tori

you’d stuck to your word and stopped hating him for the night.

after the anaheim ducks had officially walked up to the podium and chosen their player with the third overall pick, both of your families were escorted out of the main arena seating and guided into the high-energy behind-the-scenes corridor. cameras were everywhere, reporters were rushing around with microphones, and nhl draft media backdrops lined the long hallway where macklin was slated to do his very first official nhl media round.

it was almost like the universe was deliberately timing things to make sure you’d see this exact moment. your parents and his family brought the group to a pause behind a wall of broadcast equipment to watch an on-camera interview happen.

the reporter held up a microphone, leaning in with a smile. "macklin, training at such an insanely high level your whole life, and now officially making it to the nhl — how did you make sure you rested enough and didn't burn out during the season?"

macklin barely had to pause or think about his answer. the words left his mouth as naturally as breathing.

"when i was younger, my best friend told me that i don’t need to prove anything to anyone. " he said, his voice warm and steady through the studio speakers. "she told me i know how hard i’m working, and if i’m tired, it’s completely okay to just rest. she’s a really, really special person to me... so i’ve kept that advice close to me my whole life."

"is she here today?" the interviewer asked casually, catching the softness in his eyes.

the grin that broke across macklin’s face was immediate. "she is."

the reporter chucked and smoothly moved on to the next hockey-related question. but as the media circuit dragged on, you couldn’t help but notice just how many times macklin managed to sneak you into his answers. whether they asked him about growing up in vancouver, handling stress, or who kept him stable when things got chaotic, his answers somehow always circled back to you.

you hadn’t ever actually watched his hockey interviews before tonight. back home, he’d always dramatically claimed that his media appearances were embarrassing and that he’d die on the spot if you ever looked them up. because of that, you didn't know if this was just how he always talked to reporters, or if it was simply because you’d decided to pause your grudge for the day, finally giving him the freedom to talk about you without fear.

the truth was, he’d always managed to sneak you into his interviews.

you had been such an undeniable part of his life in general — let alone his athletic career — that talking about his journey without mentioning you felt impossible. to macklin, having you standing there at the draft, smiling at him in that light blue dress, was a million times better than the feeling of actually getting selected first overall.

he also knew, in the deepest part of his chest, that one of the main reasons he’d even made it to number one was because of you.

he couldn't pinpoint the exact day or hour it started, but he knew that at some point during his teenage years, he’d subconsciously started training ten times harder. every extra sprint, every late-night shot in the driveway, every brutal gym session — part of him had always hoped that getting better, bigger, and more successful would finally make you notice how desperately he liked you.

he’d never admit it out loud to a single soul, but even when he’d briefly had a girlfriend back in tenth grade, his mind had stayed stubbornly fixed on you. whenever his teammates would hype him up in the locker room before a game, yelling at him to "score one for his girl." the only girl that ever flashed across his mind was you.

he very clearly remembered the exact day he broke up with that tenth-grade girlfriend; he’d felt so terribly guilty because she spent so much of her free time coming to his cold games, dragging him out, and choosing him over her own friends — and he didn't even want her like that. by the time he finally ended things, he’d come to the embarrassing realization that he had only dated her in a desperate attempt to see if he could force you out of his head.

clearly, it hadn't worked.

because even now, as he wrapped up this interview and was gently directed down the line to the next media station, all he could think about was holding you tightly in his arms again. he honestly thought he could spend the rest of the night just carrying you around in his arms so you’d stay close — so he could greedily savor every single second of having his best friend back.

he didn't know if you were actually going to start hating him again when the clock struck midnight. but he wasn't going to take any stupid chances. he knew that if you had the power to hate him that deeply once, you could easily do it again.

so, he did his absolute best to breeze through the remaining interviews as quickly as humanly possible. giving concise, polite answers just so he could get back to you.

every once in a while, between questions, he’d glance over the heads of the crew and see you leaning in, laughing quietly with his younger sister charlie, or sharing a smile with aiden. a bittersweet pull tugged at his heart when he watched you walk over and give his parents affectionate hugs. he didn't fully know why you chose to hug them that way tonight, even after everything that had happened, but he was glad that you didn't treat his family with the cold shoulder you usually gave him.

all he wanted was to finish with these last few cameras, walk straight back over to you, and make sure that "just for today" lasted as long as it possibly could.

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by the time his last media interview was officially wrapped and he was finally allowed to come join everyone again, macklin felt like his entire body was itching just to reach out and hold you.

as he walked back into the private family lounge, he went straight to his own family first, pulling his parents and siblings into another quick round of tight, emotional hugs. he chatted with them for a minute, his eyes constantly scanning over their shoulders to track where you were standing. he stepped over to your parents next, embracing them warmly and thanking them over and over again for flying out to support him.

his eyes found you at the very back, behind everyone else, and to be honest he thought you might've distanced yourself just to 'torture' him a little. when he finally reached you, the bright smile on your face made macklin’s heart practically jump straight out of his chest.

the hug he gave you wasn’t soft or hesitant in the slightest. without a second thought, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and picked you right up off your feet. you immediately clung to him just as tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck while your light blue dress swished against his suit legs.

standing off to the side, both of your moms began to tear up as they watched the two of you finally talking and holding each other again. you hadn’t ever fully realized just how deeply your year-long grudge against macklin had hurt your mothers, but looking over at them now, it made sense. after all, they had spent nine full months together sharing pregnancy cravings, dreaming and wondering if the two babies born six minutes apart would grow up to be best friends. seeing that bond restored meant the absolute world to them.

