting the silence settle into something comfortable instead of something awkward.

You shifted slightly in the seat, one leg tucked under you now, fingers resting loosely on your knee while the city started to feel quieter the further he drove away from campus.

“You hungry?” he asked eventually, glancing over for half a second before focusing back on the road.

“Always,” you said immediately.

That earned a small laugh from him, the kind that didn’t feel like he was surprised anymore, just entertained in a way that had already become familiar.

“Good,” he replied, turning down a side street without really announcing it, “because I know a place.”

“Is it good?”

“I play football. Food is like half of my personality.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You already said that about me earlier.”

The street he pulled onto was quieter, older buildings mixed with small glowing signs that didn’t belong to campus at all. He parked without much ceremony outside a small diner that looked like it had been there longer than either of you had been alive, warm yellow light spilling through the windows onto the sidewalk.

You looked at it for a second before opening your door. “This better be good.”

“It is,” Beau said, already getting out, walking around the car like it was the most normal thing in the world, “and if it isn’t, I’ll take responsibility.”

“That’s very brave of you.”

He held the door open for you without thinking about it, and you brushed past him with a small glance that lingered just long enough to feel intentional before you walked inside. The diner was warm, slightly too bright, with booths that looked worn in the way that meant people actually came here, not just passed through.

A waitress waved from behind the counter without looking up properly, calling out that you could sit anywhere.

Beau didn’t even hesitate, leading you to a booth near the window like he’d been here before. You slid in first, resting your bag beside you while he sat across from you, immediately reaching for the menu more out of habit than need.

“You must come here a lot,” you said.

“Sometimes after practice.”

“Alone?”

He looked up at that, then smiled a little like he understood what you were actually asking without you making it obvious. “Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not.”

You nodded once like that was enough answer for now, then leaned your elbow on the table, scanning the menu without much urgency.

Beau watched you for a second longer than he meant to, then quickly looked back down at his own menu like that fixed it.

The waitress came over a minute later, dropping two waters on the table without slowing down, asking what you wanted before you’d even properly finished opening your menu.

You ordered waffles, something simple without even really debating it, like you’d already decided you didn’t want to spend too long thinking about anything right now.

Beau went after you, a burger and fries, then added a milkshake at the last second like it was an afterthought, not bothering to explain it.

When the waitress left, the booth fell into that easy kind of quiet again, not awkward, just nice silence.

You leaned back against the seat, looking out the window for a second. “So you bring all your dates here?”

Beau let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “This is my first time bringing a date here.”

“That feels like a lie.”

“It’s not.”

You looked back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, like you were still deciding whether to believe him.

“I don’t really do the whole,” he paused, gesturing slightly with one hand like he was searching for the right words, “planned thing.”

“That’s obvious,” you said.

“Is that bad?”

“No,” you replied immediately, too fast for it to be anything else, then added a second later, “it’s kind of..nice.”

That made him stop for half a second, like he was turning that over properly instead of brushing past it. Then he nodded once, accepting it without making it heavier than it needed to be.

“Okay.”

The food came quicker than expected, plates sliding onto the table, the smell of it immediately filling the space between you.

Your waffles came first, golden and slightly too perfect-looking, and Beau’s burger landed in front of him with a heavy thud, fries spilling slightly to the side.

You immediately reached for a piece of his fries without asking, completely casual about it, like it was already allowed.

Beau just watched you do it, then pushed the plate slightly closer.

“You didn’t even argue,” you said.

“I’m learning when not to.”

“That’s growth.”

“Thanks, I’m proud of myself too.” He let out a big smile, his dimples showing

You smiled into your drink, shaking your head slightly, and for a few seconds neither of you spoke again, just eating in a rhythm that didn’t feel awkward or forced. At some point your knee bumped his under the table and neither of you moved away from it, like it wasn’t worth acknowledging or changing.

A few seconds later Beau shifted, standing slightly and sliding into the seat next to you instead of across, the booth suddenly closer in a way that didn’t feel accidental. He didn’t say anything about it, just settled in like it made more sense.

You glanced at him once. “Comfortable?”

“Yep,” he said simply, like that was the only answer.

You went back to your waffles like it didn’t matter, but your shoulder stayed slightly closer to his than before.

A few bites later, Beau reached over without warning and stole a piece of your waffle.

You turned slowly to look at him.

He didn’t even try to hide it. “What?”

“That was mine.”

“You stole my fries.”

“That’s different. I was initiating balance.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, then broke first, shaking your head as you laughed.

“Okay, fine.”

That seemed to unlock it properly.

Now it wasn’t just occasional stealing anymore, it was constant  your fork slipping onto his plate, his hand stealing strawberries from yours, neither of you bothering to ask anymore.

At one point Beau held up his burger in front of your mouth, holding it up slightly without thinking.

You looked at it. “What.”

“Try it.”

“I have my own food.”

“You got waffles. That’s not real food, that’s dessert.”

Before you could argue again, he just held it closer, waiting, not pushing it, just there. You rolled your eyes slightly, then leaned in and took the bite directly from his hand without hesitation.

Beau froze for half a second, then exhaled like that wasn’t what he expected his life to feel like.

You chewed, nodding slightly. “Okay. That’s good.”

“I told you.”

“That was very confident for someone who was nervous to ask me out 2 days ago.”

“That was a low point in my career.”

You smiled into your drink again, and Beau leaned back slightly, watching you like he still couldn’t fully believe this was how the night was going.

Outside the window, the street had gotten darker, reflections of the diner lights stretching across the glass, but neither of you looked at the time.

Beau leaned back slightly in his seat, one arm resting along the edge of the booth behind you now without really thinking about it, not touching you but close enough that the space between you didn’t feel like space anymore.

You glanced at his burger again like you were considering another bite. “I’m still not convinced that was better than waffles,” you said.

“It was,” he replied immediately.

“It’s opinions bases.”

“My opinion is only right answer then.”

You shook your head slightly, smiling into your cup, and reached over anyway, stealing another fry just because you could. Beau watched you do it, then took a slow sip of his milkshake like he was letting that moment settle.

Outside, a car passed slowly, headlights sliding across the booth for a second before fading again, leaving just the diner glow around you.

You shifted slightly in your seat, turning a little more toward him now without really noticing you were doing it, and Beau mirrored it without thinking either. For a second neither of you spoke, just eating what was left, the conversation dropping into something quieter but still there, not needing to be filled every second.

Then you reached over again, this time taking the last piece of his burger directly from his plate. Beau didn’t even react immediately, just watched you like he was still catching up to how normal this already felt.

“You’re just going to take the last bite like that?” he asked finally.

You chewed, unbothered. “It was looking at me.”

He laughed under his breath, then slid what was left of his fries toward you like it was obvious.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that.”

“Payment for the waffle tax.”

You paused, then laughed properly at that, shaking your head as you took them without arguing. “Fair exchange,” you said.

“I know,” he replied, leaning back again like he was satisfied with the outcome.

The waitress came back at some point, dropping the check without asking, and Beau reached for it automatically, but you were already sliding a card out first.

“No,” he said, immediate.

You looked at him. “What.”

“I’m paying.”

“It’s just waffles and a burger.”

“I invited you, it’s my date.”

That made you pause for half a second, just long enough for the words to sit between you, then you leaned back slightly, studying him.

“That’s your argument?”

“It’s a good one.”

You smiled a little, then shook your head and slid your card back into your wallet. “Next time,” you said instead.

Beau looked at you for a second, then nodded once like he was fine with that answer, but his expression softened in a way that made it clear he was already treating “next time” like it was guaranteed.

“Next time,” he agreed.

You stood up first, sliding out of the booth and adjusting your bag over your shoulder while Beau followed right after. Outside , the air was cooler than before, the diner light spilling behind you as the door swung shut and the sound dropped into something softer again.

You walked beside him without needing to be guided, matching his pace naturally like it wasn’t something either of you had to figure out. Beau’s car was parked just a little down the street, under a streetlight that made everything look slightly warmer than it actually was.

