Whyy did you drop out of YALEE?!🍂☕

** crossed fandoms/characters are on hold

I also have masterpost for: MCU characters (Masterpost), Teen Wolf (Masterpost), Jess Mariano (Masterlist), Marcus Baker (Masterpost), Scream (Masterpost), Tate Langdon (Masterpost), Coriolanus Snow (Masterpost)

REQUESTS RULES

I have the ability to deny and delete any requests I don't want to write

I don’t have a set word count for requests, but I try to keep them between 0.5k - 1k

Do not send me the exact same request you sent to many other writers. If see it, I'll then delete it

Smut is allowed, and welcomed

I WILL NOT WRITE

These NSFW themes — feet fetish, a/b/o, innocent!reader , humiliation/degrading kink, water sport, graphic SA or anything non-con (unless it’s part of a ‘game’)

RPF (real people fiction)

Romanticization of mental health (eating disorders, depression, any type of self harm, etc.)

Anything yandere related

Anything involving someone being sick or periods (that's just boring to me)

Peter x Tony (romantically) or any form of incest (with the exception of GoT and HotD)

Pregnancies / main characters being a parent

male!reader

nb!reader or gn!reader (nothing against it, I just wouldn’t want to write it wrong)

‘’Hi George,’’ you greeted, smiling at the man in his early fifties. 

‘’No clicking noise this time?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’Car is doing good.’’ 

He wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag before jerking his chin toward the far end of the shop, already knowing you were looking for Logan. ‘’Last bay. He’s been under that Mustang since lunch.’’

‘’Thanks.’’

As you made your way deeper into the garage, familiar sounds filled the space — classic rock humming from an old radio, compressed air hissing, muffled laughter between the mechanics.

You spotted him a second later, half hidden under a red car that looked far too fancy to be here. 

You reached for the creeper and yanked hard, causing him to roll out from under the car, spanner in hand.

‘’What the fu—?’’ Logan trailed off, looking up at you from his perch with his bandana tied over his head and oil smeared on his cheek. ‘’Hey, babe.’’ He smiled, pleased to see you. ‘’Got any car trouble?’’ 

‘’Nope,’’ you replied. ‘’I was just stopping by to see you.’’ 

The garage was thirty minutes from Briar, but you didn't have anything else to do this afternoon. And you secretly loved to see him in his mechanic overalls. Bonus points if it was dirty or open at the chest.

‘’I’m kind of in the middle of something here… Jeffrey was supposed to have this Mustang ready for 3PM, but he called to say something came up and couldn’t come in to finish the job,’’ Logan explained, tired of his unreliable brother. ‘’This client leaves good tip so we can’t afford to lose him.’’ 

You hummed in understanding as he wheeled himself back under the car. 

‘’I get it. But you should tell Jeffrey to go fuck himself.’’ 

Logan snorted. ‘’I wish!’’ 

A familiar tune came on the radio and you found yourself humming to it while Logan worked on the Mustang. Ever so often, he would peek one eye out from under the car, catching your silhouette standing there — patient and pretty in your skirt and flowy blouse —, and it hit him all over again how lucky he was.

‘’You wanna make yourself useful, baby?’’ he asked as the music changed, voice teasing but warm. ‘’Grab me that 10mm socket from the tray?’’

You turned toward the rolling tool cart, scanning the neatly organized sockets until you spotted the 10mm. Picking it up, you walked back to Logan and, with one leg on either side of his body, handed it over to him. 

He rolled out from under the car to grab the tool and swore. ‘’Can you please not stand like that?’’ he said, gesturing to the perfect view up your skirt that you had unintentionally given him. ‘’You know I can’t focus with that pink thong right in my face.’’

A soft laugh left your lips. ‘’Close your eyes.’’

‘’Close your legs.’’

‘’No.’’ You crossed your arms, looking down at him. ‘’You’re looking up my skirt.’’

‘’Because you’re flashing your pussy in my face!’’

The sound of a tool clattering on the concret accompanied by a loud ’Ow, fuck!’ coming from one of the other mechanics echoed in the garage. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his space was right next to Logan’s so he had heard everything.

‘’You did not just say that… Jesus, this is a garage, kid.’’ 

Logan groaned in embarrassment and moved to roll back under the car.

══════════════════

The two of you went to the back of the aisle while Garrett returned to his place at the altar.

The wedding coordinator smiled. ‘’Crisis averted. Shall we continue? Best man and maid of honor, you'll be the last ones down the aisle before the bride. Dean, once Garrett's in position, you'll take yours beside him.’’ 

Dean gave a curt nod. 

He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him. His hair seemed a little longer and his shoulders wider, but he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Especially in gray. It matched his blue eyes well. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you busied yourself by smoothing the wrinkles from Hannah's dress, adjusting the water bottle in her hands that served as a bouquet before stepping off to the side. It looked ridiculous, but her flowers won’t get here until tomorrow morning so Allie improvised and gave her a water bottle instead. 

You felt a nudge. Dean was waiting and offering you his arm. You apologized quietly and took it. 

The second your hand slipped into the crook of his arm, Dean straightened and you began walking side by side down the aisle — not as a couple, not even close —, but there was something undeniably intimate about it. 

With calm eyes looking ahead and a soft floral dress ending just above your ankles, you began walking. Every step brought you closer to your brother standing tall at the altar, but all you could focus on was the feel of Dean’s bicep under your hand. 

‘’How’s Florence?’’ the latter asked quietly. 

‘’Good,’’ you replied carefully. “Quiet. Beautiful. A little too easy to get lost in.”

Dean hummed softly, like he was picturing it. “Sounds like you picked the right place, then.”

You glanced up at him, but his eyes stayed forward, focused on the path ahead. Dean’s arm stayed steady beneath your hand as you walked, like he wasn’t thinking about it at all. Like this was just another role to play.

But you were very aware of it.

The warmth of him. The solid press of muscle under your fingers. The way he matched your pace without effort.

‘’You look good in that dress, by the way.’’ 

You almost stopped walking right there, taken by surprise by his compliment. It wasn’t just any compliment though. It lingered — heavier than it should have, carrying something unspoken beneath it.

The wedding coordinator watched carefully from the front, then lifted a hand. ‘’Perfect. Stop there!’’

You both came to a halt, still arm in arm. 

‘’Dean, you'll step over to Garrett once she reaches her spot. Maid of honor, you'll line up with the two bridesmaids. Your spot is at the front."

You nodded.

‘’Perfect,’’ the coordinator said, making a note on her clipboard. ‘’Now let's practice the bride's entrance.’’

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

For the rehearsal dinner, the wedding party had gathered around a long table in the property’s large backyard. The sun was about to set over the lake, giving a beautiful golden hour ambiance, which was perfect to take pictures for the wedding album.

Three years had gone by since you all sat down together. Life had pulled everyone in different directions — different cities, different countries. Sunday dinners like this didn’t happen as easily anymore.

But somehow, the chaos was exactly the same.

‘’Because G has banned me and Pricilla from his house. You know I would never miss your birthday, Hannah,’’ Tucker defended.

You glanced at him, a soft smile on your lips. ‘’Priscilla? You got a girl, Tuck?’’ 

Logan laughed, shaking his head between bites. ‘’Priscilla is Tucker’s golden lab.’’ 

You blinked. How did you not know Tucker got a dog?

You knew he had moved back to Texas and opened a gym, but somehow a whole dog had completely slipped under your radar.

‘’That dog got mud all over my couch the last time you came over,’’ Garrett added. 