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the draft after-party was something else. nobody had bothered to change out of their draft-day attire, well, except for the newly drafted prospects who had taken off the second layer of their suits, walking around in their dress shirts with their suit jackets left completely unbuttoned.

macklin didn’t let you leave his side for a single second that entire night. he practically dragged you along by your hand from conversation to conversation across the crowded room, and you willingly followed right behind him.

when he’d stop to talk with coaches, agents, or fellow draft picks, some of the other guys who had brought their girlfriends along would wave you over, so you just chatted comfortably with them while the boys dissected their reactions to who got drafted to where.

you didn’t really retain much of the words that were being tossed around the room, but you did gather that almost every single guy in attendance thought it was absolutely wild that beckett sennecke was drafted third overall by anaheim. you even heard directly from beckett’s own mouth as he walked past that he hadn't expected it at all and didn't think he deserved third overall.

eventually, the late-night celebration began to draw to a close, and you found yourself shuffling out toward the charter bus that was waiting to take all the families back to the hotel from the sphere.

you weren't entirely sure at what point or how it had happened, but as the crowd walked through the cool night air, macklin had picked you up and placed you on his back. your heels were dangling from his right hand, your bare feet resting safely of the ground, and your right cheek was pressed comfortably against the warm skin just under his neck as you fought to keep your eyelids open.

"i’m so proud of you, mackie." you whispered softly against his shoulder. your voice thick with exhaustion as he carefully slipped you down off his back so the two of you could climb up the narrow steps onto the bus. "like so proud i think i might actually explode."

macklin let out a low laugh, his arm supporting your waist as you stepped on. "i’m just really, really happy you’re here."

as soon as you two slid into a seat near the middle of the bus, you immediately let your head fall onto his shoulder, nestling close to his side. the engine hummed to life, and as the bus started smoothly pulling away into the glow of the vegas strip, you decided to speak up again.

"mack?"

"mhm?" he murmured, leaning his head slightly against yours.

"i’m really sorry for holding that grudge." you confessed softly, staring down at your lap. "i can’t even imagine how awful you felt whenever i kept ignoring you for all those months."

macklin immediately shook his head, his hand reaching over to gently cover yours. "no. you had every single right to be mad at me. i was an absolute shit friend that night of the party, and i should’ve been watching out for you the entire time. i was the idiot who kept feeding you those drinks in the first place." he paused, letting out a soft sigh. "hating me was probably the nicest thing you could’ve done after what I pulled."

you giggled softly into the dark fabric of his dress shirt. "that sounds so stupid, mack."

"i know." he smiled, squeezing your fingers softly. "it is stupid. but it's true."

the two of you settled into a quiet stillness after that. you listened to the faint murmur of chatter coming from the other seats around you — parents laughing, siblings yawning, players talking softly — but your mind stayed entirely focused on the boy sitting right beside you.

the boy you wanted to kiss so badly. the boy you’d fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with, even if you couldn't remember the exact day or hour it had happened. the boy you had spent an entire year pretending to hate, mostly because you felt like that's what a "normal" person was supposed to do after a disaster like that party.

but now as you were realizing the bus was getting closer to the hotel strip, you decided that right now was the time to do what you’d been waiting to do for months. deep down, you knew that if you didn’t say something right now, while the magic of the night was still wrapping around you both, you might never find the courage again.

"mackie?"

"mhm?"

you sat up straight, pulling your head off his shoulder and looking directly into his green eyes in the dim bus lighting. "i love you."

"i know." he responded casually, offering you a soft, affectionate smile as his thumb stroked the back of your hand. "i love you too."

you bit the inside of your cheek, the words hovering right on the tip of your tongue. you almost said the rest of what you had intended to say — you wanted to explain that you loved him in a way that wasn't just for your life-long best friend, but rather for the boy you had loved romantically for your whole life.

but as you looked at the tired, sleepy look on his face, you stopped yourself. you wanted this entire night to be 100% about macklin and his incredible, hard-earned dream. you didn't want to take an ounce of that spotlight away from him by dropping a romantic confession on him in the middle of a charter bus ride.

so, you swallowed the extra words back down, gave him a sweet smile, and leaned your head back against his shoulder, watching the bright lights of the vegas streets fly past the dark window. you didn't even realize you’d fallen fast asleep until you felt a gentle hand lightly tapping your shoulder.

the bus ride had ended up taking quite a bit longer to get through the city than you’d thought earlier, and the exhaustion of the long day had completely caught up to you. when you blinked open your eyes, macklin was already standing up in the aisle, extending a hand down to you. once again, he gently forced you to let him carry you off the bus and through the hotel lobby toward your room.

walking through the brightly lit hotel corridors, you looked around and noticed that a lot of the other drafted players were carrying their younger sisters or sleepy mothers', so it wasn't like macklin was the only guy carrying someone up to the rooms.

as he held you securely in his arms, your head resting comfortably against his chest, you closed your eyes again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. tomorrow would bring whatever it brought, but tonight, held tight in his arms with the draft jersey resting in your lap, everything felt perfectly right.