He unlocked it, then paused like he was waiting for you to get in first, which you did without saying anything, sliding into the passenger seat like it already belonged to you in some small way.

Beau got in after, shutting the door and taking a second before starting the engine, hands resting on the wheel for a moment longer than necessary. The drive back felt different than earlier. Quieter in a way that wasn’t empty, just settled. Like the whole night had slowed down and decided it wasn’t in a rush anymore.

At one point, Beau reached for the radio without thinking too hard about it, turning it low enough that it was just background instead of attention. You didn’t comment, just leaned your head back against the seat like you were getting comfortable in a space you didn’t fully expect to feel comfortable in yet.

When he reached campus, he didn’t stop exactly where he dropped you off earlier, just a little closer to the edge of the walkway, under softer lighting.

The car rolled to a stop.

“You live far?” he asked, he already knew the answer was no.

You shook your head slightly. “Not really.”

He nodded once, then leaned back in his seat for a second, looking out through the windshield before finally turning toward you again.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked.

You glanced at him like it was obvious. “Why is that even a question.”

So you got out together.

The walk across campus was slower this time, not because it needed to be, just because neither of you were in any hurry to end it. The buildings were quieter now, most lights dimmed, people gone, just the sound of your steps and the occasional distant noise from somewhere else on campus.

When you reached the your building, you stopped walking, Beau shifted his weight slightly, hands in his pockets again, looking at you like he was deciding something simple.

“I’ll text you,” he said.

You nodded. “You will.”

That made him smile a little, like you were already right about it.

“Goodnight Y/n.” he added.

You held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Beau.”

Then you turned first, walking away like you always did, just slower this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Beau was beginning to think that whatever strange thing had happened to him after that interview was becoming an actual problem. He had seen you around campus three separate times already, and every single time you had somehow managed to be busy enough to make approaching you feel impossible.

The first time, you had practically sprinted across campus carrying a stack of folders that looked taller than your patience while talking on the phone and trying to drink coffee at the same time. Beau had watched from halfway across the quad as you nearly walked directly into a bike rack, corrected yourself at the last second, then disappeared into a building without ever looking up.

The second time, he’d spotted you outside the library sitting with three other students, all of you surrounded by papers and laptops while you pointed at something on a screen with the kind of intense focus that made interrupting feel illegal. Dean had been there for that one and had immediately suggested Beau go say hello, which earned him a look so offended that Dean laughed for almost five minutes straight.

The third time felt promising for exactly thirty seconds. Beau had stopped by a campus coffee shop after practice and was standing in line when he noticed you sitting by the window with a notebook open in front of you. For the first time in days, you were alone. No group project. No phone glued to your ear. No rushing somewhere. Just you, a coffee, and whatever you were writing.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped out of line and started walking over. Then your phone rang. You answered immediately, listened for maybe five seconds, and your entire face changed. You closed the notebook, packed your things, finished half your coffee in one sip, and stood up so quickly that Beau actually stopped walking.

You nearly walked right past him on your way out. At the last second your eyes landed on him and recognition finally appeared.

“Oh,” you said, sounding surprised. “Football guy.”

Beau should have been offended by how consistently that remained his title in your life, but honestly he was just relieved you remembered him at all. “That’s starting to feel less like a nickname and more like an insult.”

The corner of your mouth twitched slightly. “I know your name.”

“You do?”

“Yes it’s Beau.”

The fact that he looked ridiculously pleased about that seemed to amuse you. “Wow,” you said. “The standards are low.”

“You forgot me entirely three days ago.”

“I was just busy.”

Beau laughed despite himself, and for the first time you didn’t immediately start backing toward an exit. You stayed where you were, shifting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder while looking at him with that same distracted expression that somehow managed to be polite and dismissive at the same time.

“Do you ever stop moving?” he asked.

You thought about it for a second before shaking your head slightly, your grip shifting on your bag like your brain was already dividing itself into a dozen different directions at once.

“No, not really,” you admitted, exhaling a little, “every time I finish one thing something else just replaces it immediately, so I think being busy is kind of just what I am at this point rather than something I’m doing.”

“I figured,” Beau said with a small laugh, but his eyes stayed on you in a way that didn’t quite match his tone, like he was still trying to piece you together properly instead of just joking around, “I’ve seen you around campus a few times this week and every single time you’ve looked like you were either about to save the world or fall asleep standing up.”

“I was probably doing both,” you said without hesitation.

That made him laugh a little more openly, the sound lingering because you didn’t react like most people did when he joked, you just answered like it was completely normal.

“You know, it’s kind of impressive,” he added after a beat, softer now,.

You narrowed your eyes slightly at that, just skeptical but in a tired way. “Being overworked isn’t impressive.”

“No, but not knowing someone’s name after talking to them for almost an hour and still wanting to find them again kind of is,” he said, and this time there was no teasing in it, just honesty that made you pause.

For a second your expression actually shifted into surprise. “You don’t know my name?” you asked like that shouldn’t be possible.

Beau smiled a little, almost sheepish but still steady. “No, I know your major, I know your cameraman’s name is Lucas, I know you hate sports, and I know you’re always in a rush, but your actual name never really made it in.”

A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it, like the absurdity of it finally hit properly. “That’s kind of ridiculous.”

“It is,” he agreed easily, and then there was a short pause that didn’t feel uncomfortable, just open.

You finally told him your name.

He repeated it right after you, slower, like he was making sure it stayed with him, and the way he said it made something in your expression soften just slightly even if you didn’t comment on it.

Before anything else could settle properly, your phone started ringing. The sound cut through immediately.

You looked down at it, already exhaling through your nose like you’d been expecting it. “Well fuck,” you muttered, thumb hovering like you were deciding whether to ignore it or not.

“Everything okay?” Beau asked, watching your face change again.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though your attention was already splitting, For half a second it actually felt like the moment might continue.

Beau shifted slightly, like he was finally about to say what he’d been holding back, his voice softening as he looked at you properly, “actually I was wondering if maybe you’d want to…”

Your phone rang again.

You froze for a second, then looked down at it with clear frustration building now.

Beau stopped immediately, cutting himself off mid-sentence without even realizing it, his hand dropping slightly like the moment had physically been interrupted.

You looked back up at him quickly. “No, keep going, what were you saying?”

He hesitated, then tried again, a little more carefully this time, “I was just asking if you’d maybe want to grab cof….”

Your phone rang again.

You let out a short breath through your nose, eyes closing briefly like you were trying to keep yourself in the moment.

“Seriously,” you said under your breath, then looked at him again, “I’m listening, just say it again.”

Beau nodded, trying to pick it back up, but the sound started again almost instantly, louder this time, more insistent.

You stared at the screen, then back at him, and for the first time your expression actually softened.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and it sounded like you actually meant it this time, “this is ridiculous.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, even though it wasn’t really, “you should probably take it.”

You frowned slightly. “No, no please you were in the middle of something, just finish.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, forcing a small smile even though it didn’t quite sit right, “you should take that.”

The phone kept ringing again, and you stood there for a second longer like you were trying to decide which part of your life to disappoint.

Beau didn’t push anymore, just watched you carefully, hands still in his pockets, expression quieter now than it had been all conversation.

You finally sighed, your shoulders dropping just a little in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, softer this time, and there was something in your face that didn’t fully match your words like you didn’t actually want to be leaving.

“It’s okay,” he said, even though his voice came out a little lower than before.

You gave him a small look like you wanted to stay a second longer, then turned away and answered the call while already walking, disappearing into the movement of campus with the phone pressed to your ear.

Beau stayed where he was for a moment, watching you go, the sentence he hadn’t finished still sitting heavy in his chest like it had nowhere to land anymore.

And even though you didn’t look back this time, your pace wasn’t as steady as before, your steps slightly slower like something about leaving hadn’t sat right with you either.

Next time Beau saw you, he was halfway through a conversation with Dean when he noticed you across the room. The realization hit him so suddenly that he stopped listening entirely.