‘’And the carpets…and the entrance wall,’’ said Hannah. 

‘’And Priscilla is very sorry about the mess,’’ Tucker apologized, completely unbothered. ‘’She’s better behaved now.’’

Garrett rolled his eyes.

‘’Can I see her?’’ you asked. 

Tucker pulled up an album from his phone and handed it over. ‘’This was when Dean visited last month. He took her on a run every morning. She loved him. Refused to leave the guest room for hours after he left.’’

You raised an eyebrow as you looked over the screen. ‘’You? Dean Di Laurentis? You went to Texas?’’ 

That was unexpected. Dean had always been a city person. The kind who preferred penthouses to ranches and clubs to open fields. You had difficulty imagining him in cowboy boots and a plaid shirt. 

You swiped to the next photo: Priscilla in a truck bed, a purple bandana around her neck, someone’s hand scratching her belly. You recognized Dean’s signet ring instantly. Swiping again, a short video of Dean in athletic shorts, shirtless and sweaty, likely coming back from a run. Tuck called for his dog, but the latter stayed by Dean’s feet. 

‘’She’s very cute,’’ you said, handing the phone back. 

You couldn’t risk staring at Dean’s naked chest too long.

Tucker slipped it into his pocket with a satisfied grin. ‘’She knows it, too.’’

‘’She also knows she can get away with murder,’’ Dean pointed out. ‘’Last Christmas, she stole an entire loaf of garlic bread off the counter.’’

‘’It was artisanal,’’ Tucker defended. ‘’My girl has expensive taste.’’

Garrett scoffed. ‘’She ate the plastic bag too.’’ 

Laughter rolled through the table, and something in your chest tightened.

When you left for Europe, you had assumed keeping up with your friends through social media, texts and phone calls would be enough to stay in the loop. Apparently, it wasn't. There was so much you had missed…

‘’Enough about that dog,’’ Allie decided, setting her empty glass of wine down. ‘’Now that Hannah and Garrett are tying the knot…who is next? I saw this gorgeous dress on 5th Avenue and I need an occasion to buy it.’’ 

Hannah laughed, shaking her head at her best friend. 

Garrett’s eyes turned to Logan. ‘’My bet’s on Logan. No pressure though,’’ he added. 

Allie made a disapproving sound. ‘’Your money’s already lost Graham because Logan doesn’t want to get married. Grace told me.’’

Grace narrowed her eyes at Allie and Logan was quick to defend himself. ‘’That’s not what I said.’’ 

‘’I said I didn’t see the point of spending so much money on a wedding. I’ve seen the prices and it’s insane shit. Right now, our priority is to get a house,’’ he explained, covering Grace’s hand with his. 

Beside him, Grace nodded. 

‘’We all know Dean’s never settling down, so that leaves you,’’ Allie continued, shifting her eyes to Tucker and then to you. ‘’And you.’’ 

‘’Tucker caught Dean’s college habit, so marriage is probably not on his mind,’’ Logan teased, only to receive a piece of bread thrown at him. 

‘’And my sister is not seeing anyone,’’ Garrett said, his eyes falling on you. ‘’She would have told me, right?’’ 

Before you could say anything, Allie did. 

‘’You don’t know that,’’ Allie said smoothly. ‘’She might have a mysterious Italian man she didn’t tell us about.’’

The table went a little quieter.

There had been an Italian man in your life, but that boat sank into the Mediterranean sea before it even left the port. His name was Edoardo. He was tall, handsome and worked as a chef at a high-end restaurant. You kept him from your friends due to that relationship not being serious enough to share. 

Dean’s gaze found yours then, steady and unreadable, like he was waiting.

‘’I don’t.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

After one last glass of wine, you wished everyone good night, then went to your room. Being the sister of the groom had its perks — you had been granted a room to yourself. Unlike Tucker and Dean who were forced to room together. It'll be like away games at Briar, Garrett told them with a clap on their shoulder and an amused smile. 

Unzipping your dress and removing the makeup from your face felt freeing. Although she was relatively comfortable, you had been wearing that dress since noon. You couldn’t wait to fall on the plush bed and close your eyes.

Except your eyes wouldn’t close. 

The ceiling fan turned slowly above you. Outside, faint frog sounds mixed with crickets as the moon glowed over the lake. It should be relaxing, but instead your mind wouldn’t quiet.

It kept replaying moments you didn’t want to replay too closely.

Dean’s arm under your hand.

His voice beside you in the aisle.

His eyes on you when Allie asked if you were seeing someone.

He hadn’t looked at you like that since…Paris. 

You had posted on your social media about setting foot in Paris and, a few days later, Dean sent you a DM about an hypothetical trip to Paris. He needed a place to take his mind off work because working at his grandfather’s law firm was sucking the life out of him. 

Seeing him haul his suitcase up to your small apartment the following made you mentally kick your feet and giggle. He was really there. For you.

That night, you went to the bar under your apartment and talked over a glass of wine. It was funny how quickly life had changed from beers at Malone’s to wine in Paris. You felt so…adult. 

‘’I didn’t know you were a win connaisseur, Di Laurentis.’’ 

Dean let out a quiet laugh, swirling the deep red wine in his glass before taking another sip. ‘’I’m not. I just appreciate a good french red.’’

You smiled over the rim of your own glass. ‘’Paris does have great wines.’’ 

‘’What else is great about Paris?’’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer over the table. 

You wanted to grab the front of his shirt and kiss him. But you didn’t. 

Not long after, the combination of jetlag and a long flight hit Dean and you came back to your place. 

‘’I forgot to tell you, there’s only one bed,’’ you explained, slightly embarrassed, motioning to the Murphy bed near the window. 

Dean glanced at the bed, noting your light pink sheets that matched the ones at your old dorm — some things didn’t change. ‘’What?! I thought this was the Ritz.’’ 

You threw a pillow at him and he laughed. 

The next day, instead of taking him to all the tourist traps, you decided to show him your Paris. The neighborhood café you always go to for breakfast, your favorite bakery, little rituals you loved, and hidden corners tourists rarely see. Dean’s french was terrible, so you had to translate for him…and you may or may not intentionally left out the compliments locals gave him. 

It wasn’t until that evening that he made a move to kiss you. Not a sweet, romantic kiss like the romcoms. It was all tongue and pure desire, making up for all the time he had wanted to kiss you again but refrained from. You heard a passerby whistle teasingly but ignored him, gripping the front of Dean’s button up shirt to press him against you. 

That week in Paris was your best kept secret. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

It was nearly 1am when you heard a knock on your door. 

Peeling the comforter off you, you left your bed. You assumed it was Garrett getting cold feet and needing to talk, but when you cracked the door open, your heart stumbled.

Dean.

He had changed out of his dress clothes into a pair of athletic shorts, his blond hair looking like he had been tossing and turning for the past hour. 

‘’Sorry,’’ he said quietly. ‘’I thought this was Garrett’s room… Tucker’s snoring is a violation of the Geneva Convention. I was hoping to crash with him.’’

You raised an eyebrow. ‘’Garrett's room is on the floor above. He has the master bedroom.’’ 

‘’Right. I should I guessed that.’’

Dean scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence dimmed by sleepiness and the late hour. The dimmed hallway light casted soft shadows across his unfairly handsome face. 

‘’Do you want to come in? Can let the best man show up with bags under his eyes. It’ll ruin the wedding picture.’’ 

Inviting Dean was at the rock bottom of the list of good ideas. Actually, it probably belonged somewhere below drinking champagne on an empty stomach and letting Logan pick the wedding playlist.