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he dropped you off right at your room door, carefully setting you down onto your feet, and softly pressing a kiss directly to your forehead. you can practically feel the hesitation in his movement — he seemed to be subtly testing the waters to see if the clock striking midnight meant you’d officially gone back to hating him.

sensing his overwhelming thoughts, you stood up on your tiptoes and placed a soft peck right on his cheek.

"i'm not gonna hate you for now." you tell him softly, a little bit of mischief dancing in your eyes. then, keeping a completely straight face, you add. "maybe when we get back to vancouver."

macklin’s eyebrows instantly knit together into a dramatic frown at the second part. "i guess we can’t go back to vancouver then."

you can't help the quiet laugh that escapes your lips at that. "honestly? i wouldn’t be against staying."

he just shook his head, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "goodnight." he said softly.

he turned to take a step away, but paused movement. he turnedback, saying your name just a little bit softer, giving you an even gentler smile that made your chest feel warm, before finally heading into his own room just across the hall.

you quietly scanned your room keycard, slipped into yours, and immediately spotted charlie. she was sitting on the floor, folding up clothes from earlier today and stuffing them into her already overfilled suitcase — a suitcase that was currently bulging at the seams mostly because you two had gone on a massive shopping spree while macklin was off doing his mandatory nhl draft media duties yesterday.

"i dibs the shower." you announced softly, unzipping your dress from the back.

charlie shrugged without looking up from her pile of shirts. "go for it, i have people to text anyway."

you know it’s not meant to be a sharp jab or anything mean, but somehow, it still stings a little bit in your chest anyway. you’d confessed to her months ago how you really don’t like texting people very much — it always felt so dry and disconnected to you, but nowadays nobody your age ever seems to want to actually pick up the phone and call anymore.

back when you and macklin were okay, you two had an unspoken, understanding that you would always call each other instead of typing out text messages. so after your fallout last summer, when those late-night phone calls completely stopped, you’d sadly told charlie that you felt like you never really talked to anyone anymore. it wasn't that you didn't have friends — you still had your high school group — but your communication with them was usually strictly in-person, or reduced to casually sending each other instagram reels and tiktok videos throughout the week.

pushing the quiet ache out of your mind, you slipped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, choosing to only wash your body and face. it’s way too late into the night to deal with washing and blow-drying your hair, plus it isn't greasy yet anyway, so you know you're good until tomorrow.

once you’re finished, you quickly run through your skincare routine, step into your softest pjs, and brush your teeth. as you wipe down the bathroom counter and turn off the light, you'd caught your reflection in the mirror — bare-faced, comfortable, and still wearing that tiny, unstoppable smile that had been stuck on your face ever since macklin pulled you into that hug at the sphere.

you last the bathroom, shaking off the steam, and slumped straight onto the plush hotel bed. pulling your phone out from your purse, you opened tiktok and prepared to mindlessly doom scroll your way into exhaustion.

charlie was standing by her open suitcase, grabbing her clothes to go take her turn in the shower, when she suddenly decided to speak her mind. "you should just tell macklin how you feel."

you froze completely in the middle of your bed, your thumb hovering dead-still over your phone screen. "what do you mean?"

charlie let out a laugh — not a light, funny laugh, but one of absolute disbelief, like she can't believe you actually just asked her that with a straight face.

"what do you mean, 'what do you mean'?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at you like you've completely lost your mind. "tell macklin that you're in love with him?"

you sat up significantly straighter, your heart giving a sudden, nervous thud against your ribs. you've never flat-out told anyone in your entire life that you were in love with your lifelong best friend, macklin celebrini. sure, maybe over the years you had hinted at it in the tiniest, most subtle ways — a lingering look here, a softer smile there — but never enough for someone to actually pick up on it, let alone say it out loud in plain english.

"it's literally so obvious." charlie continued, stepping closer to the edge of your bed. "both of you have been in love with each other since you knew what the word love even meant. i may only be fifteen, but i know when people are in love, and you two are definitely in love."

you shook your head quickly, feeling a sudden flush of heat creep up your neck. "i can't, charlie. that's just not how life works."

you huffed out a heavy breath, letting yourself fall backward into the mountain of hotel pillows so they swallowed you up. talking to a fifteen-year-old about how you're hopelessly in love with her older brother is beyond embarrassing — especially when she's lived right next door to you for her entire life and watched you grow up.

