summary: You and Sean have always walked the line between friendship and something more. Years of late-night calls, almost-confessions, and missed chances blur the boundaries, until one too many goodbyes pushes everything to the edge. But love doesnât always screamâit lingers in the silence, in the mess, in the moments that hurt the most. And maybe, just maybe, itâs finally time to stop running.
warnings: angst, miscommunication, pining, friends to lovers, denial
authorâs note: love this man and he needs more love fr, get on the durzi train people!!
word count: 1,868
The first time you meet Sean Durzi, youâre sixteen, and heâs got the kind of grin that makes people trust him too easily. Heâs easygoing, funny, the kind of guy who makes everything feel a little lighter. You, on the other hand, have always been a little too guarded, a little too careful about who you let in.
You become friends because you donât have a choiceâyour best friend starts dating his, and suddenly, youâre stuck in the same circles. It takes him about a week to break you down, to get you laughing at his dumb jokes and calling him when you canât sleep. By the time heâs drafted, he knows things about you no one else does.
But Sean? Heâs never been just a friend. Not really.
And thatâs the problem.
You tell yourself that youâre imagining itâthe way his hand lingers on your waist a second too long, the way his texts always come late at night, when his guard is down. Heâs flirty with everyone; thatâs just who he is. It doesnât mean anything.
Except, sometimes, it feels like it does.
Like the night before he leaves for his first NHL camp. Youâre lying on the hood of his car, parked at some quiet overlook outside the city. The air is warm, thick with the end of summer, and the stars scatter across the sky like someone spilled them carelessly. You donât want to talk about tomorrow, about what it means for him to leave.
But Sean does.
âYou think this changes things?â he asks, voice quieter than usual.
You donât look at him. âWhat do you mean?â
He hesitates, and for a second, you think heâs going to say itâthat thing neither of you ever say. But then he just sighs, reaching for your hand like itâs the most natural thing in the world. His fingers brush yours, barely touching.
âNever mind,â he mutters.
And you let it go, because thatâs what you do.
âââ
Sean leaves the next morning. You donât go to the airport. He doesnât ask you to.
Instead, he texts you from the plane.
Durzi: Youâre not gonna say goodbye?
You: You hate goodbyes.
Durzi: Doesnât mean I didnât want one.
You stare at the message for too long, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to find the right words. But there arenât any. There never are with him.
So you donât reply.
Days pass. Then weeks. Sean gets busier. You pretend you do too. The texts come less often, but they donât stop. He sends you stupid memes, voice notes when heâs exhausted, videos from team dinners where heâs always laughing, always surrounded by people.
You wonder if he ever feels alone.
Then, one night, he calls. Itâs almost 2 a.m., and you know you should let it go to voicemail. But you donât.
âYouâre still up,â he says instead of hello. His voice is rough, tired.
You close your eyes. âSo are you.â
Sean exhales, long and slow. âYeah.â A pause. âI miss you.â
Your throat tightens. Heâs never said that before.
âDonât,â you whisper.
But he just laughs, and itâs the kind that sounds like it might break apart at the edges. âYou think if I donât say it, it wonât be true?â
You donât answer.
Neither does he.
But neither of you hang up, either.
âââ
Sean comes home in the off-season, and itâs like nothingâs changed.
At least, thatâs what you tell yourself.
You see him at a party firstâone of those big summer reunions where half the people there are from high school, clinging to nostalgia like itâs the only thing keeping them afloat. Sean walks in like he owns the place, like he hasnât been gone for months, and suddenly, everyone gravitates toward him. Heâs laughing, hugging people, catching up.
And then his eyes find yours.
Itâs only for a second, but itâs enough.
You turn away first.
Later, when most people have left and the air is thick with the smell of spilled beer and sweat, he finds you on the back porch.
âYouâre avoiding me.â
You donât look up from your drink. âNo, Iâm not.â
Sean scoffs. âCome on.â
You clench your jaw. Because yeah, maybe you are. Maybe itâs easier to avoid him than to deal with the fact that every time he comes back, it gets harder to pretend you donât feel like something inside you is breaking.
âYou miss me?â he asks, and itâs teasing, but thereâs something under it. Something raw.
You finally glance at him, and God, he looks good. Tired, maybe, but good. The kind of good that makes your chest ache.
âNo,â you lie.
Sean exhales, shaking his head, and then he does something stupid. He steps closer. Just enough that you can smell his cologne, that his knee brushes yours where youâre sitting on the porch railing.
âYou still do that thing where you push people away when they get too close,â he murmurs.
You grip your drink a little tighter. âAnd you still do that thing where you make everything a joke.â
His jaw flexes. âThat what you think this is?â
You donât answer.
Because you both know it isnât.
âââ
A week later, you see him with someone else.
Youâre out with friends at a bar, trying to pretend you donât care that Sean isnât here, that you havenât spoken since that night on the porch. But then he walks in, and heâs not alone.
Sheâs pretty. Blonde. The kind of effortless that youâll never be. And sheâs got her hand wrapped around his arm like she belongs there.
Your stomach twists. You hate that it does.
âDid you know he was bringing someone?â you ask, voice too casual.
Your friend glances at you, eyes flicking between you and Sean. âI donât think itâs serious.â
You nod like that makes it better.
Sean sees you almost immediately. His smile falters just slightly, just enough that you notice. Then he nods, acknowledging you, and turns back to her.
You down the rest of your drink.
An hour later, youâre outside, breathing in the night air, trying to steady yourself. You tell yourself it doesnât hurt, that it shouldnât.
Then the door swings open.
âYou leaving?â Seanâs voice. Familiar. Too familiar.