Because this was Dean.

Dean, who found you alone and crying on your birthday during your second year at Briar and took you to the closest bakery to buy your favorite cake. Because no one should be alone and crying on their birthday…especially without a cake. He even made it a tradition to send a chocolate and raspberry cake to your door on your birthday. Dean who punched Hunter Davenport after he cheated on you. Dean who kissed you the night the Hawks won the Frozen Four and called you his good luck charm. Dean who came to Paris just to spend time with you. 

And now he was standing in your doorway in the middle of the night, shirtless and looking far too good for you to keep your hands — and lips — to yourself.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

‘’You dropped out of law school?!’’ you repeated, staring at him in disbelief. 

‘’In my second year. And I left the family’s firm,’’ Dean added, sinking farther into the plush pillows, one arm hooked behind his head.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. ‘’What?!’’ 

You had always found it ironic that the guy who got into the most trouble was the one who wanted to become a lawyer — like his grandfather. But the more you got to know Dean, the more you realized there was far more to him than his Six Flags reputation. Beneath the effortless charm was someone who was genuinely intelligent. He stayed on top of his classes, picked things up faster than most people, and had a sharp mind that made law seem like the perfect fit.

Dean gave a small shrug. ‘’I realized it wasn't for me. It was...too much.’’ His gaze drifted toward the ceiling before finding yours again. ‘’After I quit, I went down to Tucker's place in Texas for a few weeks. I needed to get away, clear my head, and figure out what I actually wanted to do with my life.’’

‘’Did you find it?’’

He hummed. ‘’I coach a junior girls team. I may have missed my opportunity to play in the NHL, but hockey is still part of me.’’ 

A smile spread across your face. ‘’That’s great, Dean.’’ 

He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded almost embarrassed. ‘’Yeah?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ 

You pulled the plush blanket over your legs as a cool breeze slipped through the cracked window. As you shifted against the headboard, Dean's eyes flickered down your cami two-piece pajama for the briefest second, following the movement before catching himself and looking back up. He could probably see your nipples against the fabric, but it’s not like he hadn’t already seen them. 

‘’I’m sure you make an amazing coach.’’

A crooked smile tugged at his lips. ‘’Those girls are something else,’’ he continued. ‘’They're between eleven and thirteen, so half the practices are spent teaching them hockey, and the other half is convincing them that falling isn't the end of the world.’’ He chuckled. ‘’But when one of them finally nails a drill they've been struggling with, it's a better feeling than getting an A on any exam I ever took.’’

You couldn't help but smile wider. ‘’You like seeing them succeed.’’

He nodded. ‘’I do.’’ A thoughtful silence settled over him. ‘’I spent so long chasing what everyone else thought I should want that I never stopped to ask myself what actually made me happy.’’

His eyes met yours, steady enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Turns out, it wasn't arguing in a courtroom. It was being at a rink.’’ 

You held his gaze a second longer than necessary, his as beautiful as you remembered. In the soft moonlight spilling through the large window, you had a perfect view of the ripples of muscles of his chest and abs. He may not play hockey anymore, but his body still carried the unmistakable strength of an athlete.

Dean caught your wandering eyes, and one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘’What about you? Paris looked good on you. Why move to Florence?’’ 

‘’A job opportunity. You know the winery we visited together?’’

His expression softened slightly, the memory clearly clicking into place. ‘’The one where you tried to convince me you could tell the difference between wines?’’ 

‘’I could,’’ you defended, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him.

Dean laughed, catching it against his chest with an easy grin. ‘’You absolutely could not.’’

You laughed quietly before continuing. ‘’A position opened up in their marketing department. Their headquarters are in Paris, but the job is remote. I can work from wherever I want as long as I’m in the office once a month. Paris was amazing, but I wanted something different. Somewhere quieter.’’

Dean looked impressed — and proud. ‘’That’s great, baby.’’ 

The word slipped out so naturally neither of you registered it at first. Then both of you froze.

You searched his face before allowing the smallest smile on your lips. ‘’You used to call me that.’’

Dean let out a quiet breath. ‘’Old habits are hard to unlearn.’’ He tried to make it sound like a joke, but the longing in his eyes gave him away.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

A soft but insistent knock on your door slowly pulled you from sleep. Not again…

You chose to ignore it, far too comfortable under the sheets, and pressed your face deeper into your pillow. Whoever needed you could wait another ten minutes, right? 

Then you felt the warmth of someone beside you, and the events of last night came rushing back. You couldn't remember exactly when the talking stopped or who fell asleep first. You must have moved during the night absentmindedly because Dean’s arm was under the bottom of your top, resting over your soft skin and you were curled up against him. The touch was intimate, but not undesired.  

Peering one eye open, you saw that Dean was still asleep. His blond hair was messy from the night, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see. Without the usual smirk or playful confidence, he looked almost peaceful. 

You brushed a hand through his hair, wishing you could stop time and stay here longer. 

Unfortunately, a second knock hit your door. 

‘’Hey, you awake?’’ Grace's voice came from the other side. ‘’It’s past eight and Ava is here for hair. Madeline should be here in fifteen minutes for makeup. Unless you want to look like jetlag is affecting you, I suggest you come down. Oh, and there’s breakfast too!’’ 

Right. The wedding. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The large living area, which had been turned into a bridal glam suite, was already alive by the time you walked in. You hadn’t bothered dressing, not wanting to get unwanted clothing marks when you’ll change into your dress later. 

The smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the room, mixing with the sound of laughter and the occasional panic that came with a wedding morning.

It was organized chaos.

Hannah sat on a chair in her silk robe, coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other, laughing as Allie tried to convince her that she absolutely needed to get her hair into an updo because it’ll look better with her veil…and will make her chest stand out. 

‘’I don’t like having pins poking at my scalp,’’ Hannah argued, tearing a piece from her croissant. ‘’And my chest will stand out whatever I do. My dress is a sweetheart neckline.’’ 

‘’I’m with Allie on that, but not for the same reason,’’ Grace replied, sitting across from her while Ava was beginning to curl her hair. ‘’It’s gonna be hot today and having your hair down is only going to make you uncomfortable.’’ 

Hannah’s mom agreed with Grace, but reminded Hannah that it was her wedding. She could wear her hair however she liked.

You made yourself a plate with blueberry scones and some strawberries, trying to not think about the man who was in your bed. 

‘’So, are you feeling nervous?’’ you asked the bride-to-be. ‘’I can’t wait to have you as my official sister in law.’’ 

A sigh left the brunette’s lips. ‘’A little,’’ she admitted, trying to not think about everything that could go wrong. ‘’But who isn’t on their wedding day, right?’’ 

You rounded the table and sat beside Hannah, offering her a small smile. ‘’Well, if there’s one thing you can stop worrying about, it’s Garrett leaving you at the altar.’’ 

Hannah looked over at you, her eyes softening.

‘’My brother has been head over heels in love with you since college. I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he’s with you, or talk about anyone the way he talks about you. You’re it for him.’’ You paused, glancing down at your hands before continuing. ‘’Garrett and I didn’t grow up with the best example of what love was supposed to look like. He was so scared of being like him… But he found an amazing girl who helped him realize that he wasn’t our dad’s copy. He was nothing like him.’’ 

Hannah’s eyes grew glassy, and she reached for your hand. ‘’I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry so early.’’ She tried to blink the tears away, but her mom handed her a tissue. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The ceremony was beautiful. 

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the lake, its calm surface shimmering behind the flower-lined aisle. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers through the gardens, stirring Hannah's veil just enough to make it dance as she walked toward Garrett.