Dean followed his gaze almost immediately because apparently subtlety wasn’t something any of Beau’s friends believed in anymore. His eyes landed on you standing near the kitchen island with a drink in your hand, laughing at something one of your friends had said, and a grin immediately spread across his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “That’s your girl.”

Beau rolled his eyes before taking another sip of his drink. “I know that’s her and don’t call her that.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Dean continued. “Because if you knew that was her you’d already be over there. AND you’ve also spent the last two weeks talking about her every single time somebody mentions that interview.”

“I have not.” Beau frowned, even though Dean was ‘probably’ right, he was very annoying at this things.

Dean laughed outright. “You absolutely have. You know how bad it is when Garrett knows who you’re talking about and Garrett wasn’t even there?”

Beau opened his mouth, then immediately closed it because unfortunately that wasn’t entirely wrong.

Across the room you laughed again, the sound carrying faintly through the music, and before he could overthink it for another second he set his cup down.

Dean looked delighted. “I hope this works out,” he said solemnly. “I really do.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” As he started to walk towards you. By the time he made his way over, you'd already noticed him approaching. A smile appeared almost immediately when you recognized him, and Beau couldn't help feeling weirdly pleased about that.

"Well, look who finally found me," you said.

Beau laughed. "Finally found you? I've been trying to talk to you for two weeks, you literally vanished every time I saw you."

You smiled into your drink. "What can i do, i am busy."

"That's becoming your catchphrase."

That earned another laugh, and for the first time he noticed you weren't halfway out of the conversation already. You were actually standing there looking at him, listening, relaxed in a way he'd never gotten to see before.

A little while later Beau came back with another drink for you, and somehow that turned into an hour of conversation without either of you realizing it. You talked about classes, professors, the interview, ridiculous group projects, and somehow even football.

At one point you laughed so hard at something he said that your hand landed on his shoulder for a second, and when you realized it, you didn't move away immediately. Beau noticed. The small smile he tried to hide made it obvious that he noticed.

By the time someone mentioned it was almost midnight, both of you looked around like you'd forgotten there was an entire party happening around you. You checked the time on your phone and stared at it in disbelief.

"We have seriously been talking this whole time."

Beau smiled. "Best party I've been to in a while."

The look you gave him was amused. "You spent the entire thing talking to one person."

"Exactly."

And judging by the way neither of you made any effort to walk away, neither of you seemed to think that was a problem.

Eventually you glanced down at your phone and your eyes widened slightly.

He laughed immediately. “I’ve been telling you we’ve been standing here forever.”

You shook your head, still smiling as you grabbed your bag. “You’re right, maybe we have.”

The two of you slowly made your way outside with the conversation somehow still continuing, and when Beau asked how you were getting home, you told him you were about to call a ride. He looked at you for about half a second before saying he could just drive you, and after everything you’d spent the night talking about, arguing suddenly felt unnecessary.

The drive wasn’t long, but neither of you seemed in a hurry for it to end. By the time he pulled up outside your place, both of you were still talking, and you only stopped when you realized you were actually home.

“Well,” you said with a small smile, looking over at him, “thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

For a second neither of you moved.

Then you laughed softly. “I’m glad my phone didn’t interrupt this one.”

Beau groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Your smile got bigger. “Goodnight, Beau.”

“Goodnight.”

You climbed out and headed toward the building, and when Beau saw you glance back once before going inside, he couldn’t stop the smile that followed him all the way home.

The next afternoon, Beau was sitting with Dean after practice pretending to listen to whatever story was currently being told when something occurred to him so suddenly that he actually stopped mid-sip.

Dean noticed immediately.

“That face means one of two things,” he said. “Either you failed in exam or you’re thinking about her again.”

Beau ignored him. Then ignored him a little harder.

Dean’s grin got bigger.”You didn’t get her number did you”

Beau stared at the table.

Dean immediately started laughing. “You spent an entire night talking to that girl and then drove her home and somehow forgot to get her number?”

“I didn’t forget.” Beau rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then what happened?”

The worst part was that he genuinely didn’t know. The whole night had felt easy. Every conversation had led naturally into another one. Every time there’d been a pause, one of them had found something else to talk about. By the time he’d dropped you off, he’d been so busy thinking about the fact that you were smiling at him and that you actually seemed happy to be there that the thought of asking for your number had somehow never happened. Which sounded completely ridiculous now.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean informed him.

“Thank you, i appreciate that.”

“No, seriously bro. You’re actually an idiot.”

Beau considered arguing. Unfortunately he was pretty sure Dean was right.

A few hours later he spotted you walking across campus.

Beau immediately stood up. Then sat back down. Then stood up again. The movement alone earned him a look from Dean.

“Oh, this is painful to watch.”

“Stop talking.”

Before he could suffer through any more of that conversation, Beau started walking.

You noticed him almost immediately, and the smile that appeared when you recognized him made every bit of the awkwardness worth it.

“Well,” you said as he reached you, “if it isn’t football guy.”

Beau laughed despite himself. “You know, I really thought we’d moved past that.”

“Nope.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover.” You smiled so brightly at him it made him forget what he was about to do.

The fact that you looked amused while saying it didn’t help. For a second the conversation settled into the same easy rhythm it had the night before, and somehow that made what Beau wanted to ask feel ten times harder.

You noticed his expression change almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to ask me for a kidney?” That made you laugh at your own joke before he could answer, and somehow that was exactly what pushed him over the edge.

“Okay, so maybe there’s one thing.”

You tilted your head. “Which is?”

Beau suddenly felt far more nervous than someone in his position should.

“I was just thinking that,” he started, immediately hating how awkward he sounded, “considering we’ve now had multiple conversations and I drove you home and apparently keep running into you everywhere…. maybe it would make sense if I had your number.”

For a second you just stared at him you started to laugh before you suddenly stopped, because the look oh his face was so cute it made your smile soft. “You could’ve just asked, Beau.”

“I did ask.”

“After giving yourself a five-minute pep talk first.”

“I hate that you noticed that.”

“I notice everything.”

You took his phone from his hand before he could embarrass himself any further and typed your number in.

When you handed it back, Beau looked down at the screen for a second longer than necessary. Then he looked up at you.

You laughed again. “Congratulations. You finally found me and got my number.”

Beau slipped his phone back into his pocket, unable to stop the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last thing you wanted was to spend your Thursday afternoon surrounded by football players.

Unfortunately, your professor had other plans.

"Sports profiles are due in three weeks," Professor Williams had announced at the beginning of class. "And before anyone complains, yes, you actually have to interview a real athlete. It needs to be filmed, professionally edited, and submitted as both a written profile and video segment."

Which was how you ended up walking across campus with your cameraman, Lucas, toward Briar's football facility with a notebook tucked under your arm and absolutely no desire to be there.

"You look nervous," Lucas commented as he adjusted the expensive camera hanging around his neck.

"I'm not nervous."

"You almost walked into a trash can ten seconds ago."

"That’s because I wasn’t looking where i was going" you said firmly, eyebrows furrowed.

You sighed dramatically and pushed open the doors. The building was bigger than you expected and significantly louder than any journalism building you'd ever stepped foot in. Voices echoed through the hallways, music blasted from somewhere in the distance, and every few seconds you heard either shouting or what sounded suspiciously like someone being body slammed into a wall.

"I already hate this," you informed him.

"You hate everything."

"I don't hate everything." You frowned at him

"You definitely hate football." He said like to prove a point. Which was wrong.

"I hate sports. Every kind."

The student assistant at the front desk pointed you toward the practice field after checking your appointment schedule. By the time you stepped outside, your stomach had tightened slightly. The football team was in the middle of practice, players running drills while coaches barked instructions from the sidelines. It was loud, chaotic, and somehow even more intimidating than you'd imagined.

You pulled your notebook closer against your chest.

"Okay," you said. "Which one is Beau Maxwell?" You scanned the field.

"I have no idea."

"Great start, we’re gonna crush this and get a big fat F on our foreheads." You said with fake optimism, already getting irritated and upset for being in this position.

