#the score

book dean and allie are my favorite couple

i have yet to FULLY read the deal yet.

grace and logans book made me cry

i’m scared for the goal

Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!Reader Genre: Fake dating, enemies to lovers, fluff/angst, forced proximity, secret softie Dean Summary: An eight-hour flight, one tropical destination wedding, and an overbooking error at the resort are all it takes to throw you right back into the orbit of Dean Di Laurentis, who is the smooth-talking Briar hockey player you’ve sworn to hate since a disastrous morning-after months ago. When overbearing exes push both of you to your limits, you and Dean strike a deal: play the madly-in-love couple for seven days to keep everyone off your backs. But as fake touches turn into real heat under the sun, the lines between an act and the truth start to blur fast. Note: My masterlist & 2

--

I clutch my iced latte and walk into the busy airport terminal. The air smells like burnt coffee and jet fuel. I take a deep breath to prepare myself for this week in paradise. I'm ready for sunny beaches, tropical drinks, and zero stress.

Then I see him.

Dean Di Laurentis leans against a large marble pillar near gate B12. He wears dark sunglasses and a black leather jacket. A designer duffel bag sits at his feet. He looks effortlessly gorgeous, like he just stepped off a fashion runway instead of an early morning flight.

My stomach drops into my shoes. I pull my sun hat down and try to walk past him fast.

"Well, well. Look who couldn't stay away from me."

His smooth voice cuts through the noise of the crowd. I freeze and look over. Dean slides his sunglasses down his nose. His bright blue eyes lock onto mine. He wears that signature arrogant smirk that makes me want to punch him.

"In your dreams, Di Laurentis," I say. "I'm here for a wedding. I plan to ignore you for seven full days."

"That is going to be pretty hard," Dean says. He holds up two boarding passes with a chuckle. "The bride just texted me. The group booking messed up. You and I are sitting together."

"No," I say instantly. "No way. Switch with someone."

"Everyone else is spread out across economy," Dean says. He steps closer and drops his sunglasses back into place. "It's an eight-hour flight to paradise, sweetheart. Get ready to love every second of it."

Twenty minutes later, we sit in row 14. The plane is packed and hot. Dean takes the window seat, and I sit in the middle. The space between us is tiny.

I immediately plant my elbow on the middle armrest.

Dean looks down at my arm. He raises an eyebrow. He places his thick forearm right next to mine and shoves slightly.

"My armrest," I whisper sharply.

"I have broad shoulders," Dean whispers back. He nudges my elbow off the plastic edge. "Share the space, darling."

I shove his arm back with my shoulder. He leans his weight right into me. We sit there in silence, playing a childish game of arm-wrestling over three inches of plastic. My shoulder bumps his chest. His muscles feel like solid rock under his jacket. I refuse to back down.

"You're relentless," Dean mutters, but his voice sounds amused.

"And you're annoying," I reply. I dig my elbow back into the middle spot.

Two hours into the flight, the plane cabin darkens. The hum of the engine makes my eyelids heavy. I fight the sleep because I don't want to let my guard down around him. My head nods forward twice.

"You can rest your head on my shoulder," Dean says quietly. His voice sounds unexpectedly soft in the dim light. "I don't bite. Unless you ask nicely."

"I would rather rest my head on the tray table," I say. I pull my sweater tight around my shoulders. "Don't touch me."

"Suit yourself," Dean says. He rolls his shoulders and leans back.

I close my eyes and promise myself to stay awake.

When I open my eyes again, the cabin is completely dark. I feel warm. Very warm. A steady, slow beat hums under my cheek. My nose smells expensive cologne and fresh soap.

I blink awake slowly. My head is resting right on Dean's chest. His left arm is draped casually over my shoulders, holding me close to his side. My hand rests against his ribcage.

I freeze. I look up slowly.

Dean is looking down at me in the dark. He is wide awake. A tiny, victorious smirk plays on his lips.

"Good nap?" he whispers softly. His thumb gently strokes my shoulder once before he pulls his hand away.

My face burns hot. I quickly sit up straight and fix my hair.

"You moved in your sleep," I lie. "You pulled me over."

"Right," Dean says softly. He leans closer to my ear. "You were practically purring, sweetheart. Admit it. You love my chest."

I glare at him, but my heart races so fast I can barely breathe.