There wasn't a dry eye among the guests.

Especially after the vows. You had expected something heartfelt from Hannah. As a musician and songwriter, she had a way of putting even the biggest emotions into words. But Garrett? No one had expected him to put together something as touching. There hadn't been any grand declarations or poetic metaphors — just honest promises, quiet memories, and a love so undeniable even Cupid’s nemesis would’ve been rooting for them.

By the time the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, the entire lawn erupted into applause.

Garrett didn't hesitate. He cupped Hannah's face and kissed her as though he'd been waiting years for that moment — which, in a way, he had.

Across from you, you caught Dean looking at you. He didn't look away when your eyes met, holding your gaze.

You hadn’t talked once today. There hadn’t been any time to. From the moment you climbed out of bed this morning, the day had been a whirlwind of hair and makeup, dress repairs, photos, last-minute details, and the ceremony itself. 

For a brief moment, the cheers around you faded into the background.

He looked devastating in his blue suit, the tailored jacket hugging his broad shoulders and tapering perfectly at his waist. The crisp white shirt beneath it made his sun-kissed skin stand out, while the afternoon light caught the golden strands of his hair. Clean-shaven and effortlessly put together, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a perfume ad — so unfairly handsome it was almost distracting.

Dean’s gaze flickered back to the newlyweds before returning to you, and the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but something in the way he looked at you made your heart skip.

Behind you, Allie was studying the exchange without saying anything. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Long oak tables overlooked the lake, dressed with a dusty blue table runner that matched the cushion on the chairs. Low arrangements of pale blue delphiniums, white ranunculus, baby's breath served as centerpieces, accompanied by flickering candles. The woodland elegance matched Hannah and Garrett perfectly. 

On the very left, a small stage was built with a piano keyboard set in the middle, letting the guest assume Hannah would be performing later. According to Allie, she had written a song for Garrett. A song she never planned on releasing nor singing elsewhere. A song just for their big day. 

‘’A picture with the bride!’’ 

Jules called as they were holding  a camera, making sure you, Allie and Grace were all in the picture too. 

You had already taken loads of pictures, but these were only for the memories you would look back on years from now. Silly selfies, people dancing and laughing, and inappropriate gestures from the groomsmen. 

After the picture was taken, one of Hannah’s aunts stole her away and Grace went to Logan’s rescue, catching a woman well into her forties flirting with him. An amused laugh spilled on your lips at the sight. 

‘’What’s going on between you and Dean?’’ 

You snapped your attention back to her. ‘’What are you talking about?’’ 

Allie gave you a look. ‘’I saw him looking at you.’’ 

‘’You’re imagining things. When was the last time you had your eyesight checked?’’  

‘’Don’t play that card with me,’’ she warned, not letting go of the subject. 

You sighed. ‘’I’m not playing any cards, Allie. There’s Dean and I.’’ 

Speaking of Dean, he was standing by the bar, getting drinks with Tucker and a Bruins player. Tucker was talking about hockey stats, completely invested in whatever point he was trying to make, but Dean’s attention had shifted to you. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the blue dress you were wearing and the way the silky fabric fell perfectly against your body.

He watched Allie leave, then turned back to the bartender and ordered another glass of champagne. 

‘’Thought you might need a refill,’’ he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear as he appeared at your side.

You smiled as you accepted the glass. ‘’Trying to get me drunk, Di Laurentis?’’

Dean's lips twitched. ‘’If I was, I would have brought you something stronger.’’

A laugh escaped you. ‘’Thanks.’’

As you took the flute, his fingertips lingered against yours for the briefest second before his other hand found the small of your back. The touch was innocent enough that no one around you would think twice about it, but you felt every second of it. You leaned slightly into him, taking a sip of champagne while his thumb brushed your skin lightly.

‘’Having fun?’’ he asked.

You looked around, seeing Hannah and Garrett smiling patiently through yet another round of family photos.

‘’It's weird,’’ you admitted. ‘’My brother is married.’’

Dean followed your gaze. ‘’I know.’’

‘’It feels like yesterday we were all at Briar, and now…’’ You laughed softly. ‘’Give them a couple of years and they'll probably be chasing toddlers around.’’

‘’Garrett's going to be an overprotective dad.’’

‘’Oh, absolutely.’’

‘’Hannah's going to pretend she's the reasonable one.’’

‘’But she'll secretly be worse.’’

Dean chuckled. ‘’One hundred percent.’’

For a moment, the two of you simply watched them, the conversation settling into a comfortable silence.

‘’So, when are you going back to Florence?’’ Dean asked.

Before he could answer, the band eased into a slow song. Around you, conversations quieted as couples drifted toward the dance floor. 

‘’Dance with me.’’ 

You blinked. ‘’Dean…’’ 

He set his champagne flute on the nearest table before holding out his hand. ‘’Come on. It’ll be like on Canal Saint-Martin.’’ 

The memory hit you instantly — the warm summer night along Canal Saint-Martin, some musicians strumming their instruments beneath the glow of a lamppost while a small crowd lingered along the water's edge. Without a second thought, Dean had held out his hand, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, and pulled you into the music. He surprised you by not stepping on your feet — not even once. You swayed to the music, his hand settling at your waist before he effortlessly twirled you beneath the glow of the moon. 

No one had ever danced with you like that. No one had ever looked at you the way he had that night. 

You looked at his outstretched hand for another second before slipping your fingers into his. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You couldn’t remember who made the first move. Who reached for whom. All you knew was that Dean's lips were on yours and your hands all over each other’s body. 

Every few steps, one of you would reluctantly pull back just enough to keep climbing the stairs before crashing together again and kissing against the wall, unable to wait until you reached somewhere you could finally be alone.

This kiss was the first since Paris. 

That last night, you both agreed to never speak of Paris. Because you would never work as a couple. Dean was in New York, working at his family’s firm and would be attending law school in the fall while you were on the other side of the ocean. The distance between you was simply too much. 

Yet here you were. 

Dean’s hand cupped your jaw as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding in and caressing yours. Your fingers tangled in the lapels of his suit, wrinkling the expensive fabric as he backed you up another step.

A laugh escaped you when your heel caught on the edge of the stair.

‘’Careful,’’ Dean murmured against your mouth, one arm instinctively circling your waist before you could lose your balance. ‘’I don’t want you to get a concussion before I get my piece of cake. I’ve been wanting to do kiss you all day.’’ He pressed his right below your ear. ‘’To touch you all day,’’ he continued, kissing down your neck. ‘’To fuck you all day.’’ He pulled the thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and kissed your exposed skin. 

You leaned your head back, pliant under his lips, and pushed your hands into his hair. Dean’s breath hitched when you pulled at it, loving the way you knew exactly how to unravel him.

He kissed down your collarbone, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of skin he hadn’t touched in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Once you made it into one of the rooms, you pulled Dean’s jacket off and began working on his belt while he lifted the bottom of your dress up, high enough to slip a hand under and press his hand over your panties. 

‘’Dean,’’ you mewled, bucking against him. 

He smirked against your lips, keeping going as he felt a wetness soak through the fabric. ‘’Like that, babydoll?’’ 

Tease was Dean’s second name. This man absolutely loved to play with your body and vice versa. He could spend over an hour just doing that. But your body was literally aching for him right now. 

‘’Dean,’’ you repeated, breaking the kiss. ‘’If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll kick you out of this damn room and do it myself.’’

He didn't need to be told twice. 