Before he could answer, a voice spoke from behind you.

"Can I help you?"

You jumped so hard your notebook nearly slipped out of your hands. Lucas immediately started laughing.

"Oh, that's embarrassing."

"Shut up."

Slowly turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with the most unfairly attractive person you'd ever seen. For a second your brain completely stalled.

He was tall. Really tall. Dark hair slightly damp from practice. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes. The kind of blue eyes that should probably be illegal because nobody should be allowed to look that good while standing in the middle of a football field.

The guy looked between you and Lucas.

Then back to you and he smiled. And somehow that made everything worse.

"Sorry," he said, clearly trying not to laugh. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me."

"You jumped."

"I tripped."

Beside you, Lucas looked delighted. "Oh, this is already my favorite interview."

You considered pushing him into traffic later.

"I'm here to interview someone," you explained quickly before things could get any more embarrassing.

The guy nodded. “Okay." His gaze dropped briefly to the notebook in your arms. "Who are you interviewing?"

You checked your notes. "Uhh…Beau Maxwell."

Something immediately changed in his expression. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh really?"

You frowned. “Yeah."

The stranger held out his hand. "Hi."

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the hand.

"Hi?"

His grin became impossible to ignore. “I'm Beau."

Silence.

Of course the guy you'd spent the last week researching happened to be standing directly in front of you while you made a complete idiot of yourself.

Beau was still smiling. Actually, smiling wasn't the right word. He looked entertained. "You don't seem very confident in that answer," he said.

"You don't look like a Beau." The words escaped before you could stop them. Immediately your face heated.

Lucas made a choking noise beside you. Beau blinked then he laughed.

"What exactly does a Beau look like?"

"I don't know forget I said it."

Lucas slowly lowered the camera, whispering to you. "I think he's flirting with you."

Your head whipped toward him. “I am conducting a professional interview."

"Sure."

"Lucas shut up.”

Beau looked like he was having the best day of his life. And the worst part was that he hadn't stopped looking at you since the conversation started. Which was strange because Beau Maxwell had done dozens of interviews before. Reporters came and went every season. Students asked questions. Journalists followed the team around. None of them had ever mattered.

Then you showed up carrying a notebook bigger than your understanding of football and immediately informed him he didn't look like a Beau. And suddenly he couldn't remember a single thing his coach had said during practice.

The interview went surprisingly smoothly. Once the camera started rolling, you slipped into the version of yourself that rarely got nervous. You asked your questions, Beau answered them, and before long you were already moving through the list faster than expected.

Every answer led naturally into the next question, and despite your complete lack of football knowledge, you managed to keep the conversation flowing. Beau seemed happy to talk, which made your job easier, and after forty minutes you finally reached the last page of your notes.

"That's all I've got," you said with a small smile toward the camera. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today."

"No problem."

Lucas cut the recording and lowered the camera. You crouched beside your bag and started organizing everything with the efficiency of someone who had three other things to do before dinner.

Beau watched the entire process. "You always work this fast?"

You looked up briefly and let out a small “hm?”

"You finished the interview and immediately started packing."

"Because I'm finished."

He stared.

That wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for. Not that he knew what answer he had been hoping for.

You zipped your bag closed. "I have another interview in forty-five minutes."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

Beau laughed softly. A smile appeared briefly on your face before disappearing again as you checked something on your phone.

"Well," you said, standing and slinging your bag over your shoulder, "thank you again."

"That's it?"

The question slipped out before he could stop it. He immediately regretted how disappointed he sounded.

A small crease appeared between your eyebrows. "Was there supposed to be more?"

"No."

"Okay." You looked at him expectantly.

Beau had absolutely no idea what to say next.

For the first time in his life, Beau Maxwell, quarterback, captain, professional flirt, had completely run out of words.

You glanced toward Lucas, who was already waiting by the exit.

"I should go."

"Right."

You offered him a polite smile. The same professional smile you'd given him at the beginning of the interview.

"Good luck with the rest of the season." Then, just like that, you turned and started walking away.

Beau watched you go. Watched you disappear across the field beside your cameraman. Watched you push open the facility doors without looking back once.

As if interviewing Briar's star quarterback was just another item on your schedule.

As if he wasn't currently standing there wondering why the hell he suddenly cared whether a journalism major came back.

A football hit him directly in the shoulder.

"Ow…”

"Coach has been yelling your name for 10 minutes," one of the guys informed him.

Beau didn't take his eyes off the building.

"Who was that?"

His teammate followed his gaze. "The reporter?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know."

The answer irritated him immediately. He wanted to know. He wanted to know your name. How old you were. What year you were. Why you hated sports. Most importantly, he wanted to know when he'd see you again. Unfortunately, the only thing he actually knew was that you were a journalism major.

Three days later, Beau was still thinking about her, which was irritating because he had absolutely no reason to be. He'd done dozens of interviews over the years. Reporters came and went. Students asked questions. Journalists followed the team around all the time. None of them had ever stayed in his head longer than an hour, yet somehow the journalism major who openly admitted she hated sports had managed to occupy an embarrassing amount of his thoughts.

Dean was enjoying it far too much.

"You don't even know her name bro ," Dean said, taking a drink from his coffee while Beau glared across the student center.

"I know she's a journalism major… AND i know her camera man’s name was Lucas."

Dean looked unimpressed.

"Wow. Incredible. Maybe next week you'll learn her last name."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. You've been weird for three days."

"I have not."

"You have not flirted with anyone is 3 days Beau, this is very concerning at this point."

"Bro, my hearts not in it."

"That's what makes it concerning."

Beau rolled his eyes and looked away, already regretting sitting down with Dean in the first place. Unfortunately, Dean knew him too well. The second Beau got interested in something, Dean noticed. The second Beau tried pretending he wasn't interested, Dean noticed that too.

The conversation died off for a minute when Dean started checking something on his phone. Beau wasn't paying much attention until movement near the entrance caught his eye.

There you were.

You walked into the student center carrying entirely too much stuff. A laptop was tucked under one arm, a coffee balanced in one hand, your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear while you listened to someone talking. You looked stressed.

Beau sat up straighter before he could stop himself. Dean immediately noticed.

"Oh, is that her?."

Beau didn't answer.

Dean followed his gaze and grinned.

"she is." He exclaimed excited.

"Stop."

Dean laughed under his breath while you continued walking through the student center completely unaware of either of them. You weren't looking around. You weren't people-watching. You weren't doing anything except speed-walking toward an empty table while scrolling through something on your phone.

Beau waited for a glance. You walked right past. Not a flicker of recognition in you. Not even a single look.

Dean physically turned in his chair to watch you continue across the room. Then he looked back at Beau.

"Oh, that's rough buddy."

Beau frowned. "What?"

"She doesn't remember you."

"She interviewed me, she has to remember me."

Dean snorted. "Apparently not memorably."

Across the room you dropped into a chair and immediately opened your laptop. Within seconds your attention was completely absorbed by whatever project was currently ruining your life. Beau watched you type something, stop, groan quietly to yourself, take a sip of coffee, then immediately start typing again.

"You should go talk to her."

Beau shook his head. “No."

"Why?"

"Because that's weird. And she’s clearly busy.”

Dean stared at him. "You literally spent three days thinking about her."

"I did not spend three days thinking about her."

And before Beau could stop him, Dean pushed his chair back and stood. Beau immediately narrowed his eyes.

"Dean."

Dean smiled, shoulders rolled back, eyes twinkled in clear mischief he was about to do. "Relax."

"Dean what are you doing.” He was panicking now.

"I said relax bro."

"Dean sit down.”

But Dean was already walking away. Straight toward your table.

Beau considered leaving. Maybe transferring schools. Possibly changing countries. Hopefully getting into a accident and dying.

Meanwhile, you didn't even notice Dean until he stopped beside your table. You looked up from your laptop, blinking once.

"Hi."

"Hi?”

There was a brief pause.