You donât turn around. âYeah.â
A pause. âYou okay?â
You laugh, shaking your head. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
Sean exhales sharply. âCome on.â
You spin then, eyes flashing. âCome on, what?â
He looks at you like heâs trying to solve a puzzle. Like he knows exactly why youâre upset, but he needs you to say it.
You wonât.
Instead, you fold your arms, nodding toward the bar. âSheâs cute.â
Seanâs expression flickers. âItâs notââ
âI donât care,â you cut in. Itâs too sharp, too quick.
His jaw tightens. âRight.â
For a second, neither of you move. The city hums around youâcars passing, laughter spilling from inside the bar, the distant sound of music.
Then Sean shakes his head, like heâs finally done with whatever this thing is between you. âYou know what?â His voice is quiet, but thereâs something frayed in it. âForget it.â
And just like that, he walks back inside.
You donât stop him.
Even though you want to.
âââ
You donât talk for days after that night.
Itâs stupid. You know itâs stupid. But every time you think about texting him, about calling, you remember the way he looked at you before he walked back inside. Like he was finally giving up.
Maybe thatâs for the best.
At least, thatâs what you tell yourself until itâs past midnight and your phone buzzes.
Durzi: You up?
You stare at the message, heart pounding. You should ignore it. You should be stronger than this.
Instead, you reply.
You: Yeah.
A few seconds pass. Thenâ
Durzi: Come outside.
You hesitate, but only for a moment. Then you grab a hoodie and slip out the door.
Heâs leaning against his car, hands shoved into his pockets. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, making him look softer, more uncertain than usual.
You stop a few feet away. âWhat are you doing here?â
Sean lets out a slow breath. âI donât know.â
You cross your arms, suddenly cold. âThat girlââ
âDoesnât matter,â he says, cutting you off. âShe never did.â
You hate how much that makes your chest ache. âThen why did youââ
âI was trying to move on,â he admits, and his voice is raw in a way youâve never heard before. âBecause you sure as hell arenât gonna let me love you.â
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
Your throat tightens. âSeanââ
âNo, I get it,â he says, running a hand through his hair. âIâm the idiot who keeps waiting for you to admit that youââ He stops himself, shaking his head. âDoesnât matter.â
He turns like heâs going to leave, and something inside you snaps.
âWait.â
Sean freezes.
You swallow hard. Your pulse is racing, your hands are shaking, but for the first time, you donât let yourself run.
âI do,â you whisper. âI do love you.â
Sean exhales sharply, like heâs been holding his breath this whole time. Slowly, he turns back to you.
And then heâs stepping forward, closing the space between you, reaching for you like heâs done a thousand times before. Only this time, you donât pull away.
This time, you let him.
Sean doesnât kiss you.
Not right away.
He just looks at you, searching, like heâs waiting for you to take it back. Like he canât believe you actually said it.
Your hands are shaking, so you clench them into fists. âSay something.â
Sean swallows. âYou love me.â
Itâs not a question, but he says it like one anyway, like he needs to hear it again to be sure.
You nod, throat tight. âYeah.â
His jaw clenches, and for a second, you think youâve messed everything up. That heâs going to tell you itâs too late, that heâs done waiting.
But then he exhales, and itâs shaky, like heâs been holding everything in for too long. âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to hear you say that.â
Your heart stutters. âSeanââ
He shakes his head. âNo, because do you know what itâs like to be in love with someone who keeps pretending it doesnât mean anything?â His voice isnât angry, just tired. âBecause thatâs what this has been. You saying it doesnât matter. You pretending Iâm just your friend. You pushing me away every time it got too real.â
Guilt twists in your stomach. Heâs right. Youâve spent years pretending this wasnât what it was, convincing yourself that keeping him at a distance was safer.
âI was scared,â you admit.
Sean lets out a quiet laugh, but thereâs no humour in it. âYeah. I know.â
You reach for him then, fingers curling around his wrist. âI donât want to be anymore.â
He stares at you for a long moment. Then he sighs, his forehead dropping against yours. âYouâre gonna have to prove that.â
You nod, closing your eyes. âI know.â
And when he kisses you, you donât try and run like usual.
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love your work sm!! would you be willing to write a sean durzi smut about celebrating the win after his first home game back from injury?
nsfw content below
seanâs got that stupid, cocky smile on his face, stretched wide, teeth all perfect, in contrast to the hockey scar on the top of bridge of his nose. youâre straddling his lap, knees planted firm on either side of his hips, and heâs sprawled out underneath you, bare-chested, still a little sweaty from the beer-fueled victory lap he took around your apartment after the doctors gave him the all-clear.
âyâknow,â he drawls, tilting his head back against the pillow, brown curls fanning out across the fabric. âi think this might be a little counterproductive.â
you grip his cock in your fist and rub the tip against your entrance, slow and deliberate, teasing the sensitive head along slick folds, and his eyes flicker. just a second of weakness. âwhat, you donât wanna celebrate?â
his hands slide up your thighs, warm palms cupping the swell of them before squeezing at your hips, pulling you in just a little closer. âoh, i wanna celebrate,â he says, voice raspier now, rough at the edges. âbut if you keep fuckinâ me like this, docâs gonna be benching me again.â
you roll your hips, letting just the tip sink in, not nearly enough for either of you, and his fingers twitch against your skin. âguess you better hold onto me tight, then,â you murmur, breath hitching as you take him deeper, inch by inch, feeling the thick stretch of him filling you up, raw and unfiltered, no barriers between you.
sean groans, low and punched-out, hands gripping tighter at your waist, and fuck, the way heâs looking at youâeyes dark, pupils blown wide, lips parted just enough for little gasps to slip outâis enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight down your spine.