"it literally is so simple!" she practically whined, throwing her hands up in the air. "you can literally just confess to him, and then he'll confess to you, and then boom. all your issues are magically solved."

you had let out a quiet little laugh from beneath the pillows, shaking your head. "it's way more complicated than that, charlie. besides, i'm gonna be at bc next year and he's gonna be all the way in san jose. we won't even have time to talk. not to mention the fact that i literally just started being nice to him again today."

charlie let out a loud, dramatic groan, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling because she genuinely thinks you're being so stupid.

"whatever." she said, trying to sound completely annoyed, but mostly just sounding like a teenager who knows she isn't going to 'win' this debate tonight. "i'm going to take my shower now."

she grabbed her clothes, closed the bathroom door behind her, and turned on the water.

you stayed awake in the quiet room, endlessly scrolling through your feed until she finished showering and getting ready for bed. once she stepped out, you both quietly turned off the bedside lamps, slipping under the heavy comforters and drifting off to sleep at around the exact same time.

what you didn't realize, as you closed your eyes in the dark, is that right across the narrow hotel hallway, macklin was still lying wide awake in his bed.

he was staring straight up at the popcorn ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head, desperately wondering if he just made the single biggest mistake of his life by not finally confessing his feelings to you today.

maybe he had just been so completely overwhelmed, so busy basking in the fact that you didn't hate him anymore, that he completely forgot the main thing he wanted you to know — that he was deeply, endlessly in love with you.

he doesn't even know what held him back when he pulled you into that massive hug at the sphere, or when he carried you off the bus, or when he kissed your forehead at your door. but sitting here now in the dark, he is thoroughly pissed off at himself for staying silent.

because after tomorrow, the draft high would fade. you'd both be back in vancouver, sitting in those twin houses next door to each other — where you could easily go right back to hating him all you wanted.

growing up, you always had macklin around you.

your moms had met back when they were playing soccer together, and they'd become inseparable ever since. they’d eventually convinced your dads that they needed to buy houses right next door to each other. the two houses had been so close that if you really wanted to, you could probably build a bridge and climb across — so, ultimately, that's exactly what your dads did. instead of having two separate balconies in the backyards, they’d merged them together to create one giant, shared balcony stretching between the homes.

after robyn — mack’s mom — had announced her second pregnancy at a weekend brunch, your mom had practically freaked out. she’d been planning on announcing her very first pregnancy at that exact same brunch.

it was almost like you and mack had been interlocked from that day forward. your moms had practically all the same pregnancy cravings at the exact same times, whenever robyn's morning sickness got bad your moms had too. so when the two of you were born on the same day, just six minutes apart, not a single person in either family was surprised.

after that day it seemed like you two could never be separated. obviously when you're only a few months old, you can't decide who your best friend is going to be. but when you and mack turned two years old and still couldn't bear to be away from each other, your moms knew it was set in stone.

you grew up with macklin practically on your leash. he’d follow you around everywhere at recess, eat lunch with you at the same little purple table, and sit right next to you in class. some of the other kids would occasionally make comments about how attached he was, but he simply could not care less.

that was until you both turned eleven, because suddenly, almost overnight, everything girls did was completely wrong to guys, and vice versa. the unspoken playground rules kicked in, and you and mack stopped hanging out during the school day. but even when you didn't glance at each other in the hallways, late at night you'd both slip outside onto the shared balcony, sitting in the dark and just talking about life. one time he’d admitted something he hadn't told anyone else.

"i like training hard for hockey." he'd whispered, staring out over the dark yard. "i really do. but it just gets so heavy sometimes, you know? some days it gets so hard that i can't even see how it's supposed to be fun anymore."

"you don't have to prove anything to anyone, mackie." you'd told him quietly. "if you're tired, it's okay to just be tired."

"i know." he'd sighed, leaning his head back against the house. "it just feels like if i slow down for a second, everyone's gonna pass me by."

those late-night talks went on for years. after school, you’d both go off and do your own separate things — you with your friends, him with hockey practice. but around 9:30, like clockwork, you’d both make your way outside to the balcony and talk until 10:30. or even later, if your parents completely forgot about the time.

sometimes your parents wouldn’t let you guys go outside because it was getting too late, but you’d just crack open your bedroom windows and talk from there across the narrow gap. on those window nights, mack would admit the absolute weirdest, most honest things. when you guys had turned fourteen, he mentioned drinking for the very first time.

"i went over to trevor’s house for a sleepover on saturday." he confessed, his voice hushed so his parents wouldn't hear. "his older brother left some stuff out. we all passed around a bottle of beer."

you leaned against your windowsill, frowning at him. "mack, seriously? liquor is terrible for you, especially when you're a teenager and an athlete."

he just rolled his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. "it was just one or two sips, calm down, mom. it tasted like liquid grass anyway. i'm fine."

"i'm serious." you pressed. "you have a crazy schedule. don't ruin it over trevor's stupid ideas."

"i won't." he soft-laughed. "i hear you. i'm not making it a habit."

