skye

all of you are on the floor of luke’s house, there’s music playing, and you’re all drinking. your back is leaned again the couch, ashton’s on your right, calum is across from you, and luke and michael are on the other side of ashton.

“all i’m saying is, i miss dating sometimes. i’m the only one here that is still single!” ashton groans, taking another swig of his drink. you look over at calum, and he quickly looks away, down at his drink. you gulp, taking a small sip from yours.

“you two are married, and these two are probably gonna be engaged soon!” ashton exclaims, and you spit out your drink. it comes down the front of your shirt. “fuck!” you squeal, looking down at your shirt.

“what happened?” michael asks, leaning forward to look at you. “i just, i’ll be back.” you say, standing up and rushing to the bathroom. you close the door, and look in the mirror. the front of your shirt slightly wet and starting to cling to you.

you sigh, wetting a washcloth, when you hear the door open. you see calum slip inside, and you continue what you’re doing. “the guys, uh, sent me to check on you..” he whispers, awkwardly looking around the room, eyes avoiding you.

“well you didn’t have to come.” you mumble, rubbing at your shirt with the cloth. “well, they think we’re about to get engaged, so i think it would’ve been weird if i didn’t.” he defends.

“it’s weird that you did come.” you whisper, looking up in the mirror at him. “just tell them i’ll be out in a few minutes.” he nods, looking up at you through the mirror. “we should probably tell them soon, it’s been-“ calum starts, and you cut him off.

“i know how long it’s been, you don’t need to come in here telling me all of this, please leave. i’ll be back soon.” you say sharply. he looks down, before turning around, and walking out.

when the door closes, you let out a shaky breath. your hands go to the counter, and you lean your weight onto it, taking in a deep breath. you guys had decided to wait to tell the boys until the tour was over.

it’s been 3 months since then, and it still hasn’t come up. part of you wonders if he’s willing to try again, and then you try not to think about that. you sigh, collecting yourself.

you walk back out to the living room, returning to your spot on the floor. you see ashton and michael have disappeared. luke is laying on the floor, drink in hand.

“heyy! welcome back. we missed youuu!” luke says, his words starting to slur. you giggle at him, picking up your drink. “hi luke, i was only gone for a few minutes..” you take a long gulp of your drink.

“i had to make sure cal checked on you.. i’m glad he takes good care of you…” luke slurs out, his drink swaying in the air. you feel calum’s eyes on you, and you stare down in your cup. “yeah, he does.” you mutter, swooshing your drink around.

calum coughs, and you peer up at him, seeing his face a light shade of pink. you quickly look back down, to avoid anyone seeing you in the same state.

you see michael come back into the room, bottle of vodka in hand. “anyone need a refill?” he says, louder than intended. he comes in, pouring more in each of your cups. you take another long gulp, the sharp taste clinging to your mouth.

luke takes the bottle from michael, going to pour into michael’s cup for him, splashing it slightly onto michael’s hand. “dudeee you are sofucked up..” michael coos, and luke giggles, “you are so fucked uppp mikey” he replies.

calum chuckles at them, taking a swig from his cup. you stand up, coming up to sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest. michael sits the vodka on the table, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch.

you look at your phone to check the time. it’s past 1. you were hoping one of the other boys would be sober enough to take you home, but that doesn’t look likely. you sink into the couch, taking a chug from your cup.

michael is rambling off about something that happened on tour, luke is now snoring, calum is replying to michael. you’re looking around the room, watching the boys interact.

“i think i’m going to get going.” you hear calum say, as he stands up off the floor. he looks over at you, “you coming?” you blink at him, mouth falling open. he shoots you a look, asking you to play along. “i uh, it’s out of the way, i can just uber-“ you mumble, and he shakes his head.

“i’m not letting you take an uber, come on.” he insists, nodding his head toward the door. you bite down on your lower lip, setting your cup down. you follow calum out of the door.

the car ride is completely silent, except for the sound of the wind in the air. he pulls in front of your apartment, putting the car in park. he turns off the car, getting out and coming to open your door. he reaches his hand out to you.

you look at his hand, and then up at him. “i’m not drunk, cal, i can walk..” you mutter, and he doesn’t move his hand. you suck in a breath, putting your hand in his, letting him guide you out of the car.

you feel those butterflies in your stomach. they show up anytime you’re with calum, anytime his skin is touching yours. anytime he is in your orbit.

he walks you up to the door, his hand not letting go of yours. you’re wondering if he realizes he’s still attached to you. “keys?” he asks, turning to look at you, you fish your keys out of your pocket.

calum picks them out of your hand, unlocking the door and pushing it open. he gently pulls you into your apartment, the door falling shut behind you.

calum puts distance between the two of you, walking over to sit on your couch. you stay quiet, looking at the floor as calum leans over on his legs.

you slowly walk into the room, lingering a few feet away from calum. he looks like he has a million thoughts spinning around in his head. “calum.” you say, and he looks up at you.

his eyes are watery, and he looks like he did the night you two broke up. it was sudden, really. the weight it all came crashing down on a random evening. neither of you expected it to go there. at least, you hoped calum hadn’t.

“what are we doing..?” calum whispers, and you shrug your shoulders. “i don’t know..” you whisper back, and calum leans back into the couch.

“i don’t know how to do this.” he adds, and you swallow. you look down at the floor. you’re holding your breath. your hands feel warm and clammy. your chest feels tight. your heart is screaming for calum. your feet are planted to the ground.

“it’s just, uh.. it’s late, cal.” you mumble, and you feel his eyes on you. you hear him let out a breath, his hands softly hitting his legs. “yeah. you’re right. i should go.” he stands up, and you watch as he starts to walk by you.

your hand reaches out, gently grabbing his. he stops walking instantly, his hand immediately wrapping around yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “stay the night?” you whisper, and his thumb rubs your hand.

“whatever you want, doll.” he replies softly, and you silently lead him to your bedroom. you walk in and calum shuts the door behind him.

it’s dark in your room, the moonlight barely coming through the windows, you can faintly see the layout of the room. you step out of your pants, and climb onto your bed. calum hesitates, before climbing in next to you, leaving distance between you.

you let out a breath, rolling over to snuggle into the blankets. you’ve been learning for the past 6 months how to sleep without him. now you have to wonder how to sleep next to him again. in the same bed as you, but too far away to touch.

you hear calum turn over, and you feel a hot breath on your back. his hand comes up on your side, sliding over it gently. you let out a breath, immediately melting into his touch. his chest presses to your back, and his arm fully comes around yours, hugging you close to him.

The kids barrel past us into the living room, voices raised with excitement as they argue over who gets the bigger bed in the tent.

I stay in the entryway, adjusting the strap of my bag, already preparing my goodbye. But then I feel Calum’s presence beside me. He lingers near the door, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, shoulders tense.

“Thanks for bringing all this,” he says, softer now. His eyes flick to mine, uncertain. “And… for getting them so hyped about it. They’ve been counting down all week.”

“They’re good kids,” I reply. My chest tightens. “They’d be happy camping in the garden if it meant spending time with you.”

Something shifts in his expression, and for a moment he looks almost nervous. His hand rises, scratching the back of his neck a tell I remember from our twenties, when he’d ask me out and pretend he wasn’t terrified.

“So, um…” He clears his throat. “I know this might be a bit much, but… do you maybe want to come with us?”

The question hangs there, heavy between us.

I blink. “With you? On the trip?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, eyes darting down, then back up. “I mean just for the weekend. It could be fun. For the kids. And for us too, maybe. No pressure, of course.”

I hesitate. Part of me wants to say yes. To imagine what it might be like, the four of us together again under one tent, laughter echoing into the night. But I know better than to walk back into something that broke me.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” I say gently, “but I actually have plans.”

Before I can explain, Lila bursts past us, hair flying as she races towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s got a date!” she shouts, her voice high with mischief.

My stomach drops. “Lila,” I groan, closing my eyes.

Calum freezes. His head snaps towards me, brows knitting together. “A date?”

“Lila!” I call again, but she’s already gone, giggling down the hallway.

I force myself to meet his gaze. His jaw is set, his expression darkening in a way I haven’t seen in years.

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “Just a first date. A blind one. I’ve never even met the guy.”

“Who set you up?” His voice is sharp.

“Emma thought it might be time I… dip my toe back in,” I admit, sighing. “She meant well.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head. “You can’t just...Y/N, no.”

I stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t belong with some stranger,” he blurts, frustration spilling out unchecked. “You belong with” He cuts himself off, running a hand over his face. “Bloody hell.”

My throat tightens. “With who, Calum?”

His eyes find mine, raw and unguarded. “With me.”

The words hang in the air, trembling with everything we’ve never said.

I let out a shaky laugh, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “You had me, Calum. For years, you had me. And you couldn’t keep me. I didn’t want to leave, do you understand that? It broke me to walk away. But I couldn’t love me enough for both of us. I needed you to show me I mattered, and you couldn’t.”

He flinches like I’ve struck him, but I can’t stop now. My voice cracks as I add, “I can’t go back to being invisible. Not even for you.”

The silence is unbearable. His chest rises and falls, his lips parting as though he wants to say something, but no words come.

I pull myself together, blinking away the tears. I step back, calling down the hallway.

“Alright, you two,” I say, forcing cheer into my tone. “Be good for your dad. Have the best time, okay? I’ll be back Monday night to pick you up.”

The kids come running, throwing their arms around me. I kiss their cheeks, breathing them in, memorising the feel of them.

“Love you, Mum!” Lila beams.

“Don’t embarrass yourself on your date,” Kai mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

“Love you both,” I whisper, hugging them tight before letting go.

I straighten, my heart heavy as I meet Calum’s eyes one last time.

“Goodbye, Cal,” I say quietly.

And with that, I turn, closing the door behind me before the tears can fall.

By Monday night, I’ve talked myself out of feeling guilty.

I’ve told myself at least fifteen times that I’m allowed to live my life. That just because Calum and I share children doesn’t mean I owe him explanations. That I deserve a chance to dip my toe back in, even if it’s clumsy, even if it’s just to remember who I am outside of “Mum” and “Calum’s ex-wife.”

Still, as I stand on his doorstep in heels and a fitted black dress, heart thumping as I press the doorbell, I know what this looks like.

It looks like I’ve moved on. And maybe, for once, I’m okay with him seeing that.

The door swings open, and there he is. In joggers and a hoodie, hair mussed, tattoos half-hidden under the sleeves. He blinks when he sees me, then freezes, eyes scanning me head to toe in an unashamed sweep. His mouth parts slightly.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath. His gaze lingers at my legs, then flicks up to my face. “Why are you all dressed up for?”

My cheeks warm, but I hold his stare, refusing to let him make me feel small. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I say evenly, “but I just came from another date. With the guy from Friday night.”

The flicker in his eyes is unmistakable shock, followed quickly by something darker. His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. He shifts his weight, as though steadying himself against the doorframe.

“So,” he says at last, voice carefully neutral, “it obviously went well, then.”

I fold my arms, tilting my head. “Don’t do this to yourself, Cal. Just leave it alone.”

For a moment, we just stand there, the air thick between us, unsaid words pressing at the edges of my chest. His eyes search mine like he’s looking for some tiny crack, some sign that I don’t mean it.

Before either of us can say more, the thundering of feet fills the hallway.

“Mum!” Lila squeals, launching herself into my arms. I laugh, catching her, pressing kisses all over her face as she giggles. Kai follows, slower, but he wraps me in one of his awkward teenage hugs all the same.

“Missed you,” he mutters into my shoulder, and my heart melts.

“I missed you too,” I whisper, smoothing his hair back before letting him go. “Did you have fun?”

Both kids launch into chatter at once Lila about marshmallows and ghost stories, Kai about catching fish at the lake. Their voices tangle, filling up all the space, and for a moment it feels like the whole world is just me and them.

When I finally glance back at Calum, he’s watching us. Something in his face softens as he takes in the scene, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards despite himself. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with his usual mask as he stoops to grab the kids’ duffel bags.

I reach for Lila’s sleeping bag, but he’s already got it. “I’ll take these out,” he says quietly, his tone unreadable.

We carry the bags in silence to my car, the kids trailing behind us. They clamber inside, still talking a mile a minute, while I start loading the boot. Calum steps in to help, tucking the last of the gear neatly into place.

I dust off my hands, turning towards the driver’s seat, when suddenly his fingers wrap gently around my wrist.

I freeze. The warmth of his hand is achingly familiar, his thumb brushing against my skin in the smallest, most devastating of touches.

“Y/N,” he says softly. His eyes lock on mine, searching, almost pleading. “I just… I just want you to be happy.”

My breath catches. For a heartbeat, I want to believe him. I want to collapse into that touch, to let it mean something more than it should. But I can’t. Not now.

I swallow hard, slipping my wrist free. “Goodbye, Cal,” I murmur, my voice steady even as my chest twists painfully inside.

I don’t look back. I slide into the driver’s seat, smile at the kids in the rear-view mirror, and pull away.

“Mum, guess what?” Lila pipes up as soon as we’re on the road. “Dad let me stay up late! We roasted the biggest marshmallow by the fire that i've ever seen, and he let me have five, even though Kai said I’d get sick.”

“I did not say that,” Kai grumbles, though his smile betrays him. “I just said you’d regret it when your stomach hurt.”

“Did not!” Lila argues, and just like that, they’re bickering in the backseat.

I laugh softly, the sound bittersweet. Their joy is a balm, pulling me out of the heaviness that lingers from the doorway.

I nod along as they chatter, asking questions, smiling at their stories. But underneath it all, my mind drifts back to the feel of Calum’s hand on my wrist, the look in his eyes when he said he wanted me happy.

I want to believe him. I do. But happiness, I’ve learned, is not something you wait for someone else to give you.

If I’m honest, Marc fizzled out before he even really began.

Nice enough man, polite, decent conversation, but there was nothing in it. No spark, no fire. Just a series of lukewarm dinners that left me more tired than anything. After our third outing, I sent him a message thanking him for his time and wishing him well.

And that was that.

When Calum turned up the following Friday to collect the kids for dinner, he asked casually, “So, how’s your new man?” his tone so careful I could hear the strain underneath.

I almost lied, just to save us both from the weight of truth. But something in his eyes made me pause.

“We’re not seeing each other anymore,” I said simply. “Didn’t work out.”

For a split second, something raw and unguarded flickered across his face hope, maybe but he masked it quickly, nodding. “Right. Well. His loss.”

I rolled my eyes, shooing the kids out the door, pretending my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.

The changes came slowly at first. So subtle I almost missed them.

One Wednesday evening, after a long shift at work, I trudged into the kitchen, bracing myself for the pile of dishes waiting in the sink. But when I flicked on the light, the sink was empty. Plates washed, dried, and neatly stacked.

I frowned, checking the counters. Clean. The tea towel, freshly hung.

“Strange,” I muttered. Maybe Kai had taken initiative for once? But when I asked him later, he looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

It happened again the next week. And the next. Each time, on the days Calum picked up the kids.

The penny dropped slowly, but when it did, I stood in the kitchen, staring at the gleaming sink with my arms folded across my chest. “Calum Hood,” I whispered to myself. “What are you up to?”

It wasn’t just the dishes.

One evening, I came home to find the bins already taken out, the recycling neatly stacked at the kerb. Another night, when I mentioned in passing that the garden hedge needed trimming, I woke up Saturday morning to the sound of clippers buzzing, Calum in the front garden with sweat on his brow and that familiar determined set to his jaw.

The little things piled up, building into something undeniable. He was showing up. For me.

I didn’t know what to do with it. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop that it was too little, too late. But another part of me, the part that remembered how many nights I cried over doing it all alone, felt something thaw.

The bigger gestures came later.

One evening, after dropping the kids off, I found a bouquet of wildflowers on the kitchen table. Not roses, not anything showy just a mismatched bunch of daisies, lavender, and baby’s breath, tied with a bit of twine.

The note read: Thought you might like these. No reason. – C.

I stared at it for a long time, fingers brushing the soft petals.

The next week, when I mentioned offhand that I was struggling to fix the leaky tap in the bathroom, I came home to find it repaired, a new washer fitted neatly in place. No note this time, but I knew.

Every time I noticed, my chest squeezed tighter, torn between resentment and something dangerously close to longing.

It all came to a head one Saturday evening.

I’d spent the day ferrying the kids around football practice, dance lessons, a food shop. By the time I pulled into the drive, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.

When I opened the door, the house smelled… warm. Homey.

In the kitchen, a slow cooker bubbled on the counter. A folded note lay beside it:

Dinner’s sorted. Figured you could use the night off. Just heat and serve. – C.

My knees nearly gave out. I sank into a chair, staring at the neat handwriting, the steam rising from the pot.

This was what I’d begged for, years ago. Not grand gestures. Not fame, or fortune, or the world. Just… this. Partnership. Effort. Presence.

And now, he was giving it to me.

But was it too late?

The next time he came by, I couldn’t hold it in.

I met him at the door, arms folded, trying to look sterner than I felt. “Calum. What are you doing?”

He blinked, playing innocent. “Picking up the kids?”

“Don’t play games with me.” I narrowed my eyes. “The dishes. The garden. The flowers. Dinner, for God’s sake. Why now?”

For once, he didn’t deflect. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit I knew too well. His gaze dropped, then rose again to meet mine, steady this time.

“Because I should’ve done it all along,” he said quietly. “Because you deserved this every day, and I was too blind to see it. And because I can’t stand knowing some bloke like Marc might step in and give you what I should’ve been giving you from the start.”

My heart thudded painfully. “Cal…”

“I’m not asking for another chance,” he added quickly. “Not if you don’t want to give it. I just… I need you to know I see it now. I see you. And whether you ever take me back or not, I’m not going to stop showing up. For you. For the kids. For all of it.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and it nearly undid me.

I swallowed hard, torn clean in two.

Part of me wanted to shove him away, to remind him of the years of loneliness, the broken promises, the nights I cried myself to sleep.

But the other part of me that had never stopped loving him, no matter how much it hurt saw the truth in his eyes. Saw the man I fell in love with, finally standing in front of me, stripped of excuses.

“Calum,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Don’t… don’t make me hope.”

His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for me, but he held back. “Then don’t. Just… watch. That’s all I’m asking. Watch, and if I’m worth it, maybe one day you’ll let me prove it.”

Before I could respond, the kids came charging into the hall, bags packed and laughter spilling, breaking the moment apart.

But as I watched him shepherd them out the door, something fragile and terrifying bloomed inside me.

Hope.

It was a Wednesday night when my phone rang, sharp and insistent, cutting through the quiet of the living room. I was folding laundry, mind half on the telly, when Kai’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey, love, what’s up?” I answered, expecting the usual request for a forgotten book.

But it wasn’t his voice I heard. It was Lila’s. Breathless. Panicked. “Mum...Kai’s hurt he...he fell at training”

My heart lurched into my throat. “What do you mean hurt? Lila, where are you?”

“At the oval coach called the ambulance” Her voice cracked. “He hit his head, Mum, and he blacked out for a bit”

I didn’t wait for more. Keys, shoes, phone my body moved on autopilot as terror clamped my chest. I barely remembered locking the door behind me as I bolted to the car.

By the time I reached the hospital, my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my bag at the reception desk. They pointed me towards emergency, and I stumbled down the corridor, every fluorescent light stabbing my eyes.

And then I saw him.

Not Kai. Not yet.

Calum.

He was already there. Jeans, hoodie, hair a mess like he’d driven straight from home without thinking. His leg was bouncing furiously as he sat hunched in the waiting area, elbows braced on his knees. He looked up when I rushed in, and the sight of him standing instantly, crossing the space towards me it cracked something in me I didn’t realise was still fragile.

“Y/N.” His voice was firm, steady, but his eyes gave him away. They were wild with the same fear strangling me. “He’s inside. They’re running tests. He’s awake now, talking. Concussion, they think, but they’re being cautious.”

My knees nearly gave out with relief. I grabbed the back of a chair, sucking in air. “Oh my god.”

Without asking, Calum placed a hand on my arm. Solid. Grounding. “He’s okay,” he said again, softer now. “Scared the hell out of everyone, but he’s okay.”

That was when the tears came. Not loud, not dramatic, just silent streaks I couldn’t stop. All the fear I’d swallowed since Lila’s call spilled out at once, and before I knew it, Calum’s arms were around me.

I didn’t fight it. Didn’t think.