âfuckinâ hell,â he mutters, fingers digging in just a little, like heâs trying to ground himself, like heâs the one getting wrecked here. âyou tryna kill me?â
âmm,â you hum, rolling your hips again, slow, deliberate, chasing the friction where you need it most. âmaybe a little.â
he laughs, breathless, before he bucks up into you, a little punishing, a little desperate, and you gasp at the sudden shock of it, fingernails digging into his shoulders.
his smirk is lazy, hazy, a little bit of a shit-eating grin. âgonna have to tell the guys i got re-injured âcause my girl doesnât know how to take it easy on me.â
you press your palms against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your fingertips, the shift of muscle beneath sweat-slick skin as he moves. âi think you like it,â you tease, pushing yourself up just to slam back down again, making both of you moan, loud and unabashed, bodies rocking together in perfect sync.
sean makes a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a curse, hands sliding up your sides, warm and firm. âfuck,â he breathes, âyeah, i like it. shit, baby, you feelââ
you roll your hips, cutting him off, and the words die on his tongue, swallowed by the way his breath catches, the way his nails dig into your skin.
âgoddamn,â he pants, throwing his head back against the pillow, curls sticking to his forehead. ânext time i get injured, remind me to fuckinâ milk it, âcause if this is the recovery plan, iâm never going back.â
The official trailer for the new âScooby-Doo and Guess Who?â series is now available to watch! For those who arenât aware, this show will take on a similar format to the 1970âČs âThe New Scooby-Doo Moviesâ series where the gang teams up with celebrity guest stars and popular fictional characters to solve mysteries. This show will premier on the Boomerang streaming app on June 27th and will release new episodes weekly up until the season finale in September!
Who else is excited about this series? Do you like the look/style/premise of it? Or no? Iâd love to hear what you have to say.
(And yes, this series will be added on to That Groovy Scoobcastâs roster of episode reviews)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
CNW Executive Special at James, CA eastbound in the morning in August 1986 by Marty Bernard
Via Flickr:
CNW 7000, 7001, and 7002 were SD50s built Nov. 1985. Thus they were less that a year old in Roger's photos. As a bench mark, UP bought CNW in April 1995. This was a Chicago to Oakland, CA and return trip for the Annual AAR Meeting. A Roger Puta Photograph
"So, can we kiss in your swimming pool?
In this bathing suit, I would die for you
Maybe I don't have to leave so soon
You look heavenly in this shade of blue"
***
Summary: Right person, wrong... circumstances?
Word Count: 7k
Pairing: Sean Durzi x fem!reader
Warnings: Alcohol, some flashback-y wisps of sexual acts/feelings.
Notes:
- readerâs nickname is bunny
- this isn't a request i just wanted to write for my husband so bad
- he is so mf gorgeous guys please stop only giving john marino attention. SEAN IS RIGHT THERE.
- i like writing kissy scenes :3
- also wanna write for him more so bad so request if u want
- and I'm sorry for the overuse of "this is just one night" etc I didn't know what to do!!
***
Being broken apart and put back together in a blink of an eye is both a curse and a miracle. A reminder of what was shattered, yet proof youâre still standing.
You hadnât believed in miracles until Sean Durzi came along. Three years spent drowning in a relationship that dragged you down with every fight, every cold silence, every broken promise, and you thought that was it. That was all youâd ever know. When it ended, it left a wreckage so complete, you werenât sure youâd ever feel whole again.
Then Sean appeared, like sunlight through the blinds after days of rain. You hadnât even been looking for himânot really. Heâd found you in the most unremarkable way, but somehow, it was unforgettable.
It was a Tuesday night at the Echo Park rink, your first time there since your ex had left, and you werenât even skatingâjust watching from the benches. A pick-up game was happening, nothing serious, but Sean was there, gliding across the ice with an ease that felt like poetry. You didnât know who he was then, only that he kept stealing glances in your direction when he wasnât cutting through the ice.
After the game, he approached, helmet under one arm, that soft, earnest smile making your breath catch before he even spoke. âYou looked like you were having fun,â he teased lightly, nodding toward your skates, still resting beside you, unused.
âMaybe next time,â youâd said, your voice betraying the smallest flicker of amusement despite yourself.
Sean didnât let you go without your number.
And so it beganâmonths of something that wasnât quite dating, but it was real. Real in the way he saw you, all the broken pieces, and made you feel like you didnât need fixing. Real in the way he noticed the things others overlooked, like the way you liked extra cilantro on your tacos or how you always squinted a little when you were deep in thought. Real in the way he called you beautiful, perfect, when you didnât believe it yourself.
But life doesnât care about perfect. Life doesnât care about soft, sunlit moments. He got traded to Arizona.
It happened so fast you didnât have time to feel the full weight of it until it was already over. The day after the news broke, he didnât whisk you off to some romantic, movie-ending goodbye dinner. No, he took you to a taco truck by Venice Beach. No pretense, no grandiosity. Just the two of you, sitting on the hood of his car, sharing greasy tortillas under the orange glow of a streetlight.
âThis sucks,â heâd said simply, looking out at the waves instead of you. âBut maybe... we take a break? Make it easier on both of us?â
Youâd nodded, because what else could you do? You couldnât argue with his logic. You couldnât ask him to stay.
And that was that. The break never ended. Birthday texts, Instagram reactions, the occasional swipe-upâtiny breadcrumbs of something that used to be everything.
Now, years later, you're back in your small apartment, the city buzzing faintly outside your window, a cold can of hard seltzer sweating in your hand. You're scrolling aimlessly, taking your first sip when your phone buzzesâwhich already startles you, but you haven't even seen the name yet.
Sean.