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despite the changing years, you two still celebrated your birthdays on the exact same day. every year, your families would gather out on the shared balcony, setting up tables and singing happy birthday to both of you at the same time. macklin had three siblings — two brothers and a sister — so between his loud family and yours, the balcony was always packed.

then came eleventh grade. mack left home to go play for the chicago steel, and just like that, your late-night balcony talks had to turn into facetime calls.

it was upsetting how the timing worked out. because that exact year, back home everyone in your grade had finally started becoming friends again. there was no more girls-versus-guys stuff. the rigid middle school friend groups had kind of mixed together, and everyone was hanging out in one big crowd.

every time you were out with everyone, you couldn't help but think that if mack was still here, he’d be right in the middle of your group, sitting right beside you like he always used to be.

when macklin came back for the summer, he’d taken your usual late-night birthday balcony time and turned it into a full-court press to convince you to go to a party with him.

"come on, just for an hour." he’d urged. he was leaning on the railing, looking over at you with that persistent grin he always had. "everyone's gonna be there. you can't spend all your summer tanning."

"mack, you know i don't even like parties." you'd told him. "i'm fine right here."

"i'll stand right next to you the whole time, i promise." he pressed, taking your hand and tugging gently. "if it's boring, we leave. deal?"

so eventually you gave in. you'd never drank before, so once you got there, mack was acting like your guide, bringing you drinks and checking in on you. little did you know, he thought it’d be a funny little joke to 'rookie' you — trying to get you as completely smashed as he could just to see what you were like drunk.

he succeeded, but the joke went horribly wrong. disoriented and unable to keep your balance, you ended up slipping straight into the backyard pool. you would have literally drowned right then and there if mack hadn't snapped out of it, jumped in fully clothed, and pulled you up to the surface almost right away.

he felt completely awful afterward. when your parents drove over to pick the two of you up, mack couldn't even bring himself to look them in the eye. he just stood on the driveway, dripping wet, staring at his shoes while your mom wrapped a towel around your shivering shoulders. his parents were so deeply disappointed in him that he barely got to leave the house for the rest of the summer. he was grounded for weeks, and honestly you were glad. you didn't think you ever wanted to see his face again.

he’d sent you a dumb, half-hearted text a couple of days later: hey i am so, so sorry about Friday. i completely messed up. please let me know if you're okay.

you didn't reply. you just left it on read, making sure your read receipts were turned on so he knew with absolute certainty that you didn't accept it.

after that summer ended, mack somehow managed to graduate high school early and went straight to boston university to play hockey alongside aiden.

aiden was already a sophomore by the time mack arrived on campus. every now and then, you’d see tagged photos of the two of them out at college parties. that was always a massive sore spot for you. because of what mack had done, you couldn't even go to parties anymore. you were constantly terrified that someone — or rather, that you yourself — would end up embarrassing you all over again.

you tried your best to just forget about macklin, but it was practically impossible. every single night, as soon as your head hit the pillow, your brain played a loop of mack over and over and over again until you finally drifted off to sleep. you'd see him in your sleep too, they weren't nightmares, they were good dreams of him. the kind you didn't even have to fake were good. memories of laughing on the balcony, crackling radio music, and quiet late-night talks.

it was almost the exact same for mack too, except for the fact that you haunted his thoughts throughout the entire day. sometimes during morning practice he’d go completely non-verbal on the bench because he was genuinely afraid that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to say anything without mentioning your name. none of the guys on the bu team even knew who you were except for aiden, so it would have been beyond weird if he suddenly started rambling about a girl back home who didn't even play hockey.

he never dared to text you again, mostly because he couldn't stand the thought of opening your chat thread and seeing that stupid, half-assed apology sitting there on read. instead, all of his updates on your life came through social media, or when he finally gathered enough courage to text his old high school friends to ask about you.

since you were firmly in their friend group now, they knew pretty much everything you were up to.

"she doesn't really go out to parties that much." one of his buddies told him over a game of chel. "and when she does come out with us, she's usually the designated driver."

later, they casually dropped another piece of news: "she applied to boston college, by the way."

mack knew immediately why you were applying to bc instead of bu. you didn't want to go to the same school as him. it was that plain and simple.

ever since you guys were little, the two of you had constantly talked about moving to boston together for university. back then, you'd usually joked about bu because 'college' sounded less professional than 'university.' but now that he was actually living in boston, he realized that a lot of things over at bc were actually way nicer anyway.

the one update he never got from anyone, though, was that on warm days, you still went out and sat in your guys' old talking spot on the shared balcony just to do your schoolwork. obviously, it got way too cold in the winter to sit outside for long, but whenever the weather permitted, you were right there, sitting on the wood where he used to sit.

he finally found out that you’d officially committed to boston college when his mom sent a group text with photos of everyone celebrating at your house. in one of the pictures, you were wrapping your arms around his younger siblings, charlie and rj, hugging them so tight you were all glowing.

mack stared at his phone in his dorm room, eventually showing the photo to aiden. "looking at this, you'd literally never be able to tell that she completely hates someone in our family."

aiden looked over from his desk, raising an eyebrow. "what are you talking about? she doesn't hate our family. she's actually been texting me pretty often, you know."

mack felt a sudden wave of nausea hit his stomach. "what?"