--

The resort lobby is huge and bright. Palm trees sway outside the tall glass walls. Ocean breeze blows through the open doors. It looks like absolute paradise.

The front desk manager looks stressed. He taps fast on his computer keyboard. He looks up at our group with a nervous smile.

"I'm so sorry, everyone," the manager says. "There was a system glitch. The villa is short by one full suite."

The bride groans loudly. Everyone in the wedding party starts talking at once. People complain about the heat and the long flight.

I rub my temples. I just want to lie down and take a shower.

Then I hear a familiar, unwanted voice behind me.

"Hey, it's no problem at all," Hector says. He was my ex. He steps out of the crowd and walks over to me. He gives me a soft, charming smile that used to make me melt. Now it just makes my stomach turn.

"You can stay in my suite," Hector says softly. He reaches out and grabs my suitcase handle. "It has two rooms. I can save you the hassle of waiting for another place. We can catch up properly."

I tense up. I start to open my mouth to say no.

Suddenly, a heavy arm drops over my shoulders. Strong fingers pull me firm against a broad chest. Dean pulls me tight to his side. The scent of his rich cologne fills my nose instantly.

"Appreciate the offer, man, but she is staying in my suite. We are together," Dean says. His voice is deep, confident, and completely smooth.

Hector freezes. His eyes widen as he looks from Dean to me. "Since when?"

"Since a while ago," Dean says with a sharp, casual grin. He squeezes my shoulder gently. "So you don't need to worry about her. I take very good care of what is mine."

My jaw almost drops, but Dean nudges me subtle with his hip. I force a fake, tight smile and nod at Hector.

"Right," I say quickly. "We share a room now. Thanks anyway."

Hector looks furious, but he grabs his bag and walks away fast.

Dean grabs the keycard from the manager. He leads me down a long hallway toward the last room at the end. He keeps his heavy arm wrapped around my waist the entire walk. Every touch feels warm and electric.

He taps the card against the door scanner. It clicks open. He pushes the heavy door open and guides me inside.

The suite is giant. Light fills the space from huge balcony windows.

My eyes fall right on the middle of the room. There is only one massive king-size bed. White silk sheets cover it. Off to the side, the open-concept bathroom has a totally clear glass shower. No curtains. No privacy walls at all.

"Are you serious?" I gasp out loud.

The solid wooden door shuts behind us with a loud click.

The moment the lock engages, Dean drops his arm from my waist. The fake boyfriend act disappears in a single second. He tosses his duffel bag onto a chair. He struts over to the giant bed and flops down flat on his back. He clasps his hands behind his head and looks at me.

I grab a heavy decorative pillow off a armchair. I throw it right at his stupid face with all my strength.

Dean catches the pillow easily with one hand. He sits up slow. A huge, triumphant grin spreads across his face.

"Hey, watch the face," Dean laughs. "I just saved you from your ex."

"You lied to everyone!" I yell, crossing my arms tight over my chest. "Now everyone thinks we are dating. And look at this room, Di Laurentis. One bed. A glass shower."

"You're welcome, by the way," Dean says coolly. He pats the soft mattress beside him. "The bed is huge. I promise I won't kick in my sleep."

"I'm sleeping on the sofa," I say sharply.

"Suit yourself, sweetheart," Dean says, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I think you just lost round one."

He flops back down onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. I drag my heavy suitcase over to the small velvet sofa near the window. I sit down and stare at him. I realize this week is going to be far more dangerous than I thought.

--

The sun sets low over the ocean, painting the sky in deep orange and pink shades. Party lights glow near the edge of the large infinity pool. Music plays softly from the speakers. Everyone in the wedding party wears fine clothes and holds fancy drinks.

I sip my cocktail and try to stay cool in the warm evening air.

Hector stands near the bar. He keeps glancing over at me every few seconds. He looks like he is waiting for the perfect moment to corner me alone.

Near the pool lounge, Kierra talks loudly to a group of guests. I hear someone say she was Dean's ex.

"Dean never really does commitment," she says with a fake laugh. "He just gets bored after a week. He isn't the settling type."

I roll my eyes. I turn around and find Dean walking toward me. He looks unfairly handsome in a crisp white shirt with the top buttons open.

"Our audience is watching," Dean whispers and steps right into my personal space.

"They sure are," I reply under my breath. "So what's the plan?"