For the first time in years, I let myself lean into him. Bury my face against his chest, breathe in the familiar warmth of him. His hand pressed steady circles between my shoulder blades, the same way he used to when the babies were sick and I hadn’t slept for nights.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you, love.”

And the strangest thing was I believed him.

We spent hours at the hospital, side by side. Calum took charge in ways I hadn’t expected. He asked the right questions, caught details I missed through the fog of worry. When Kai needed a scan, Calum walked with him, cracking little jokes to keep him calm. When paperwork needed signing, he had a pen in hand before I’d even found my glasses.

Every time I wavered, he steadied me.

By the time Kai was discharged with strict instructions for rest and monitoring, it was close to midnight. I looked like hell, and I knew it. Mascara smudged, hair sticking up, jumper thrown on inside out in the rush. But Calum just walked me and the kids out as if it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand carrying Kai’s bag, the other hovering near my back like a silent reassurance.

“I’ll drive,” he said firmly, plucking my car keys from my hand before I could argue. “You’re shaking too much.”

I wanted to protest. Independence was muscle memory now. But one glance at Kai, pale and dozing against his shoulder, and I just nodded.

The drive back to mine was quiet except for the hum of the engine and Lila softly narrating things Kai had said to the doctors, trying to keep spirits light. Calum kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight, hands steady on the wheel.

When we pulled into my driveway, I reached for the keys. “Thanks, I’ll take it from...”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently, already opening his door. “Let me help.”

Inside, I moved on instinct kettle on, painkillers for Kai, blanket on the sofa where he wanted to sleep so I could keep an eye on him. But before I knew it, Calum was moving around the place like he belonged.

He made up the sofa properly pillow, tucked-in blanket, even fetched Kai’s water bottle without me asking. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. I frowned, too tired to stop him, until the clink of plates told me what he was doing.

By the time I returned from settling Lila into bed, the smell hit me first. Toast. Scrambled eggs. Nothing fancy, but warm, filling, exactly what I hadn’t realised I needed.

Calum looked up from the stove, spatula in hand. “Sit down, yeah? You’ve done enough tonight.”

I sank into a chair before I could argue, exhaustion making the decision for me. And as he set a plate in front of me, then one for himself, then carefully placed Kai’s by the sofa, something in my chest tightened.

It was the first time we’d eaten together, since before the divorce.

Kai noticed it too he blinked between us, a small smile tugging at his lips then mumbled, “Feels like old times.”

Calum’s eyes flicked to mine at that, searching, but I looked away quickly, shoving toast into my mouth to hide the lump forming in my throat.

Because the truth was it did feel like old times. And god, I’d missed it.

Later, when the kai was settled and the dishes were drying on the rack, I found Calum in the living room, folding the spare blanket.

“You don’t have to” I started, but he shook his head.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. Then he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck “Y/N, tonight… thank you for letting me be here. For letting me… be part of it.”

I swallowed hard, arms crossed to keep from fidgeting. “You’re their dad, Cal. Of course you’re part of it.”

“Not just that.” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “For you. Being here for you. I know I wasn’t, before. And I can’t change those years. But tonight you let me, and… I don’t take that lightly.”

My chest ached at the honesty in his eyes. Raw, vulnerable in a way Calum never used to be.

“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. If he kept talking like that, my walls would crumble too easily. “Don’t say things you can’t...”

“I mean them,” he cut in, steady now. “Every word.”

Silence stretched, heavy and loaded, until Kai stirred and muttered from the sofa, breaking the spell. I exhaled shakily, looking away, trying to shake off the warmth blooming in my chest.

When I finally glanced back, Calum was still watching me. His eyes softer than I’d seen them in years. There was no bravado, no defensiveness just him, bare and honest in a way that almost undid me.

Then he cleared his throat, glanced at the clock on the wall, and said something I didn’t expect. “Why don’t I tuck you in?”

For a beat, I just blinked at him. Then a laugh bubbled out, surprising me. “Tuck me in? Cal, I’m not five years old. I can put myself to bed.”

The corner of his mouth curved into that familiar grin the one I used to fall for without even realising. “Humour me,” he said softly. “Just this once.”

I rolled my eyes, but the giggle that slipped out betrayed me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he replied, tilting his head, “but I’m serious.”

Something in his tone gentle, hopeful, almost pleading made it impossible to say no. So with a shake of my head, I murmured, “Fine,” and started up the stairs.

In my bedroom, I gathered my pyjamas and ducked into the en suite. It was habit, muscle memory brush teeth, wash face, hair in a messy bun. And then, without thinking, I stepped back out into the bedroom and began unbuttoning my blouse.

It wasn’t until I caught movement in the mirror that I froze.

Calum.

He was standing just inside the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed not in a disrespectful way, not leering. But present. Watching.

And that’s when it hit me.

I wasn’t his anymore. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this in front of him. We weren’t husband and wife sharing the end of another long day.

But for some reason I didn’t stop.

I met his gaze in the mirror, my fingers continuing their slow work on the buttons. One by one, slipping free. The blouse slid off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. My breath caught, but I kept my eyes on his, held steady through the reflection.

His jaw tightened. His throat bobbed. But he didn’t look away.

I reached for my pyjama top an old soft cotton tee and pulled it over my head. Then trousers, trading jeans for loose bottoms. The whole time, our eyes locked in the mirror. Silent, loaded, crackling with something I hadn’t felt in years but remembered instantly.

By the time I climbed into bed, heart racing, I felt like I’d run a marathon. I pulled the duvet up to my chin and tried for casual. “Happy now?”

Calum’s lips twitched like he was biting back a thousand words. But he only nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Happy.”

He reached for the lamp, switching it off so the room dipped into soft shadow. Then, leaning over, he smoothed the duvet at my shoulders like he used to when I fell asleep on the sofa. And before I could process it, he bent and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

My breath caught again. God, I’d missed that.

He straightened, cleared his throat, and began to turn towards the door. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

It slipped out before I thought better of it. “Stay?”

He paused. Slowly turned back. In the dim light, his face was unreadable until he smiled small, boyish, achingly tender.

“Stay?” he echoed, voice hushed.

I shifted, patting the empty space beside me. My throat was tight, but I forced the words out. “Yeah. Stay.”

For a long moment, he just stood there. Then, quietly, “I’d stay forever if you wanted.”

The air caught between us, fragile and trembling. I swallowed hard. “How about… we just try the night. See how it goes.”

His smile widened then, something brighter, almost relieved. He toed off his shoes, pulled the hoodie over his head, and slipped under the covers beside me.

The bed dipped with his weight, so familiar it made my chest ache. Neither of us moved closer, but the warmth of him was immediate, undeniable.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes, heart hammering, and let myself believe just for tonight that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.

12:31 pm

“you okay?”

alyssa’s voice snapped me out of my trance. i looked down and realized i’d been dragging the same piece of chicken through my burrito bowl for the past minute without eating it.

my head jerked up quickly–too quick.

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“because you asked me to lunch and you’ve said maybe four words since we sat down.” she narrowed her eyes at me over the rim of her drink. “in what world is evie hallow quiet?”

i let out a small, sad laugh which she obviously noticed.

that was the problem with alyssa. she knew me too well. always had.

i’d known her longer than i’d known calum. she transferred to our primary school in year four wearing a bright yellow sweater and impressing everyone with the fact she knew german. not that she was trying to impress anyone, her poor 9-year old self was under the pressure of introducing herself in front of the whole class. ever since then, she’d been subjected to every thought that entered my brain.

she was there when i met calum and the boys. she was there during the years i spent pretending i didn’t have a pathetic crush on him. she was the one who looked at me during lunch one day and went, “oh my god, you’re in love with him.”

she was there from the beginning and when everything burned to the ground.

i looked away from her, suddenly fascinated by anything else in the restaurant. the red and white wall tiles, the painting of what looks like the hills of tuscany, the condensation sliding down my glass of coke.

“oh,” alyssa said softly.

i froze. i never brought him up anymore. never said his name unless absolutely necessary. 

“it’s him, isn’t it?”

my fingers picked at the edge of the tablecloth.

“evie.”

“how do you know everything?”

she rolled her eyes. “don’t do that. don’t change the subject.”

she reached across the table and grabbed my hand before i could start fidgeting with something else.

calum and the band were playing london tonight for the first time in years as part of their comeback tour. technically, they’d already been in the city for a few days doing promo, pop-ups, interviews–i tried to avoid it, but being a social media manager and still running the same circles as him made it painfully hard. even the magazine i worked for was offered an interview with them. thankfully my boss knew me long enough to understand to put my situation over this opportunity, he immediately declined. i was truly thankful for him, not every employee has a boss so empathetic. besides, we were big enough to not have any impacts by declining a few high profiles now and then. it’s not like we haven’t done it in the past.

every app i opened had his face on it. i tried muting keywords. 

i tried not to go out as much in fear of running to any of them–well, running into calum. i hadn’t seen him in person since the breakup. not once. 

it wasn’t like i had issues with the rest of the boys. i still saw them occasionally. it’s hard not to when you grew up around the same people and ended up working in the same industry. i still visited crystal and sierra whenever i was in town to see them and their beautiful daughters.

the second crystal found out what calum did, she called me before i’d even made it five hundred yards from what used to be our home. sierra showed up at my apartment with wine and greasy takeaway.

apparently, they cornered calum for an hour afterward. i laughed when they told me that. those women were terrifying when they wanted to be.

i still got invited to birthdays, dinners, little backyard gatherings at their houses, but always under one condition: calum couldn’t be there.

luke and michael understood that without me ever really needing to explain it. they’d known me almost as long as they’d known him.

if anything, they always looked a little guilty whenever i saw them after.

every time i visited crystal and michael, my chest ached a little watching him sit on the floor with lua balanced against his knee while he absentmindedly played guitar for her. or watching luke dance around the kitchen with sierra and their daughter tucked against his hip while dinner burned slightly on the stove.

that was supposed to be my future too. calum promised me that future so many times.

crystal texted me when they landed in london.

“miss you. come see me while we’re here? xx”

i stared at the message for an hour before replying with some excuse about work deadlines piling up. i wanted to see her, i really did–but i couldn’t bear it under these conditions. work really was piling up but i also knew that was just to make myself feel less guilty.

i moved to london a month after the breakup. i already had a flat in the city from constantly travelling back and forth for work. work dragged me back and forth between london and la so often that hotels started feeling pointless. i had always loved london anyway, i’d lived here in the past as i earned my degree here so everything was familiar. the grey skies, the old buildings squeezed between modern glass towers, the people who were either too sweet or unbelievably rude. at least they were honest. 

i knew my heart belonged here.

la was too saturated. too obsessed with being perceived. london didn’t care if you were falling apart as long as you kept moving.

that’s what i kept telling myself, anyway.

that’s what i told myself when i cooked breakfast alone in silence and missed the feeling of calum’s arms wrapping around my waist while he pressed sleepy kisses against my neck. missing him felt humiliating after what he did.

i finally looked up and forced myself to meet alyssa’s stare.

i nodded. “his show’s tonight.”

“okay,” she said carefully. “well, i’m free all day, so we can go to the hercules and drink and pretend men don’t exist—”

“i want to go to the concert.”

she froze mid-sentence.

“what?”

“i…” my throat tightened immediately. “i want to go to his concert.” the words came out weaker the second time. even saying it out loud felt embarassing somehow.

“i don’t know why, okay? i just…” i exhaled sharply. “i turned down crystal because i couldn’t handle seeing him in person, but now i suddenly want to sit in a crowd and watch him perform for two hours like some masochist.”

because how could i explain it?

how could i explain wanting to hear the songs he used to play half-finished versions of in our kitchen at two in the morning? wanting to watch his hands play basslines i used to help him pick apart? wanting to exist in the same room as him again even after he shattered me so badly i moved countries to breathe properly?

alyssa looked hesitant. i didn’t blame her.

calum used to be her friend too, but then he became the man who detonated my entire life with one selfish, drunken act.

“babe,” she said gently, “are you sure?”

“i don’t know.” god, i couldn’t even reply properly. it was pathetic. 

i covered my face with both hands, pressing my palms against my eyes. i felt.. shame? frustration? maybe both.

“hey, hey.” alyssa gently pulled my hands away from my face. “i’m here.”

with her free hand, she already reached into her bag for tissues like she knew there was a very real chance i was about to burst into tears right there in the middle of the restaurant.

i shook my head the second alyssa pulled out the tissues.

i wasn’t going to let myself break down in public again after all this time for the same reason, for the same man. i also didn’t want to make a scene.

“will you come with me?”

“evie…”

“please.” i croaked. “i need you there with me.”

alyssa sighed, leaning back into her chair.

despite all the drunken trash talk and angry rants over the past two years, she knew the truth. 

deep down, i still loved him.

how could i not?

calum had been woven into almost every stage of my life for as long as i could remember. we went from being annoying little kids to unbearable teenagers to adults pretending we knew what we were doing. through every awkward phase, every terrible haircut, every stupid decision, one thing somehow stayed the same: we were always stupid for each other.

2012

“evie!”

i immediately looked up at the familiar voice and grinned.

“there you are, finally!”

calum jogged toward me across the pavement, slightly out of breath, his dark curls flattened awkwardly beneath a backwards cap.

calum hood. the skinny boy i met in sixth grade after our mums started chatting at a school family event and practically forced us to hang out together for the rest of the afternoon.

thankfully, he turned out to be funny. we didn’t live far from each other either, and his sister was cool enough that i never minded being dragged over to their house.

“sorry,” he said once he reached me outside our favourite frozen yogurt shop. “mum made me clean my room first.”

i snorted. “that’s because your room looks like a bomb site.”

“yours isn’t any better,” he retorted.

we walked inside, immediately hit by the blast of cold air and the sugary smell of waffle cones.

i got my usual: plain yogurt with absolutely everything piled on top of it. chocolate balls, gummy bears, crushed cookies and a single lychee to make myself feel better—the whole shabang.

calum’s cup somehow looked even more chaotic than mine.

“you owe me after making me wait,” i told him as we reached the register.

he sighed dramatically but opened his wallet anyway, flashing the cashier a grin that made me roll my eyes instantly.

he was always trying to impress girls despite looking painfully sixteen.

we sat in our usual booth by the window. “you’re coming to our show on saturday, right?”

him, luke and michael had started doing small gigs around sydney with their drummer ashton, who went to another school. they’d only played a handful of shows so far, but they were honestly pretty solid.

i nodded immediately. “obviously.”

a grin spread across his face.

i smirked. “want me to bring a sign?”

“shut up,” he groaned. “all you’re gonna do is embarrass me.”

“me? embarrass you? never.”

he rolled his eyes, trying–and failing–to hide his smile as he stole another spoonful from my cup.

“i’m serious, evie,” he said after a moment, leaning back in the booth. “we’re gonna be huge one day.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” his eyes lit up in that way they always did when he talked about music. “and when we are, i’ll buy you all the froyo in the world.”

i laughed. “think i’d want more than froyo if you got rich, cal.”

he pointed his spoon at me. “see? this is why i’ll go broke.”

i giggled. “i’m telling you,” he continued. “we’re gonna have hundreds of screaming girls at our shows one day.”

“you want screaming girls but won’t let me bring a sign?”

“well, they’re screaming because they love me,” he argued. “you’d be doing it to bully me.”

“that’s still love.” i defended my case. he shook his head, laughing softly to himself.

for a second, i just watched him.

the way his nose scrunched when he laughed. the way he talked with his hands whenever he got excited. the way he always looked at me like i was already part of every future he imagined for himself.

“don’t forget me when you’re famous, cal.”

his expression softened. “how could i?” he said. 

“you’re my number one girl.”

heat rushed to my face so quickly i had to look away.

i’d started developing a crush on calum around then. not all at once, but when i started to realize the little things.

the way he always noticed when i was upset before anyone else did. the way he’d save me a seat automatically. the way he paid attention to things i mentioned once in passing and somehow remembered months later.

no boy had ever cared about me the way calum did. 

but i was too scared to do anything about it. even after he became my first kiss during a stupid game of truth or dare. even after he awkwardly suggested maybe we should try dating. i turned him down immediately and called it a terrible idea.

it was the third night of the second uk leg opening for one direction, and the energy still felt unreal every single night.

the screams were deafening. thousands of people chanting lyrics back at four boys from sydney who, not that long ago, were playing tiny gigs and handing out flyers themselves.

calum had dropped out of high school earlier that year and moved to london with the boys once the band really started taking off. i missed him painfully despite the constant texts, late-night facetimes, and random voice notes he’d send me at ungodly hours.

convincing my mum to let me fly out to london took a while, though calum had always been golden in her eyes, she was still sending her teenage daughter half way across the world to tour with two boybands. not exactly the dream scenario for parents.

yet calum was desperate to get me out there with him. he promised her he’d look after me the entire trip, kept insisting he’d send updates, planned out everything down to airport pickups and accommodation details.

to say the tour was fun would’ve been an understatement. 

my best friend was suddenly a fucking rockstar. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t look at him with stars in my eyes half the time. apparently everybody noticed too. everybody except calum.

the first time i met the one direction boys, they all assumed i was his girlfriend. it took about a week for them to realize we weren’t actually together, which they seemed personally offended by.

“absolute bullshit, that,” louis said one night in his thick doncaster accent after watching calum sling an arm around my shoulders for maybe the fiftieth time that day.

later that night, after the venue emptied and the chaos finally died down, we ended up sitting outside the tour bus sharing a cigarette in comfortable silence.

london air clung cold against my skin while distant traffic echoed down the street.

“i’m really proud of you, cal,” i said quietly.

he looked over at me as smoke billowed his face. he smiled softly, took my hand, and pressed a kiss against my knuckles.

my stomach flipped embarrassingly hard. by that point, physical affection between us wasn’t unusual anymore. we’d crossed far past normal best friend boundaries without ever actually acknowledging it. distance makes the heart grow fonder, i guess. unfortunately, it also makes every unresolved feeling ten times worse.

i understood why louis thought the whole “just friends” thing was bullshit.

it felt surreal watching the same boy who used to throw paper balls at me in class now perform in sold-out arenas across the world. not that fame made him any less annoying. if anything, it made him worse.

“i told ya, didn’t i?” he grinned, nudging my shoulder with his. “got myself a whole stadium of screaming fangirls.” i scoffed lightly, even as my chest tightened.

i was proud of him. god, i was so proud of him.

but what was supposed to be my harmless little crush on calum hood had turned into something much bigger and terrifying.

alyssa was actually the one who realized it first after i spent an entire school day miserable because he’d been too busy to call me the night before.

“you’re in love with him,” she told me bluntly over lunch.

i denied it for maybe thirty seconds.

i knew he’d started getting attention too. groupies, afterparties, girls who were prettier than me– cooler than me. the things that came with the life he was stepping into.

he was still just a teenage boy at the end of the day.

i tried not to think about it too much. this isn’t about you, evie.

“kept my other promise too,” he said suddenly.

i looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, unsure what other promise he was talking about.

he reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from my face before taking one last drag of the cigarette.

“told ya i’d take you with me when we made it.”