"yeah." aiden said casually, leaning back in his chair. "she texts me all the time asking about boston, or just checking in."

"what... what do you guys even talk about?" mack asked, his voice suddenly tight.

aiden just shrugged. "random stuff. school, life, how cold it gets up here compared to home."

mack sat there in silence, his chest feeling tight. sometimes he genuinely forgot that you weren't necessarily 'his' when it came to your families' lifelong friendship. he always forgot that you talked to his siblings too, just more to him. well, up until this year.

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when the hockey season and the university semester finally came to an end, macklin and aiden packed up their stuff and flew back home to vancouver for the summer. that was when macklin finally found out that you still spent hours studying in your guys' old late-night talking spot.

your school year wasn’t completely over yet because you were still finishing up your senior year of high school, so every now and then if he happened to glance out his window at the right time, he’d see you sitting out there on the ground of the shared balcony. you'd be wrapped up in a blanket with your laptop resting on your knees, headphones in, flipping through cue cards or highlighting textbook pages under the soft glow of the patio lights.

he knew that you still didn't want to be anywhere near him. he found that out the hard way one warm tuesday afternoon. he had casually slipped out onto the balcony, holding a glass of water, completely unaware that you were already sitting out there in the corner with your homework spread out around you. the second the screen door slid open, you looked up.

your eyes met his for a fraction of a second. you spotted him, and before he could even open his mouth to say hello, your face went completely blank. you shoved your notebooks into your backpack, snatched your laptop off the small table, and practically ran back inside your house, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

it hurt macklin deeply — a cold ache settling right in his chest — but he understood why. he knew he had no right to be upset with you. he’d basically ruined parties for you. he'd taken your trust, treated it like a stupid joke to show off in front of his friends, and almost gotten you seriously hurt in the process. still, watching you flee like he was a monster was a bitter pill to swallow.

finally, one afternoon a couple of weeks later he managed to catch you before you could slip back inside. you had been sitting out on the balcony again, reading a book, when he stepped outside. as soon as you heard his footsteps, you immediately scrambled to your feet, picking up your tote bag to leave.

"wait— please, just wait a second." macklin said quickly, taking a step forward with his hands raised, his voice desperate. "can we just... can you just talk to me for one minute? please?"

he tried to keep talking, tried to scramble for words that could somehow make up for months of silence, but you wouldn't even look at him. you kept your eyes fixed firmly on the ground, your lips closed tightly. the only words that left your mouth were cold, sharp, and laced with months of built-up hurt.

"fuck off, macklin."

before he could even process the words, you pulled your screen door open and stepped inside, locking it behind you with a definitive click. macklin stood alone on the balcony for a long time after that, staring at the empty space where you had just been standing, the silence echoing in his ears.

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later that year, when your shared birthday rolled around, the universe seemed to find another way to keep you two apart.

you ended up getting terribly sick with a sudden awful fever right on the morning of your birthday. because of that, the usual lifelong joint family celebration out on the balcony didn't happen for the first time ever. there were no shared cakes, no combined happy birthday songs, and no chaotic family photos.

later that day, sitting in his room next door, macklin couldn't help but wonder if you’d faked being sick just so you wouldn't have to stand next to him while your families sang to you. the thought ate away at him all night, but he never dared to ask.

then came the end of june, and with it, the nhl draft. when the official draft invitations arrived and macklin’s family started planning the trip, he insisted that your family come along. when your parents told you about the trip to las vegas, you almost immediately said no. the thought of being trapped in a high-stress, high-attention environment with macklin for an entire weekend sounded like actual torture.

but your parents completely shut your refusal down.

"you are going." your mom had told you firmly. "i don't care how much you think you hate him right now, or how angry you are about what happened last summer. you loved that boy like no one else for sixteen years of your life, and he loved you. he is about to accomplish the biggest dream he has ever had, and you are going to be there to watch it, just like you watched aiden accomplish his."

so, against your will, you went. you bought an expensive, beautiful dress, packed your bags, and flew out to las vegas with both of your families. and somehow, through the chaos of assigned seating and event passes, you ended up sitting right next to macklin in the venue.

the draft was being held at the sphere, and despite yourself, you had to admit it was incredibly cool. the massive, glowing screens, the booming audio, the robots and the size of the building were overwhelming in the best way possible. for a little while, surrounded by the incredible energy of thousands of hockey players, their families and bright lights, you actually forgot.

you forgot that you were supposed to be holding a grudge. you forgot that you were supposed to hate him.

at one point before the main event started, they announced all the projected top prospects, directing everyone's attention to the escalator where the players were coming down, one by one, in their custom suits.

macklin was the first name announced by the robots. he was coming down the escalator looking as stiff as ever. his eyes scanned the massive crowd below and then he spotted you. the second his eyes landed on you he became even more stiff and he couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

you looked utterly breathtaking. the dress you’d bought was a pale blue color that clipped elegantly behind your neck, fitting you perfectly. you had styled your hair up into a soft bun, leaving a few loose, curled pieces framing your face.

