#barzal

Which was exactly why she wasn’t supposed to be his last resort.

But three weeks before his cousin’s wedding, Mat sat on his couch, scrolling through his contacts, each name sending a small wave of reluctance through him. He couldn’t bring just anyone — not to a family wedding in Kelowna where every aunt would be sizing up his date like a draft prospect.

So he tapped her name. The phone rang twice.

“Hey, Barzy. What’s up?” Her voice was casual, warm. It made his stomach tighten in the way he never admitted out loud.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck even though she couldn’t see it. “Random question. Feel free to say no.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” she said.

“My cousin’s getting married. In Kelowna. It’s kind of a big deal — outdoor vineyard, crazy guest list, you know.”

She let out a small laugh. “Sounds fancy. Where do I come in?”

“I need a date. And, well... I’m out of options.” He winced the moment the words left his mouth.

“Wow, how romantic,” she teased. “You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, then quieter, “I just didn’t think you'd say yes if I said you were my first choice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Mat…” she said, her voice a little softer now.

“So?” he said, trying to keep his tone light, playful, like always. “Want to come crash a wedding with me?”

She laughed, and it was the kind that always hit him right in the chest. “Sure, Barzal. I’ll be your pity date.”

“I’ll have you know, it’s open bar. And I clean up well.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t make me dance with your uncles.”

He smiled, a little too wide. “No promises.”

But the truth was, he’d only be thinking about dancing with her.

The wedding was exactly as over-the-top as Mathew had described. Rows of white chairs curved toward a flower-draped arch in the middle of the vineyard, the late afternoon sun painting everything gold. The bride was radiant. The view was unreal.

But Mat couldn’t focus on any of it.

Because she stepped out of the car wearing a dusty blue dress that made time feel like it slowed down. Her hair was half-up, curling softly around her face, and when she smiled at him — really smiled — his chest did something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.

“Wow,” he said, before he could stop himself.

She grinned. “You clean up pretty well too, Barzal.”

He offered her his arm. “Let’s go convince my family we’re not a total disaster.”

She looped her arm through his. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

The reception buzzed with champagne and laughter. Mat’s cousins whispered and winked every time she walked past, and his mom already looked halfway convinced she was part of the family.

She laughed through speeches and toasted with his teammates who made the trip. She even danced with Uncle Rick, whose rhythm should have been illegal.

Mat tried not to stare. Failed, obviously. But watching her — head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkling — something clicked into place.

She fit. Too well.

And that terrified him.

Later, as the sky turned navy and the fairy lights came on, soft music drifted through the speakers. The kind of slow, dreamy track that was made for swaying close on a summer night.

She was sitting at their table, heels kicked off, sipping a drink when he walked over.

“Dance with me,” he said. Not a question.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you promise to protect me from this?”

He grinned. “That was before I realized how good you look under twinkle lights.”

She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway. “Smooth.”

They stepped onto the dance floor. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders; his went to her waist, almost too careful.

They moved slowly, in sync without trying. The buzz of the day faded into the background — just murmurs and clinking glasses, and the two of them in a bubble that felt too easy to fall into.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“This is surprisingly not awkward,” she murmured.

He laughed, a little breathless. “Maybe we’re just that good.”

A beat passed. The song drifted on.

Then he said it.

Quietly. So quietly she almost missed it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

She blinked. “What?”

Mat froze. The words hung in the air like mist — soft, irreversible.

“I—” he started, then let out a shaky breath. “Shit. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to say that now.”

She didn’t pull away.

“Mat,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He looked at her then, all the jokes stripped away, eyes searching hers. “I didn’t ask you as a last resort. I just... couldn’t think of a way to ask you without messing it up.”

Her expression shifted, softening, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“Then maybe you should’ve said that first,” she said, smile curling at the corner of her lips. “Because I might’ve said yes even sooner.”

His breath caught.

“Wait… are you saying—?”

“I’m saying you’re a dumbass,” she teased, leaning in slightly, “but you’re my dumbass.”

The music kept playing. He didn’t say anything else — he just pulled her a little closer and kept dancing.

The wedding wound down the way all good ones do — heels forgotten, ties loosened, and laughter spilling into the warm night. But Mat barely noticed. Not when she was still by his side, fingers laced with his as they walked back toward the guest cottages tucked behind the vineyard.

The stars were out in full force, quiet and infinite above them. Crickets chirped somewhere in the grass. The world felt hushed.

They stopped just outside her door.

Neither moved.