Pants down to his thighs, the blond slipped a condom on before pushing inside you, the sensation making you gasp  sharply and claw at the vanity table under you. You had almost forgotten why everyone at Briar went to him for a good time. Your body arched at the delicious stretch, your walls clenching around his cock. 

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ you moaned, feeling him fill you. 

Dean thrusted into you with long, deep strokes, his hands on your hips keeping him anchored. ''Baby, you feel so good,'' he praised, his pelvis smacking against your ass loudly. ‘’Missed this so much. Missed you so much.''

You rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts as desire ran through your whole body. There was no better dick than this one. Not that you would ever admit it. 

Curses left his lips as he thrusted more erratically, desperate and needy after all this time apart. Your breasts were threatening to spill from your dress, whose skirt was currently bunched up at your waist for accessibility purposes. Taking it off would have been easier, but neither of you bothered fully undressing. 

After you both finished, Dean, who was spent and breathless, pressed kisses up your spine, a smirk curling on his lips. He wasn’t ready to let go of you — and neither were you. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You and Dean slipped back into the celebration, each stealing a glass of champagne from a passing server. The music was still playing, laughter drifted across the lawn, and, thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed you had disappeared.

Dean took a sip of champagne, but you stopped him. 

‘’Wait,’’ you said, reaching up and brushed your thumb across the corner of his mouth, wiping away the faint smear of your lipstick.

‘’Where were you?’’ came Grace’s voice from behind you, making you both turn a little too quickly. ‘’You missed the bouquet toss.’’ 

You nearly choked on your champagne.

For a second, your mind went completely blank. Between the lingering taste of Dean’s lips, the orgasm he just pulled out of you and the pleasant haze you were basking in, coming up with a believable excuse felt impossible.

Dean didn't miss a beat.

"She lost an earring," he said smoothly. ‘’I was helping her look for it. It belonged to her mom’s, so it’s a very sentimental piece.’’

Grace's face immediately fell. ‘’Oh no! Did you find it yet?’’ 

You nodded, forcing a small smile. ‘’It was in the grass, over there,’’ you said, pointing to the right. 

Relief softened her features. ‘’Good!’’ 

Guilt twisted in your stomach as she smiled, completely convinced. But before you could dwell on the lie, Grace linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from Dean. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hannah disappeared for a few minutes before returning in a different dress — a simple white satin gown that flowed around her as she crossed the lawn toward the small stage. A hush gradually settled over the reception. Conversations faded, glasses were set down, and every guest turned toward her.

She smiled as she settled onto the piano bench, smoothing the skirt over her legs before resting her hands lightly on the keys. Behind her, hundreds of fairy lights twinkled against the trees, reflecting softly across the dark lake. The warm glow bathed the stage in gold, making it feel almost magical.

Garrett stood at the front of the crowd, unable to take his eyes off his wife. 

Hannah leaned toward the microphone with a nervous laugh. ‘’Garrett and I had an unusual debut, you could say. I was going to tutor him in Ethics and, in exchange, he would help me get this one guy’s attention. He came up with this whole plan where we would pretend to date...except we forgot about the pretending part.’’

Laughter rippled through the guests, Garrett shaking his head with an affectionate smile.

Hannah's sparkling eyes found him before she continued.

‘’Music has always been my form of expression — my refuge. With a guitar in my hand and a sheet or paper, I was practically the next Taylor Swift,'' she continued, glancing at Allie. ''But there came a moment in my life where I was convinced I had lost my creativity and ability to write lyrics.''

She looked down, making your heart ache. The past may be behind her, but would never stop hurting. You had never met someone as strong as Hannah. 

‘’Garrett encouraged me to write songs again.’’ Her smile returned. ‘’He would listen to my old videos and tell me how he loved that song. How he loved my voice. His confidence in me gave me the courage to write again and to perform my original work.'' 

You’ll never forget the day of her showcase. How everyone had rushed to the auditorium to see her perform and support her. She and Garrett were broken up at that time, but he had stood in the front row — for her. 

‘’The day I accepted to tutor him was the best decision I made because, unknowingly, I needed him just as much. He didn't just make me fall in love — he made me believe in my music again. And without him, I wouldn't be recording in a music studio. So, for our special day, I decided to write and dedicate this song for you, my husband.’’ 

Hannah pressed the first keys and you got lulled into her melody, the soft notes drifting across the lakeside like a secret meant only for the two of them.

For a moment, nobody moved.

The entire world seemed to narrow down to Hannah sitting beneath the glow of the fairy lights and Garrett standing a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung every star in the sky herself.

Her voice joined the piano, gentle at first, carrying every emotion she had poured into the song. It wasn’t a performance. Not really. It was a love letter set to music.

You watched Garrett’s expression change as he listened. The playful smile he had worn moments ago slowly disappeared, replaced by something softer. Something vulnerable. 

Your eyes drifted through the crowd, looking for Dean.

He stood on the other side of the stage with Tucker, his attention on you — again. Except this time, there was no smirk. No teasing grin. No playful look in his eyes. He was just looking at you. Really looking at you. And somehow, that felt more dangerous.

You expected him to look away the second he realized you had caught him, to put that familiar wall back up and pretend he hadn’t been watching. But he didn’t.

Dean held your gaze across the crowd, the music filling the space between you.

Then Hannah’s voice rose, pulling your attention back to her. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

As fun as weddings were, nothing compared to the moment you finally take off your shoes. Pretty shoes were demons in a heel form! With a relieved sigh, you slipped the straps from your ankles and kicked the heels away before wiggling your sore toes against the cool bathroom floor.

You removed your jewelry and caught your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was beginning to fall from its carefully pinned curls, and your makeup was begging to be removed. 

Just as you were about to change out of your dress, you heard your door open and close. The sound of the water faucet running covered it, causing you a near heart attack when you saw Dean’s reflection in the mirror. 

‘’You want to kill me, Di Laurentis?’’ 

His tie had disappeared somewhere throughout the evening and the top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and he looked just as tired — and tipsy — as you felt. 

‘’You’re too beautiful to kill,’’ Dean replied with an easy smile, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

You turned off the faucet and snorted. ‘’That’s your opening line? You’d make a shit slasher killer.’’ 

‘’Who said I wanted to be a slasher killer? Can’t hide that handsome face under a mask.’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’What are you doing in my room?’’

He pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few slow steps into the bathroom. ‘’I wasn't lying, by the way."

You paused, your hand resting on the edge of the sink. ‘’About what?’’

He met your eyes in the mirror. ‘’About you looking beautiful.’’ 

‘’Can you unzip my dress?’’

Dean reached for the delicate zipper, his knuckles brushing the bare skin of your back as he slowly eased it down. The soft rasp of the zipper seemed impossibly loud in the quiet bathroom. 

When he finished, his hands lingered at your waist as he caught your eyes in the mirror, then pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder. ‘’Anything else?’’ 

You pulled the thin straps from your shoulders, letting the dress slip down your body until it pooled around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Dean's gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror, sweeping over your bare skin before finding your eyes again. You should have felt shy beneath his attention, but you had been naked together long enough to not care anymore. 

A light groan left Dean’s throat. ‘’Now you’re going to kill me.’’ 

A cocky grin threatened to spread on your face. You would never get over the power you had over this man. This man who normally oozed confidence like cologne, could melt into something softer just from seeing your naked body. No one else ever acted that way with you.  

‘’Am I?’’ 

One of his hands slowly moved up to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breast in his large hand. ‘’Yeah. I’m fucking dead, babydoll.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Morning came far too soon. 