as he moved down the escalator he saw you looking straight up at him. and for the first time in over a year, you weren't scowling at him. you weren't looking away. you were smiling up at him — a genuine, soft, undeniably proud smile.

looking at you standing there in the glowing light of the sphere, macklin felt his breath catch in his throat. he thought he fell in love with you all over again, right then and there on the escalator. his heart hammering against his ribs for a reason that had nothing to do with hockey.

however, the second he actually reached the bottom and walked over to where both of your families were waiting, the reality of the situation crashed back down.

as soon as he stepped up to you, he realized you still remembered everything he did. the wall was instantly back up. you didn't really say much to him at all — just offered a brief, polite, soft smile before turning around and immediately throwing your arms around rj and charlie, laughing with them.

you treated his younger siblings like they were your own flesh and blood, showering them with affection, but when it came to macklin, you maintained a careful distance.

when everyone finally filed into the main auditorium room to take their seats for the official selection process, the seating arrangement forced you right back into his space. you ended up sitting directly on macklin’s left side. your parents were sat to your left, and his entire family was to his right.

sitting there in the humming light of the arena, surrounded by cameras and thousands of spectators, something inside you shifted. you looked at macklin sitting beside you — his hands tightly clasped, his knuckles white, his knee bouncing with nervous, restless energy.

you realized that, just for tonight, you could push the grudge away. you could put down your anger for just a few hours so that he could have his big, life-changing moment with no lingering sadness, no awkward tension, and no dark clouds hanging over his head. he had worked his entire life for this single night, and he deserved to feel completely supported.

so, you leaned over slightly, bumping your shoulder against his suit jacket.

"hi" you said quietly over the noise of the arena.

he turned his head quickly, looking at you with uncertain eyes. "yeah?"

you looked straight into his eyes, your voice soft but entirely sincere. "i'm not gonna hate you for the rest of today."

the effect of your words was instantaneous. macklin's entire face lit up so brightly, that it looked as though someone had just handed him a trophy. he looked like he’d just found out he was getting drafted first overall before the show even started. the suffocating tension that had been sitting on his shoulders for months completely melted away.

"really?" he breathed, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"really." you confirmed, offering him a real smile. "just for today."

for the next half hour, it felt like no time had passed at all.

it was like you were back on the shared balcony at ten thirty in the night, or sitting on the floor of his bedroom when you were kids. you two started talking about anything and everything you could think of — teasing each other, making fun of the dramatic music playing over the speakers, guessing what suits the other prospects were wearing, and talking about random memories from home. macklin couldn't stop smiling, his laughter loose and easy as he hung onto every single word you said.

but then the draft officially began. the screen changed, announcing that the san jose sharks were officially on the clock. they were given their allotted time to make the first pick, but almost everyone in the entire building — and everyone watching at home — could easily guess who it was going to be. even you, someone who barely kept up with hockey standings anymore, knew deep down that this was his moment.

the arena announcer came onto the stage, announcing that the sharks legend joe thornton would be stepping up to the stage to make the selection for san jose. joe walked out onto the massive stage, holding the white envelope, and adjusted the microphone. the entire sphere fell into an expectant hush.

"with the first overall selection in the 2024 nhl draft." joe's voice echoed through the massive venue, booming off the walls. "the san jose sharks are very proud to select..."

he took a dramatic pause, letting the suspense build. "...from boston university..." joe took another long pause, deliberately drawing out the moment.

sitting in your seat, you couldn't help yourself. you leaned over and playfully nudged macklin’s rib cage with your elbow, just like you used to do when you were younger whenever something big was about to happen. macklin turned to look at you, giving you a quick, dramatic shake of his head, biting his lip with a playful smirk as if he were trying to pretend they might actually call someone else's name.

then, joe spoke into the microphone again, his voice carrying over the crowd: "...macklin celebrini!"

the sphere completely erupted into pure joy. cheers, screams, and applause exploded from every single corner of the arena. the massive screens overhead instantly flashed with macklin's name, his face, and bright teal san jose sharks graphics.

instantly, you stood up alongside the rest of your families. macklin stood up, completely enveloped in a flurry of chaos, and you stepped back to let him hug his family first. he pulled his mom into a tight hug, then his dad, then slammed his arms around aiden, charlie, and rj, all of them laughing with excitement.

once he finished hugging his family, he turned toward your parents, pulling your mom and dad into big, emotional hugs, thanking them for being there. you were standing just a step behind your dad, waiting for your turn, when macklin finally turned back toward you.

he didn't care about the cameras focused directly on his face. he didn't care about the millions of people watching the live broadcast at home, or the officials staring down from the executive suites, or how anyone watching would analyze this moment.

the very second he turned back to face you, he stepped forward, leaned down, and pulled you into the deepest, most desperate, most overwhelming hug you had ever experienced.

even with you wearing high heels, macklin was quite a bit taller than you. so when he wrapped his arms tightly around your back and stood up straight, his height pulled you right up onto your tiptoes. at one point, as he squeezed you against his chest, he practically lifted your feet completely off the floor, holding you securely against him.

he buried his face deep into the crook of your neck, hiding his expression from the cameras. his grip on you was trembling slightly, holding you like he was terrified that if he let go, you’d disappear back behind that locked screen door in vancouver.

and then, right there against your skin, amidst the roaring crowd and flashing lights, he began to whisper.