17:02 pm

i smoothed the fabric of my oversized jacket, staring at my reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. i didn’t want to wear anything flashy. absolutely nothing that would pull attention toward me. the last thing i wanted was to stand out in a crowd full of fans, especially if they knew who i was. i was terrified someone would recognize me.

alyssa appeared behind me, resting her hand gently on my shoulder. “you look good, i promise. you always do.”

i smiled weakly at her reflection and gave a small nod. a black tank top sat beneath an oversized jacket, simple enough to disappear into a crowd. i’d layered on a few rings and necklaces, just enough to avoid looking too plain, too intentionally invisible. somehow even trying not to stand out felt suspicious. i was overthinking every little thing.

i anxiously grabbed my keys and bag before making our way to the o2, the same stadium i watched his 17-year old self play all those years ago.

we arrived just before the lights went down. the crowd buzzed around us in waves of excitement and anticipation, and my heartbeat pounded so loudly in my chest i was convinced someone nearby would turn around and ask if i was alright. i kept my hood up low over my face and avoided eye contact whenever possible. alyssa kindly gave me the aisle seat once we found our section, probably knowing i’d need the easy escape route.

even so, i caught myself smiling as i looked around. i had always loved the fans. even now. even after everything. years ago, i’d been the one buying boxes of donuts and pizza for the girls waiting in the freezing queue for hours. i’d been the one handing out guitar picks, drumsticks and setlists to the ones holding up cardboard signs. part of it came from genuinely knowing what it felt like to love something that deeply but the other part came from wanting them to like me enough not to tear me apart online. fame made even kindness feel strategic sometimes.

still, seeing everyone tonight made my chest ache. glitter smeared beneath eyes. band tees worn with everyone’s own customization. excited laughter echoing through the rows. the concert hadn’t even started yet and nostalgia was already clawing at me.

without realizing it, alyssa and i slipped into old memories while we waited for the lights to dim. touring with the boys, sneaking out after shows at two in the morning for fast food, the stupid arguments and the even stupider jokes. how unbearably young and reckless we all were back then.

for the first time in what felt like forever, i smiled without forcing it while thinking about something tied to calum.

then the arena went dark.

the scream from the crowd was immediate, deafening enough to shake through the floor beneath my feet, and suddenly my stomach twisted so violently it hurt.

and then there he was.

calum hood.

the breath caught painfully in my throat as he walked onto the stage, bathed in blinding white light while thousands of girls around me screamed his name like a prayer. the sound swallowed the entire arena whole. i sat frozen in the middle of it, fingers gripping the armrests of my seat so tightly they ached. it felt wrong being this far away from him.

every concert i had ever attended before this, i’d watched from backstage or side-stage or somewhere close enough that if he turned his head slightly, he could find me instantly. i was always within his line of sight. 

now i was buried high up in the bleachers like a stranger. just another face in the crowd.

the giant screens flashed to his face and i inhaled sharply again before i could stop myself. he looked different. blond hair now, smudged dark makeup sat around his eyes giving him this rough, punk sort of edge that fit the new era perfectly. time had sharpened him somehow. made him look older, but i would’ve recognized him anywhere.

they opened with newer songs first. i found myself genuinely enjoying them. my conflicting situation with their bassist doesn’t change the fact these four boys are extremely talented. they’d leaned back into their pop-punk roots lately and secretly, i had missed that sound more than i realized.

knowing concert etiquette like muscle memory, i forced myself to move with the crowd. jump when everyone jumped. clap when everyone clapped. laughed during their video skits. pretend my body didn’t feel like it was being held together by thin thread and adrenaline.

then, halfway through the set, the opening notes of a song i knew all too well drifted through the stadium. the crowd erupted instantly while my entire body went still. ghost of you.

one of their biggest songs, one of their best. god, i loved that song. i loved calum’s part most of all.

it was strange because the song had come out right around the time we officially started dating. he used to laugh whenever i told him it was one of my favorites, always saying, “it’s literally a breakup song. what’s wrong with you?” and i’d laugh back, telling him good music didn't care about our relationship status.

his voice in that song had always destroyed me a little. there was something painfully yearning about it, like he was reaching toward someone already disappearing. back then, i thought it was beautiful. now it felt unbearable.

this tour was the first time he’d performed the song since we broke up. i’d avoided every video online since the tour started because i didn’t know which would hurt more—watching him get emotional over it, or watching him sing it like it meant absolutely nothing anymore.

as his verse approached, i stopped moving entirely. as the giant screen cut to him, my breath caught. his voice wrapped around the arena low and aching, rough around the edges in a way it always became when he was trying too hard not to feel something. even years later, i recognized every tiny shift in his tone.

i used to tell him all the time that he sang like he was mourning something.

before leaving for the concert, i’d made the mistake of scrolling through twitter while alyssa supervised to make sure i didn’t fall into a spiral. i’d barely lasted five minutes before stumbling across tweets reflecting my thoughts.

“this is the first time calum’s performing in london after the breakup with evie..” “ghost of you tn is gonna ruin me omg my divorced parents”

i closed the app almost immediately after that. it was ridiculous. two whole years had passed. two years of new cities, new people, new versions of myself. entire lifetimes crammed into the space between then and now. and somehow his name still hit like touching a bruise that never healed properly.

yet here i was anyway. watching the man i once loved more than myself stand beneath blinding stage lights. in his element.

calum sang softly, eyes lowered toward the stage floor. “cleaning up today, found that old zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away…”

beside me, i felt alyssa glance over, checking whether i was still holding it together.

a memory hit me immediately.

one night, years ago, tangled together in bed after a show, calum had laughed and said, “if we ever break up, please don’t leave while wearing a zeppelin shirt. i might have to kill myself every time i have to sing that line.” i remembered smacking his chest and telling him not to joke about things like that.

as luke’s voice carried the chorus through the stadium and calum’s harmonies echoed behind it, something inside me cracked open. i leaned my head against alyssa’s shoulder, suddenly too exhausted to hold myself upright anymore.

“too young, too dumb, to know things like love…”

out of all the boys, luke and i were closest in age, which naturally made us close in general. our birthdays were only days apart, so back during tour days we used to celebrate together to save money. one cake, one chaotic backstage party, everyone screaming over each other while ashton got progressively more drunk by the hour.

i still smiled thinking about those nights.

things were different now, obviously. not bad different, just… different.

luke still checked in on me. he still randomly sent me videos of his daughter babbling nonsense or updates about whatever sierra was baking that week. him and sierra still invited me to dinners and birthdays and little family gatherings.

but with calum involved, everything became complicated.

luke reached out when they first landed in the uk too. he didn’t pressure me into meeting him, just letting me know he was there if i wanted to see him, sierra, or their daughter.

that was one of the saddest parts about the breakup. it didn’t just cost me calum. it created distance between me and the boys too. growing up an only child meant they were the closest thing i ever had to brothers.

the stadium erupted into cheers as luke finished his song and then my stomach dropped.

i knew what came next.

this was the section of the show where each member performed their solo work. naturally, the boys had all branched out into solo projects during breaks from the band. i used to constantly nag calum about releasing his own music someday.

maybe i was biased back then, but his songwriting had always been my favourite. all of my favourite 5sos songs came from him. his production and arrangement was always so precise, rightfully earning him my constant praise. he always had half-finished lyrics stuffed into journals and notes app entries.

i remembered sitting cross-legged on the living room floor while sunlight poured through our windows, watching him absentmindedly strum random chords on his guitar while trying to piece melodies together. it was unfair how effortlessly talented he was.

the little shit finally decided to release solo music after we broke up. and of course the album had to be about me. about us.

i’d heard it, obviously. there was no escaping it. the second his debut single dropped, my phone became unusable. notifications flooded in from friends, fans, industry people, even family. everyone sending links and screenshots and lyric snippets like i wasn’t already painfully aware.

i ended up going offline for almost a week. alyssa stayed with me during that relapse.

what made it worse was the fact the album was good. so devastatingly good.

in another life, i would’ve been promoting it like crazy online and bragging that my boyfriend made a masterpiece. i could’ve sworn some of those lyrics came from conversations we’d had at two in the morning half-asleep in bed.

“don’t forget you love me.”

even hearing the title made my chest tighten. that was one of the last things i said before i walked out. or something along the lines of it.

and naturally, it became the biggest song on the album. which meant it was the song he performed every night on tour.

the arena lights dimmed further. the first notes rang through the stadium and suddenly i was right back there again as tears blurred my vision instantly.

i could still remember my hands shaking while i shoved clothes into a suitcase that night. the sound of calum crying behind me and the feeling of wanting to stay and leave at the exact same time.

i forced myself to stay standing as calum stepped into the spotlight.

then he started singing. “12 a.m. on taco tuesday, i’m crying out my eyes…”

the crowd screamed as my stomach twisted painfully.

“and i’m sitting here wondering if i want to be alive..”

did he really feel like that? part of me wanted to say good. part of me wanted him to hurt the way i hurt. but another part of me–the part i spent two years trying to kill–still loved him too much to enjoy his pain.

“i’ve tried enough to call you, i’m scared that you’ll pick up…”

he did call. over and over and over again until he eventually gave up.

because what was i supposed to do? listen to another drunken explanation about why another girl ended up sucking his dick? years of loving someone reduced to one horrific decision.

by the time the chorus hit, i broke.

calum’s voice echoed through the arena as he repeated “don’t forget you love me” again and again like a prayer he still hoped would work.

alyssa wrapped her arms around me immediately. i didn’t know if people around us just thought i was another emotional fan crying over her favourite member or if anyone realized the woman this entire album was written about was standing right there in the crowd.

“we can leave if you want,” alyssa whispered. i shook my head quickly and pulled my hood lower over my face, trying to keep my sobs quiet. it was the first time in years i’d actually let myself cry over him properly.

“oh my god,” a girl behind us gasped. “is he crying?”

my head snapped toward the screen before i could stop myself. calum stood at the mic, finishing the final chorus while tears slipped down his face under the stage lights.

well fuck.

i didn’t even know what emotion i was supposed to feel anymore. at least i wasn’t the only one still ruined by this, i guess.

“i think he still misses evie,” another girl whispered behind me. “she lives here now, doesn’t she? that must be so hard for him.”

“i still hope they get back together.”

i covered my mouth hard to stop the sound threatening to escape me. i didn’t want to draw attention to myself. didn’t want anyone realizing my reaction went deeper than fangirl tears.

but the deep truth was i missed him so much.

– 2014

i sighed as i melted further back into calum’s arms, his chest warm against my back as we laid tangled together on his couch.

we had just gotten home from the bar after mutually deciding we weren’t actually in the mood to drink ourselves numb over our shitty love lives.

by then, the boys had already moved to la. emotionally and financially, it was hell. i was still finishing my final year of uni in london while calum was suddenly living across the world. but he tried. god, he tried.

whenever schedules aligned and the universe finally decided to be kind to us, he’d fly me out or arrange trips back home. even with the band getting busier, he always made time for me somehow.

he was weirdly adamant about me graduating too. calum dropped out two years earlier to fully focus on the band, but he treated my degree like it personally belonged to both of us. he’d stay awake helping me rehearse presentations despite barely understanding half the terminology. he’d call me before exams like i was heading into battle. meanwhile, i always rolled my eyes because i knew he would’ve succeeded with or without formal education anyway. we were proud of each other like that.

uni was exhausting though. trying to survive my final year while maintaining some kind of social life felt impossible most days. i went on dates here and there, but they never really became anything. that’s what led to tonight’s failed attempt at getting drunk.

we spent most of the evening complaining about each other’s dating lives instead. not that calum genuinely tried dating. he bounced between meaningless flings now that he was a young rockstar with suddenly endless options thrown at him. and not that my feelings for him were getting any smaller.

my heart still betrayed me every single time his touch lingered too long. every time he casually flirted without realizing the effect it had on me. i’d just gotten better at pretending otherwise.

i curled further into his side while he absentmindedly played with my hair, both of us staring lazily at the ceiling.

“if we’re both not married by forty,” he suddenly said, “we should just marry each other.”

i laughed immediately, mostly to hide the heat rushing into my face. “what?”

“i’m serious.” he glanced down at me. “clearly love isn’t working out too well for either of us.”

“well unlike you, i’m actually trying.” i narrowed my eyes.

“shut up and listen.” he nudged my shoulder. “come on. i wouldn’t be that bad of a husband, would i?”

i pretended to think deeply about it which made calum look personally offended.

“oh, fuck off,” he groaned before suddenly flipping us over and attacking my sides.

i squealed. “cal–stop!”

“i’d provide for us,” he argued between my laughter. “i’m romantic, insanely handsome, talented–”

“those aren’t real reasons!”

eventually he stopped tickling me, both of us breathless and laughing. 

but the truth was, despite us only being eighteen, i’d already imagined it before. spending the rest of my life with calum hood. every teenage girl plans her wedding at some point. i’d been imagining mine since i was fourteen. and calum devastatingly fit into every version of it perfectly.

i already knew who the groomsmen would be. hell, we technically already had the wedding band sorted too–

“i mean,” he muttered, “the wedding would be easy considering we already have a band.”

i froze after he said that. was he reading my mind?

“sure, maybe i’d burn the kitchen down every now and then,” he continued dramatically as he pulled me fully into his lap, “but give me one good reason why i wouldn’t be a fantastic husband.”

“you’d drive me insane,” i said. that wasn’t a real reason though. i’d let calum hood ruin my sanity happily if it meant keeping him. and judging by the smug look on his face, he probably knew that already.

somehow, the conversation spiraled from fake marriage jokes into genuinely discussing our future–homes, weddings, kids, a life that still seemed to only exist in our dreams.

i listened while he talked about wanting a big backyard someday and a studio in the house so he could still make music while his kids ran around annoying him. it melted me a little seeing this softer version of him.

“do you want kids?” he asked suddenly.

“yeah,” i admitted quietly. “maybe.”

“how many?”

“two. unless the first one drives me insane enough to stop there.”

he laughed at that.

“i think two’s good,” he said. “you’ve already thought of names, haven’t you?”

i narrowed my eyes. “how do you know everything?”

“angel,” he said easily, brushing hair away from my face, “i know everything about you.”

i hated that he did.

“tell me their names.” he said it so softly like these imaginary children already belonged to both of us.

i swallowed. “well… if it’s a boy, i always liked elijah amaru-quest.”

calum blinked.

“whoa. who’s quest?”

“what?”

“i didn’t realize there was another man in your life.” he frowned dramatically. “i’d love to meet this mr. quest.”

i stared at him for a second before realization hit me. then i burst out laughing.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.”

his pout deepened.

“i don’t know a quest,” i laughed. “i just got carried away and accidentally gave him a full name.”

“and there’s no room for hood in there?”

“amaru-hood doesn’t sound as cool.”

he looked genuinely wounded.

“you’re adorable,” i laughed.

i couldn’t believe we were arguing over the surname of a child that didn’t even exist.

“maybe,” i teased, “i could compromise with elijah amaru quest-hood.”

calum immediately brightened. “that kid’s gonna sound important as hell.” he grinned. “what about a girl?”

i’d always imagined calum as the kind of dad who’d be amazing with both a son and a daughter. not necessarily with me, but girls hopelessly in love with their best friend are allowed to dream a little.

“lyla-rose.”

“that’s it?”

“there’s room for hood there. happy now?”

the smile that spread across his face nearly killed me. “yeah,” he said softly. “lyla-rose hood. i really like that.”

“you don’t want any say in their names?”

“as long as they’ve got hood in there somewhere, i’d probably agree to naming our kid barney.”

i hit his chest, laughing. i was so in love with him. he didn’t even realize it.

22:15 pm

the concert was nearing its end by the time they played waste the night. It was always one of my favourites.

the opening notes alone dragged me backwards in time so violently it hurt. scenes of long california drives, cheap alcohol and sticky backstage floors flooded my mind. being eighteen and stupid and convinced life would somehow stay that good forever.

throughout the concert i noticed they sounded better now too. older and vocally stronger, more settled into themselves.

i left before the final three songs to avoid the nightmare of post-concert traffic spilling into the streets. alyssa offered to stay with me, but she’d already done more than enough tonight.

i hugged her tightly in the tube before she got off at her stop, thanking her at least three separate times while she rolled her eyes and told me to text her the second i got home.

the problem was i didn’t want to go home. not yet, at least.

i wandered into a pub i’d only been to once before with some coworkers after a launch event. quiet place, decent drinks and dark wooden interiors that felt cozy enough to drink my sorrows out to. i only needed a guinness.

the pub wasn’t busy. just a few couples tucked into booths and two older men arguing softly over footy near the tv.

i sat at the bar staring at my phone while the bartender gave me a small smile, as if he knew it wasn’t the right time for any small talk.

my emotions still felt tangled from the concert. the crying, the memories and seeing him again after all this time, even from far away.

i checked the time. 11:56 pm. my stomach twisted.

before i could fully think it through, i opened my messages and typed calum’s contact name into the search bar with slightly shaking fingers.

i had changed his contact months after the breakup. it used to be calcite. the memory made me smile before the pain shot through my heart.

i used to give him ridiculous nicknames that started with “cal.” calcite, calcium, calico, calendar–anything that annoyed him enough to make him roll his eyes while secretly loving it.

what the fuck was i doing?

that thought looped through my head over and over again alongside a louder voice screaming stop, stop, stop as my thumb hovered over his contact.

the last thing in our chat history wasn’t even a conversation. just pages of missed calls, and voicemails i never listened to.

i swallowed hard. fuck it. tonight was already messy and impulsive enough.

i opened the photo i’d taken during the concert and typed: hi. was at your concert tonight

it took me almost two full minutes to press send. the message got opened in less than one. i felt like throwing up as i idled myself in the chat.

Evie

why didn’t you tell me?

he double texted. i read it in his voice.

i didn’t think it was necessary

i could’ve gotten you better tickets. you’re all the way in the back

a laugh escaped me before i could stop it.

It’s okay. i love supporting small artists

i stared at my own message for a second in disbelief. i couldn’t believe i still had room for sarcasm while actively drinking my feelings away over him.

he sent back a rolling eyes emoji. god, i missed his attitude.

did you enjoy the show?

i did. 

you played waste the night :’)

still your favourite?

never changed

you didn’t play babylon though :/

i don’t think i even remember the lyrics anymore haha

i stared at the screen too long after that. what the hell were we doing? this was our first conversation in two years. and somehow we’d slipped back into the rhythm of each other terrifyingly easily.

the typing bubble appeared again. then it disappeared. then finally,

are you home?

something about the pause before he sent it made my chest ache. like he was hesitant, like he still didn’t know what he was allowed to ask me anymore.

no. before i could overthink it, i opened google maps and sent him the location of the pub. my heart beat so violently i could feel it in my throat. maybe it was him or maybe it was the guinness finally hitting me. probably both.

the typing bubble appeared and stopped again, this time a much longer pause than before.

i knew exactly what was happening on his end because despite everything, i still understood calum better than anyone. he didn’t know what to say next because he didn’t know where he stood with me anymore.

i stared at the screen waiting. i typed there’s an empty seat next to me before immediately deleting it before pressing send. too desperate. as if sending him my location at midnight after two years wasn’t already pathetic enough.

when no reply came after a minute, embarrassment started creeping up my spine. i locked my phone and pressed my palms hard against my eyes.

the notification sound nearly made me jump out of my seat.

there he was.

calum hood.

the man i used to call for everything—the man i used to call my everything. the person i spent the last two years desperately trying not to think about. 

and now somehow i was the one who invited him to me.

for a second, i forgot how to breathe. he looked… tired. nervous too, almost as nervous as i felt.

he wore a black hoodie and matching sweats like he wanted to disappear into the night unnoticed. his blond hair was messy, dark roots grown out underneath.

his eyes landed on me and he froze for half a second before walking over. 

and suddenly he was right there in front of me. close enough to touch again.

neither of us knew what to say. two grown adults who still somehow had no idea what they were doing. 

“hi.”

hearing his voice in person again after two years physically hurt. it sounded exactly the same, with the all too familiar warmth and rasp. what had i expected? for time to change him completely?

“hi,” i answered quietly. my voice came out smaller than i intended.

i couldn’t bring myself to stand up and hug him. judging by the slight hesitation in his posture, he wasn’t expecting one either. he sat down beside me instead.

his eyes flicked toward my guinness before he ordered one for himself without even looking at the menu. a painful, awkward silence settled between us afterward. like one wrong sentence could crack the entire night open. it was probably just as terrifying for him as it was for me.

“how are you?” he finally asked.

the question sounded unnatural coming from him.

“i’m doing good,” i said carefully. lies, obviously. i was far from fine with the night i was having. “how are you, calum?”

“i’m good.”

this felt so weird. so unlike us. i didn’t think we’d ever actually asked each other how are you? before all this happened. we always just knew. 

but there wasn’t really an us anymore. 

“where are you staying?” i asked quickly, desperate to keep the conversation moving before the silence swallowed us whole again.

“the langham.”

i nodded once. “their breakfast sausages are really good.”

the second the words left my mouth, i internally cringed. what kind of response even was that?

but calum laughed anyway. hearing that laugh again after all this time pierced straight through my chest.

his expression guarded slightly. “why’d you come tonight, evie?”

the question hit me so directly, it felt like he shot me. because the truth was i didn’t even know the answer myself. i had been asking that same question to myself all night.

“i don’t know.”

his eyes searched my face for a moment. i couldn’t look away from him long enough to escape it. 

he was wearing his glasses–they always made him look softer. there was light stubble along his jaw, dark circles beneath his eyes from exhaustion. what exactly, i don’t know. i don’t know anything about him anymore. 

he looked older. not in a bad way. just… worn.

calum nodded slowly like he understood that was the only answer i could give him right now.