Finally you tilted your head slightly. "Can I help you?"

Dean smiled easily. "My friend there wanted to come talk to you but he's being a coward about it." He pointed towards very flustered and nervous looking Beau.

You looked over your shoulder and followed where Dean was pointing. Your eyes landed on Beau.

Beau watched recognition try very hard to happen. It didn't.

You looked back at Dean. "Sorry."

Dean immediately started laughing. "Sorry?"

You nodded. "Am I supposed to know him?"

From across the room Beau closed his eyes from embarrassment or maybe dissatisfaction. Who knows.

Dean looked delighted. "You really don't remember him?”

You frowned. "I feel like I should now.”

Dean pointed again. "Football."

Then your eyes widened. "Oh."

Dean immediately looked interested.

"That's the football guy."

The laugh that left Dean was loud enough that several people turned around. Across the room Beau looked offended. You glanced between them, confused.

"What?"

Dean dropped into the chair across from you, still laughing. "Nothing. It's just that my friend over there has spent the last three days acting like he got struck by lightning when he met you, and your description of him is apparently 'the football guy.'"

You blinked slowly at him. "I interviewed a lot of people this week."

Dean put a hand over his heart. "Oh, that is devastating."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way."

Beau didn’t really think about it before he was already walking. Dean was still laughing when he pushed his chair back, and he didn’t even bother arguing with him this time because something about you looking up from that table, confused and slightly annoyed, had done something very inconvenient to his brain.

You were still sitting there with your laptop open and your attention half on Dean and half on whatever he had just said, and Beau stopped in front of the table without really planning what he was going to say because up close it was even worse, in the sense that you looked exactly the same as in his head but somehow more real.

Dean leaned back in his chair immediately like he was enjoying every second of this, and you glanced between them like this was mildly inconvenient but not particularly important before your attention settled on Beau for a second longer than anyone else in the room, although it still didn’t look like recognition so much as mild confusion at why the football guy was suddenly standing in front of you again.

“Hi,” Beau said first because Dean clearly wasn’t going to save him, and you responded with a quick “hi” that sounded polite but already distracted.

And somehow that ‘’hi’ made him forget whatever he had been about to say next for a second.

Dean, clearly entertained, gestured vaguely between the two of you and added, “he just wanted to come over because he’s been weird about you since your interview,”

You immediately frowned a little like that was unnecessary information before looking back at Beau and saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t really remember, I’ve had a lot of interviews and I’m kind of just trying to get through everything this week.”

Beau nodded quickly because that made sense even if it hit slightly harder than expected, and he tried to keep his voice normal when he said, “yeah, I just recognized you, that’s all, I thought I should say hi properly since we didn’t really get to talk after,”

You gave him a small, distracted and very awkward smile. “That’s nice, but I actually need to get back to this,”

You were already closing your laptop halfway and shifting your things like you were preparing to leave.

Beau started to say something like “right, yeah, of course,” you were already shaking your head a little as if to politely end it before it started.

You stood up quickly after that, adjusting your bag strap and glancing at your phone like your attention had already moved somewhere else, and you added, “it was nice meeting you again, I think, but I’ve really got to go.”

Beau stepped slightly aside without thinking so you could pass, and you gave him a quick polite smile again before walking away from the table just as fast as you had arrived, already typing something into your phone again before you even reached the exit.

Dean waited until you were out of earshot before letting out a low whistle and leaning back again like he was watching a disaster he hadn’t even had to cause, while Beau stayed standing for a second longer than necessary looking at the empty space where you had just been.

“She’s a busy woman.” Dean said finally with a grin that didn’t help at all.

By the time Beau finally convinced you to come to the party, you’d already made him promise three separate times that he wasn’t allowed to abandon you. Not because you couldn’t survive on your own, but because parties weren’t really your thing and both of you knew it.

You liked quieter places, smaller groups, nights spent stretched out on Beau’s couch while he half-watched a movie and half-used you as a pillow. Beau, on the other hand, could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow leave with twenty new friends. The fact that the two of you worked at all was still a mystery to most people.

You were curled comfortably against his side on one of the couches when the conversation around you eventually shifted into some story involving Dean and what sounded like a truly alarming amount of alcohol. You’d stopped trying to follow ten minutes ago, content to listen to Beau’s heartbeat beneath your cheek while he absentmindedly played with your fingers.

Every so often somebody would make a comment and Beau would tilt his head down to murmur something in your ear, usually just to make you laugh. It was the sort of thing he did without thinking, the sort of thing that had become so normal over the course of your relationship that neither of you really noticed anymore.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked suddenly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he looked down at you.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Beau’s mouth curved into a grin. “I’ve known you too long for that answer to work.”

You rolled your eyes even as you felt yourself smiling again. “Maybe I was just having a nice time.”

“Because of me?”

The confidence in his voice made you laugh.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

Across the room someone groaned loudly. “Jesus Christ, do you two ever stop?”

Beau didn’t even look away from you. “Not really.”

The reaction was immediate. A chorus of complaints erupted from every direction while you buried your face against his shoulder, laughing despite yourself. Beau looked entirely too pleased with the situation, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as though proving everyone’s point was the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t know what you guys want,” Beau replied, completely unapologetic. “I have a girlfriend. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t like her?”

“Thats what normal people do.”

“That sucks.”

You could actually hear the smile in his voice, and when you glanced up at him he was already looking down at you. It was ridiculous, honestly. The two of you had been together long enough that being apart for an hour wasn’t a big deal, yet somehow Beau still looked at you like he’d just discovered you existed.

Eventually he stood up, stretching his arms above his head before glancing down at your empty cup. “I’m getting another drink. Do you want anything?”

You handed him the cup. “Whatever you’re getting.”

“That’s a very dangerous amount of trust baby.”

“I’ve seen your coffee order, Beau. You’re not exactly adventurous.”

He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Wow.”

You smiled as he disappeared into the crowd, already getting stopped twice before he even made it three steps. It should’ve been funny and it was but your eyes still followed him a little longer than necessary, like your body always needed to know where he was.

When someone dropped down beside you, you didn’t think much of it at first.

He was familiar in that vague campus way. You smiled politely. Answered politely. Sat a little straighter out of habit. It started normal enough.

At first it was proximity too close when you spoke, leaning in like there wasn’t an invisible line you were quietly trying to draw. Then it was touch. A hand on your arm mid-laugh, like punctuation.

You froze for half a second, then shifted your arm back into your lap.

“Oh…sorry,” you said quickly, automatic politeness kicking in. “I’m just kind of….yeah.”

You adjusted again.

He didn’t move. You tried to keep your voice light anyway. Tried to keep it normal.

“My boyfriend actually…..”you started once, still smiling.

He nodded without really hearing you. And then his hand came back. This time on your knee. Like he hadn’t registered the space you were trying to create at all.

Your smile tightened.

You moved your leg away slowly, heart starting to beat in a way you didn’t like not panic exactly, just that uncomfortable awareness that you were stuck being the “nice” one in a situation where you didn’t feel like you had the right to be direct.

“I think my boyfriend….”you tried again, firmer now.

He talked over you. Your gaze flicked across the room again. Still no Beau. Your fingers curled in your lap. You shifted your body slightly toward the edge of the couch, trying to create distance without turning it into a moment. Like if you were careful enough, you could just… exit politely.

His hand followed anyway.

That was the moment your smile stopped working entirely. Your eyes dropped. Your shoulders pulled in slightly. You stopped speaking at all.

And you started looking for Beau like it was the only thing keeping you anchored.

Then..

“Baby.”

Everything in your body reacted before your mind caught up. You turned instantly. Beau was there behind the couch. And the second he saw your face, his expression changed so sharply it was like the noise of the party dulled around him.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He wasn’t even halfway through walking over before his eyes tracked everything at once your posture, your hands folded too tightly, the way you were angled away from the guy beside you like your body had been trying to leave without permission.

Then his gaze dropped.