You woke up to sunlight spilling through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind that made it impossible to pretend you were still asleep. Past you was an idiot for not shutting the blinds last night. 

Rolling over, you came face to face with Dean’s blue eyes. 

‘’Morning,’’ he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Somehow, even after an entire night of celebrating, he looked unfairly good.

A small smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it. ‘’Morning.’’

He watched you for a moment, then a familiar crooked grin appeared.

‘’What?’’ you asked.

‘’Nothing.’’

‘’You're staring.’’

‘’Can't I appreciate the view?’’ 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide your smile. 

Before Dean could come up with another smug remark, the door swung open and Allie rushed inside, her hair a mess and missing one slippers on. 

‘’Bathroom emergency!’’ she announced breathlessly. ‘’My room doesn’t have a bathroom and someone is already using the main one and I really, really need to…pee.’’ She came to an abrupt stop, her eyes darting from you and then to Dean, and the fact that his bare ass was in full sight. ‘’Oh my god.’’ 

Allie’s jaw dropped. For a solid three seconds, she didn’t move — or breathe — and just stood there like someone had pressed pause on the entire universe. Then her brain caught up. Dean Di Laurentis was in your bed and completely naked. 

‘’Oh my god!'' she shrieked again, louder this time.

Dean barely flinched, while you wanted to disappear through the mattress. Not because you were embarrassed of being seen with him. It just wasn’t how you wanted to reveal your ‘relationship’. 

And you wanted to have a talk with Dean before telling anyone. What did last night mean? Was it simply two people getting caught up in a wedding, too much champagne, and old feelings...or was it the beginning of something real? You needed to know where Dean's head was. Where his heart was. 

‘’I’ll be back,’’ Allie declared, her bladder forcing her to rush to the bathroom. 

‘’Cover yourself,’’ you hissed at Dean, pulling up the sheets to hide his lower half. 

He grinned like the devil. ‘’That’s not what you were saying last night.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You had forgotten how American brunch was different from in Europe. You had grown accustomed to fresh bread, cheese, prosciutto, and an espresso that disappeared in three sips. Here, brunch was an event — towering stacks of pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, endless refills of coffee, and enough food to keep you full until dinner. 

It was also the perfect cure for hangovers. 

They also had bottomless mimosas. This was the best part of American brunch. 

At one of the tables, Tucker, Logan and three Bruins players were stuffing their faces with eggs, bacon and hashbrowns while feeling the weight of an elephant sitting on their head. Some things never changed. 

A few tables over, Allie and Grace were sitting together, visibly regretting last night’s last glass of champagne. 

With a plate of pancakes and a mimosa in hand, you walked over to them. ‘’How’s the head, Gracie?’’

‘’I hate champagne,’’ she replied, glaring at your mimosa. 

‘’She and Logan stole a bottle of champagne last night,’’ Allie explained, stabbing a hashbrown. ‘’It didn’t agree with the cocktails and she got sick.’’ 

‘’Oh no,’’ you said, feeling bad for Grace. 

‘’That’s Logan’s fault,’’ the latter grumbled. ‘’He kept getting me refills—’’ 

‘’Heard that!’’ Logan called from his seat. ‘’I plead not guilty.’’ 

You laughed, then began eating your pancakes. 

‘’So,’’ Allie began. ‘’Did you sleep well? Aunt Shauna said she heard some strange noises all night. Her room right next to yours.’’ 

Lifting your head from your plate, you glared at her. She may have kept her mouth shut about this morning, but you knew Allie Hayes too well to know she would do anything to pull the juicy gossip out of you. 

You opened your mouth to spill out some lie, but Dean appeared at your table. He had showered and changed out of his wedding clothes. 

‘’Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Garrett is looking for you.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow. Was Garrett actually looking for you? Unlikely. He and Hannah were busy thanking Hannah’s family for their gifts and for coming to the wedding. They were from the midwest, so some of them were going to hit the road soon. 

‘’I'll be back,’’ you told the girls.

‘’Take your time,’’ Allie sang, her grin widening.

You shot her a warning look that only made her smile harder.

Dean waited until you had fallen into step beside him before leading you away from the dining room and out onto the wraparound porch overlooking the lake. The chatter from brunch faded behind you, replaced by the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the few singing birds. 

‘’We need to talk.’’ 

You nodded. ‘’I know.’’ 

‘’I assumed we would talk in the morning, but hurricane Allie blew in and…’’ Dean trailed, taking a seat on the bannister so he was closer in height to you. ‘’This weekend, it wasn’t just a wedding fling. Not for me. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I quit the firm. About us.’’ 

He let the words settle between you before continuing.

‘’Not just the physical part. Although the sex is fucking great.’’ 

You let out a small laugh. He wasn’t wrong. 

‘’What I’m saying is, I want to try us. For real.’’ 

‘’We still live on different continents, Dean,’’ you reminded him. 

‘’I know. But we were at different stages of our life back then. I think we can work.’’ Dean searched your face, as if trying to gauge whether you were on the same page or not. ‘’I coach from September to May. I have the whole summer to myself. And you said it yourself, your job is remote. You can spend a few weeks in New York, work from there. We can make it work.’’ 

You stared at him.

Because that was the thing about Dean. When he really wanted something, he didn't just talk about it. He figured out how to get it. But right now, he was making it sound almost too easy. 

‘’I know there'll be days where the time difference sucks. Days where one of us is tired or busy or wishes the other person was just there.’’ He paused, reaching for your hands and pulling you in. ‘’But I want this. I want us, baby.’’ 

Your heart tightened. 

‘’Dean…’’ 

‘’You want it too. I know it.’’ He leaned his forehead against yours. ‘’I feel it.’’ 

Of course you wanted it. Wanted him. But you were scared of hurting. Because love was painful. 

‘’I don't want this to be something we try for a few months and then give up when it gets hard,’’ you admitted. ‘’I don’t want to get hurt, Dean.’’ 

His expression turned serious again. ‘’Neither do I.’’

He leaned to kiss you, slow and deep, and you melted against his tongue. 

Behind you, the door opened and Garrett stepped out. ‘’What the fuck?!’’

══════════════════

Because if Garrett caught you together, Logan would be a dead man. When you came to Briar, your brother made it very clear that you were off-limits and that he better not see any of their eyes linger too long. 

Logan tensed under your kisses, his breath hitching as you reached a specific spot on his neck. ‘’Mmh, baby,’’ he groaned softly, his hand slowly traveling from where it had been resting on your lower back to under your shirt. 

His fingers were warm against your skin, calloused from years of gripping hockey sticks and working odd jobs. The contrast of his rough hands on your soft back sent a shiver through you.

He still hadn’t looked away from the movie.

Stubborn bastard.

So you pressed another kiss right under his jaw, then one lower, near that sensitive spot just above his collarbone. And sure enough, his thumb stilled on your back for half a second before he exhaled sharply through his nose and finally turned toward you.

‘’We said we would spend the night together. Actually doing something together instead of rushing into sex,’’ he reminded, his brown eyes looking down at you. 

‘’I know…’’ you sighed. ‘’But I’m really not into this movie. Can we just turn it off and go upstairs? There’s early practice tomorrow so I know Garrett won’t stay at Hannah’s for the night. I can’t risk being here too late.’’ 

Logan pressed a button to check the time left of the movie. ‘’There’s twenty-seven minutes left. Twenty is we take out the end credits. Then we go to my room and I’ll make it up to you. Deal?’’ 

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity. But you accepted and turned your attention back to the tv. 