“i’m glad you did,” he admitted quietly. “i just wish you told me.”

“if i’m being honest, i wasn’t planning to.” i stared down into my drink. “i literally bought the tickets this afternoon.”

“did you come alone?”

“no. alyssa came with me.”

a small smile appeared on his face at her name.

no matter what happened between them over the years, calum always trusted alyssa to look after me whenever he couldn’t. and despite all her poison comments about him, she knew how much he meant to me too.

“how is she?”

“she’s doing amazing,” i said, grateful for easier conversation. “she’s getting booked everywhere now helping design architecture layouts across europe.”

his eyebrows lifted. “seriously?”

“mhm. i’m so proud of her.”

“you’re doing pretty well yourself, from what i’ve seen.”

i blinked. “what?”

“i mean…” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “i still see things sometimes online. or crystal and sierra tell me about projects you’re working on.”

heat rushed into my face instantly. why was i blushing? thank god the pub lighting was dim enough that hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

though if anyone would, it’d be calum.

“oh, come on,” i scoffed lightly. “you’re saying that while you’re literally on a world tour.”

he shrugged it off like it’s nothing. i laughed softly. “cal, this is a completely new era for you guys. i mean, i’d know, wouldn’t i?” i gestured vaguely toward him. “look at you, blondie.”

i almost reached up to one of the strands near his forehead before my brain caught up with my body. almost. the instincts never went away, did it?

“do you like it?” he asked.

my throat tightened stupidly. i couldn’t trust my voice, so i just nodded. his smile turned smaller then. i’ve been with him through every good and bad haircut and loved every single one regardless.

“how’s touring been?” i asked quickly before the moment lingered too long.

that question thankfully opened the door to something easier and more familiar.

calum relaxed further into his chair as he talked about touring now compared to the old days. “it’s so different now,” he laughed softly. “half the tour revolves around nap schedules.”

i smiled into my drink while he told me stories about luke and michael bringing their daughters on the road. tiny headphones backstage and them somehow surviving on three hours of sleep while still going onstage every night.

he started rambling about uncle duties after that. how he’d carry lua around backstage while michael tuned guitars. how one of the girls recently threw up on his hoodie ten minutes before soundcheck. how he learned how to braid hair because apparently he was now “the cool uncle.” when we were together, seeing how naturally good he was with kids used to make me want to kiss him senseless. he promised me once we’d have our own someday.

my chest ached hearing stories of luke’s daughter when it occurred to me i’d never shared a memory with him involving her. she was born after things ended.

i let him keep talking. i missed hearing him ramble.

i chimed in occasionally with old stories from tours i used to join them on years ago. i lost count of how many times we said “remember when..”

i found myself watching him fondly while he talked with his hands the same way he always had, every expression and tiny facial movement still painfully familiar to me after all these years. i found myself enjoying his presence, letting go two years of burden.

the nervous ache never fully disappeared, but as the hours passed and more drinks were ordered and people slowly filtered in and out of the pub, it became easier to bear.

we still avoided certain topics, neither of us touched the breakup directly. neither of us brought up anything from those final months that could hit a nerve.

but sometimes he’d pause mid-conversation and quietly ask if i still have my old habits.

do you still wear weird socks? do you still fall asleep with weird video essays on? do you still listen to wolf alice when you’re upset?

and every single time, something inside me twisted painfully. because he didn’t know anymore when he used to know everything.

we only realized how late it had gotten when the pub was nearly empty except for an older man drunkenly crying to the bartender about his divorce. calum and i exchanged the same sympathetic look before quietly paying our tab. tipping wasn’t really a thing in london, but we left the bartender a ridiculous amount anyway.

the cold night air hit us the second we stepped outside.

calum’s hotel was in the opposite direction from my flat, but he still insisted on walking me home.

and weird. that was still the only word my brain could come up with for any of this. 

because it was weird walking beside him and not leaning into his shoulder. weird hearing his footsteps next to mine and not instinctively reaching for his hand. weird feeling the wind lift strands of hair across my face and knowing he wasn’t brushing them away for me anymore.

by the time we reached my flat, the streets had gone almost completely quiet. the city lights blurred against damp pavement while cold air clung to our clothes.

calum looked up at the building before smiling faintly.

“you always wanted a place in kensington.”

i nodded. i did. back when we were younger, i used to drag him through this neighbourhood pointing at brownstone windows and tiny cafés like they were part of some impossible dream life i wanted someday.

i checked my phone for the time and winced.

2:47 am. 

jesus. 

“do you…” i hesitated for a second. “do you want to come in?”

calum blinked like he thought he heard me wrong. “are you sure?” he was hesitant. i didn’t blame him. i was too.

i immediately started rambling before he could think i meant something bigger than i did. “cal, it’s late and your hotel’s literally across the city,” i rushed out. i knew damn well it was only a 20 minute car ride. “and i still have some of your old clothes somewhere—or i can give you one of my oversized shirts to sleep in—”

i stopped myself. i was talking too much.

calum nodded once. he didn’t say anything, like he was afraid if he said the wrong thing i’d take the offer back.

i unlocked the door and let him inside. the second he stepped into my flat, something strange settled over me. 

this place was entirely mine. my first real home that didn’t carry traces of him. no old guitar picks forgotten on counters, no cheesy couple mugs, no memories sitting in every corner waiting to ambush me.

i showed him around awkwardly.

“this is nice,” he said quietly while looking around my living room. “very you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smiled slightly. “clean. pretentious books everywhere. posters. expensive candles.”

“i’ll have you know those candles were gifts.”

“mhm.”

i rolled my eyes, relieved the teasing still came naturally.

eventually we ended up in my bedroom while i dug through my closet trying to find something he could sleep in. that’s when i realized all the old shirts i stole from him years ago definitely wouldn’t fit anymore. back then he was leaner and smaller, now touring and age had filled him out more, broader shoulders stretching beneath his hoodie whenever he moved. not that it was bad. in fact i had to stop myself from being attracted to it.

i finally found an oversized shirt from a pr package some brand accidentally sent me in the wrong size.

“here,” i said, turning around with it in my hands.

but calum didn’t take it. instead, he just looked at me. and then quietly asked the exact question that had been screaming in my own head all night. “are you sure this is a good idea, evie?”

the room suddenly felt very still. moonlight spilled through the windows in pale streaks, casting soft shadows across his face.

i stared at him for a long moment—i saw the tiredness in his eyes, the uncertainty and how familiar he still felt standing in front of me after all this time.

“no,” i admitted softly. “i’m not really sure about anything anymore, calum.”

his expression broke a little at that. instead of taking the shirt from my hands, he reached for me instead. his fingers wrapped carefully around mine like he wasn’t fully convinced i was real.

“i miss you so much,” he whispered. no—not whispered. confessed.

and what the fuck was i supposed to do with that?

was i supposed to tear down every wall i spent two years desperately building just to survive him? tell him that yes, god, i missed him too. that i missed waking up to his stupid shower thoughts at eight in the morning. i missed sitting on his lap while he absentmindedly played bass lines against my hip. i missed the way he attacked me with random kisses in the middle of conversations like he physically couldn’t help himself.

i missed him so much it made me angry and sad and confused. but i couldn’t say any of that. i couldn’t say anything at all.

calum broke first. i watched tears spill down his face before mine did.

“evie…” his voice cracked. “when i was onstage tonight—even before i knew you were there—it hurt so bad.” he laughed weakly through tears, shaking his head. “singing those songs without you there like before. not being able to look over and find you whenever i got nervous.”

“my whole album…” he swallowed hard. “i don’t even need to tell you it’s about you, do i?” of course he didn’t. “you always know me better than anyone,” he whispered. “you always have.”

his words started tumbling out faster after that, years of grief finally cracking open all at once. “i still love you so much, evie. so fucking much.” his breathing turned uneven. “you’re all i know.”

tears blurred my vision. “i had to go to therapy just to relearn how to live without you.”

“and i know i sound selfish saying all this because i’m the one who ruined everything,” he continued desperately. “i know i deserved losing you. i know you had every right to leave me.”

he wiped harshly at his face. “but god…” his voice shattered. “knowing i still have to live the rest of my life without you hurts more than dying sometimes.”

“cal, don’t say that,” i cried. but he kept going anyway like he’d been holding this in for too long to stop now. “if i could undo it, i would.” he stepped closer. “anything. i’d do absolutely anything to reverse that night.”

then suddenly he was on his knees in front of me and the sight nearly destroyed me. because it dragged me violently back to the night everything ended—calum on the floor crying while i packed my bags with shaking hands. the difference was back then everything still felt fresh and bleeding open. now i’d had two years to process it all. though honestly, i wasn’t sure i’d done a very good job.

“as happy as i am for luke and michael and their family,” he admitted through tears, “i get so jealous watching them sometimes because that was supposed to be us.”

“i think about it every night,” he whispered. “about you every night. every single fucking night.” 

“i can’t move on, evie.” it was like a blade pierced right through me hearing him admit it.

“i tried. god, i tried.” he shook his head. “but nobody comes close to you. nobody.”

we were both sobbing now. calum stood back up slowly before cupping my face in both hands like he was scared i’d disappear if he held too loosely. “i still love you,” he said firmly despite his shaking voice. “and that’s never gonna change.”

i closed my eyes. “i know you hate me,” he whispered. “i know you hate me for what i did. i hate myself for it too.” his thumbs brushed beneath my eyes carefully, wiping tears away. “but please…” his voice cracked again. “please tell me there’s still a part of you that looks back at us sometimes.”

i looked at him as i realized he still didn’t understand.

“i ended us because you hurt me, calum,” i cried. “not because i stopped loving you.”

his hands froze against my face. “you…” his eyes searched mine desperately. “you still love me?” 

i laughed weakly through tears because how could he not know? “would i have invited you in if i didn’t?” i whispered, hearing my own voice crack. “would i have sent you my location tonight if i didn’t?”

“do you think i spent two years trying to forget the feeling of your breath against my neck because i didn’t love you?” my voice shook violently. “i tried so hard not to think about you because it hurt too much.” 

calum stared at me speechless.

“after we ended, i had to restart my entire life.” tears kept spilling faster than i could wipe them away. “hell, i live in london now, cal.” i laughed bitterly.

“i did everything possible to avoid even thinking about you because i couldn’t handle knowing i lost the man i believed i’d spend the rest of my life with.”

“you were all i knew since we were kids. i idolized you.” my head began to spin from the emotions.

“you promised me so many things. you promised us a future.” i shook my head through tears. “and then one night destroyed all of it so badly that i didn’t even recognize who you were anymore.”

“but the worst thing was that i still loved you anyway. no moving-on technique worked. i tried all of them. and none of then worked because you’re you, calum.” my voice gave out after that.

“i lost my best friend,” i sobbed, couldn’t even breathe properly anymore. “i lost the person i went to for everything. you were my first kiss. my first real guy best friend. my first–”

i stopped myself before the sentence could fully come out and i completely fell apart. deep, ugly sobs tore out of me while calum held me tightly against his chest like he was terrified to let go.

“i still love you,” i cried into him. “even after what you did to me, i still love you so much.”

“evie, i am so, so sorry.” his voice kept breaking apart against my skin. “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. please–” the words blurred together after a while. sorry, please, i love you over and over and over again like he was trying to somehow stitch the damage closed with repetition alone. i let myself listen anyway.

we sat on the edge of my bed, clinging to each other while both of us cried ourselves empty. we weren’t even this close the night everything ended. i wouldn’t even let him touch me or near me that night, too disgusted in his own actions.

i hadn’t touched him in two years, three months, and twenty-three days.

and now my face was buried in the crook of his neck like muscle memory had taken over completely. i hated myself for how much i missed this. missed him.

the shape of him still fit around me perfectly, terrifyingly so, like my body never got the memo that he stopped being mine. two years, three months, and twenty-three days of hurting somehow led back to this exact moment. maybe it was inevitable, maybe a part of me had always been running back toward him no matter how far away i tried to go.

i still dreamed about him sometimes. though i refused to ever write those dreams down in my journal, ashamed of myself for still wanting someone who shattered me.

i slowly pulled back enough to look at him properly and suddenly all i could see was how exhausted he looked. like carrying the weight of losing us had hollowed parts of him out over the years. the reckless teenage boy i first fell in love with over a decade ago was gone now. in his place sat a grown man worn down by consequences, guilt, and grief.

my hand lifted shakily toward his hair before i could stop myself. the curls felt rougher now from bleach damage, but my fingers still moved through them in the same familiar patterns they learned years ago.

calum’s eyes fluttered shut instantly at the touch. like relief and pain all at once. when he opened them again, his voice softened into that careful tone he always used whenever he knew i was close to breaking completely. “you never have to forgive me,” he whispered. “ever.”

fresh tears burned behind my eyes. 

“but i’ll spend the rest of my life trying if you let me.”

his thumb brushed carefully against my wrist. “i’d do anything to rebuild us again,” he paused, “i still have so many promises left to keep.”

a broken smile finally cracked across my face. because even after everything, i still saw him. every tiny change time carved into him over the last two years, three months, and twenty-three days. all the years i missed loving him in real time. then i did something that surprised both of us: i leaned in first.

our lips softly met, almost hesitant from the unfamiliarity of something that once felt second nature. the same lips that used to kiss every inch of my skin absentmindedly throughout the day and the same mouth that once mumbled sleepy i love yous against my shoulder at three in the morning.

it only took seconds before instinct took over again, like our bodies still remembered the choreography of each other perfectly. i could taste salt from tears between us and faint traces of guinness lingering on his mouth. my lip gloss was probably half gone from cryin. i still wore the same brand i used to back then, and when calum smiled softly into the kiss, i knew he recognized it.

the air in the room was thick with a heavy, unspoken history, vibrating with the tension of two years spent apart. he moved like he was scared i’d disappear if he touched me too hard. every kiss felt careful and every touch hesitant like he still couldn’t fully believe i was letting him have this again. i realized then that the last time calum had been this nervous with me was our first night together all those years ago, back when we were still stupid teenagers fumbling through love and desire at the same time. back when he kept stopping every few minutes just to ask if i was okay.

sensing his uncertainty, i knew i had to take the reins. lying back against the cool sheets, i reached up and softly guided him down until his weight was a comforting pressure above me. without breaking the kiss, he blindly reached up, slipped off his glasses, and set them on the nightstand. a seamless, muscle-memory action that made it feel as if no time had passed at all. 

“can we?” he whispered against my mouth, his gaze dropping to meet mine, filled with a quiet, vulnerable longing. i nodded, propping myself up on my elbows, i watched him navigate the buttons of my jacket with careful precision. but when his fingers caught clumsily on the hem of my shirt, the sheer absurdity of his nerves broke the tension, and a soft giggle slipped from my throat.

“don’t think i’ve ever seen you this nervous taking off my clothes,” i teased softly.

his tired eyes lit up with a sudden, familiar warmth. “can you not?” he murmured, a self-conscious, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he was still painfully cute to me.

wanting to ease his mind, i sat up further to help him slide the shirt over my head. emboldened, he moved more quickly to undo the button and zipper of my jeans, sliding them down until i was left shivering slightly in my undergarments. he paused, his gaze sweeping over me as if memorizing a sight he thought he’d lost forever. his hand trembled slightly as he ran a palm over the curve of my hip, his eyes glassing over until it looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“missed you so much, my gorgeous girl,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

he started kissing every inch of exposed skin, trailing his lips into every nook and corner of my neck and collarbone, all while muttering a breathless litany of praises. i leaned back, completely consumed by him, my fingers weaving through the familiar texture of his hair. with practiced ease, his fingers found the hook of my bra, unclasping it in one smooth motion. he latched his mouth onto one peak, sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight to my core, while his thumb began to stroke the other rhythmically.

an unbidden, soft moan escaped me, and my hips arched into him instinctively. his free hand slipped beneath the lace of my underwear, his fingers immediately finding the most sensitive center of my pleasure. it was like his hands had never forgotten the map of my body.

i cried out his name, the syllables rolling off my tongue with a bittersweet ache. in that moment, the realization hit me fully: i had desperately missed the weight of his name in my mouth, and by the way his grip tightened, he had missed the sound of me saying it just as much.

slowly, he stripped away the final barrier of my underwear, leaving me completely bare beneath him. he slid a second finger inside, the friction warm and agonizingly perfect. my eyelids fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the return of a sensation i had yearned for during every lonely night of the past twenty-seven months.

“open your eyes, baby girl. look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a low purr. he leaned down to kiss the tears from my cheeks as i kept repeating his name like a mantra. when he suddenly pulled his fingers away, a small, involuntary whine escaped my lips. he let out a soft, low chuckle at my impatience. “not yet, pretty. want us to come together, yeah?”

i nodded desperately, the heat pooling between my thighs making it impossible to think straight. deep down, a small, fleeting voice apologized to the version of myself that had spent two long years trying to heal and move on—only to completely crumble at his mercy within a matter of minutes. but the guilt evaporated the moment he stripped off his own clothes. i reached out, my palms tracing the familiar contours of his chest and the intricate ink of his tattoos, feeling the steady, rapid thudding of his heart beneath my fingertips.

he paused, hovering over me, his breathing ragged. “do you have a condom?”

i shook my head against the pillow. in that moment, i couldn't bear the thought of anything blocking us, of any barrier keeping us apart after so much lost time. i needed to feel all of him.

“baby, you know i can’t–” he started, a flash of protective worry crossing his face. “i’m on the pill. please,” i begged, my fingers digging into his hips.

the last shred of his restraint snapped. with a low groan, he positioned himself between my thighs. i looked up at him one last time, taking in the subtle changes in his beautiful, mature face and the broader set of his shoulders. as he guided himself in, i threw my arms around him in a tight bearhug, pulling him flush against me. a simultaneous, deep moan tore from both of our chests as he slid himself in.

the fit was tight, demanding a moment of stillness. he paused, burying his face in my neck, allowing both of our bodies to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of a feeling we hadn't shared in years. then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his hips, he began to move.

the pace was unhurried, as if he were trying to stretch out the seconds to make up for the two years of loss. his thumbs gently wiped away the fresh tears spilling from the corners of my eyes, his lips never leaving my skin as he kissed his way down my jaw.

he kept whispering against my skin with soft praises, breathless i love yous and pet names i spent two years pretending i forgot.

“good girl.”

“there you are, angel.”

“so pretty for me.”

every word hit somewhere painfully deep inside me because god, i missed this. missed him.

“cal…” my voice broke apart into a gasp. “i’m so close–”

“i’m right here, baby girl.” his forehead pressed against mine. “right here, angel.” the tenderness in his voice completely unraveled me.

i came with his name falling from my lips while his eyes stayed on me. i never got used to the intimacy of eye contact during sex. calum followed not long after, losing himself with a broken sound against my neck before collapsing on top of me.

for a while neither of us said anything. we just stayed there breathing each other in, almost afraid speaking too loudly would shatter the moment and wake us up from whatever this was because it still didn’t feel real.

eventually calum shifted enough to press a soft kiss against my forehead before pulling away.

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

i never liked adding too onto our i love yous. it feels like i'm watering it down. i don't want my love to sound like an agreement or a receipt of delivery. i love you because my heart is full of it, not because someone said it first and left a blank space for me to fill.

“gonna take care of you, okay?” some things about him never changed. he was always gentle afterward. it took him a minute to figure out where things were in a home he’d never learned before, quietly rummaging around my bathroom until he found a clean cloth. but even then, he still moved through my space like he understood me intuitively. because he did, he always knew me and he would until the end of time. he knew the little habits i never noticed about myself. the places i’d likely leave things and the routines i built unconsciously.

i watched him move around my flat and a thought occurrd to me: i wanted him to know this place someday the same way he knew every other version of home i ever had. i couldn’t process that fully right now, not in this current state of flying emotions. 

calum returned to bed before gently cleaning me up, careful and patient because he knew we were both too emotionally exhausted for a shower. he climbed back beside me and pulled me into his arms.

my face tucked perfectly beneath his chin. 

“i feel like i’m dreaming,” i whispered sleepily. he laughed softly against my hair before kissing my temple. “if this is a dream,” he murmured, “i don’t want us to wake up.”

i smiled weakly at that. he kissed my face again like he was still reassuring himself i was actually there. “thank you, evie.”