To your arm and knee. The space you kept trying to rebuild and couldn’t. Something in his jaw locked. Beau set the drink he was holding down carefully on the nearest surface.

Then he looked at the guy.

“You need to move,” Beau said.

The guy laughed nervously. “Dude, I was just talking to her..”

Beau stepped closer.

“No,” Beau said. “You were touching her after she moved away from you. More than once.”

The guy blinked. “I didn’t realize..”

Beau cut him off instantly.

“You did,” he said. “Because she kept moving away.”

Silence hit hard. You sat completely still, watching Beau like you were suddenly remembering you weren’t alone in this moment anymore.

The guy shifted, trying again. “I wasn’t trying to make her uncomfortable.”

Beau’s eyes flicked down briefly to your hands, still curled tight in your lap.

Then back up.

“Yeah,” Beau said flatly. “She is uncomfortable, so get the fuck up now.”

Beau finally turned his head slightly toward you, voice dropping instantly.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, and Beau straightened, then reached for your hand without hesitation, lacing your fingers like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Then he looked at the guy one last time.

“No one sits next to her again unless she says so,” Beau said.“And you’re done talking to her.” And then Beau turned fully back to you, thumb brushing once over your knuckles like he was making sure you were still there, still okay, still with him.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “We’re leaving.”

Beau didn’t let go of your hand as he guided you through the crowd. People moved aside when they saw him coming, voices fading in and out like background noise you didn’t have to process anymore.

You stayed half a step behind him at first. Then you matched his pace. Then, without really thinking about it, you were closer shoulder brushing his arm, your grip tightening like your body was only just remembering what safety felt like.

Beau glanced down at you once. And his expression softened in a way that didn’t match the tension still sitting in his jaw.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly, like he wasn’t asking.

You nodded anyway.

“I’m okay,” you echoed, softer.

But your voice wavered just a little at the edges, like it didn’t fully believe itself yet.

Beau slowed near the hallway, where the noise of the party dulled into something distant and muffled. He stopped there for a second, turning slightly so you were in front of him instead of beside him.

“Hey,” he said gently.

You looked up. His thumb brushed over your knuckles again, slow this time, grounding instead of absentminded.

“You did nothing wrong back there,” he said.

Your throat tightened immediately. “I know, I just…”

“No,” he cut in softly, not sharp, just certain. “Don’t do that. Don’t overthink it.”

You went quiet. Beau watched your face for a second longer than necessary, like he was checking every small shift in your expression.

Then his voice dropped even lower. “You were trying to be polite while someone wasn’t listening to you,” he said. “That’s not on you.”

Something in your chest pulled tight again, but this time it wasn’t just discomfort. It was everything you hadn’t known where to put until now.

You looked down at your hand in his.

“I didn’t like it, i told him i have a boyfriend five times,” you admitted quietly.

Beau didn’t hesitate.

“I know.”

Then, softer almost like it mattered more than anything else he’d said all night “You don’t ever have to sit through that again just because you don’t want to be rude.”

Your fingers curled slightly in his.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” you whispered.

Beau exhaled through his nose, a small, controlled breath like he was trying not to let something heavier spill out.

“You don’t have to make a scene,” he said. “You just have to look for me.”

That made you finally look up fully.

His expression was steady now, but his eyes were still sharp in that protective way like part of him was still back in that room, watching, remembering.

“If you ever feel like that again,” he said quietly, “you don’t negotiate your way out of it. You don’t wait. You don’t explain yourself. You just come to me.”

Your throat tightened again.

“And if I can’t?” you asked, smaller than you meant to.

Beau’s grip on your hand tightened slightly not painful, just certain. “Then I come to you,” he said simply.

Neither of you moved. Then Beau shifted slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours now, and his voice softened again.

“You ready to go home?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah.”

But you didn’t let go of his hand.

By the second week of December, Briar had fully entered finals week hysteria.

Nobody looked healthy anymore.

Every building on campus smelled like coffee and sleep deprivation while students wandered around in hoodies looking emotionally broken. Malone's stayed packed every night because apparently everybody at Briar coped with academic stress by drinking aggressively and making terrible decisions.

You were sitting on your dorm bed trying to study statistics without spiraling and pulling your hair out. When you heard your phone buzzing and  glanced down automatically.

—BEAU

"you alive"

A small smile almost pulled at your mouth before you stopped it.

—YOU

"unfortunately"

Three dots appeared immediately.

—BEAU

"drama queen"

—YOU

"im studying statistics"

—BEAU

"oh yeah nevermind. thoughts and prayers"

You laughed quietly under your breath.

—BEAU

"malones after ur done studying?"

You stared at the message for a second too long. Honestly lately things between you and Beau had become easy again. Comfortable. Somewhere between friendship and something neither of you fully touched yet.

—YOU

"maybe"

Almost immediately:

—BEAU

"that means yes"

You rolled your eyes smiling despite yourself.

And three hours later you were at Malone's...

Finals week plus hockey win apparently created the worst people alive because the bar was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with loud exhausted students pretending they weren't academically crumbling.

You had barely stepped inside before someone grabbed your arm.

"Ray-Ray," Allie gasped. "You made it."

"You texted me like seventeen times."

"it worked right"

Hannah was already sitting at the booth with Garrett looking half asleep while Dean talked with Tucker over something involving fantasy football. Beau sat near the end of the booth beside Dean, one arm resting along the back of the seat while talking to Garrett.

"There she is," Dean said as you walked over. "Briar's most stressed woman."

"That title belongs to Hannah." You slid into the booth beside Allie while Beau's eyes followed you for half a second longer before Garrett started talking to him again.

Everything felt normal, until about twenty minutes later when the front doors opened.

A girl walked inside with two of her friends, snow dusted across her boots while she looked around Malone's confidently like she already knew people here.

And the second Dean noticed her...

"Ohhhhh no."

You looked up from your drink.

"What."

Dean immediately looked at Beau across the table already grinning like an idiot.

Beau looked exhausted instantly. "Don't start bro."

Too late.

Because the girl had already spotted Beau and she started walking toward your table.

You frowned slightly while Beau leaned back against the booth looking deeply annoyed now.

The girl stopped beside him.

"Well," she said looking down at him with a smile. "There you are."

Beau looked up at her calmly. "Hi, Valerie."

Something uncomfortable twisted lightly in your stomach before you could stop it.

Dean looked like he was trying not to laugh already which honestly made everything worse.

"You disappeared after Thanksgiving," Valerie continued.

"I had practice."

"Mhmm."

"You gonna introduce me," she asked Beau casually pointing ay you for some reason, like she didn't see half of the campus sitting around the table.

Before Beau could answer, Dean opened his mouth immediately.

"This is..."

"Dean," Beau interrupted without looking at him.

Dean shut up instantly.

"This is Valerie," he said simply. "Family friend."

The phrase felt strangely specific. Valerie's smile widened slightly like she noticed the wording too. Then she touched Beau's shoulder lightly.

"Well," she said. "Come say hi properly when you're done hiding over here."

And just like that, she walked away toward the bar with her friends. The second she disappeared, Allie slowly turned toward Beau.

"Family friend?" she repeated.

Dean lost the battle against laughing immediately.

"Oh my God... Okay," he said, leaning back like he was trying not to laugh. "That was an interesting label."

Beau didn't even look at him. "Stop talking."

Allie jumped in immediately, way too entertained, "you guys call 'family friend' to all your hookups."

Hannah groaned softly. "Allie, please don't make it more weird."

"I'm not making anything," Allie said innocently.

You were still relaxed in your seat, one elbow on the table, casually stirring your drink like none of this had any impact on your life whatsoever. It was just a girl stopping by. A friend of Beau's. A normal thing that happened in normal conversations. So you just smiled a little and took a sip.

Beau noticed that tho because he leaned slightly toward you, voice quieter. "That was nothing."

You looked at him immediately, calm expression unchanged. "Yeah, I know."

He studied your face for a second like he was checking for something that wasn't there. Then nodded once. "Okay."

Dean, unfortunately, was still alive and still annoying.