You tried to pay attention to the movie. You really did. But Logan’s arm was still wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing small circles against your side, and every few minutes you caught him glancing down at you instead of the screen.

‘’You’re terrible at pretending you care about this movie,’’ he murmured.

You looked up at him, offended. ‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’

‘’You haven’t watched the screen in at least ten minutes.’’

‘’That’s because Chris Evans isn’t on the screen anymore.’’

Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. ‘’You’re unbelievable.’’

Giving up on the movie, you grabbed your phone and opened your photo app to see the silly pictures you and Logan had taken earlier. There were a bunch of laughing faces while you tried different instagram filters, but the last one was cute though. The two of you were standing in the kitchen, Logan behind you as he kissed your cheek. 

You posted it on your private story — where only a few of your sorority sisters were part of — and put your phone back down. 

Under a minute later, notifications popped up and you cursed, realizing you had posted on your public story. To add oil to the fire, you didn’t notice that Logan’s hand was under your sweatshirt and cupping one of your breasts. 

Before you could take it off, Logan’s phone buzzed. 

From Garrett: You’re a DEAD man walking, John Logan!

══════════════════

With his other hand, Dean checked his phone, seeing Logan’s message. He had read it. He just brushed it off when you called and asked to have late lunch together. 

‘’That was a serious thing?’’ 

‘’Yes,’’ replied Logan. 

‘’Since when do we do house meetings?’’ 

‘’Since now.’’

Dean glanced at you, then back to Logan. ‘’Can we raincheck? Because we were supposed to—’’ 

‘’No,’’ all three boys said at the same time.

A beat of silence followed and Dean set you down. He didn’t carry you through campus like that. Just up the stairs of the house after you mentioned that you were wearing a brand new lingerie set. 

You looked between them, then back to Dean. ‘’It’s okay. I can go wait upstairs.’’ 

‘’Actually,’’ Garrett cut in. ‘’This is about you too.’’ 

A frown drew between your eyebrows. You didn’t even live there. 

‘’Mostly him,’’ Tucker corrected, pointing at Dean. ‘’But you're involved.’’

Was this about the box of cookies you finished and put back in the cupboards the other night? Or the hair in the shower? Because Logan always complained about the clogged shower drain and having to fix it. As if they didn’t all have hair too… 

Without asking questions, you followed Dean to the couch and sat down.

‘’What did we do?" the latter asked, wanting to get this over with quickly. 

The three roommates exchanged looks.

Then Tucker threw his hands in the air. ‘’You have got to stop treating this house like it's a honeymoon suite.’’

‘’We're all happy you found each other. Great. Wonderful. Love that for you,’’ Logan continued, explaining what Tucker meant. ‘’But some of us would like to walk into our own kitchen without wondering if we're about to see something that’s gonna make us regret that 11pm cereal craving.’’

Dean laughed. ‘’You guys are being dramatic.’’

‘’Am I?’’ Tucker shot back, raising a dark eyebrow. 

‘’You’re worse than rabbits during mating season.’’ 

‘’Don’t compare my girlfriend to a rodent,’’ Dean warned Logan, pointing a finger at him.

You shrugged. ‘’I take no offense. Rabbits are cute and very intelligent little beings.’’ 

‘’And stop leaving doors open,’’ Garrett added. ‘’We already have to see it in the locker rooms, we don’t need more exposure to your naked self.’’

‘’Fine. I’ll close the bathroom door when I shower. Are we done?’’ 

‘’No.’’ 

Dean slouched deeper into the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders. ‘’Fine. Continue your presentation.’’

‘’Thank you.’’ Logan pointed at him. ‘’Second issue: the noise.’’ 

Dean opened his mouth to protest again, but Logan raised a hand, silencing him with the kind of authority usually reserved for coaches and angry mothers.

Garrett nodded gravely beside him like this was an official courtroom testimony. ‘’The noise,’’ he repeated.

You knew the walls were thin, but once you were in the moment you kind of forget about it. And it’s not like there’s innocent ears in the house. You were all adults with an active sex life. You’ve heard girls moaning and their gruntings from all of the bedrooms. 

‘’Don’t act all innocent,’’ you said, your eyes falling on Logan. ‘’Dean’s room is right next to yours. We can hear you too.’’ 

At that, Dean squeezed your thigh proudly. Under your sweet appearance, there was a girl who didn’t bite her tongue. 

‘’Do you want to hear the playback? Because I can—’’ the blond added, loving how the tables had turned around. 

‘’That won’t be necessary,’’ Logan interrupted, making the other boys laugh. 

Dean grinned, that cocky, unbothered smirk he wore like a second skin. ‘’See? She's got a point. We're not the only ones being loud in this house.’’

Tucker rubbed his temples like he was suddenly aging ten years per minute. This house meeting was not going anywhere… 

══════════════════

Your father never went easy on you either. On weekends, he made you break down a game tape until you could see the game unfold before it even happened. He taught you hockey wasn’t just talent. It was anticipation. Discipline. Psychology. Reading people before they even realized what they were about to do.

During your senior year of college, your father offered you an internship at Briar to be the Hawks’ assistant coach, and people immediately started talking. Some accused Coach Jensen of handing his daughter a job she hadn’t earned, while others were far crueler, insisting a woman had no business coaching hockey in the first place. Some players and fans mocked the decision, alumni trashed your name online, and rival teams joked that the Hawks were turning into a circus act.

Tonight was your first away game with the Hawks and you were nervous. You were playing against Harvard, one of Briar’s biggest rivals. There was years of rivalry between the two teams, but some of Harvard’s players had been very loud about their miscontentement of your assistant coach position. One of them had trashed your name on social media and accused you of sleeping with the players. Another even sent you a message on Instagram asking you to blow him if his team wins. Disgusting.

Having enough of reading nasty shit, you turned off your phone and leaned back into your seat. You couldn’t let any of this distract you from the game. 

‘’I’m not going to let any asshole from Harvard talk down about you,’’ Garrett promised, sitting across the aisle on the bus. ‘’You’re part of the team.’’ 

‘’Thanks, G,’’ you returned, giving him a small smile. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

At the hotel, you all went to your assigned rooms. Unfortunately, you were sharing with your father…

‘’Was this necessary, Dad?’’ you sighed,  unzipping your bag and pulling out your clothes for the game. They’ll need to be ironed and placed on a hanger. ‘’Why can’t I share a room with one of the girls from the support bus? I’m not twelve anymore.’’ 

The man in question was already in his Coach Jensen state, barely glanced up from the sheets of paper he was going through. ‘’These girls don’t have a game to coach tomorrow. I need you well rested and alert.’’ 

‘’Sharing a room with them won’t mean I’m gonna stay up all night. Hannah and Grace are very calm. You know Hannah Wells, right? She tutored Garrett at the start of the semester. She's usually asleep before ten.’’ 

That was only half true. Hannah was studious, polite, and about as trouble-free as a person could be, but her bedtime definitely wasn’t 10pm — at least not on weekends. Still, if there was one girl who could get on your father’s good side, it was her.

‘’She’s a player’s girlfriend.’’

You frowned. ‘’And?’’

‘’And I don't want you hanging around my players.’’

‘’Dad, Hannah is my friend—’’

‘’She’s dating Graham,’’ he cut in firmly. 

Reducing Hannah to being a player’s girlfriend was unfair. She’s been an amazing friend to you since you arrived at Briar. She shut the nasty rumors some players were saying about you — with the help of Garrett —, showed you around campus and even invited you to Malone’s to hang out with her friends. Briar wouldn’t be the same without her. You would never have met Grace or Allie, or tasted Malone’s mac&cheese. 