You spit out your drink, cursing as the cold liquid splatters across your arm, the coffee table, the floor. "Shit," you hiss, grabbing a napkin to dab at the mess, the rest of you frozen as your eyes stay glued to the screen. His name blinks up at you, as real and impossible as the can you nearly drop, still clutched awkwardly in your other hand.
You should let it go to voicemail. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Pretend you've fallen asleep early, that you've gone out, that your phone's deadâanything but this. But your thumb moves on its own, swiping to answer.
âHello?â Your voice comes out strained, shakyâlike you've forgotten how to speak and are just now remembering. You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself, your mind racing, heart thundering against your ribs.
âHey, Bunny.â His voice slips through the receiver like a memory, warm and teasing, and you almost drop the phone. Bunny. No one else calls you that. Just him. His voice sounds like everything you've tried not to think aboutâhis breath against your ear, his laugh when you said something sarcastic, his hands framing your face when he kissed youâgentle but sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what you needed.
âHey,â you manage, fingers tightening around the phone. Thereâs a pause, but not the kind that makes you anxiousâmore like heâs waiting. Waiting for you to catch your breath, to find words buried beneath memories of him.
âYou picked up.â He sounds surprised, and you almost laugh. He doesnât know you still keep his notifications on, that your phoneâs ringer is silent for everyone else but him. That each time heâs messaged or reacted to a story, your heartâs flipped, hopingâalways hoping.
âYeah, Iââ You bite your lip, glancing at the wet spot spreading across your rug. âIâm awake.â A brilliant response, really. You cringe at yourself, and you swear you can hear him smiling through the phone, that lopsided, easy grin you used to love so muchâstill love, if youâre honest.
âGood. I couldnât sleep,â he says, his voice dipping lower, and your stomach flips again. You can picture him nowâhair messy, eyes heavy-lidded and a little red from tiredness, probably lying in some hotel bed with the TV on mute. âIâm in townâroadie. Just got in a few hours ago.â
He's here. Back in LA, where it all started. A few miles away, maybe closer. Your mouth feels dry, the seltzerâs chill fading under the heat rising in your chest. Heâs so close, and suddenly, every thought you've pushed asideâthe way his hands felt on your skin, the way his lips moved against yoursâcomes rushing back with a force that almost knocks the air from your lungs.
âOh.â Itâs all you can say, because what else is there? What do you say to the man who left you at a taco truck with a broken heart and a smile that was still too soft, too kind for goodbye? The man who, despite it all, youâve never really stopped wanting?
âYou sound shocked,â he says, his voice lilting with that teasing edge youâve missed, and you can practically see the smirk tugging at his lips.
âI am,â you admit, a soft laugh escaping despite the nerves twisting inside you. âI wasnât expecting to hear from you atâŠâ You glance at the clock, the numbers blinking back at you. âEleven-thirty at night.â
âSorry,â he says, not sounding sorry at all, and you can hear the grin still there, warm and familiar. âBut⊠since youâre awake⊠want to hang out?â
Your heart stops. Actually stops, like the whole world has paused just for a moment, waiting for you to decide.
âHang out?â you repeat, your voice nearly a whisper. Itâs like you need him to confirmâto say it again, to make it real, because thereâs a part of you that thinks this is a dream.
âYeah. I mean, Iâm at the Ritz, and theyâve got this ridiculous pool area. I was thinking⊠I dunno. I could use some company.â His voice softens, that teasing edge giving way to something elseâsomething honest. Vulnerable, even.
You swallow, your fingers trembling slightly as you wipe your damp hand on your sweatpants. âSean, IâŠâ You trail off, closing your eyes, and you see it all in your mindâthe pool, the soft glow of hotel lights, his eyes meeting yours, that smile that could undo you.
âNo pressure,â he says, gentle now, almost like he can hear the war in your mind. âI just miss you. Even if itâs just for tonight.â
There it is. The words youâve wanted, the ones you've dreaded. You know what tonight meansâknow that if you go, you wonât be able to pretend this is nothing. Because it isnât. It never has been. Not for you.
âOkay,â you breathe out before you can stop yourself, before the part of you thatâs scared, the part that wants to keep yourself safe, can take over. âOkay, Iâll come.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then you hear itâthe soft exhale of his breath, like heâs been holding it, waiting. âYeah?â
âYeah.â The word feels like a promise, a leap into the unknown, but thereâs something freeing about it. Because maybe⊠maybe you need this. Maybe you need to see him, to let yourself feel again, even if it ends in heartbreak.
âIâll text you the address,â he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice again, softer this time. âBring a suit. Call me when youâre hereâthey wonât let you in without me.â
The call ends, and you sit there, staring at your phone, your heart pounding. The city outside buzzes on, indifferent to the way your world has just tilted on its axis.
***
You sit in your car, fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel, staring up at the entrance of the hotel. The parking lot is empty, the dim streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement, and the air feels heavyâalmost like it's holding its breath right along with you.
The bikini underneath your sweatshirt feels like a second skin, and you shift, the fabric of the hoodie brushing against bare shoulders. You've picked this one on purposeâa deep blue, with little white flowers that trail along the straps. You remember the way Seanâs eyes lit up the first time you wore something similar, how he said blue made you look like you were summer itself. He hadnât known then just how much those words had meant to you, how they made you feel like you were something soft and brightâsomething that could be loved.
You're not sure if you still believe that, but as you sit there, you hopeâjust a littleâthat maybe he'll look at you tonight the way he had back then.
The phone buzzes in your hand, and you look down, your heart jumping into your throat at his name lighting up the screen.
âCome in,â his text reads. âLobbyâs empty. Iâll meet you there.â
A breath you didnât realize you've been holding escapes, and you reach for the door handle, fingers brushing against the cool metal. The air outside is crisp against your skin, and as you walk across the parking lot, your bare legs prickle with goosebumps, the coolness seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts.