"I just want to clarify," he said, pointing between Beau and the empty space Valerie left behind, "that was not a normal 'hi how are you' energy."

"It literally was," Beau replied.

"It had undertones."

"There were at least two undertones," Tucker added thoughtfully.

Beau finally looked up at both of them. "What is wrong with you two."

Allie leaned forward, completely unhelpful. "I think it's just interesting when people have 'family friends' who look like that."

Hannah immediately slapped her hand. "Stop talking."

"I didn't say anything wrong."

Garrett, sensing chaos, nodded seriously. "Honestly I didn't even know family friends came in that aesthetic."

Beau leaned back, exhaling through his nose like he was physically choosing patience.

You finally spoke, still light, still normal. "You guys are reading way too much into a sentence."

Allie turned toward you. "You're not curious at all?"

You shrugged. "Why would I be?"

Then Beau nodded slightly, almost to himself. "Yeah."

Allie squinted between you two. "Okay, I feel like I'm missing context."

"You are," Hannah said immediately.

"Love that for me."

The table moved on like it always did after that. Someone changed the subject to finals. Garrett started complaining about a professor. Dean got distracted by Tucker's phone. Allie stole fries like it was a full-time job. Normal noise came back fast. But a few minutes later, Beau stood up.

"I'm gonna grab a drink," he said casually.

Dean looked up. "Bring me one."

"No."

"Rude."

Beau ignored him and moved through the crowd toward the bar. The bartender slid Beau's drink across the counter. He picked it up, turned slightly to head back, then paused for half a second like something in the room caught his attention again. You. As you sat there laughing at Dean and Tucker arguing about something stupid again.  When he slid into the booth again, Dean immediately reached for his drink.

Beau didn't bring it up right away.

He waited until the table got loud again, until Dean and Tucker were fully going at each other about something stupid and Allie was distracted by Garrett and Hannah. Then he leaned slightly closer to you.

"Hey," he said quietly.

You looked up from your drink. "Yeah?"

There was a pause, like he was choosing how to say it, "Valerie is just... someone I've known for a while."

You blinked once. "Okay."

"She's not really like... it's not like that."

You tilted your head slightly, still calm. "Like what?"

Beau paused again. Then exhaled lightly through his nose like he was trying to reset the conversation.

"I just don't want it to seem weird."

You gave a small nod. "It doesn't seem weird."

Then added, "She just comes around sometimes. She's... around the same people."

"Okay," you said simply. "I get it."

So you added gently, still the same tone, "I understand what you're saying. It's fine."

That should've ended it but Beau still looked like he wasn't done.

"You're not... bothered by it?" he asked a bit more carefully.

You frowned slightly now, not offended, just confused.

"Bothered by what?"

He gestured vaguely, like he didn't even want to name it again.

"Her. All that."

You stared at him for a second. Then you let out a small laugh, soft and a little bewildered.

"No," you said honestly. "Why would I be?"

That made him stop completely.

"Wait," you said, still polite, still curious. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just..." he started, then stopped.

Dean yelled something across the table and it broke the moment slightly, but Beau stayed focused.

"I thought it might be weird," he finished more quietly.

You shook your head once, still gentle.

"It's not weird," you repeated. Then added, honest and a little confused, "I just didn't think it had anything to do with me."

Beau held your gaze for a second longer.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Okay."

And just like that, he leaned back again into the booth. But he didn't fully rejoin the conversation right away. And you just went back to listening to Allie talking about some girl from her theater class who kept stealing her bras. You smiled a little, resting your elbow on the table again, completely settled back into the rhythm of the night like the conversation with Beau hadn't shifted anything at all.

At some point Allie leaned over you to grab a napkin and whispered, "You good?"

You looked at her immediately. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Then shrugged. "No reason. Just checking on you."

"Im okay All, i promise."

"Mhm," she said like she didn't believe you but also didn't push it.

The night kept moving.

Then Beau stood up.

"I'm gonna step out," he said casually.

Dean looked up. "Where."

"Outside."

"Why."

Beau paused. "Air."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay bro."

He moved out of the booth and walked toward the front doors. Beau came back in a few minutes later, colder air still clinging to him.He slid back into the booth like normal. Dean immediately shoved his drink toward him. "You missed my argument about raccoons evolving thumbs."

The next few weeks passed quietly after that.

You stopped waiting for Beau to text first thing in the morning. Stopped instinctively looking for his truck outside your building after class. Eventually your body even stopped doing that embarrassing nervous little flip every time you walked into Malone's and spotted him somewhere inside.

Life filled the empty spaces faster than you expected it to.

Midterms got worse. The flower shop got busier because apparently everyone in Briar suddenly developed emotions once winter started approaching and needed bouquets about it. Martha had you making arrangements nonstop now, your hands constantly smelling like eucalyptus and roses no matter how much lotion you used afterward.

"You're thinking way too hard ," Martha told you one afternoon while wrapping brown paper around a bouquet of sunflowers.

You looked up from trimming stems. "What?"

She pointed at you immediately. "The little wrinkle between your eyebrows."

You laughed softly and rubbed your forehead. "I didn't even notice."

"Mhmm."

The Smiths played softly through the speakers while rain tapped against the windows again. November had fully settled over Briar now. Everything outside looked cold and gray lately, students rushing past the shop bundled in scarves and coffee-stained hoodies.

"You know," Martha continued casually, "flowers die faster when people hover over them too much."

You blinked at her. "What does that mean?"

"It means sometimes people suffocate things trying too hard to protect them."

You stared at her suspiciously now. "Was that supposed to be advice?"

Martha smiled innocently. "Maybe."

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head before going back to work.

By early December the first snow finally hit Briar.

Not enough to fully cover everything yet, but enough for soft white patches to settle across sidewalks and rooftops while cold wind whipped through campus hard enough to make everyone miserable.

You had just finished your last class before winter break when your phone buzzed inside your coat pocket.

—ALLIE

"malones tonight. Be there!"

You smiled a little while walking down the snowy sidewalk.

—YOU

"Ok boss"

Three dots appeared immediately.

—ALLIE

"ray-ray i swear to god"

You laughed softly to yourself, stuffing your phone back into your pocket while your breath fogged in front of you.

By the time you got back to your dorm, Hannah was already there sitting cross-legged on the floor wrapping Christmas lights around her tiny fake tree.

"Allie texted you too?" you asked.

Hannah looked up tiredly. "Yeah."

"Do we have to go?"

"Yes," Hannah sighed dramatically. "Because apparently Sean's friend is DJing and now she thinks tonight is too important for her ."

You snorted, dropping your bag beside your bed. Outside the windows snow continued falling softly over Briar's campus, everything glowing pale blue beneath the early evening sky.

Later that night Malone's looked exactly how it always did once finals ended.

Christmas lights hung badly around the bar while drunk students in oversized sweaters screamed lyrics to old songs near the jukebox. Someone had put a santa hat on one of the moose heads hanging near the pool tables.

"All I'm saying," Allie shouted over the music while sliding into the booth beside you, "is that if I fail economics I deserve financial compensation."

"You failed because you skipped class for three weeks," Hannah reminded her.

You laughed quietly into your drink while Della dropped fries onto the table beside you.

"There's my girls."

"Della," Allie said immediately, grabbing her hand, "if i fail out of Briar will you still love me?"

Della looked at her for one second. "No."

"Wow."

The table dissolved into laughter again. You were halfway through stealing fries from Hannah's plate when the front doors opened again letting cold air sweep through the bar.

Beau walked inside beside Dean and Tucker, snow dusted lightly across the shoulders of his dark jacket while laughter followed them through the door. Dean was saying something animatedly while Beau shook his head smiling.

Your stomach did not drop this time.

You just looked at him for a second before reaching for another fry.

Look at that growth!

Beau glanced over then while taking his jacket off near the entrance His eyes landed on you immediately. Then he smiled once.

You smiled back without thinking too much about it.