“save it for later,” i mumbled against his chest. “i’m tired.”

he chuckled quietly. not long after, sleep finally started pulling me under. the last thing i remember before drifting off was still feeling calum’s eyes lingering on me in the dark like he was terrified i’d disappear again the second he looked away.

i always woke up before he did. he still slept the same way too–with one arm still loosely wrapped around my waist like he was scared i’d disappear during the night. his blond hair was a mess against my pillows, lips slightly parted as soft breaths fanned across my shoulder.

god, i missed waking up beside him.

i carefully reached up and traced my fingers along his jawline. the stubble scratched lightly against my fingertips. his eyes fluttered open and he gave me a tired soft smile.

it was like i could feel my heart melt. how stupid.

“hi, pretty girl.” his morning voice was rough and raspy in that way that always messed me up.

“hi, calcite.”

calum burst into a grin so wide it changed his whole face before laughing. “fuck,” he groaned, pulling me closer. “you have no idea how much i missed those nicknames.” before i could even react properly, he hooked an arm around my waist and effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. he sat up, head against the headboard.

i squealed in surprise while he laughed against my neck. “jesus christ, you got stronger.”

“touring and emotional devastation,” he grinned. “great for upper body strength.”

i snorted out a laugh. there he was again. my calum. i cupped his face between my hands, still struggling a little to process that he was actually here. “can’t believe you’re here,” i admitted softly.

the teasing faded from his expression. “do you regret it?”

i shook my head before he could even finish worrying himself into a spiral. “i’d never regret you.”

he leaned in to kiss me before i turned my face away with a groan. “cal, wait–morning breath–”

“sorry,” he scoffed against my cheek, already laughing. “since when the fuck have i ever cared about morning breath?”

i rolled my eyes while trying, and failing, to push him away.

“it’s been two years,” he continued dramatically. “i’d kiss you after you ate an entire garlic bulb at this point.” 

i burst into laughter. the sound barely lasted a second before he pulled me back against him again, arms tightening around my waist while he kissed me properly this time. i squealed when he suddenly rolled us over so he was hovering above me, blond hair falling slightly into his eyes.

“hi,” i whispered, biting back a smile as i traced the roughness of his stubble with my fingertips.

“hi,” he whispered back. neither of us moved away. we just stayed there staring at each other like we were trying to relearn each other’s faces. 

i took in every little detail i hadn’t been allowed to see this closely in two years. it seemed like he was doing the same thing to me too, looking almost overwhelmed by finally being this close again.

“we’re idiots, aren’t we?” i giggled softly.

“no. i’m the idiot here, trust me.” his expression slightly shifted to something more serious, “evie—”

i immediately covered his mouth with my hand before he could spiral into another apology. he blinked at me as i shook my head. “i know, cal,” i whispered. “i know.”

i watched as his eyes softened, “i don’t wanna keep living in the past anymore, okay?” saying that didn’t mean it stopped hurting. sometimes my mind still betrayed me with flashes of that night and all that anger and heartbreak would come back. so i didn’t blame him for still carrying guilt either.

but sitting here now, with sunlight pouring across his face while he looked at me like i was still the most important thing in his world… i didn’t want us drowning in pain forever.

“i think after an entire album and everything you said last night,” i teased lightly, “i can probably trust you again.”

calum groaned loudly in embarrassment before burying his face into my neck.

“but i swear to god, calum thomas hood,” i continued, half serious despite my smile, “if you ever pull anything like that again, i will actually kill you.”

he lifted his head immediately and nodded, “yes ma’am.” 

i snorted, “i’m serious!” 

“so am i,” he insisted. 

“i’ll literally write a letter before you kill me telling the police not to arrest you. you can have all my inheritance too.”

i kissed him just to shut him up. he smiled against my lips. “okay, i’m sorry. i mean it, baby,” he murmured afterward, forehead resting against mine. “never again.”

something about the certainty in his voice made my chest ache. 

“i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure i never hurt you like that again.” his thumb brushed softly along my cheek. “i swear on everything, evie.”

i searched his face for something, anything that would warn me. but all i saw was a man determined, he looked like if i didn’t take him back he’d jump out the window right here right now.

i laughed nervously under my breath. “we’re really doing this again, huh?”

calum looked at me like the answer had always been obvious to him. “it’s your call, angel,” he said softly. he leaned down slightly, nose brushing mine, “look, i know we can’t magically fix two years overnight,” he continued carefully. “and i know i have to earn your trust again properly. i will. however long it takes.”

his voice dropped quieter after that. “but if you’ll let me… i wanna come home to you again.”

“i wanna relearn everything about you,” he whispered softly. “i wanna know what tube stop you hate the most, what your favorite pub is, your new favorite band…. i miss your playlists and music recommendations.”

his thumb brushed slowly across my waist.

“i wanna know all the little things i missed while we were apart.” he smiled sadly. “i just really don’t wanna lose you again because those were the worst two years of my entire life.”

my chest tightened and i ran my fingers through his hair, nodding faintly. “i don’t think i ever stopped being yours.”

the look on his face after i said that was a mixture of relief, disbelief. like he was trying not to break down all over again.

“jesus christ,” he laughed shakily, burying his face into my shoulder. “you have no idea what hearing that does to me.”

i smiled weakly and kissed the top of his head. “you’re clingier now.”

“now?” he looked up, offended. “baby, i was always clingy.”

“true.”

“i literally used to follow you into kitchens because i missed you.”

“you followed me into bathrooms too.”

“well yeah.” he shrugged shamelessly. “what if something exciting happened?”

i burst out laughing. how could this feel so normal already? like we somehow skipped over two years of heartbreak and snapped right back into us.

eventually though, reality came crashing back into the room. because unlike whatever bubble we’d built inside my flat overnight, the outside world still existed. and unfortunately for us, so did calum’s very real tour schedule.

his next stop was manchester. tomorrow night’s show. which meant he had to leave london later today to continue the rest of the uk leg.

“come with me.”

i looked over from my closet where i was pulling on clothes. calum sat at the edge of my bed in his boxers watching me.

“cal…”

“please.” his voice cracked. 

“last night was something i’ve been dreaming about for so long,” he admitted. “and even right now—having you here again—it still feels unreal.” hearing the desperation in his voice made me pause.

he stood up before walking toward me. “i can’t leave you again.” his voice cracked slightly. “i don’t want to.” he took both my hands into his. “please come with me, evie.”

and there he was again, emotionally rambling like last night. “we still have the rest of europe after the uk shows,” he continued quickly. “then there’s a month break before we go back on tour again and yeah, okay, logically we could reunite then—” he shook his head. “but i can’t get you back today just to leave you again tomorrow for another month.”

my heart hurt listening to him. 

“we’re taking the tour bus around the remaining cities,” he added.

“it’ll be like the old days again.” a smile tugged onto his face. “squeezing into tiny bunks together. you stealing my hoodies. except there’s babies now but i’m sure that’s nothing compared to ashton’s snoring.”

i laughed as memories immediately flooded my head too. late-night motorway stops, falling asleep on his shoulder while the boys argued over music, tiny backstage dressing rooms and shitty gas station snacks.

“it’s this afternoon, i think,” he continued. “and the team won’t care. the boys definitely won’t care. crystal and sierra would be more than happy. i mean, they like you more than they like me.”

i snorted. 

“they miss you, evie.” his voice softened. “everyone does. i do.”

i tried thinking of reasons to say no. but in reality, i didn’t really have any. most of my work was remote now anyway. any upcoming events could easily be shifted around or covered elsewhere. my entire career practically lived inside my laptop.

and if i was being honest, a small part of me missed that life too. i looked toward the window as bright sunlight spilled across the london skyline in a way that almost never happened. i looked back at calum, and had to hide my laugh from seeing the hope practically glow in his face.

i sighed dramatically. “it’s gonna be one hell of a surprise when i show up again.”

his entire face lit up. “so that’s a yes?”

i laughed despite myself. “yeah.”

before he could fully celebrate, i pointed at him accusingly. “but seriously—why did we have to get back together while you’re on tour? do you know how much harder this makes everything?”

calum grinned so hard his dimples appeared. “sorry, angel. horrible timing.”

then he immediately wrapped his arms around me again and lifted me clean off the floor. i yelped while he laughed into my neck. 

“holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly. “you’re coming with me.”

i realized then that he was wrong before: i was also an idiot in this relationship. 

what sane woman gets back together with her ex and immediately agrees to go on tour with him the next day? 

though calum hood never made me sane once.

10:42 am

after what felt like a million back-and-forth phone calls with management, crew members, logistics teams, and at least three stressed assistants, calum finally confirmed that i could join the rest of the tour.

apparently squeezing one emotionally unstable ex-girlfriend onto a tour bus last minute required a shocking amount of work. i felt a little guilty about the chaos. some poor logistics coordinator was probably staring at spreadsheets right now wondering why one of the band members suddenly needed an extra bunk assignment because he was never able to move on.

i made a mental note to buy the entire team dinner at some point. or alcohol. or probably both.

we had to meet everyone at the hotel by 3:30, meaning we needed to leave before one so calum could go back to his hotel and pack properly.

which also meant i should’ve been packing. 

keyword: should’ve.

instead, i was barefoot in the kitchen making breakfast while calum stood behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist like he physically couldn’t stop touching me now that he had me back. not that i minded.

the bacon crackled softly in the pan while lazy morning sunlight poured through the windows. calum pressed absentminded kisses along my neck and shoulder while i scrambled eggs. every few seconds he’d tighten his grip on me slightly like he was reassuring himself i was still there and not a hallucination like some type of shutter island shit.

“okay,” he suddenly said, voice rough with sleep. “but seriously.”

i hummed.

“did you actually like the album?”

i rolled my eyes. “obviously i liked it, idiot. how could i not? it was beautiful.”

he grinned proudly against my shoulder.

“but,” i continued, pointing the spatula at him, “i could only listen to it once because otherwise i would’ve thrown myself into the thames.”

calum burst out laughing. 

“i’m serious!” i defended. “you’re such an asshole for finally releasing a solo album after we broke up when i spent literal years begging you to make one.”

he hid his laugh into my neck.

“what? my love wasn’t inspiring enough material before?” i said half-jokingly, half-serious.

“no, baby—”

“yes actually, explain yourself.”

he turned me around gently until my back pressed against the counter.

“you were too inspiring,” he corrected softly, hands sliding onto my waist. “i think i was just terrified of writing anything that honest while you were actually still mine.”

i rolled my eyes. what an excuse. his thumbs rubbed absentminded circles into my hips before he smiled. “i’ll make another one.”

i raised an eyebrow. “oh yeah?”

“mhm.” he nodded seriously. “this one’s gonna be different though.”

“how so?”

he leaned down until our noses brushed.

“it’ll be about how the love of my life took me back and stopped me from being suicidal.”

i laughed. “you are so dramatic.”

“i’m an artist, baby.”

“you’re insane.”

“but you still love me.”

i rolled my eyes even as my smile betrayed me.

“stupid.”

“your stupid.”

“yeah, okay, now let me get back to cooking before the food burns and i have to remake everything from scratch which wastes the time we already don’t have. c’mon cal, i still need to pack and get ready.”

he laughed against my shoulder, arms still locked around my waist. “you never changed.”

i pouted. “you’re the one who convinced me to go on tour with you again all of a sudden!”

“convinced?” he gasped dramatically. “baby, you said yes almost instantly.”

i pointed the spatula at him again. “don’t test me.” he grinned.

“oh my god,” i groaned. “i haven’t even told alyssa yet.”

calum winced. “shit. she hates me, doesn’t she?”

“she did threaten to murder you multiple times.”

“fair.” he tightened his hold around me again before mumbling into my neck. “i’m scared of her.”

“you always were.”

“no seriously, evie. your best friend terrifies me.” he lifted his head slightly. “i have to face her again now, don’t i?”

i laughed harder. “yes. she’s my other soulmate, so unfortunately you’ll have to survive the court hearing.”

he groaned loudly.

“honestly if she kills you there’s no promise she’ll spare me as well. she leaves me alone for one night and suddenly i’m right back in your arms.” i turned the stove lower before finally facing him properly again.

he chuckled at me softly. it seemed like he was now incapable of looking at me without any yearn in his eyes. he looked like he still couldn’t fully believe he was standing here in my kitchen. well, it’ll turn into our kitchen again sooner or later.

“you really scared me, you know,” he admitted quietly.

“what?”

“when you sent your location last night.” his hands slid slowly up my back. “i thought maybe you were drunk and angry and wanted closure or something.”

i looked down. “i almost didn’t send it.”

his grip on me tightened. “but you did.”

“yeah.”

a quiet settled between us. heavy in the way only years of history can make silence feel. calum brushed a strand of hair behind my ear before speaking again. “i don’t think you understand how hard it was not contacting you these past two years.”

i swallowed. “cal…”

“no, seriously.” his voice softened. “every city reminded me of you somehow. every song. every stupid little thing.” his lips ghosted across my jaw slowly. “i’d see oasis shirts and think about you.” another kiss. “every time someone ordered extra pickles on a burger i thought about you, ya little weirdo.” another. “every time i heard someone laugh too loud—”

“okay, now you’re flirting.”

“i’m trying to.”

i rolled my eyes even as my stomach flipped. “you’re rusty.”

“oh, am i?” his hands suddenly grabbed my waist tighter before he lifted me onto the counter effortlessly.

i yelped. “calum!”

“what?” he grinned shamelessly, stepping between my knees. “you called me rusty. that hurt my feelings.”

“you don’t have feelings.”

“that’s not what my therapist says.”

i laughed so hard i nearly folded into him. god. i missed this.

the stupid jokes, the way he always knew how to make me laugh before i could overthink too much. his smile softened seeing me laugh. then his eyes dropped to my lips and suddenly the atmosphere shifted again. his thumb brushed slowly against my thigh.

“you have no idea how many times i imagined kissing you again,” he admitted quietly.

my breath caught slightly. “yeah?”

“mhm.” he leaned closer. “and reality’s better.”

his lips met mine slowly this time, not desperate like last night. he lingered like he wanted to memorize me all over again. i tangled my fingers into his blond hair, earning a quiet moan from him that sent a pulsing feeling straight to my core.

we really had learned each other’s bodies too well over the years.

the kiss deepened naturally, years of familiarity slipping right back into place like muscle memory. his hands slid beneath the hem of my shirt while mine tugged lightly at the strings of his hoodie. then suddenly—the smell of bacon burning hit us both. 

“shit!” i pulled away laughing while calum groaned dramatically into my shoulder. 

“you’re a distraction.”

“you were literally making out with me!”

“you started it!”

“i absolutely did not.”

i hopped off the counter to rescue breakfast while he stayed behind me grinning like an idiot. 

“well,” i huffed as our lips finally parted properly again, trying to catch my breath while flipping the bacon, “better get used to a lot more gas station stops than before.”

calum raised an eyebrow knowingly. 

“because seriously, what’s the difference between us being horny teenagers back then and us not seeing each other for two years?”

calum looked genuinely in thought for a second. “better stamina?”

mid-way through gathering my chargers calum realized i’d technically only be joining them for the remaining uk dates which devastated him. “absolutely not,” he said immediately after doing the math out loud.

i looked up from my suitcase. “what?”

“you’re not leaving after, like, four days.”

“yes i am?”

“no.”

i stared at him. he stared back with equal stubbornness.

“calum.”

“evie.”

i narrowed my eyes. “you can’t just veto my schedule.”

“yes i can.”

“no you can’t.”

“i’m literally in the band.”

“that makes no sense.”

then began more begging. “please stay until germany at least,” he whined dramatically, following me around the bedroom while i packed toiletries.

“cal—”

“then after germany,” he continued sadly, hand over his heart, “i’ll continue the rest of tour in misery after my girlfriend abandons me again.”

i scoffed loudly. “you are so fucking dramatic. you left me all the time back then and we survived,” i reminded him.

“this is different!”

“how?”

“because now i know what losing you actually feels like.”

okay, how the hell was i supposed to argue against that?

“see?” he said smugly. “that one worked.”

i rolled my eyes so hard.

when we finally arrived at the hotel later that afternoon, i barely had time to set my bags down before i got tackled into hugs and screams of “she’s back!”

i burst out laughing while calum stood behind them looking ridiculously proud of himself. apparently sometime this morning he’d sent a photo of us into the group chat captioned: im the happiest man alive!!

“you told me work was piling up,” crystal accused dramatically while holding my face between her hands, “and now suddenly you’re joining tour?”

i laughed guiltily. “no comment.” 

“playing favourites,” sierra added. “absolutely playing favourites,” luke agreed and calum looked annoyingly pleased by that.

it hit me all over again how much i’d missed this. the chaos, noise and the feeling of always being surrounded by people who somehow became family over the years. this really had been my second family growing up. i had slipped right back into a life i thought i’d permanently lost.

i hugged ashton next, who immediately lifted me off the floor while laughing. “jesus christ, it’s weird seeing you here again.”

“tell me about it.”

little lua waddled toward me holding one of michael’s guitar picks in her tiny fist and my heart nearly exploded on impact. “oh my god,” i whispered, crouching immediately. “you got so big.”

crystal laughed. “she’s been hearing about auntie evie for ages.”

there were newer crew members too who introduced themselves politely while older staff looked at me like they’d seen a ghost. one of the sound guys literally pointed at me and yelled “no fucking way.” calum looked unbearably smug the entire time. i thanked the tour manager for letting me join on such short notice. he shook his head and gave me a hug, telling me he’s glad i’m back and joked how it would benefit everyone knowing calum would finally stop being miserable. 

as everyone got ready to leave, i stood back quietly for a second taking everything in and all the things that changed and stayed the same.

luke had dyed his hair black now, which still looked bizarre to me, michael somehow had red hair again giving me violent 2014 flashbacks. i noticed almost everybody in the band suddenly had dyed hair except me. “i feel left out,” i muttered.

“dye your hair pink again,” michael suggested. i snorted. there was a period during old touring days where i dyed my hair a completely different color every month for nearly a year. my hair never fully recovered from that trauma.

“i’ll literally go bald.”

“worth it,” luke said.

calum looked up from his phone. “you looked hot with pink hair.” he added.

“thank you, baby,” i replied automatically.

the room went silent and michael slowly pointed between us. “oh they’re bad bad.”

–

the first show back felt surreal. though it was good to be on the sidelines again, i got second-hand embarrassment from watching calum on stage. 

that man could not hide his feelings to save his life. 

calum looked backstage while smiling so hard too many times i had to mouth “stop it.” fans definitely noticed too. because tell me why this man was suddenly grinning during the same solo song he cried performing at the last stop?

sierra walked up beside me laughing quietly. “if he’s this happy on day one,” she whispered, “i fear for the rest of tour.” i shook my head while laughing softly into her shoulder.

during one of the breaks i cornered calum. “you need to calm down before fans figure it out.”

“what?”

“you keep looking backstage!”

“maybe i like backstage.”

“calum.”

“evie.”

i groaned. “there’s no difference between you and a golden retriever.”

“good. means you’ll keep me.”

idiot.

–

manchester → cardiff 00:14 am

i sat curled up on the tiny lounge couch wearing one of calum’s hoodies while he aggressively argued with michael over mario kart on the small tv. “this game is rigged.”

“you say that every time you lose,” michael deadpanned.

“because i’m constantly being sabotaged!”

luke snorted from the opposite couch. “mate, you drove into the wall six times.”

“i was distracted.”

“you literally screamed at the wall.”

i laughed quietly into my coffee while calum dramatically threw the controller into his lap. he still found it weird that coffee made me sleepy instead of awake. he turned toward me. “baby, tell them i’m good at mario kart.”

“eh…” i shrugged.

michael nearly choked laughing while calum looked offended. “you used to be on my side!”

“i used to think you had potential.”

“fake people everywhere,” he muttered dramatically before standing up.

the second he walked past me, i noticed how his hand automatically brushed against my knee. touching me had practically become an instinct again overnight. it scared me a little how naturally we fell back into place.

later that night, after everyone disappeared into bunks, calum and i squeezed into his together. the bunks felt ridiculously smaller now that we were adults when back then we fit perfectly. now his legs tangled awkwardly with mine while his shoulder pressed against the wall. 

“i swear these things got smaller.”

“you got bigger.”

his sleepy grin immediately appeared. “you saying i got buff?”

“i’m saying you’re built like a fridge now.”