The lobby looms ahead, all glass and soft light, and you hesitate just for a moment, your reflection staring back at you. Your oversized sweatshirt looks almost comical, the shorts barely peeking out underneath, and you feel the nerves gnawing at your insides. You're so underdressed. You shouldn't be here. But then you remember his voiceââI miss you. Even if itâs just for tonight.â
Even if itâs just for tonight.
You push the door open, stepping into the empty lobby, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound. The tiled floor is cold beneath your flip-flops, and you pull your sleeves over your hands, wrapping your arms around yourself, glancing around as if someone might step out at any moment and tell you you donât belong here.
And then, the door to the hallway opens, and there he is.
Sean. His hair is insanely unruly, curls fluffing out, and heâs wearing almost exactly what you areâa hoodie and swim trunks, his bare legs tanned against the stark white of his socks. A towel is slung over his shoulder, and when his eyes meet yours, the smile that spreads across his face is like coming home.
âBunny,â he says, his voice soft, a little breathless, and before you can even take another step, heâs there, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.
You sink into him, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his hoodie, his warmth seeping into you, and itâs like no time has passed at all. His scentâsomething clean and familiarâfills your senses, and you close your eyes, letting yourself be held, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. His hands rub slow circles against your back, his chin resting on top of your head, and you feel the tension youâve been holding onto for months melt away, just a little.
âI missed you,â he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair, and you swallow, your throat tight.
âI missed you too,â you whisper, your fingers curling into the back of his hoodie, not wanting to let go. The world outside the lobby, outside his arms, feels too sharp, too cold, but hereâin this small bubble of warmth, it feels like maybe things could be okay again.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your waist, his eyes searching yours. Thereâs something thereâsomething you havenât seen in so long. A softness, a tenderness that makes your chest ache.
âYou look good,â he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat.
âSo do you,â you manage, your voice trembling slightly, and his lips curve into that lopsided smileâthe one that always makes your stomach flutter, that makes you want to reach up and kiss him, to feel his lips against yours again.
He seems to read your mind, his eyes dropping to your lips, his fingers tightening just a little on your waist, and for a moment, the world seems to slow, everything else fading away. Itâs just him, just you, the space between you shrinking until it feels like nothing at all.
âCome on,â he says finally, his voice rougher now, his eyes lifting back to meet yours. âLetâs go.â
He takes your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, and you follow him, your heart pounding, the warmth of his palm grounding you. You canât think, canât do anything but feelâthe softness of his touch, the way his thumb brushes lightly against your knuckles, the way every step brings you closer to something you hadnât let yourself hope for.
He leads you down the hallway, through a set of double doors that lead to the outside, and there it isâthe pool area, empty and softly lit, the water shimmering under the lights. Itâs beautiful, serene, and you feel your breath catch, your fingers tightening around his.
He lets go of your hand just to pull his hoodie over his head, and you watch, your breath catching in your throat as the fabric reveals tan, lean muscle. You hadnât realized how much you missed seeing him like thisâthe easy strength in his movements, the way his skin catches the light. A thousand memories flash in your mindâhis bare chest pressed against yours, the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, how youâd traced the lines of his collarbone with your lips until he was breathless.
It makes your heart ache. Makes you almost want to tell him that maybe this isnât such a good ideaâthat seeing him like this, that touching him again, will only make it harder when he leaves again. But when his eyes meet yours, when he gives you that soft, knowing smile, the words stick in your throat, dissolving into something softer, something warm that curls up in your chest.
Your fingers shake as you tug at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down, the fabric pooling around your ankles. You step out of them, suddenly all too aware of his gaze on you, the way his eyes trail down, lingering. Thereâs a flicker of something in his expression when he sees itâthe bikini. The one heâd loved so much, that deep blue that made him say you looked like you belonged somewhere sunlit and warm. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, his lips part in a soft exhale, his eyes meeting yours again with something unspoken, something that makes your pulse quicken.
âYou kept it,â he says, his voice low, almost like he didnât mean to say it out loud.
âYeah,â you breathe, your cheeks flushing, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. âGuess I couldnât really let go of everything.â
His eyes soften, and he takes a step closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch so light it sends a shiver down your spine. You feel it thenâall the old feelings rushing back. The way he made you feel seen, made you feel like you were something worth holding onto. The sweetness of it, the warmth, but also the hunger, the way your body seems to hum just being this close to him again. Youâve tried so hard to forget itâtried so hard to convince yourself you donât need this, donât need him. But now, standing here, with his eyes on you, with his fingers brushing against youâyou know youâve been lying to yourself.
You reach for the hem of your hoodie, ready to pull it over your head, but the strings of your bikini top tug loose, the knot at the back slipping undone. You freeze, awkwardness flooding you as you try to fumble it back into place, your fingers trembling too much to make any progress.
âHere, let me,â Sean says, his voice gentle, his hands already moving to take over. You let your arms fall to your sides, your eyes dropping to the floor, heat rising to your cheeks as his fingers work at the strings, brushing against your bare skin. His touch is careful, deliberate, and yet each time his fingers graze your back, it sends a spark of something electric through youâsomething that makes you remember how it felt to be undressed by him, how his hands were always both soft and demanding, how they made you feel like you were the only thing he wanted.
He ties the knot securely, his hands lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. You turn around to look up, and then your eyes meet him. Thereâs something in his gazeâsomething that makes your breath catch, something that makes your heart ache with wanting.
âYouâre beautiful, you know that?â he murmurs, his voice rough, almost like heâs holding something back. âStill the most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen.â
Your chest tightens, your eyes stinging with tears you refuse to let fall. You donât want to fall in too deep. Not when this is just one night. Not when heâll be leaving again, and youâll be left to pick up the pieces of yourself that heâs always seemed to put back together so effortlessly.