You sat curled into the booth with your sweater sleeves pulled over your hands while Malone's buzzed warmly around you, Christmas lights glowing softly across the walls and somebody absolutely butchering karaoke near the back.

Allie was halfway through stealing fries off your plate when Hannah caught her hand without even looking up from her drink.

"Seriously?"

Allie looked offended immediately. "You act like we haven't eaten from same plate before."

"You ate my food."

You laughed quietly into your drink while Hannah shook her head. Near the karaoke corner somebody started screaming the chorus of Mr. Brightside badly enough that half the bar joined in immediately.

Allie sat up excitedly. "Wait. This is my song."

"You say that about every song from 2005."

"Because that was a culturally important year."

Before Hannah could answer, Garrett appeared beside the table carrying drinks.

"There are my favorite people."

You smiled into your drink while Garrett slid into the booth beside Hannah naturally, his arm falling across the back of her seat.

A second later Dean and Tucker walked over too, Tucker still arguing about something.

"No, because I'm telling you it was freezing outside."

"You wore shorts in December," Tucker replied.

"I didn't expect weather."

"That's genuinely one of the dumbest things you've ever said."

The conversation moved easily after that, everyone talking over each other naturally while more drinks appeared at the table somehow.

Dean started telling a story about Beau nearly breaking his ankle trying to jump a fence sophomore year.

"I told him not to do it," Tucker said immediately.

"You also tried to do it."

"Yeah but I knew it was a bad idea."

You laughed quietly while Dean kept talking.

"Man thought he was in an action movie."

Garrett shook his head. "To be fair, he cleared the fence."

"Yeah," Dean grinned, "then landed directly into somebody's recycling bins."

Then, almost like he sensed people talking about him, Beau finally walked over from the pool tables with his beer still in his hand.

"What's funny."

Dean looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Your athletic career ending in a recycling bin."

Beau rolled his eyes already exhausted. "You've told that story like fifteen times."

"Because it keeps being funny."

Beau shook his head before glancing toward the booth.

His eyes landed on you immediately.

Long enough for something quieter to pass between you both before Garrett moved slightly to make room.

"You sitting down or what?" Garrett asked him.

Beau looked away from you then, nudging Garrett's leg with his knee. "Move over."

Garrett complained the entire time he shifted.

Meanwhile Beau slid into the empty space beside you easily, his shoulder brushing yours for half a second from how crowded the booth was.

The booth stayed loud after that, everybody talking over each other while music blasted through Malone's and Christmas lights blinked softly above the bar.

Then the conversation shifted again naturally, everybody interrupting each other while somebody near karaoke started singing Fleetwood Mac badly enough that you physically winced.

Beau noticed immediately.

"You hated that."

"I'm trying to stay respectful."

"You look personally offended."

"Because dreams by Fleetwood Mac should not sound like a dying washing machine."

By the next Thursday afternoon campus was weirdly warm for December.

Most of the snow had melted into slush near sidewalks while students walked around carrying iced coffee like it wasn't forty degrees outside.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the flower shop near the front display, rebuilding one of the holiday arrangements Martha hated three separate times already.

"No," she said from behind the counter. "Still wrong."

You looked up at her in disbelief. "You literally told me to make it asymmetrical."

"Yes but that doesn't look asymmetrical."

You frowned before pulling two stems out and adjusting the arrangement again.

The bell above the shop door rang softly.

"Please tell me you're here to save me," you said automatically without looking up.

A familiar voice answered immediately.

"I don't think I'm qualified for that."

You looked up and Beau stood near the front door in a dark hoodie and baseball cap, one hand still holding the door open behind him for an older woman leaving the shop.

Martha noticed him and immediately pointed toward you.

"She's been fighting with pine branches for twenty minutes."

"I'm losing actually," you corrected.

Beau smiled a little at that before walking further inside.

The shop smelled like cedar and eucalyptus and fresh roses, warm compared to the cold street outside. Christmas music played quietly somewhere near the back while sunlight filtered through the windows onto the floor.

"You had practice today?" you asked.

"Nah. Dean needed notes from class."

You nodded slowly. "So naturally you came to flower shop."

"I was nearby."

You hmmed softly while adjusting another branch.

Beau looked around the shop for a second before glancing back at you sitting on the floor surrounded by ribbons and stems.

"You always sit down like that while working?"

"It helps me work better."

"You're just making bouquet tho."

You pointed scissors at him immediately. "Floral design is structural art actually."

"Wow."

"I'm serious."

"I can tell," he replied calmly.

Martha walked past both of you carrying another bucket of flowers.

Beau looked down smiling slightly to himself before crouching beside you near the arrangement.

"So what's wrong with it."

You blinked at him. "You wanna know?"

"Now I kinda do."

You turned the arrangement slightly toward him.

"The balance is off."

He stared at it seriously for a second too long.

"It's... very green."

You laughed immediately. "That's not what I meant."

"Then explain it."

For the next five minutes you somehow ended up fully explaining shape balance and color placement while Beau listened with surprising seriousness for someone who definitely did not care about holiday centerpieces ten minutes ago.

"No because look," you said, adjusting one of the branches. "Your eye naturally goes here first which means this side feels heavier."

He looked between the arrangement and you.

"That's insane."

"It's true."

Beau shook his head once like he still thought you sounded crazy, but he was smiling a little while he said it.

Then his phone buzzed He glanced down before sighing.

"Dean?"

"Yep."

"What does he want."

"To know if I'm dead because apparently I've been gone too long."

"That's kinda sweet." You laughed quietly while he shoved his phone back into his pocket while rolling his eyes at you.

Then before leaving, his eyes moved back toward the arrangement beside you.

"For the record," he said calmly, "the left side still looks heavier."

You stared at him for a second.

"That's because you moved the pine branch."

A grin pulled immediately at the corner of his mouth.

"You noticed."

"Did you just sabotaged my arrangement."

"I improved it actually."

"You absolutely did not."

Beau laughed under his breath while backing toward the door now.

"See you later, ray ray."

You shook your head smiling despite yourself while the bell above the shop door rang again behind him.

About four weeks after karaoke night, things with Beau had settled into something that made you nervous in ways you did not know how to explain.

Nothing dramatic had happened between you. There had not been some huge confession or almost-kiss or late night moment where everything suddenly changed. It was honestly smaller than that, which somehow made it worse. Beau had simply slipped into your life slowly and naturally until you started expecting him there.

He texted you throughout the day now. Random things mostly. Complaints about practice. Pictures of dogs around campus. Comments about professors he hated. You answered almost every time without thinking about it first, and somewhere along the way that started scaring you.

Because Beau noticed things.

He remembered how you took your coffee after hearing you order once. He knew when you were anxious because you twisted your rings around your fingers absentmindedly. He paid attention when you spoke, and every time he did your chest tightened with this uncomfortable feeling that sat somewhere between happiness and panic.

You did not know what to do with that.

So naturally, you started pulling back a little.

Not enough for him to call you out immediately. Just enough to create space before this turned into something that could actually hurt, before any of you could actually get attached.

You answered slower now. You stopped staying after class whenever you saw his truck parked outside your building. Twice this week he had asked if you wanted food after work and both times you told him you were tired even though you spent the entire evening sitting in your dorm wrapped in blankets staring at your phone feeling guilty afterward.

"You know you're acting weird, right?" allie asked one night while laying upside down across Hannah's bed eating dry cereal from the box.

"I'm not acting weird."

"You are, i have never seen you lie in bed until noon."

Hannah looked up from her laptop. "That's true."

You threw a pillow at both of them.

Tonight the flower shop was warm and quiet while orange leaves drifted slowly past the front windows outside. Fleetwood Mac played low through the speakers while you stood behind the counter trimming rose stems and changing water buckets before closing.

The bell above the door rang softly.

Beau stepped inside wearing a dark hoodie with a few damp leaves stuck near the shoulders from outside. The cold autumn air followed him into the shop for a second before the door closed behind him.

His eyes found yours immediately.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi." You looked back down at the flowers too fast to seem normal.