Before I can react, Dean wraps his hand firm around my waist. He pulls me flush against his solid chest. Heat radiates from his skin right through my clothes. My hands land flat against his broad shoulders to steady myself.

He leans back slow and dips me gently over the edge of the infinity pool deck. The blue water glimmers just inches beneath my back. My heart jumps straight into my throat from the sudden drop.

Dean tilts his head down. He whispers an overly sweet line right into my ear.

"You look so beautiful tonight, my lovely girl," Dean says out loud, his deep voice dripping with dramatic romance.

To the crowd around us, I look totally flushed and breathless from his words. But my mind is racing fast.

"Smile, sweetheart. Your ex is looking at me like he wants to fight," Dean whispers softly against my neck.

"If you dip me any lower, Di Laurentis, I'm pulling you into the pool with me," I whisper back through fake, cheerful smiles.

"I'd like to see you try," Dean says with a low laugh.

He pulls me back up slow, bringing my body right against his again. The heat between us is thick and heavy. I can feel the fast, hard beat of his heart right against my palms.

Dean turns his head slightly. He does not pull away like I expect him to. Instead, he leans close to my face.

He presses a softly planted kiss right onto my temple.

His lips are unbelievably warm and gentle against my skin. It isn't quick or dramatic for the audience. It's slow, tender, and lingers for a long second.

My breath hitches in my chest. The noise of the party suddenly fades away completely.

When Dean pulls back, his bright blue eyes look dark and intense. The smug grin is totally gone from his face. He stares down at me and looks slightly shaken and stunned by his own action.

I stare right back at him. My cheeks are burning hot and my pulse pounding wild in my ears.

"They're both walking away," I manage to say in a quiet voice.

"Good," Dean says softly. His hand is lingering warm on my waist. "That was the point, right?"

Neither of us moves away. The heat between us feels far too real now.

--

The wind picks up fast as the boat rocks heavily over the dark waves. Rain begins to pour down in heavy sheets. The sudden storm turns our peaceful late-night boat party into total chaos. Crew members run around the deck, securing loose ropes and shouting instructions.

Guests crowd inside the main cabin, looking worried and tense.

I step outside onto the covered side deck to get some fresh air. The loud engine groans as the captain tries to navigate through the rough water. The boat sways hard again.

I hold onto the cold metal railing to keep my balance.

Then I notice a tall figure standing alone near the stern.

Dean stands tucked away in a quiet, dark corner. His usual cool posture is gone. His hands grip the railing tightly, his knuckles turning completely white. He stares straight out at the churning dark ocean. His shoulders look stiff and tense.

I step closer quietly. I hear a soft, low sound coming from him. Dean is quietly humming a very fast rhythm. Then he begins to softly whisper words to himself.

"Staring at the blank page before you... open up the dirty window..."

My eyes go wide. Dean Di Laurentis is quietly singing Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten" to himself in the middle of a storm.

"Is that... Unwritten?" I ask, stepping into the dim light.

Dean flinches hard. He snaps his head around to look at me. His cheeks flush a bright red, visible even in the dark. He lets go of the railing fast and clears his throat. He is trying to instantly look cool again.

"No," Dean says quickly. "I was just checking the wind."

"You're singing," I say with a small laugh. "The smooth, confident hockey star sings cheesy 2000s pop music when he gets nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," Dean insists. He crosses his arms over his chest. "I just like the beat."

"You were clutching that railing like a lifeline," I say while teasing him. "Don't tell me you're scared of a little rain, Di Laurentis."

"It isn't the rain," Dean mutters, looking away. His voice loses its sharp edge. "I just hate being stuck on open water when the engines struggle. Okay? It makes my head spin."

I stop laughing immediately. I look at his tense jaw and dark eyes. He is completely serious. The playboy mask has slipped off, revealing someone surprisingly human.

"Hey," I say gently and step closer to him. "It actually works?"

"It gives my brain something else to focus on," Dean admits quietly. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep."

"Your secret is safe with me," I promise softly.

An hour later, the storm dies down, but the boat is stuck waiting for the harbor crew to clear the dock. Everyone inside the cabin is cranky, tired, and complaining loudly. The mood is tense and miserable.

Dean sits beside me on a plush lounge bench. He looks stiff, his jaw tight as the boat rocks gently in place. He rubs his face with both hands, clearly stressed and overwhelmed by the crowd's loud complaints.