Before you could defend Hannah, your father sighed, putting down his papers on the desk. ‘’You may think I'm being hard on you, but I need you to hear me out. Right now, those players see you as a coach. An authority figure. The moment one of them starts looking at you as anything else, everything you’ve worked for and tried to prove will fall. You will lose any credibility you’ve earned. By being seen with Hannah, who is dating my captain, you’re walking on a tightrope.’’

You swallowed his hard truth. 

Jessica Campbell may have paved the way for girls like you who had a dream in a world of men, but hockey was still a very sexist world. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hair slicked back into a ponytail, it swayed as you jogged toward the elevator, trying to catch it before the doors closed. The team was meeting in the lobby before getting into the bus and heading out for dinner. 

‘’Wait up!’’ 

A hand shot out between the doors, stopping them from closing long enough for you to slip inside.

‘’Thanks,’’ you said, slightly out of breath.

The doors slid shut, leaning you alone with Dean.

‘’Cutting it close, Coach.’’

You glanced at him, standing near the back wall in a pair of jeans and his team hoodie. Team merch was mandatory for outings on away games. 

‘’I couldn’t find my team jacket,’’ you explained. ‘’I think I left it at home.’’

Dean's gaze drifted over your outfit, lingering on the lace of your bra that was slightly peaking from your half buttoned cardigan. It must have moved during your little jog. ‘’Should’ve shot me a text. You could have borrowed mine.’’ A smirk curved on his lips — the one that everyone folded at.

Players’ jackets had their name and number on them. Your father would have an aneurism if he saw you in the lobby wearing that. Especially Dean’s. Your old man knew about his bunny hopping reputation.

After emptying your whole bag, you settled for a blue ribbon in your hair. It was better than nothing.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, cutting your conversation short.

Dean motioned for you to go first. ‘’After you, Coach.’’

You shot him a look over your shoulder. ‘’Such a gentleman.’’

His smirk deepened. ‘’Only when Coach Jensen around.’’

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The Girls

Gracie: I have a favor to ask. Do you think you can save us a spot close to the bench for the game? I don’t want to sit with the bunnies…

Hannah: The bunnies are not the issue. It’s Hollis’ girl

Gracie: She’s not Hollis’s girl. She’s obsessed with him! It’s different

Hannah: That’s a bit far fetched, Grace…

You: Hollis has a girl? Since when? 👀

Gracie: She’s not!

Hannah: Garrett said they went on a date last week

Gracie: What?! 😲

Gracie: Is he looking to end up on a true crime podcast? 

Hannah: Rupi is a freshman girl who’s ‘in love’ with a hockey player. She’s not the next Jodi Arias

You: Can someone catch me up? I’m not following 

Gracie: There’s this girl named Rupi and she’s obsessed with Mike Hollis. She sat next to me at the last game and she had a shirt with his name and kept asking questions about him. I love weird, but this is too weird for me to handle…

You: And Hollis went on a date with her? 

Hannah: According to Garrett

You were mid typing when your phone screen changed to an incoming video call from Dean. A shirtless Dean. He was laying on his bed, his blond hair splayed on the pillow. 

‘’Have you lost your fucking mind?!’’ you whispered, trying to not wake your father in the other bed. 

He gave you his signature grin. ‘’Is the big bad wolf sleeping yet?’’

You glared at him. ‘’Don’t call him that.’’  

Dean’s grin only widened at your glare, like a golden retriever who knew exactly how much trouble he was in but didn’t care one bit. The camera shook slightly as he adjusted it, propping his phone on the pillow beside him so you could see all of him: bare chest glistening from his shower, that infuriatingly perfect jawline, and those stupidly blue eyes full of mischief.

‘’Relax,’’ he whispered back at you, voice low and teasing like he always did when he knew your father might hear.

If he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t be relaxed. You may be an adult, but mingling with the players outside the ice was strictly forbidden. It was work etiquette. If your father caught you talking to Dean, it would be over for your internship. 

‘’What do you want?’’ 

You tried to not look too happy to see him, but in reality all you wanted to do was run down the hallway to his room and kiss him. 

Dean lifted one arm above his head in a lazy stretch, the kind that showed off biceps and shoulders like they were part of an ad campaign for hockey muscle. ‘’I’m just bored. Birdy is sleeping already. And snoring. Can you hear?’’ 

A soft laugh left your lips. Even through the phone, you could hear the faint rumble in the background. The guy really did snore like a bull.

You carefully pushed the blankets off your legs and sat up, glancing toward the other bed. Your father hadn't moved an inch.

Good.

Cradling your phone against your chest, you slipped out of bed and padded quietly across the hotel room. The carpet muffled your footsteps as you made your way to the bathroom. You eased the door shut behind you and clicked on the vanity light, bathing the small space in a warm yellow glow.

‘’You coming over tomorrow? The game is early so we won’t be home late.’’ His voice softened slightly, like the question mattered more than he wanted to admit.

‘’We’ll see how many goals you score,’’ you replied, sitting on the edge of the tub. 

Dean's eyebrows shot up. ‘’I need to score goals to get you now?’’

You hummed. ‘’My time has a price, Playboy.’’

He let out a dramatic sigh and dropped his head back against the pillow. ‘’Two goals.’’ 

‘’Three.’’ 

His eyes narrowed. ‘’Three? You drive a hard bargain.’’

‘’Sounds like a skill issue.’’

Dean barked out a laugh. ‘’Fine.’’

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

With your head held high, you walked down the tunnel beside your father and toward the bench as the boys spilled onto the ice for warmups. The arena buzzed with the energy of students and fans filling the stands and the sharp sound of skates cutting across fresh ice.

You could feel pairs of eyes watching — judging —, but you kept your expression calm and composed. You belonged here just as much as anyone else behind that bench.

‘’Show them whose blood runs in your veins,’’ your father had said before the game. 

You set your clipboard down beside the stack of water bottles, your gaze automatically sweeping across the ice. The boys were already in motion, circling through their warmup drills with the familiar mix of focus and show off that came with being college athletes. 

‘’Tucker’s late,’’ you noted.

Your father glanced toward the tunnel, seeing the latter. ‘’By thirty seconds.’’

‘’Still late.’’

A corner of his mouth twitched. 

‘’Sorry, Coach. Someone took the laces off my skates…’’ the curly haired left wing explained before getting on the ice. 

Across the ice, the opposing team skated out to a chorus of cheers from their home crowd. The energy in the building immediately shifted. Harvard wasn’t the Hawks’ biggest rival, but their goalie was skilled. You’ve seen him in action on videos and it was pretty impressive. Their center, however, had an Achilles heel: he got frustrated easily. 

Most players were good at hiding it. He wasn’t. The moment a game stopped going his way, his discipline slipped. He chased hits he didn’t need to make, took unnecessary risks with the puck, and started jawing at opponents instead of focusing on the play. It wasn’t enough to get him thrown out of games, but it was enough to throw him off.

And tonight, you intended to exploit it.

You flipped through the notes on your clipboard one last time as the siren went off and the boys gathered behind the bench. Coach had already explained their game plan in the locker room, but you wanted to add one thing. 

‘’Keep pressure on twenty-one all night,’’ you said. 

Several players glanced your way.

‘’Finish your checks. Nothing dirty. Nothing stupid. Just make him work for every inch of ice.’’

Logan nodded immediately. ‘’He'll crack?’’

‘’Eventually.’’

A grin spread across Dean’s face. ‘’Got it.’’ 

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