You swallow hard, forcing a smile, trying to ignore the way his words make your heart ache, the way they make you want to pull him close and never let go. âLetâs just⊠letâs just swim, okay?â you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he lets go, stepping back, giving you space. You miss his touch immediately, the warmth of his hands on your skin, but you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This is just one night. One night to let yourself feel again, to let yourself remember what itâs like to be with himâto be loved by him, even if itâs only for a few hours.
You pull the hoodie the rest of the way over your head, dropping it onto the lounge chair beside you, and you step closer to the edge of the pool, the cool water lapping at your toes. You glance back at Sean, whoâs watching you, his eyes dark, filled with something you canât quite nameâsomething that makes your stomach flutter, that makes you want to dive headfirst into whatever this is, even if you know it will hurt when it ends.
âMaybe we should try the hot tub first?â Sean cuts in, probably sensing the lovesick expression on your face.
You feel your heart leap into your throat at his suggestion, your gaze flicking over to the hot tub, the steam rising gently into the cool night air. Heâs right; it would be warmer, more comfortableâbut thereâs something else, too. The intimacy of it. The way the water will bubble around you, the heat pressing against your skin, the way youâll be so close with nowhere to hide. It feels like everything you shouldnât be doing, like everything youâve tried to convince yourself to stay away from. But then, you look at him, his smile soft, his eyes on you like youâre the only thing that matters, and you canât bring yourself to say no.
âYeah, okay,â you say, and you watch the way his eyes light up, his lips curling into a smile that makes your heart flutter. He reaches for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, and he leads you over to the hot tub.
The water is hot, almost scalding, and you suck in a breath as you step in, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Sean follows, his hand still in yours, and you watch as he sinks down into the bubbling water, a low groan escaping his lips as the heat envelops him. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, something dark and wanting twisting low in your belly, and you bite your lip, trying to ignore the way it makes your body react, the way it makes you think of other times heâd groaned like thatâof the way his mouth had moved against your skin, the way heâd whispered your name, low and breathless, as he moved inside you.
You settle beside him, the water lapping gently at your shoulders, and you glance over at him, his head leaning back against the edge of the hot tub, his eyes closed, his lips parted. He looks⊠peaceful. Tired, but in a way that makes you want to reach out, to touch him, to soothe whatever it is that has him looking so worn out.
âGod, I needed this,â he murmurs, his voice rough, his eyes still closed. âIâve been so sore lately. Practice, games, all of it. Itâs been brutal.â
You nod, even though he canât see it, your gaze trailing over him, the way his muscles relax under the water, the way the tension seems to melt from his body. You remember how he used to come to you after games, how heâd collapse onto the couch beside you, his head in your lap, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. Youâd run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, and heâd sigh, his eyes fluttering shut, his body going slack under your touch. You miss thatâmiss the way he trusted you, the way he let you take care of him.
âYou look tired,â you say softly, and his eyes open, his gaze meeting yours, a small smile tugging at his lips.
âYeah, well,â he says, his voice still rough, but thereâs a softness to it now, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache. âItâs been a lot. But Iâm here now. With you.â
The words make your heart skip a beat, make something warm and painful bloom in your chest, and you look away, not trusting yourself to speak. Because heâs here now, but he wonât be for long.Â
This is just one night, and you canât let yourself forget that.Â
You canât let yourself fall into the trap of believing this is anything more than it isâthat heâll stay, that heâll want more than just tonight.
âSo,â he says, his voice breaking the silence, and you glance back at him, his eyes on you, his smile soft. âHow have you been? Iâm sorry, I didnât even ask before.â
You swallow, your throat tight, and you force a smile, shrugging. âIâve been okay,â you say, your voice sounding small, even to your own ears. âYou know. Work, life. The usual.â
He nods, his eyes searching yours, and thereâs something thereâsomething that makes you want to look away, something that makes your chest ache. âYeah,â he says, his voice soft. âYeah, I get that.â
You look down, your fingers brushing against the surface of the water, the bubbles tickling your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This is supposed to be easy. Fun. But with him looking at you like that, with his eyes so soft, so full of something you canât quite nameâit feels like too much. Like youâre standing on the edge of something, and if youâre not careful, youâll fall.
âIâm glad you called,â you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding. âI⊠I missed you too.â
His eyes soften, his lips curling into that lopsided smile that makes your stomach flutter, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. âYeah?â he says, his voice low, and you nod, your breath catching in your throat.
âYeah,â you whisper, and for a moment, everything else fades awayâthe fear, the uncertainty, the knowledge that this is only for tonight. Itâs just him, just you, the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes look at you like youâre the only thing that matters.
He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, letting yourself forgetâjust for a little whileâthat this will end. That heâll leave, and youâll be left to pick up the pieces of yourself all over again.
The warmth of the hot tub wraps around you both, the bubbling water gently lapping at your skin. Heâs still so closeâclose enough that his knee brushes against yours beneath the surface, a subtle contact that sends sparks skittering up your spine. The air between you is charged, as though all the words you havenât said, all the years of aching silence, are humming in the space that separates you. His eyes are soft, searching, and each time you look at him, you feel that familiar pull deep in your chest, the one that draws you toward him despite every reason youâve given yourself to stay away.
His hand moves slowly, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw, skimming across your skin in a way that makes your heart flutter. Thereâs hesitation in his eyes, a restraint that holds him back, as if heâs afraid that if he lets go, heâll fall all the wayâand maybe take you with him.