I lean in close to him. I tilt my head until my lips are right near his ear.

"Feel the rain on your skin," I whisper softly into his ear. "No one else can feel it for you."

Dean freezes instantly. He turns his head slowly to look at me. The tight strain around his eyes vanishes.

"Are you singing to me?" Dean asks, his voice low.

"Only the express yourself part," I whisper back with a small wink. "Releasing your inhibitions."

A slow, genuine smile breaks across his face. It's not his fake playboy smirk. It's a warm, real smile that lights up his whole face. He shakes his head and chuckles softly. He lets his heavy shoulders finally relax. He leans his shoulder lightly against mine in the dark cabin. He no longer looks stressed at all.

--

The loud wedding rehearsal party downstairs finally dies down around midnight. I step out onto the quiet villa balcony to escape the noise. The cool night air feels good against my warm skin. The ocean waves crash softly against the dark shore below.

I rest my arms on the smooth wooden railing, holding a cold glass of white wine.

The heavy glass door slides open quietly. Dean steps out onto the balcony, carrying two small glasses of amber liquor. He wears a soft black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He walks over and leans against the railing right next to me.

"Thought I might find you out here," Dean says softly. He sets one glass down on the wide railing for me.

"It was getting too loud inside," I reply. I take a small sip of my wine.

"Yeah," Dean says. He stares out at the dark water for a long moment. "Tomorrow is the wedding. And then we fly back home on Sunday."

My heart heavy drops in my chest at his words. The week flew by far too fast. Acting like his girlfriend felt so easy, so natural. Now the looming reality hits me hard. Once we land back home, our fake pact officially ends.

"Back to real life," I say quietly, trying to keep my voice light.

"Is that what you want?" Dean asks suddenly.

I turn my head to look at him, surprised by his serious tone. Dean drops his head slightly. His witty, impenetrable guard completely falls away. He looks raw and honest in the dim balcony light.

"That morning months ago destroyed me," Dean admits in a low, quiet voice. "When you walked out after our first night together, I felt like an absolute idiot."

"You made it seem like just another hookup," I say softly.

"Because I was terrified," Dean says, looking right into my eyes. "I fell hard for you that night. I was ready to give up everything to be with you. But I got scared, so I played it cool, and then you left."

I stare at him in total shock. My throat feels completely dry.

"I'm great on the hockey rink," Dean says, taking a step closer to me. "I know how to win games. But right now, I'm terrified. I'm scared that this entire week was just a silly game to you."

"Dean," I whisper, my breath catching in my throat.

"I can't go back to pretending I don't care about you," Dean says. His voice is thick with deep emotion. "I don't want this act to end."

He reaches out and cups my face in his large warm hands. He pulls me close and presses his lips against mine in a desperate, heated kiss.

The kiss is deep, urgent, and full of intense passion. My wine glass almost slips from my fingers as I wrap my arms tight around his neck.

He pulls my body flush against his. He lifts me slightly off my feet. His hands slide firmly down to my waist and hold me with a fierce, possessive grip that leaves no space between us.

"You are mine," Dean mutters against my lips between hot, heavy kisses. "No more fake games. Say you feel it too."

"I feel it," I gasp against his mouth and kiss him back with all the built-up hunger from the entire week. "I love you, Dean."

He groans softly and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He kisses the sensitive skin there until I tremble in his arms. He holds me tight against his chest as he refuses to let me go as the dark ocean waves crash below us.

--

Six months later, the cold air at Briar University’s hockey arena stings my cheeks. The crowd roars loudly as the final buzzer sounds. Briar wins again.

Down on the ice, Dean pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. His bright blue eyes search the crowded stands until they land right on me. A huge, victorious grin lights up his face.

He skates fast toward the glass barrier right in front of my seat.

I lean over the glass as he steps up on his skates to reach me. He wraps his heavy gloved hands around my waist and pulls me down into a deep, breathless kiss right in front of thousands of screaming fans.

"Great game, Di Laurentis," I say with a laugh when he finally lets me breathe.

"I had extra motivation," Dean says smoothly. "My girl was watching."

His hockey teammates skate past us. They shake their heads and laugh at him. Garrett Graham yells something about Dean becoming a total sap, but Dean completely ignores them. He just pulls me closer over the glass. His hands hold me tight.