She looked up at him, the soft glow of the porch light catching the curve of her cheek. “You okay?”

Mat nodded. Then shook his head. Then gave a small, crooked smile. “No. Not really.”

She laughed under her breath. “Still spiralling about blurting it out on the dance floor?”

He groaned. “I literally had a whole plan to tell you… someday. Maybe. Eventually. Not during a slow dance in front of Uncle Rick and a bunch of shrimp cocktail.”

She stepped closer. “It was kind of perfect, actually.”

He looked at her then — really looked. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, eyes soft. “Now you kiss me. Unless your plan was to confess and then run away?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was steady, sure — like all the months of unsaid things had finally found their place. Her hands slid to the back of his neck. His curled around her waist. And when they pulled apart, forehead to forehead, neither of them spoke for a moment.

They didn’t need to.

Sunlight spilled through the gauzy curtains of her room, golden and lazy. Birds chirped somewhere nearby, and the faint smell of vineyard earth and distant coffee lingered in the air.

Mat was already awake.

He sat on the edge of the bed, in his rumpled white dress shirt and black slacks, looking wholly out of place and yet somehow completely at home.

She stirred, blinking against the light. “You’re staring.”

He smiled, sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… making sure this wasn’t a dream.”

She reached for the nearest pillow and lobbed it at him. “You’re such a cliché.”

He caught it easily, laughing. “A devastatingly handsome cliché.”

She sat up, pulling the covers around her, and looked at him — really looked. There was something in his face she hadn’t noticed before. Not nerves. Not regret.

Just realness.

“How long?” she asked softly.

He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant.

“A while,” he said. “Long enough to be scared I ruined everything by saying it.”

She reached for his hand. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“I don’t want this to be just a wedding thing,” he said. “I don’t want to go back to pretending I’m just your friend.”

“Good,” she said, scooting closer. “Because I don’t think I could un-know this now.”

Mat leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. “So… are we doing this?”

She smiled, warm and sure. “Yeah, Barzy. We’re doing this.”

And in that sun-drenched room, with the world soft and quiet around them, it finally felt simple.

Three Weeks Later

She’d been to plenty of Mathew’s games before. Cheered him on from the stands. Worn his number on a hoodie, shouted when he scored, even roasted him for missed passes in post-game texts.

But this time? This time, she wasn’t just his friend who watched hockey. She was his girlfriend. And somehow, that made everything feel new.

She smoothed down her Islanders jersey — Barzal’s name stitched across the back — and tried not to overthink it. But her heart pounded a little faster when she caught sight of his face on the Jumbotron during warmups. She smiled instinctively, even though he couldn’t see her. Yet.

“Alright, Ms. Barzal,” teased the friend sitting next to her — one of Mat’s teammates’ girlfriends, clearly already in on the news. “You’re glowing. It’s kind of gross.”

She laughed, cheeks warm. “Shut up. I’m not glowing.”

“You are, though. I respect it.”

The game was intense. Fast-paced. Mat was locked in, weaving across the ice like he was born on skates. He tallied two assists by the second period, and when the buzzer rang at the end of the third with the Isles taking the win, she was already on her feet, clapping so hard her palms stung.

When he glanced up at the stands before disappearing down the tunnel, his eyes found her like they always did.

Only this time, he smiled. Just for her.

She stood awkwardly near the corner, watching other girlfriends and family members mingle, sipping beer out of plastic cups and waiting for their guys to emerge. Her fingers tugged nervously at the hem of her jersey.

Then the locker room doors opened, and there he was — hair still damp, suit back on, tie loose, smile easy.

Mat’s eyes lit up the second he saw her.

“There she is,” he said, walking straight over. “You looked good in the stands.”

“I looked good?” she teased. “Did you even notice the game?”

“I mean, I noticed the win,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist. “But yeah. You were kinda distracting.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him. “You were amazing.”

“Two assists,” he said, smug. “Pretty solid, huh?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, smirking up at him.

Then he kissed her.

Right there — in the middle of the lounge, surrounded by teammates and families and a million pairs of eyes.

Not shy. Not hesitant.

Just… his lips on hers, his hand steady at her back, like she belonged right there next to him.

When they pulled apart, a few of the guys nearby whooped obnoxiously.

“Get a room, Barzy!”

“Finally made it official, huh?”

Mat grinned, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Yeah,” he said, eyes still on her. “We did.”

And she realized, in that moment, that this — the hockey games, the post-win kisses, the teasing from teammates — this was real now.