You turn your face slightly, eyes slipping closed as his thumb traces your bottom lip, the lightest touch, but it feels like fire, warmth flooding you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You miss this. Miss the way his touch makes you feel like youâre the only person in the world, the way he looks at you as though youâre something preciousâsomething he doesnât want to break, but canât resist touching.
âYou still do that thing,â he murmurs, his voice low, rough, as if heâs fighting the urge to just pull you to him. His lips hover close to your cheek, his breath brushing against your skin, making you shiver.
âDo what?â you manage, eyes fluttering open to meet his. The way heâs looking at youâlike youâre something beautiful, something he canât quite believe is in front of himâmakes your heart ache.
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip again. âThat thing you do,â he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. âWhen I kiss you, and you pull away, your lips part like this,ââhe gently presses against your lower lip with his thumbââand your teeth show a little. Itâs like youâre waiting for more. Like youâre justâŠâ
He trails off, his eyes darkening, his voice hushed, filled with something raw that makes your chest tighten. âLike youâre just waiting for me to come back. Still my Bunny.â
Your breath catches, and your lips part, teeth grazing your bottom lip as you look at him. Heâs right. Youâve always been waiting for himâeven now, after everything.Â
You want him. Even if itâs just for tonight. Even if it breaks you again.
His thumb slips away, replaced by his lips, brushing softly over the corner of your mouth, and your breath hitches, your heart racing as his mouth finds your skin. He kisses your jaw, slowly, his lips warm, soft, and you tilt your head back, giving him more room, fingers curling into his hair. His lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck, each kiss making your skin tingle, your whole body hum with a want you havenât let yourself feel in so long.
âSeanâŠâ you start, head tilting further as his lips find the hollow of your throat, his breath hot against your skin. You want to say somethingâsomething to make this easier, something to stop the ache in your chestâbut the words donât come. All you can feel is him, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth moving up to your ear.
âI missed this,â he murmurs, his voice rough, filled with something that makes your stomach twist in knots. His hands slide along your sides, fingers brushing over the wet fabric of your bikini, and your body moves on its own, shifting closer until your thighs touch under the water, his hands gripping your waist, holding you to him.
âIâve missed you⊠too,â you manage, your voice coming out breathless, as though youâre trying to make normal conversation. Trying, and failing, because the way he kisses youâtracing slow, lazy lines with his lips along your neckâmakes your words shaky, stuttering.
âMhm?â he hums against your skin, his nose brushing along your jaw, the vibrations from his voice sending shivers down your spine. Heâs not really listening, you can tell. The soft noises he makes are just to keep you talking while all his attention is on the feel of your skin, the taste of you. He kisses down your throat, his hands tightening on your waist, and you canât help itâa small sound escapes you, something between a sigh and a whimper. It makes him pause, just for a moment, before he keeps going, his lips now pressing more firmly against your skin, as if he likes that sound. As if he wants to hear it again.
Your hips shift slightly, pressing into him, and you feel the way his breath catches, the way his hands tighten on you.
âYouâre making it⊠really hard to think,â you manage, your voice barely above a whisper, eyes slipping closed as his lips move down to your collarbone, kissing the skin there, his teeth grazing just enough to make your breath catch. He chuckles, the sound low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine, your whole body trembling in his arms.
âGood,â he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin, his voice so low, so filled with something raw and real that it makes your chest ache. âYou think too much, Bunny.â
Heâs right. You do think too much. About him, about this, about what it means and what it doesnât mean. But right now, with his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, you donât want to think. You just want to feel.
You tried so hard to be okay without him. You spent countless nights convincing yourself you donât need him, that you can move on, that youâre fine. But now, with his breath against your ear, his hands roaming over your bare skin, all that progress shatters, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. You feel everythingâhis fingers pressing into your sides, his lips tracing the line of your collarbone, his body pressing close against yoursâand itâs like no time has passed. Itâs as if youâre right back where you left off, still in love, still craving every part of him.
His lips find that sensitive spot beneath your ear, and a soft gasp escapes your lips, your fingers tightening on his shoulders now as your body arches into his touch. His mouth on your skin sends a rush of heat through you, pooling low in your belly. You canât help the way your hips shift, seeking more. The hard line of his body against yours, his heavy breathing, the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palmsâit all makes your head spin, makes you want to drown in him.
And it scares you.
Because you know how this ends.Â
You know that tomorrow, or next week, heâll leave, and youâll be alone, hurting even more than before. If you let yourself fall, there will be nothing to catch you.
His hands slide up, thumbs brushing the underside of your bikini top, and your breath hitches, your entire body trembling. Heâs gentle, careful, but the want in his touch is undeniable, and it makes something inside you ache. You want himâGod, you want him so badlyâbut you also want to protect yourself, to keep your heart from shattering again.
âSean,â you whisper, your voice shaky, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to gather your thoughts. His lips move to your neck again, kissing softly, and your resolve starts to slip, your fingers tightening on his shoulders, your body arching into him.
âBunny,â he murmurs against your skin, his voice soft, filled with something that makes your chest ache. His hands move to your back, holding you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder. âI missed this so fucking much with you,â He trails off, his voice breaking slightly, and you hear itâthe vulnerability, the longing, the same fear that you feel. âItâs not the same with anyone else.â
He wants this just as much as you do. Heâs scared, just like you are.
And maybe thatâs why it hurts so much. Because, again, you know that if you let yourself fall, he wonât be able to catch you. Heâs here now, but he wonât stay. And you⊠you donât know if you can survive losing him again.
âSean,â you say again, your voice stronger this time, your hands moving to his chest, pushing gently. âI⊠I canât.â The words tear out of you, and you hate them. You hate that you canât let yourself have thisâhave him. But if you donât stop now, youâll fall too far, and there will be no coming back.