“well open me wide, baby.”

i hit his chest. “disgusting.”

he just laughed softly before pulling me closer anyway. outside the small window, motorway lights streaked past in blurry orange lines. inside, his fingers lazily traced shapes beneath the hem of my shirt. “i missed sleeping next to you,” he whispered.

i missed this too. i missed his half-asleep mumbling, his freezing cold feet touching mine or the way he unconsciously searched for me even in his sleep.

“i used to wake up reaching for you,” he admitted. “then get pissed off when you weren’t there.”

i kissed the top of his head softly. “you’re clingy.”

“very.”

“i noticed.”

he smiled sleepily against my neck before mumbling. “missed your heartbeat too.”

–

paris 2:11 AM

“i can’t believe you made me walk this far for crepes.”

“you literally said, and i quote, ‘i would kill for nutella right now.’”

“you’ve never heard of midnight cravings and how you don’t always act upon them?”

“yeah.” calum squeezed my hand lazily as we walked. “i craved you every night for the past two years and didn’t get what i wanted, so now i’m making up for it.”

i looked at him flatly. “whose fault was that?”

he winced. “fair.”

i laughed quietly as he lifted our joined hands and kissed the back of mine as the quiet paris street glowed gold around us. streetlamps reflected against the seine while distant music drifted from crowded bars further down the road. cars hummed softly across nearby bridges. the air smelled faintly like rain, cigarettes, and fresh bread from some bakery probably opening in a few hours. touring europe again felt strange, it was like stepping back into an old life i buried years ago.  only now we were older, softer in some places and more bruised in others. but somehow better at loving each other.

calum stopped outside a tiny late-night crepe stand. “this one.”

“you say that with a shocking amount of confidence for a man who cannot speak french.”

“i know universal excellence when i see it.”

i snorted. we ordered horribly pronounced crepes from a visibly amused worker before sitting by the river afterward, paper trays balanced on our laps. both our crepes were overloaded with toppings. some habits never changed from our fro-yo days.

“you know,” calum said casually between bites, “you’re still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

i nearly choked from the sudden compliment. “where the hell did that come from?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i just think about it whenever i see you.”

“cal, i literally look insane right now.” i say trying to ignore the rising heat in my face. 

“you look beautiful right now.”

i hated how it was always easy for him to make me feel seen in ways that terrified me. it was like every compliment physically hurt him to keep inside.

“you flirt more now,” i pointed out.

“i almost lost you forever,” he replied simply. “i’m making up for lost time.”

i stared at him for a second before leaning over and kissing the powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. his eyes widened. “you can’t do things like that in public.”

i blinked innocently. “why?”

“because i’ll forget how to act.”

i burst out laughing. “you’re thirty and still dramatic.”

“correction.” he pointed proudly at himself. “i’m thirty and deeply in love with you.”

later that night, we wandered aimlessly through half-empty paris streets before heading back. the city stretched endlessly around us with the eiffel tower glittering in the distance. calum turned his head toward me. “you think if sixteen-year-old us saw this right now they’d lose their minds?” 

i laughed softly through the ache in my chest. “absolutely.” 

he grinned sleepily. “told you i’d buy you the world one day.” 

i smiled up at him. “yeah,” i whispered. “you kinda did.”

–

amsterdam 6:42 PM

the backstage courtyard had turned into a little family gathering. kids running around with half-eaten snacks. crew members sitting on foldable chairs. someone’s speaker quietly playing old fleetwood mac in the background. tour buses parked just beyond the fence while the smell of cigarettes, coffee, and catering food mixed into the evening air.

it felt warm and domestic in a way touring rarely did. i guess that’s what happens when everyone starts bringing their families along.

i sat cross-legged on one of the picnic benches while lua covered my phone case in stickers. “no, sweetheart,” i laughed softly, trying to peel one off before she glued a dinosaur over my camera lens. “i still need to use this.”

lua ignored me. “perfect,” she declared proudly.

sierra suddenly appeared beside us holding her daughter. “can you hold her for thirty seconds while i fix my bag?” the second the baby settled into my arms, something inside me softened. “oh,” i whispered instinctively, adjusting her carefully against my chest. “hello, pretty girl.”

she blinked up at me with huge curious eyes before grabbing the sleeve of my hoodie with tiny fingers. i laughed quietly under my breath. “she likes you,” sierra grinned while digging through her tote bag.

“well obviously,” i replied smugly. “i’m very likeable.” across the courtyard, calum had gone suspiciously quiet. which was concerning considering you could usually hear him from a mile away. i looked up as he just stood beside luke holding a beer he hadn’t touched in 5 minutes while staring at me. 

luke followed his line of sight. “oh no.” michael looked over. “what?” 

luke snorted. “he’s getting the look.” 

“the look?” michael repeated.

“the baby fever look.”

calum scoffed and snapped out of it. “shut the fuck up.” but his ears were turning bright red. i bit the inside of my cheek trying not to smile while adjusting the baby more comfortably against me. she yawned softly before resting her tiny head near my collarbone.

it had already been a week since i joined them on tour. a whole week of slipping back into old routines like second-nature. every single time i played with the kids or held one of them, i noticed calum got that same soft expression on his face.

“she looks natural,” crystal murmured smugly beside him. “don’t start,” calum warned, though his voice had noticeably softened.

seeing him around the kids did something horrible to me too. he was so gentle with them, so patient. lua absolutely adored him, constantly climbing onto his back or demanding he carry her around backstage like a jungle gym. whenever sierra’s daughter cried, calum was somehow always one of the first people to check if she needed something.

lua suddenly climbed beside me onto the bench and leaned against my shoulder. “evieeee,” she whined. “can you do my hair tomorrow?”

i smiled. “course i can.”

“i want braids like yours.”

“you’d look cooler than me.”

“i know.” i giggled. she’s definitely gonna grow up to be a troublemaker like her dad.

calum finally wandered over before quietly sitting beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. the baby in my arms immediately reached toward him and the smile that spread across his face almost killed me. “hey, darling,” he murmured softly, letting her tiny hand curl around his finger.

i looked and saw the softness in his face. calum glanced toward me after a second. “you okay?”

i nodded too fast. he smiled slightly like he knew i was lying. and maybe i was because watching him like this hurt sometime, knowing that maybe this could’ve been ours already.

later that night, after everyone got called back inside, i stayed behind helping sierra fold blankets while calum packed toys back into a bag beside me. the courtyard had gone quieter now. “you know,” calum said without looking up, “you still look really good holding a baby.”

i stared at him. “jesus christ.”

“what?” he laughed.

he zipped the bag shut slowly before finally looking up at me properly. “i mean it.” there it was again. that look.

“i don’t know,” he softly admitted. “seeing you with them today just…” he trailed off.

“made everything come back?” i finished softly.

he nodded slowly. “i still want that someday,” he admitted after a moment. “i don’t mean right now or anything—i know we’re still rebuilding and figuring us out again. i mean for fucks sake, it’s only been a week since we’re officially back together.” 

everything felt so normal already it was hard to believe we didn’t see each other for two years in the first place.

he stepped closer. “but yeah.” his voice softened. “i still want the house. the kids. you in my clothes while yelling at me for teaching our children bad words.”

i let out a weak laugh.

“and i know i don’t really deserve to picture that future with you anymore after what i did,” he continued quietly, eyes dropping for a second, “but i’d be lying if i said i stopped imagining it.”

god. “cal…”

Getting him to agree had been easy. One kiss to his pouty lips and he caved. Garrett never needs much convincing when it comes to you. If you asked him to jump, he’d probably ask how high.

Which is exactly why he’d agreed to your mysterious “lip balm challenge” without so much as a question. 

So now you’re sitting on his lap on the desk chair in his room, your phone propped up on a stack of textbooks and random notebooks. Various flavoured lip balms are scattered across the desk between his laptop with the unfinished essay he’d been working on before you barged in and distracted him.

Not that he seemed to mind.

“What are we doing again?” Garrett murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice low.

One arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against your side beneath your shirt while his other hand rests possessively on your thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze. He’s buried his face in your neck, clearly much more interested in kissing you than filming anything.

You laugh softly.

“I bought some lip balms and you have to guess the flavour,” you explain, trying—and failing—not to smile at the thought of the reaction you know is coming.

“Hm, okay.”

He presses a lingering kiss beneath your ear with a content sigh, his chin resting on your shoulder while he waits patiently for you to start.

You hit record and brighten immediately, holding up the collection of colorful tubes.

“So, I’ll be testing these flavoured lip balms and my current boyfriend, Garrett, has to guess the flavour,” you say smoothly, feeling the way he freezes beneath you. “They’re pretty wacky flavors, so we’ll see how well he does.”

For a moment, he’s completely silent. But then, without a word, Garrett reaches around you and presses stop to the recording.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly, his eyebrows drawing together. “What did you just say?”

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Baby, I already explained the trend to you. Keep up.”

His expression somehow becomes even more offended when you ignore him and press record again, popping open one of the lip balms.

“Here,” you say, turning toward him after applying it.

But, to your surprise, he dodges your kiss.

“Garrett, come on,” you whine, puckering your lips.

“I’m not kissing you if you think I’m your ‘current boyfriend’.”

His pout is ridiculous.

“It’s just a saying,” you huff, desperately trying not to laugh.

“Well, I don’t like it.” He removes his hands from you and crosses his arms dramatically. “Do you have a list somewhere? Future boyfriends lined up for when you get tired of your ‘current’ one?”

You nearly lose it.

Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek and turn further in his lap, your phone continuing to record in the background, utterly forgotten.

“It was a joke, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters.

His eyes soften immediately afterward, though, because apparently even fake indignation has limits when he’s looking at you.

“Only my forever partner gets to call me that.”

“Aww,” you coo, heart melting at his words. You wrap your arms around his neck and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

He watches you carefully, his expression suspicious but completely helpless when you smile at him.

“It was a prank,” you whisper, your lips brushing his.

“Not a very funny one,” Garrett grumbles.

“No, like, that's the only reason we’re recording something.”

You nod toward your phone with a grin, which is when understanding dawns on his face.

“I knew you were being sneaky,” he whispers back, shaking his head fondly.

Garrett smiles, and it isn’t one of his cocky grins or the easy smile he gives reporters and teammates. It’s the smile that only ever belongs to you, the one reserved for quiet moments and whispered confessions, and it makes your heart squeeze because you know you’re one of the very few people who get to see it. 

“There’s nothing current about us,” you confess softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know that.” He then smirks. “Already bought a ring, so you can’t get rid of me now.”

“What?!” Your shriek echoes through the room, earning a burst of laughter from him when you smack his shoulder with a little too much force.

“Yeah, but since you already told everyone I’m your ‘current boyfriend’, I guess I’ll have to take it back…”

You stare at him. “I can’t tell if you're joking.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

His grin widens at your expression, leaning forward and reaching past you to stop the recording. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he finally kisses you.

And apparently, he’s been waiting. Because the second your lips touch, he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him with a pleased hum.

The chair squeaks beneath the two of you as he stands, effortlessly lifting you along with him.

By the time he finally pulls away, you’re slightly breathless and staring at him with flushed cheeks.

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully.

“What?” You murmur, watching as his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“Cherry cola?”

“Huh?”

“The lip balm.”

Your brows furrow for a second before realization dawns on you. Right, the stupid challenge. The whole reason you'd dragged Garrett away from his homework and set your phone up in the first place had almost completely slipped your mind after he'd kissed you senseless. 

“Um, yeah,” you answer after a beat. “It was.”

“It’s nice,” he says, his eyes sparkling mischievously. And before you can even process it, he tosses you onto the bed with a laugh. 

The playful look on his face—and the unmistakable glint in his eyes—tell you that he definitely hasn't forgotten your little “current boyfriend” comment just yet. 

“I’m picking up what you’re putting down, and I will go find Tucker to give him another beer.” Logan saluted you as he went to grab a new beer and locate Tucker.

“Am I invited to this dinner tomorrow?” Beau quipped to Dean.

“I don’t know, man. Are you?” Dean teased. “Missy, here is the woman of the house. You’ll have to ask her,” Dean jutted his thumb in your direction.

Beau turned to face you and pouted as he asked, “May I please come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Excuse me, I do not live here,” you mocked in defense. “But, yes, you are invited to family dinner.”

"Don't even start with that," Dean waved you off.

“Family dinner?” Beau questioned you and Dean.

Dean let out a laugh, “Yeah, Tucker and Missy have been alternating in cooking on Sundays, and now it’s family dinner,” as if that explained why you and the boys considered it family dinner. 

“Garrett invited me over to dinner at the beginning of sophomore year, and Tucker was cooking tortellini. We were all hanging out afterward, and I told them how I would cook more if I wasn’t in the dorms. I hated cooking in the dorms because the smell lingered way too long,” you started. “Anyways, he cooked dinner that night, and the next weekend I cooked, so it just kind of became a cycle. A routine.”

“Why haven’t I been invited to family dinners until now?” Beau raised a brow at Dean. “I would’ve brought something!”

You let out a giggle at his dramatics. “Yeah! Why didn’t you invite Beau?” you goaded.

“Not you too, Missy,” Dean groaned into his drink. The red solo cup is blocking the view of his face. 

Allie approached you guys and poked at Dean’s side, causing him to choke on his drink. You and Beau try not to laugh, but the second you look at each other, the laughter spills out. “What are you guys going on about?”

“Family dinner,” Dean answered her.

“Is Tucker cooking tomorrow or Missy?” Allie pondered for a moment. “Oh, wait! She cooked last weekend, so Tucker’s definitely cooking.”

“Missy wants to get him drunk tonight, so we can get him to agree to make tortellini tomorrow,” Dean explained the plan to Allie as he pulled her into his side. “You know he’ll feel bad if Missy asks and he doesn’t follow through with it since she made her famous dish last week per his request.”

Beau quit mid-laugh the second he comprehended that Allie had been attending these family dinners. “Am I the only one not attending these dinners?” he called out, exasperated. 

“Dean should’ve invited you earlier.” Garrett slapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder as he joined you all.  

“G, not cool, man.”

Garrett made his way to you with a new can of cherry Coke in hand. “For the lady,” he presented it to you and took the empty can. He set it down on the counter before turning back to you. “I’ve been wondering where you were, but I found you with these bozos and Allie.”

“Beau is very upset that he hasn’t been in attendance for family dinners on Sundays,” you whispered to him as he snuck an arm around your shoulder. 

Your eyes were on Dean and Beau as they started going at it again, but this time Allie joined Beau’s side. Dean’s eyes flared open with joking betrayal. “Babydoll, not you too. Please.”

“You want to make rounds?” Garrett asked softly, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“Yeah, I want to check in with Tucker. Make sure Logan is getting him drunk, so we can get Tuck’s delicious ricotta tortellini.”

Garrett guided you away from the group in the kitchen. You both navigated through the living room in search of the fellow housemates. You see Tucker downing a beer and Logan immediately offering him another, which Tucker greedily took into his hands. Logan winked at you knowingly as you and Garrett approached the pair. 

“How you feeling, Tucker?” Garrett asked him, amused. 

“Great, G!”

“You’re cooking dinner tomorrow, right?” you questioned, trying to seem like you weren’t sure.

Tucker scratched his head and looked at Logan, who gave him a nod. “Yeah! Of course I am,” he blurted out.

You unconsciously leaned your head against Garrett’s shoulder. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” You glanced over to Logan with a slight smirk. 

“Dude, you should totally make tortellini again!” Logan suggested.

Tucker immediately started shaking his head, “Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how long that takes to make?”

“But, Tuck, you know how that’s my favorite! Won’t you even think about it?” You pull away from Garrett’s side to go to Tucker with the biggest pout you managed to put out. 

Tucker took one look at your face, then another at Garrett, and he folded quickly. “Yes, I will,” he sighed, knowing there was no point in saying no to you. “Only because you’re my favorite.”

You let a short cheer out and pressed a kiss to Tucker’s cheek. “You’re the best, Tuck!”

“Enough of that,” Garrett interjected you two, and he gently grabbed your hip to pull you back beside him. 

“Mr. Best Friend is jealous that I’m going to steal your heart, Missy,” Tucker joked.

Logan doubled over in laughter, fully shaking with amusement, “Oh, you know that a way to a woman’s heart is food.” 

“Might just take Missy right from you.” Tucker playfully reached out for you with a smirk, pinching at his cheeks.

Garrett’s grip on your hip tightened just enough for you to notice. Heat flooded your cheeks, and you felt like the room was getting hotter by the second. You should’ve been used to the jokes by now, but being Garrett Graham’s best friend since freshman year came with lots of teasing.

The day you and Garrett met was in a history lecture, and he was sitting behind you. When class ended on the last day of the first week, you were still gathering your stuff, and Garrett was getting up to head out. In a rush to grab his ginormous water bottle, he brought it up, and it hit you right in the back of the head.

The professor whose name you hadn’t quite remembered yet just dismissed class, and the usual chaos of shuffling backpacks with everyone gathering their things filled the room. You remained seated as you were putting away your notebook and trying to search for your headphones in your backpack. With your head slightly tucked down, you weren’t really too aware of your surroundings, and something had smacked into the back of your head.

Thunk.

It wasn’t hard enough to hurt badly. Just hard enough that it made you jump. You let out a surprised yelp and gently rubbed the sore spot before putting your arm back down.

“Oh shit.” You heard some mutter behind you. Garrett instinctively reached to touch the back of your head with his free hand but retracted, realizing it probably isn’t appropriate to do that to someone you’ve just met, even less so after you accidentally hit them in the head. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted out.

You turn around, and a guy is staring at you in complete horror. It was only a few seconds later when you realized that he was the new hot shot hockey player. Which from what you’ve seen on The Fifth Line, there was a bit of emphasis on the player part.

The expression on his face caught you off guard.

He genuinely looked like he thought he just committed a crime. 

You shook your head, amused despite the small sting. “It’s okay! Things happen.” You laughed off, softly giving him a smile, trying to let him know you weren’t mad. 

Somehow, the poor guy looked even more distressed. 

“No, seriously,” he says. “Are you okay?”

You glanced at the water bottle that is ridiculously large. 

Then back at him.

“Yes, totally.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am serious.”

“I just hit you with my water bottle.”

You laughed at the redundancy. “It was a light tap.”

He doesn’t seem reassured whatsoever. “I know that’s got to hurt a bit.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

He frowned. 

You could practically see him trying to decide whether you’ve secretly suffered a concussion. The thought almost made you laugh again. 

“Seriously,” you told him. “It’s okay.”

“Why do you have to be so nice?” he grumbled, and the look on his face made this far funnier than it should be. 

“You seem to be more upset about this than I am,” you teased, watching as his shoulders slumped. 

“That’s probably true,” he mumbled softly as he kept eye contact with you. There was a twinkle in his eye that you just knew was trouble.

“There he is.”

“What?”

“The normal person.” You get a laugh from that, escaping before he could stop it.

“I should probably introduce myself.” His lips quirked into a smile as he shook his head.

“Officially?”

He paused, confused, “What?”

“I know who you are, Garrett Graham.”

His expression fell blank for a split second before he quickly recovered it with a grin. “So you do.”

“People tend to know you when that’s the only name you hear people cheering at hockey games this year,” you confessed to Garrett.

“You’re very observant.”

“More like I have eyes and ears,” you grinned back at him.

He dropped his head into one hand with a slight chuckle. “Well, I apparently know much less about you than you know about me.”

“That sounds right.”

“So let me make it up to you.”

“By how exactly?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Coffee,” he offered. 

You pretended to think about it, but mostly because you’re curious what he would do.

“Coffee?” you repeated in question.

“I owe you.” 

“You really don’t.”

“Oh, c’mon. I’m buying you coffee.”

You smiled, “Okay.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Okay?”

“Sure,” you answered again.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

He looked suspicious for a moment, like he thought there was a catch. You decided not to tell him there is one. Namely, that he still didn’t know your name. And you’re not intentionally volunteering it. You finished gathering your stuff and started to head toward the exit.

He followed right behind you.

The hallway outside is crowded with students weaving between classes. He made a quick step around you to be ahead, so he could hold the door open for you as you left the lecture hall.

Still no name. You took a short look at him, and you could tell he’d noticed. 

The occasional glance he sent your way confirmed it.

You don’t say anything. 

Neither does he.

The silence stretched all the way out of the building. Then a voice called out, “There you are, G!” A tall blond jogged towards you two. “Thought you vanished.”

Your water bottle assailant immediately groaned, “Unfortunately not.”

The blond glanced between you and Garrett. His gaze immediately stuck to you, and a faint smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Oh.”

“No.” Garrett immediately shut him down.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“It’s not–” Garrett was cut off, and the blond ignored him completely. You could tell that they were good friends.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked Garrett with a growing smile. A dangerous smile. Before either of you could answer, he added, “And why does she look like she knows every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done, G?”

You laughed, and Garrett pointed at you. “That’s exactly the problem.”

The blond stuck out his hand. “I’m Dean,” he introduced himself jokingly formally.

You reciprocated by shaking his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, beautiful.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and decided that it was time to put the poor guy out of his misery. You tell Dean your name while purposely trying to keep your attention on him rather than Garrett. 

Dean repeated your name out loud. “Nice.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Garrett repeating your name quietly to himself like he was trying to memorize it. 

Cute. You thought to yourself.

Then Dean glanced between the two of you again, “So what happened with Missy here?”

You blinked at the nickname. “Missy?”

Garrett groaned again, and you were ignored by the two. “No.”

Dean pointed at him knowingly, “You did something! Because when I walked up, you looked like you’d spent the last ten minutes apologizing.”

“He basically has,” you snorted.

“Exactly,” Dean grinned. “So I figured he’d messed something up.”

“Maybe not messed anything up but a first impression,” you pretended to ponder as you rubbed the back of your head, hoping that it would mess with Garrett. You hid your laugh when you saw that he noticed your little joke.

Garrett looked ready to walk directly into traffic just to distance himself from the embarrassment from you and Dean.

You laughed, and when you glanced back over to Garrett, you caught a look on his face. A wide grin. The one that says he’s just had an idea. Probably a terrible one while you guys were at it.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What now?”

“What?” he tried to play it off.

“You have that look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” you insisted.

Dean stopped mid-walk as he burst out laughing, “Oh shit, G. She’s already figured you out.”

That’s when Garrett said, “Nothing, Missy.” You stopped walking. He kept going.

Dean nearly choked. 

“Don’t.” You shook your head at him, but you were talking to Garrett.

“Don’t what?” he responded.

“That.”

“What?”

“Missy.” Garrett’s smile turned innocent. Entirely too innocent. “You literally just learned my name,” you told him.

“Yeah.” 

“And?” 

“And that’s not it,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing. 

Dean was at the point of laughing so hard that he was barely breathing. 

Garrett just shrugged. 

You should probably have been annoyed. Instead, despite yourself, you fought a smile. Because somehow the nickname sounded ridiculous enough to work. Then, judging by the look on Garrett’s face, there was no chance he was going to let it go.

“Coffee,” you said, shaking your head.

“Coffee,” he agreed.

Somehow, before you’ve even made it to the coffee shop, the nickname Missy is already stuck.

By the time that Garrett invited you to hang out with his friends in his line, the two of you had long since become inseparable.

At some point, coffee turned into study sessions.

Study sessions turned into lunch, which led to spending entire afternoons together.

Somewhere along the way, the nickname still followed you.

No matter how many times you complain. No matter how many times you reminded Garrett, you did have an actual name.

To Garrett (plus Dean), you would always be Missy,

Which is why you weren’t surprised when he texted you one Friday afternoon midway through the semester. 

You rolled your eyes as you read his last text and scanned around your room to search for this man’s colossal bottle. How did he forget it? Beats you.

Bingo. 

You found the bottle and headed out to finally make introductions to Garrett’s friends. Who has been bugging Garrett the moment they found out he was hanging out with a girl and not hooking up with her. 

The house itself is exactly what you would have expected when four college freshmen are given a place together. It’s not particularly messy, but it felt lived in. 

The kind of place where people actually spend time together and enjoy each other’s company instead of disappearing into separate rooms 24/7.

The front door barely closed behind you before Dean appeared.

“There she is!”

You pointed at him, “You’re responsible for the nickname.”

“And proud of it,” he cheesed, that kind smile that is always so infectious that you felt your own lips curling.

Garrett appeared behind him. “You absolutely should not be.”

“She still answers it.”

You hated that he was right.

The grin he gave you says he knows it too. 

A few moments later, you’re introduced to the remaining roommates. John and John, or better known as Tucker and Logan. 

The pair bombarded you with questions, and within five minutes, they somehow learned your major, favorite coffee order, and your favorite drink.

“You seem normal enough,” Logan deemed as a proclamation as you guys talked in the living room. 

“Excuse me?”

“I expected worse,” he shrugged.

You looked at Garrett and asked the other boys, “What exactly has he been saying about me?”

Each of the boys quipped a response.

“A lot.” 

“Enough.”

“Some would say too much.”

“I hate all of you,” Garrett muttered under his breath.

“You’ll fit right in,” Logan finished.

By the end of the night, you all were sprawled across the living room arguing over movies and laughing so hard at shared stories that your stomachs started to hurt.

You sat on one side of the couch with Garrett. You were leaning against him while you were talking to Tucker and Logan about the best Batman movie. Garrett was talking to Dean about some girl Dean saw working at Malone’s. Garrett had his arm loosely wrapped around your waist, and his hand was messing with the hem of your shirt.

At some point, you realized something. 

You didn’t feel like a guest.

It was almost like you’d always been there. 

And judging by the way nobody bothered treating you differently, the guys seemed to feel the same way too.

It was the start of sophomore year, and your presence in the Boys’ house was now such a regular occurrence that you had a drawer in Garrett’s room, a toothbrush next to his, and under the sink, he had a bottle of your perfume. 

When you’d pointed it out the first time, he’d shrugged. “You forget stuff.”

“I won't forget perfume.”

“You might.”

“I won’t.”

“Baby, it’s there just in case.”

He claimed that he just wanted you to be comfortable and feel at home, but you knew one of the real reasons was that he was obsessed with seeing your stuff in his room. 

You thought that people would get better about your and Garrett’s friendship, but it seemed that people could never fathom the fact that Garrett Graham had a girl best friend.

Frankly, sometimes you couldn’t believe it yourself. 

As much as the rest of the boys in the line teased you, they were fiercely protective of you and defended you against any rumors that people tried to start. It is endearing how much you and the boys treated each other like family. 

Something you would never admit out loud is the fact you knew that you and Garrett crossed the boundary of best friends a long time ago. Sure, you were attracted to him and cared for him like no other, but his constant saying that he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend really messed with your head. 

You loved him. There was no doubt about it. You tried putting yourself out there and dating, but a lot of the time, guys weren’t interested when they found out your best friend was Garrett Graham.

It didn’t help that Garrett’s love language is physical touch. He constantly found ways to be close and touch you, whether it was an arm around your shoulder, holding your hand in his lap under the table when you and the boys hung out at Malone’s, or a hand that always found your back or hip when you guys navigated through crowds. 

Even with that, there were the puck bunnies to consider, the numerous girls who seemed to gravitate to Garrett the second he flashed that damned smile. But they wouldn’t be able to say they knew him. They didn’t know his favorite band, what major he’s pursuing, how he liked his coffee, or what his mother’s name was. But you did. Of course, you knew him like the back of your hand. 

“Missy, do you know where my–” Garrett’s voice from the bathroom snapped you out of your thoughts. 

You responded before he even finished his sentence: “Bub, your phone is still charging by the bed.”

You were sitting by the window, and the book you were reading had long been forgotten in your hands. You set it aside near a couple of other books you kept there. 

Garrett walked out of the bathroom with his hair still damp from the shower he had just taken, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You hadn’t looked over to him yet as you were folding a blanket that you kept by the window. He watched you with a soft gaze, and a smile budded on his lips.

He went over to the bed and tapped on his phone to check the time. His wallpaper flashed at him. It was a photo of you in the kitchen blowing out your birthday cake candles when he and the boys surprised you with a mini celebration last semester. 

“Hey, we should probably head down soon. I think Tuck is done cooking dinner,” he suggested. “Let me put something on, and we can go.” He went to his closet to grab some clothes. 

You nodded at him and grabbed your phone. “I’m going to head down now to see if he needs any help.” You pressed a kiss on his jawline when you headed out of the room.

You wandered down to the kitchen. “It smells like a restaurant in here.”

“Of course, with Tuck cooking,” Dean said as he carried a case of beers to the fridge. 

“I’m making tortellini,” Tucker called out on the stove.  

Your eyes scanned the room and saw several pots going at once and the counters covered with ingredients. It almost looked suspiciously professional.

“You need any help with anything, Tuck? I’m all yours.”

“Don’t let G hear you say that.” Logan chuckled as he walked into the kitchen, holding something behind his back. 

“Whatcha got, Logan?”

“You know we’d never forget about you.” Logan brought his arm around to his front, revealing a case of mini cherry cokes. 

“You guys are the best.” You buttered them up with a cheesy smile. 

He took one from the case before handing it to Dean to put in the fridge. “For the lady,” he exaggeratedly presented the can to you while bowing. 

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” You accepted the drink in curtsy. 

“Where’s G, man? Foods ready to be served, and his ass is still in his room,” Tucker howled out as he started serving the plates.

You expected to hear a response, but you noticed the silence rather quickly. You looked up from opening your can and saw all three of the guys staring at you for a response. “Why are you guys looking at me?” You blurted. 

“Well, where is he?” Dean prompted. 

“Up in his room.”

“Why is he not down here with us?” Logan added.

“You guys know that I’m not his keeper, right?” you groaned exasperated.

The boys all mirrored the same look that screamed, “Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m not!” Your voice cracked at the delivery, causing the others to laugh.

“What are you all laughing about?” Garrett’s voice broke through the laughter. 

Silence fell upon the room for a few short moments before Dean made a joke: “Just about Missy’s obsession with cherry cokes.” He held up another can to set on the table. 

“G took you long enough, man,” Logan greeted Garrett.

“We were just about to start with you,” Tucker playfully told him.

You all crowded around the old kitchen table. Nobody bothered about matching plates or utensils. One of the chairs wobbled, and Dean had the luck of getting it for the night. You were seated next to Garrett, close enough for your knees to knock into each other and neither of you cared to move. 

The meal was perfect.

You took one bite.

Then another.

Followed by another.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” you praised.

Tucker laughed, “What?”

“I’m not kidding, this is heaven,” you hummed happily.

“Babe, if you think this is heaven, maybe I can show you what real heaven feels like,” Dean dramatically winked at you knowing that it would get on Garrett’s nerves.

“Quit it,” Garrett told him but turned his attention to Tucker, “I told you she’d love it.”

You narrowed your eyes between the pair, “You discussed this beforehand?”

“Obviously,” Garrett stated.

“You are all weird,” you declared to the room.

“And yet you’re here with us on a Sunday night,” Logan bemused.

You pointed your fork at each of the boys, “I regret befriending you all.”

“No, you don’t,” Garrett affirmed.

“No, I don’t,” you admitted with a smile creeping on your lips.

The table fell quiet for a half second. Not awkward. Just one of those moments that everyone wanted to take in and keep as a treasured memory. Everyone glanced at each other with fondness. 

The moment faded when Dean threw a bread roll at Garrett.

If someone were to ask you what your favorite meal is, this would still be the answer.

Maybe not fully because of the tortellini. Which was genuinely incredible. 

It was because of this. The table. The laughter. Logan arguing with Dean. Tucker pretending not to be pleased with himself that everyone kept going back for seconds (and thirds and fourths for the fellow hockey men). Garrett stealing food directly off your plate despite having an identical serving. 

You felt like you always belonged there.

The tortellini just became attached to the memory. After dinner, everyone helped to clean up. Or at least claimed to. Dean somehow managed to disappear. Tucker offered moral support rather than actual labor for once in the night as he sat on the counter, keeping you guys company. You and Garrett ended up doing most of the dishes. Logan cleaned the counters quietly.

“You know I wish I cooked more,” you said to no one in particular. 

Tucker glanced over. “You cook?”

“A little.”

“A little means yes.”

You shrugged, “I used to a lot when I was home, but with the dorms the smells lingered too long, and just not enough space.”

“That’s fair,” Tucker hummed.

“And cooking for one kind of sucks,” you whispered but it was loud enough for the boys to catch it. 

“It does,” Garrett nodded.

“Nobody asked you, bub,” you retorted.

“I’m supporting you.”

“More like interrupting,” you kid.

Tucker laughed, you brought your gaze to him. “You should cook here.”

You blinked at him, “What?”

Dean chose that exact moment to reappear, “Absolutely.”

Logan pointed dramatically, “I second this.”

“You guys haven’t even tasted my cooking,” you cautioned them.

“We’re willing to take risks,” Garrett grinned at you.

The look made you suspicious. “Oh no.”

“What?” Garrett questioned with false innocence. 

“You have an idea.” 

The other three just watched the banter between you two.

“I always have ideas,” Garrett claimed.

“That’s worse,” Logan whispered to Tucker.

You looked around the kitchen. At the house. At the boys who were crowded into it. There was a familiar comfort that you don’t remember forming. And for the first time, the idea didn’t feel strange.

It felt natural.

“Okay.”

“Done.”

By the end of the night, Sunday family dinners existed. 

Every Sunday.

One week Tucker cooked. The next week you did. On a rare occasion, Dean, Garrett, and Logan teamed up to cook for the night.

Nobody was allowed to skip without a legitimate emergency.

Dean attempted to argue that hungry bunnies counted as an emergency. That one earned him a slap on the back of the head from the other three. 

The dinners became routine. Then tradition. 

Followed by something more. People started planning their schedules around them. Sometimes new people were invited.

Bad weeks felt easier knowing when Sunday was coming.

Good weeks feel better when there are others to celebrate with.

By the end of the semester, everyone stopped pretending. Not about the dinner, but about you and Garrett. The two of you still insisted that you were strictly best friends. 

Everyone else nodded along, desperately waiting for one of you to say something about it.

Because whenever someone looked around the table, the picture was always the same.

Garrett grabbed you a cherry Coke every time he reached for his one beer for the night without thinking.

You saved him a portion when he was running late.

The pair of you always sat beside one another.

Nobody said anything. Mostly because they knew that you both would deny it.

But every Sunday, around that crowded table, the rest of the house watched the two of you and thought the same thing. 

That you two loved each other. That you lived better being next to each other. 

“Yo! Missy, do a shot with Beau and me,” Dean shouted from the kitchen, setting out the shot cups.

Before you replied, you looked to Garrett, and as if he could read your mind. “Just spend the night. It's not like you were planning to go home anyway. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks, handsome.” You pressed a quick kiss against the edge of his jaw. “What is it?” you questioned when you went over to Dean and Beau.

“A shot,” Dean answered. 

“Very informative.”

You looked toward Beau, maybe the only responsible person in the house right now. He glanced up to hand you the shot. “Don’t ask me. This was all him.”

Dean’s grin was concerning. You groaned dramatically, “I feel like this is a bad idea.”

“It absolutely is,” Logan agreed.

“Not helping, Logan,” you murmured under your breath. 

Dean wiggled his shot. 

You turned your head to look back at Garrett. Automatically. The same way you always did. In a way, you didn’t realize you did so often, but Garrett noticed. One look and he already knew exactly what you were asking. 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you, baby,” he reassured you.

“Will I?” You smelled the shot, causing your nose to scrunch up.

“Probably.”

“Probably?” He laughed at your echo as he shuffled over to you guys.

“If Dean somehow tricks you into doing more than one…” he trailed off, looking at Dean, who was setting up even more shots. 

“I heard that, G,” Dean quipped at him.

“I’ll drag you upstairs before you make any life-ruining or altering decisions,” Garrett finished. 

There was a certainty in it that made you smile. It was the thing that always settled something inside you. No matter the situation, you knew that Garrett would take care of you.

Not because he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. Just because that’s what the two of you did for each other. 

The same way you always made sure he wasn’t overworking himself with practices, games, studying, etc. The same way you brought him his protein shakes to practice when he forgot. 

The same way you both somehow always knew when the other needed support before having to ask for it.

“You ready, Missy?” Dean winked at you.

“Yup,” you cheered with Beau and Dean. You downed the shot, and Garrett was already next to you with a chaser to help.

“One day you’re going to explain this thing between you two,” Dean pointed at you and Garrett. 

“Never,” you and Garrett said simultaneously.

Logan nearly doubled over laughing.

Tucker giggled to himself, having found his way over to the kitchen a few moments before.

Dean looked personally offended.

And Garrett just looked at you with the same twinkle in his eye from the moment you first met. 

The party died slowly with people filtering out in groups. The music was playing low. Empty cups and bottles accumulated on every available surface. By three in the morning, the Boys’ house was mostly quiet.

Tucker was passed out on the couch nearly an hour ago. He mumbled something about tortellini right before knocking out. 

Around the same time, Logan disappeared upstairs after making sure everyone downed a water bottle and some ibuprofen.

Dean was last seen stealing leftover pizza before vanishing into his room.

You were gathering the scattered trash left around the house, with Garrett following you with a trash bag in hand. You two worked your way around the house, making sure that nobody broke anything and didn't say anything about it.

You headed upstairs when Garrett went to throw out the bag outside. 

You found yourself curled into the corner of Garrett’s bed, wearing one of his hoodies that ended up living in your drawer here just for you to wear. You nursed another bottle of water. Not because you got particularly drunk. Because Garrett had handed it to you without asking before you went upstairs. 

The room was dim except for his lamp. Your drawer was half-open. A pair of your socks were sticking out. Your charger is plugged into the wall. 

There is so much evidence of you in this room now that it would be impossible to explain away. Not that either of you really tried to anymore. 

Garrett entered the room and headed straight to grab a pair of sweats. He went over to the bathroom. 

He came back out now shirtless, just in his sweats, and he threw his clothes into the hamper, which landed right on top of yours. 

Garrett sat beside you on the bed. Close enough that your arms brushed against each other. 

Neither of you said much for a while. 

The silence wasn’t awkward. It never really was. It was one of your favorite things about him. The ability to simply coexist together.

Eventually, he glanced over, “Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“I always do with you.” Your body started to lean into him.

Garrett brought you into his chest. The smell of your perfume overtook his senses. 

“Ready to go to bed?” he hummed into your hair.

You nodded gently and tore yourself from his grasp to look him in the eyes. Your gaze traveled from his lips to his eyes. Suddenly, neither of you was looking away. 

Something shifted. Not all at once. Just enough. Enough that you felt it, and you knew he did too. 

Garrett exhaled slowly. “Can I tell you something?”

The question snapped you out of your daze because Garrett sounded nervous. He never sounded like that around you, not anymore. 

His laugh was quiet. A little disbelieving. Like he was debating with himself.

Then he shakes his head, “I think I’ve been trying not to say this for months, hell, since the moment you cooked dinner for all of us while we were at practice back in sophomore year.”

Your heart immediately started beating faster. “Okay.”

“I keep telling myself we’re fine just the way we are.”

You blinked, “We are fine.”

“We are,” he smiled. “That’s part of the problem.”

You stared at him, and the room felt like it was getting warmer by the second. 

Garrett ran a hand through his hair. “I like you.”

“Wow.”

“What?” he quirked his brow at you.

“That sounded odd,” you giggled to yourself in disbelief. 

“It didn’t,” he defended weakly.

“It definitely did.”

“It really didn’t.” he shifted closer. “I mean it.”

Your chest hurts in the best possible way. “I know you do.” He froze at your confession.

Not because he’s told you before, but because he’d shown you. 

Every coffee he gave you when he knew you stayed up late studying.

Every late-night conversation in his room pretending that what you guys had was a normal friendship. 

Every time he remembered something small.

Every time he made space for you in crowded places.

Every time his eyes searched for yours after he scored a winning goal. 

Every time he looked at you like you were the best part of his day. 

You already knew, but hearing it made it real.

“What?”

You smiled, “I know.”

His expression looked almost offended. “You were supposed to be surprised.”

“You have a bottle of my perfume under your sink.” 

“In my defense–” you cut him off.

“You gave me a drawer.”

“You needed a drawer. How else were you supposed to stay over so often?” he shrugged.

“Maybe.” You reached for his hand. The movement was natural, like everything else with him. “I like you too.”

The room went still. Garrett stared back at you. “You do?”

You snickered. “Seriously?”

“I just want confirmation.”

“You have been my favorite person since the moment you almost concussed me freshman year.”

He covered his eyes with his hand. “Okay, moment ruined.” But when he uncovered his face, the smile that spread across his lips was devastating. Warm and content. Happy.

“So?”

“So what?” 

You shifted closer. “What does this mean for us?” You pretended to ponder. “Hm.”