He pulls back immediately, his eyes wide, his hands dropping from your waist like heâs been burned. âShit,â he whispers, his voice filled with regret, his eyes searching yours. âShit, Iâm sorry. I⊠I didnât mean toâŠâ He trails off, running a hand through his hair, his eyes dropping to the water, his whole body tense. âIâm so sorry, Bunny. I shouldnât haveâŠâ
âNo,â you say quickly, your heart clenching at the look on his face, the way he seems so hurt, so worried. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his arm, and he looks up, his eyes meeting yours, filled with something that makes your chest tighten. âItâs not you. I just⊠I got overwhelmed. Iâm⊠Iâm sorry.â
He shakes his head, his lips pressing into a tight line, his eyes still on yours. âYou donât have to be sorry,â he says softly, his voice filled with something that makes your throat tighten. âI get it. We donât have to do anything you donât want to.â
You take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you push away from him, standing up and stepping out of the hot tub. The night air shocks your skin, the cool breeze biting at your damp body, and you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself as you make your way over to the pool. The water is still, calm, reflecting the soft glow of the hotel lights, and you pause at the edge, your toes curling over the tiles.
You need this. You need the cold, something to pull you back from the edge, to clear your head. You can still feel his hands on you, the warmth of his touch, his breath against your skin, and itâs all too much. Too much wanting, too much fear. You need space, air, a reminder that youâre in controlâthat you can stop this before it goes too far.
The water is cold as you slip in, the shock stealing your breath, but it feels goodâcleansing. You sink down until only your head remains above the surface, your eyes closing as you let the chill seep into your bones, calming the frantic pounding of your heart. You take a deep breath, your fingers brushing the tiled edge of the pool, your body floating weightlessly. For a moment, everything fades awayâitâs just you, just the water, just the quiet.
âBunny?â
His voice breaks the silence, soft and hesitant. You open your eyes, turning to see Sean standing at the edge of the pool, his expression filled with something that makes your chest acheâworry, fear, longing. Itâs all there, and it makes your heart twist, makes you want to reach out, to tell him itâs okay.
âCan I come in?â he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You nod, your eyes not leaving his as he steps forward, slipping into the water beside you. He doesnât move closer, doesnât reach for you. He just stays there, his eyes on yours, his hands resting on the edge of the pool, his body tense.
âIâm sorry,â he says, breaking the silence, his voice raw, filled with fear and regret. âIâm so fucking sorry, Bunny. I didnât mean to push you, I just⊠I missed you. So much. And seeing you here, being this close again, itâs likeâŠâ He trails off, his eyes dropping to the water, his shoulders slumping. âItâs like I forgot how to breathe without you.â
You swallow, your throat tight, and look away, your fingers brushing the surface of the water. His words cut through all the walls youâve built around yourself, and it hurtsâGod, it hurtsâbecause you want to believe him, want to let yourself fall, but youâre still so scared. Scared of getting hurt, scared of losing him again, scared of what it would mean if you let yourself love him.
âI⊠Iâm scared, Sean,â you whisper. He sucks in a breath, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. âIâm scared that if I let myself have this, if I let myself love you again, youâll leave. And I donât think I can survive that. Not again.â
Heâs silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and then he movesâslowly, cautiouslyâuntil heâs right in front of you, his hands reaching out, his fingers brushing against your arms, his touch gentle, careful. âI know,â he says, his voice thick, his eyes filled with something that makes your chest tighten. âI know youâre scared. And Iâm scared too. But I⊠I swear, Iâd never hurt you. Not on purpose. Iâd die before I let anything happen to you.â
Your breath catches, your heart pounding, and you look at himâreally look at himâand you see it. The fear, the vulnerability, the love. Itâs there, raw and real, and it makes your chest ache, makes you want to reach out, to touch him, to let yourself believe that maybeâjust maybeâthis could be different.
âWhen I was in Arizona,â he continues, his voice shaking slightly, âI thought about you. Every day. Every fucking day, I thought about you. I saw your posts, saw you smiling, and it⊠God, it hurt. It hurt so bad because you were here, happy, and I was stuck there, wishing I could be with you. Wishing I could be the one making you smile like that.â
He takes a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your arms, his eyes shining. âI love you. I never stopped loving you. And I⊠I know I fucked up. I know I let you go, and I hate myself for it. But if youâll let me, Iâll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Iâll spend every day making you feel loved, making you feel wanted, because you are. Youâre everything to me. And I⊠Iâm sorry it took me so long to realize that.â
Your heart pounds, your chest tight, tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision. Heâs so sincere, so raw, and it breaks something inside youâsomething youâve been holding onto for so long, something thatâs kept you from letting yourself feel.
âSean,â you whisper, your voice trembling, and he looks at you, his eyes filled with hope, fear, and love. âShut up.â
He blinks, eyes widening, and you reach out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, your lips crashing against his in a kiss thatâs desperate, hungry, filled with everything youâve been holding back. He lets out a soft sound of surprise, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you against him. His heart pounds, his body trembles, and he holds you like youâre precious, something he never wants to let go.
The kiss is messy, uncoordinated, but itâs realâfilled with love, longing, fear. His lips move against yours, his hands slipping under the water, gripping your waist, and you feel your body arch into him, your fingers tightening in his hair as you try to pull him even closer.
He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes searching yours before he lets out a chuckle. He whispers your name this timeânot the nicknameâhis voice rough, filled with emotion. âThis is why I love you so fucking much.â
You close your eyes, your heart aching, and nod, your fingers brushing against his cheek, your lips pressing against his again, softer this time, slower. âI love you too,â you whisper against his lips, and feel his body relax, his arms wrapping around you, holding you like he never wants to let go.
And even if this is just for one night⊠itâs worth it.