“Missy.”

“I think…” You cocked your head to the side. “This means we should probably stop pretending we’re just friends.”

Garrett laughed. A real laugh. The kind that only came out around people he felt completely comfortable with. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” you repeated. 

Then he leaned forward, slowly. His hand settled against your cheek. And when he kissed you, it didn’t feel new. It felt like something you’ve been waiting for a very long time. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are smiling. A little stunned. Definitely giddy. Garrett rested his forehead against yours. “So we’re not telling them.”

You softly chuckled to yourself, “Absolutely not.”

“They’re going to be unbearable.”

“Especially Dean.”

“He’ll claim responsibility.”

“Too bad it’s thanks to your ridiculous bottle.”

He groaned, “We are keeping this to ourselves.”

“Agreed.” 

The agreement lasted less than eight hours.

The next morning, the kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon. 

Logan was standing at the stove.

Tucker was sitting by the counter with his head in his hands. 

Dean was eating cereal directly from the box. 

Nobody looked particularly awake. You shuffled into the kitchen wearing another one of Garrett’s hoodies, which wasn't unusual. 

Garrett followed a minute later. Also not unusual. 

Nobody paid attention.

Logan continued cooking his bacon. 

Tucker still hadn’t lifted his head up yet.

Dean kept munching on the cereal.

Garrett walked directly to the coffee pot. Also normal.

He poured a cup. He added exactly the amount of cream and sugar you liked. He carried it over to you. Still normal.

“Morning, Missy.” You heard Logan call from the stove.

“Morning,” You replied.

You accepted the mug from Garrett. And without thinking or planning, you leaned up and pecked his lips. Quick. Easy.

And not normal. 

The room went silent. The silence lasted exactly two seconds. 

Then Dean practically launched out of his chair, “I KNEW IT!”

You immediately dropped your head. “No.”

“YES.”

“It has been like six hours.”

“I KNEW IT.”

Garrett groaned. 

Dean pointed to himself, “This happened because of me.”

“It absolutely did not,” Garrett remarked. 

“I brought you together.”

“You really didn’t,” you laughed.

Tucker finally lifted his head and studied you and Garrett for a moment. Then nodded, “About time.”

Garrett pointed at him, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Tucker muttered as he dropped his head back down.

Dean looked betrayed. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say?” Tucker’s voice was muffled. 

“They’re dating!” Dean proclaimed.

“They’ve been emotionally dating for like over a year,” Logan shrugged off. 

“Fair,” you mouthed to Garrett. 

Logan flipped another piece of bacon, completely unfazed. “Bacon’s almost done.”

The room erupted.

Dean started shouting. Garrett was laughing. You nearly spilled your coffee when Dean came up to pick you up in a spin, barely giving you time to set down the mug. Garrett made quick work of grabbing it out of your hands. “I call being the godfather to your future children.”

Life seemed to be put back into Tucker, and Logan flipped around, pointing the tongs at Dean. “No man, that’s not how that works.”

Tucker looked more alive than ever. “My sous chef would never pick you, dude.”

Dean sat you down on the counter and immediately started arguing with the other two. 

And standing next to you was Garrett. His shoulder pressed against yours while he handed your coffee back. 

You realized something. Nothing felt different. Not really. The house was still home. The boys are still family. 

Garrett was still your favorite person.

After your last class, you caught the bus back to the house you shared with your roommates, making it back just in time to meet the pickup truck that pulled up in front of the house. A tall, brown-haired guy with big, dark eyes hopped down and walked around the front of the truck to meet you on the sidewalk. 

“Are you the one who called about a smoking car?” Up close he was even cuter than you’d originally thought. You really hoped you weren’t blushing.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m guessing you’re here to take a look at it?”

“Right on.”

“It’s the one right behind you.” You gestured to the slightly rusty and slightly beat up grey hatchback that he had just parked in front of. He turned and gave out a low whistle as he took it in. It wasn’t necessarily a sight for sore eyes, but it had certainly seen better days, most of which you hadn’t even seen since you’d bought it used two weeks before you came out to Briar for your freshman year.

He gave it a walk around, tracing parts of it with his left hand as he looked it over.

“How long you had this thing?” He looked to you as he asked.

“Three years now. I bought it used.” He nodded along.

“It’s definitely been used, you could say that again.” He snatched a ratty looking rag from the back of his truck and clutched it in his right hand as he popped the hood open. A cloud of smoke appeared as soon as he did so, causing the both of you to cough.

“Looks like an engine problem. It’ll have to come into the shop so we can look at it there.” He shut the hood, the rest of the car creaking as he did so.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, already tallying up how much this would end up costing you. Even with the rising bus rates it would probably still be cheaper than maintaining this piece of junk. The guy looked at you, appearing to study your face.

“I can drive it to the shop for you, if you want. It’s not too far and it should hold up,” he suggested, catching you off guard with the offer.

“Is it even safe to drive at all?”

“Probably not, but I’d rather drive it than have it blow up with you in it.”

“How likely is it to blow up?”

“Three percent. Maybe five.”

“And what’s your history with luck?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’d feel really bad.”

“About watching me blow up?”

“Yeah, you probably have a lot to live for, I’d hate to be an accomplice to your life coming to an early end.” 

“And I’d feel even worse if I had to watch a pretty girl blow up in her car right in front of me just because she didn’t want it to be me in that car.” You smiled and looked away at the compliment. “It’s a five minute drive. I can manage.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair as you looked up to see him opening the driver’s side door and begin to climb in. Before you knew it, you were climbing into the passenger seat beside him. He looked at you with what you admitted to yourself was a really cute smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

“Are we making a suicide pact here?”

“Hopefully not,” you sighed, fishing something out of your backpack on your lap. “But, you probably need these,” the keys to the car dangled from your hand.

“Actually no, those are irrelevant,” he deadpanned, taking them from you and turning them in the ignition. You held your breath as the engine coughed to life, more smoke leaking from under the hood. You clutched the ‘holy-shit’ handle as if it might actually save you if the car were to blow up, which was seeming like more and more of a possibility.

“Are you sure this is safe?” You couldn’t tear your eyes from the gray smoke coming from the front of the car, as he began to reverse out of the spot.

“It’ll make it to the shop.”

“You didn’t actually answer the question.” He glanced over at you as he shifted the car to drive.

“What? You don’t trust the complete stranger you just met five minutes ago?”

“Can’t say I do, stranger.” He let out a short laugh as he pulled onto the street, the car so far staying together.

“So, do you go to Briar?” he asked moments later as he pulled up to the stop sign at the end of your street.

“Yeah, I’m a junior,” you replied, gripping the holy-shit handle even tighter as he made a left turn.

“No shit, me too. What’s your major?”

“English. You?”

“Business.”

“Really?” He looked over at you momentarily, a smile back on his face.

“Yeah, is that surprising?”

“Kinda. You don’t seem like a business guy.”

“Must be hard to figure out someone’s whole life path in less than fifteen minutes.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, letting you know that he was joking.

“Even harder, when I don’t know their name.” 

“It’s John.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, which caused him to look at you with a smirk.

“Okay, business makes sense for you now.”

“Oh okay, English major and what’s yours?” You told him your name and he sighed.

“Yeah, I can’t say that I know what would qualify as an English major’s name anyways,” he replied, which made you laugh again. “Do you do anything outside of school?”

“I work at the bookstore in town.”

“You like it there?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Do you like working at Logan & Sons?”

“Well, I kinda have to, considering I’m one of the sons.”

“Ah, so you’re a nepo baby.” John let out a low laugh.

“Oh yeah. Working at the middle class mechanics shop my dad opened thirty years ago has really gotten me places.”

“Then we’re in the same boat, ‘cause going with my mom to her salon job when she couldn’t afford a sitter has gotten us to the same place.”

“Working middle class jobs that our far more richer classmates will never have to work because they can afford to go to our school without a full-ride scholarship?”

“Exactly!” You both laughed. You were surprised to find that you were already pulling into the Logan & Sons yard. John killed the engine, taking the keys out of the ignition and presented them to you in the palm of his hand.

“See? Made it safe and sound.” You took the keys from his hand, a small shock passing between the two of you as your fingers lightly grazed. “You can hang out at the desk if you want while I take a look. It shouldn’t take too long to diagnose her.” You tugged your backpack out behind you, figuring that you could get some homework done while you waited. You followed John around to the desk at the back of the shop and took a seat on the stool there while he rifled through a few drawers, pulling out some miscellaneous tools.

You tried really hard to focus on the homework you’d pulled from your backpack, but your eyes kept flicking towards the guy hunched over the front of your car. His arms flexed as he fiddled around within the car, causing you to put in real effort to drag your eyes away from them whenever he turned to grab a new tool. You had just done so when he fully stood, closed the hood and walked back towards you.

“So good news,” he started, wiping his hands on a rag he had procured from somewhere. “I can fix her up. Bad news is I’ll need a few days to do it.” You nodded along, internally crying at how much your car’s stay at the shop would probably end up costing you.

“Great, thanks.” You stood, beginning to pack your backpack and mentally trying to figure out when the next bus would be.

“I can give you a ride back to your place.” John announced, tapping his hands on the desk.

“Oh, that’s okay. You’ve already done more than enough for me, honestly,” you waved him off, not wanting to take up any more of his time.

“I actually need to grab my truck,” he said with a small smile. “So too bad.”

“Alright, I guess I don’t get a choice then,” you replied with a matching smile.

“Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” He walked past you on his way to the staff room located behind you, a whiff of his - what you could only describe as intoxicating - cologne surpassed the overwhelming smell of motor oil and grease of the workshop. He emerged from the room a minute later with another person following behind him.

“Jules here is gonna drive us back to yours so I can get my truck, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” The drive back to your house passed practically the same as the drive to the shop had, this time with Jules asking you the questions about your job and studies, intercepted with your directions on where they should turn. You thanked Jules once they had pulled to a stop behind John’s pickup, both you and John climbing out of the car. 

“Y’know I was gonna say that I’ll give you a call once I’m done with your car, but I realized I don’t have your number.” John noted once Jules had pulled away back towards the shop, holding out his phone in your direction.

“Well, that would’ve just made your job that much harder, wouldn’t it?” You joked back, taking his phone and creating your own contact. You typed in your number and nicknamed yourself ‘english major📚’ before handing it back to him. He smirked as he read it, typing something in himself before returning the phone to his back pocket. Your own phone buzzed with a new notification. Taking it out of your pocket to see that you had received a text from an unsaved number that read ´business major john📊.’ You laughed as you returned your phone to your pocket, meeting John’s amused doe-like eyes. 

“There, now your job is the slightest bit easier.”

“Thank god. Otherwise I’d just have to show up to your house again.”

“And that would just ruin my day, honestly.” You sighed jokingly, gaining a laugh from John. “Thank you again for everything, I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. It’s actually kind of my job.” You laughed, eyes closing momentarily and keeping you from noticing the look in John’s eyes as he watched you. “Hey, I should get going. But I’ll keep you updated on the car and-” he paused, one hand on the driver’s side door handle. “If you ever need a ride anywhere just let me know.” You thanked him again as he swung up into the truck. He flashed you that smile that you’re sure you’ll never be able to get out of your head before he pulled away from the curb and onto the road, his left hand waving out his open window.

“Oh, I’m screwed,” you thought to yourself as you turned to finally go into the house.

business major john📊: i’m thinking it’ll be about five days to fix your car up btw

business major john📊: but again if you need a ride at all until it’s done just let me know

english major📚: wow do all your customers get the uber option??

business major john📊: only the english majors

english major📚: well i’m a lucky gal then

english major📚: and thank you but i’ll probably just borrow my roommates’ cars if i need :) 

business major john📊: offer still stands for whenever :)

english major📚: you’re a hockey player?

business major john📊: maybe

business major john📊: stalking much?

english major📚: my roommate informed me actually thanks😁

business major john📊: that scare you off?

english major📚: i’m canadian if anything i’m scared in

business major john📊: so you know puck then?

english major📚: a little

business major john📊: you got a favourite team?

english major📚: will my favourite team make or break my car?

business major john📊: depends

english major📚: big oilers fan over here🧡💙

business major john📊: woof we can work on that🫩

english major📚: and yours is??

business major john📊: bruins all day baby🐻🐻

english major📚: yikes

english major📚: looks like we both got some work to do

hockey boy john🚩: how many packs of tissue do you need in your glove box?

oilers girl😬: i’m not paying you to snoop in my car🤨

hockey boy john🚩: i needed to check your registration for smtg

hockey boy john🚩: was definitely not snooping☝️

oilers girl😬: uh huh i’m so sure

hockey boy john🚩: still don’t trust me?😪

oilers girl😬: we’ll see how my car turns out

tissue hoarder🤧: is phil graham your friend garrett’s dad??

car snoop🫵: how are you a hockey fan at briar and only just realizing this?

tissue hoarder🤧: why would i pay any attention to the rangers?

car snoop🫵: fair point

hockey snob🫩: i should be finished with your car tomorrow :)

#1 Rangers fan😰: great sounds good!

Hockey snob🫩: if you don’t wanna take the bus i can pick you up after class tomorrow and you can wait around the shop while i finish up

Hockey snob🫩: only if you want tho👍

#1 Rangers fan😰: that’d actually be great if you could thanks!! :))

Hockey snob🫩: like i said any time :) 

Hockey snob🫩: where’s your last class tomorrow?

#1 Rangers fan😰: in the english building at the far west side of campus

#1 Rangers fan😰: if that’s too far for you tho i can meet you at your last class

Hockey snob🫩: don’t even worry about it

Hockey snob🫩: see you tomorrow :) 

#1 Rangers fan😰: see ya :)) 

Leaving your last class of the day usually presents no surprises, except for today, which featured John Logan waiting outside the English building. He didn’t notice you at first which was great as you hastily brushed your hair behind your ears as you made your way towards him. The sun was hitting him at the perfect angle, highlighting his strong features. You were luckily able to close your mouth just in time before he turned his head and met your eyes. That smile that you had in fact not been able to get out of your head for the past few days adorned his face.

“Hey, Rangers fan.” He greeted you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t say that, anyone could hear you!” The sarcasm is clear in your voice as you hurried down the steps ahead of him. His long legs easily caught up to you, joining you stride for stride. “You didn’t have to come down, y’know? Your truck isn’t that hard to spot.”

“Just in case you forgot what it looked like,” he shrugged. While it had been a week since you had last seen each other in person, the two of you had been texting practically nonstop since then, allowing you to fall into easy conversation about how your days had been. You told him about how your classes had gone and he told you about the jokes his friends Dean and Tucker had told at practice that morning.

“Y’know you should come to a game sometime,” John suggested as your seatbelts clicked into place almost simultaneously. “I bet you’ve probably got some fun chants from back home to share with the crowd.”

“Yeah and some my dad taught me that probably wouldn’t go over well with the NCAA.” The drive from campus to the garage was filled with talk of hockey and your families, exchanging the different ways in which you had gotten into the sport.

“My dad always taped Oilers games, still does, and since I barely saw him during the week because of his crazy work schedule I would sit and watch them with him,” you shared. “I’ve never seen him more excited than when McDavid was drafted in 2015.”

“That’s like my brother when I got into Briar for hockey. He’s the reason I started playing in the first place.” You noticed the shift in John’s grip on the steering wheel at the mention of his brother. His eyes kept straight ahead at the road so you couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling that there was something about his relationship with his brother and hockey that was a touchy subject.

“Are you two close?” He looked over at you, almost taken aback, as if you had taken him out of a trance.

“Yeah, sorta. Our parents weren’t really around so we kinda had to fend for ourselves. Take care of Jules and each other. We bonded over that stuff.” He cleared his throat after sharing, as if airing out his relationship with his siblings had dislodged something for him.

“Sounds like you guys really care for each other.” The ends of his mouth quirked up in that smirk you’d come to memorize.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

As John’s truck pulled into the Logan & Sons lot you noticed that your car had been moved to a different spot since you’d brought it in a week ago.

“I wouldn’t let anyone else work on it so my brother told me to move it so he could still take on new clients,” John explained, noticing my confusion.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do it all yourself, I wouldn’t have cared if someone else had worked on it.”

“I would’ve.” John climbed out of the truck, leaving you dumbfounded in the passenger seat. Shaking yourself out of it, you followed him out and back around to the other side of the desk in the corner of the shop. “It shouldn’t be too long, but make yourself at home.” Once again, you pulled a notebook and pen from your backpack, attempting to start the assignment you’d been assigned earlier today. But yet again you found yourself getting distracted by the contracting muscles in the arms of the guy working on your car. It really was embarrassing how many times you caught yourself practically drooling instead of planning out your essay.

“All done!” John called out about forty-five minutes later, slamming the hood closed. You had actually managed to get yourself to focus on your essay this time around and you looked up to find him dangling your car keys from his pointer finger in your direction. “Wanna take it for a test drive?” You practically ripped the keys from his finger, grinning at the idea of being able to drive your own car again instead of one of your roommates’. You felt almost shy as John climbed into the passenger seat beside you, your cheeks and tips of your ears going red. You twisted the key in the ignition and watched as absolutely no smoke emerged from under the hood and no clunking sound interrupted the purr of the engine.

“Oh we’re so back, baby.” John laughed at your reaction. You couldn’t help the grin on your face caused by your freshly working car and the guy in the passenger seat who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past week. You slowly pulled out of the garage, guiding your car around the side of the building and to the front of the lot. John pointed you to a spot for you to park, which you do, sighing as you shifted into park. “You brought my girl back!” You exclaimed, grinning at John who returned the expression. “You’ve got the magic touch, Johnny.”

He chuckled at the nickname. “Johnny, huh?”

“What no one calls you that?”

“My mom did when I was younger. But I like it better coming from you.” The ease with which he expressed this caught you off guard, losing your breath momentarily. His eyes were soft and your heart softer as you shared a moment in the calm silence. You could’ve lived in these few seconds forever if it were up to you.

Back at the desk you were mentally cringing while waiting for the total price of getting your car’s engine fixed dumped on you like a bucket of cold water. Except when John told you the price it was nowhere near as much as you expected.

“Wait, are you sure?” 

“One hundred percent,” John replied, even handing you the printed bill listing the cost of everything. “Briar students get a discount.” You scanned the bill over and over again, making sure that he had charged you for everything. Obviously you didn’t want to pay what you had expected, but you also didn’t want to accidentally scam the guy after he had gone above and beyond for you. After having read the bill at least three times over you decided that it was real and you wouldn’t be as broke as you expected.

“Alright, I guess ring me up.” You handed the bill back over to John who took it with a smile and began to ring up the price. When he turned the machine over to you, you made sure to leave a sizable tip.

“If anything ever happens to it again, you have my number,” John said, ripping your receipt from the machine. “And even if you ever need anything just give me a call.”

“I definitely will. And thank you so much again. For everything, honestly, you’ve been great. You should get a raise.”

“Would you mind telling my brother that actually? He might listen to you instead of me.” Your heart squeezed at this last joke between the two of you, the last laugh you two might share. This past week had been one of your best since coming to Briar and even though it was now the weekend, you didn’t want it to end.

“Bye, Johnny.” You turned your back on him to walk back to your car, secretly hoping that he would run up to you and ask you out, not wanting this to be your last interaction either. You looked back at him once more as you reached the driver’s side door, surprised to find his eyes were still on you. You gave him a smile and a wave, both of which he returned, before climbing in the car. As the air conditioning kicked in you caught a hint of his cologne, flipping your stomach in the best way possible. You snuck a glance at your rearview mirror as you pulled up to the stop sign at the exit to the lot, seeing that John had been joined by Jules behind the desk.

“You know Briar students don’t get a discount, right?” Jules asked their brother as they watched him watch your car begin to leave the lot. He looked at them with a quizzical look on his face, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Friends and family discount, remember?”

“Didn’t you just meet her this week?” 

“You can become friends with someone in a week, Jules,” John said, exasperated, escaping into the staff room behind them.

“Yeah…you have her number! Don’t let it go to waste!”

Your phone had chirped on the drive from the garage to your house, but being a responsible driver you didn’t check it until you pulled into your normal parking spot on the street in front of the house and had shifted into park. You had to read the message three times to make sure that this wasn’t your delusional mind playing tricks on you and that the text from John was in fact real.

Hockey snob🫩: did you maybe want to go get coffee together some time soon whenever we’re both free?

Obviously you said yes.

~~~