"i love you." he murmured softly into your neck, his breath warm against your collarbone. "i love you so much. i love you, i love you..."

he just kept repeating it, over and over again, his voice thick with emotion, unable to stop the words from pouring out of him now that the barrier between you two was finally gone.

the honesty of his words caught you completely off guard. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart doing a violent flip inside your chest as his arms held you tight against him.

when he finally stopped whispering it over and over, his forehead lingering against your shoulder for a beat, you felt the last remaining shards of your anger completely crumble away into nothingness.

because the truth was, when you put the grudge aside — when you stopped hiding behind the hurt of last summer — you truly did love him. you had loved him since you were two years old sitting on a wooden porch, and you loved him now.

you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, sinking into the hug, and whispered right back into his ear:

"i love you too, mack. i'm so, so proud of you."

a quiet, shaky breath escaped his lips at your words, his grip tightening around you for one last second before you two finally had to break away from the embrace so he could go do what he was brought here to do.

he pulled back, his eyes shining bright as he looked down at you, a massive smile breaking across his face. he turned and began making his way down toward the aisle, stopping to put on his teal san jose sharks jersey and hat before stepping up onto the grand stage to shake hands with the team executives.

you stood there beside his family, watching him walk up those steps under the bright television lights, and you didn't stop smiling for a single second.

the cold in boston during the winter didn't just chill you it settled deep into your bones. the kind of frost that rolled off the rivers and hung in the air like real weight. on those nights the brick buildings of boston college looked like silhouettes against the purple-gray sky. inside your single dorm room the radiator hissed a heartbeat that kept the worst of the cold out.

usually, you sat on your small, lumpy bed waiting for your phone to light up. the text always arrived around eleven.

here.

no greeting, just a single word that sent a string of nervous energy straight to your stomach.

you’d pull on a thick hoodie, slide your feet into a pair of worn-out slippers, and slip down the half lit hallway of your dorm floor. the lobby was always empty and quiet at that hour. the sleepy-eyed security guard who barely looked up from his phone when you swiped your card to exit was the only there beside you.

stepping outside the cold air would instantly hit your face, making your breath turn into white clouds. and there, sitting near the curb with its headlights low, would be his car. you’d walk over, open the passenger door, and slide into the dry warmth of the front seat.

"hey." will would say.

"hey." you'd reply.

and just like that the rest of the world would fade away. it was replaced by the smell of leather, his cologne, and the faint scent of the rink — cold ice, sweat, and leather hockey gloves — that seemed permanently stuck to his skin.

will smith was a name that carried on campus. you couldn't walk into the dining hall, grab a coffee, or sit in a lecture hall without hearing it. as the fourth overall draft pick in the nhl, he was the highest-drafted player in boston college hockey history. his future wasn't just bright, it was blinding.

he lived in a glass house, and he knew it. he had a blueprint for his life, a perfectly drawn out plan where every single hour of his day was accounted for. morning skates, classes, video review, gym sessions, team meetings, study hall, sleep. there was no room for error. and there was certainly no room for distractions.

which was exactly why, when the two of you had first started crossing paths at campus parties and late-night study lounges, he had laid the ground rules down pretty firmly.

"i just can't do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing right now." he’d told you, his voice quiet but incredibly steady, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "my head has to be entirely in the game. my career is everything to me, and i've worked too hard, for too many years, to let anything get in the way of it. i can't have distractions. i can't do labels."

you had nodded. you had smiled. you had looked at his handsome face, the sharp line of his jaw, the soft sweep of his hair, and you had lied directly to yourself.

i can do that, you had thought. a situationship is fine. a sneaky link is fine. having a piece of him is better than having nothing at all.

typically, the encounters were simple. after a big home win when the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and his mind was too alive for sleep, he’d wait for you in the parking lot. you’d slip into his car, and he’d navigate the streets back to your dorm.

you always went to yours. it was a rule that you both understood without having to say it out loud. will shared a dorm with his teammate and close friend, ryan leonard.

ryan was great, but he was also loud, observant, and had zero boundaries when it came to his friends personal lives. the last thing will wanted — and the last thing he was going to risk — was ryan walking into their room and finding a girl in his bed. that would cause so much teasing, questions, and unwanted attention. will hated the gossip. he hated the idea of his personal life becoming locker-room talk.

so, your single dorm room became the place.

it was small and decorated with posters and string lights, but to will, it was a place where nobody wanted anything from him. he didn't have to be the fourth overall pick in here. he didn't have to worry about his next game, his plus-minus rating, or the sports reporters waiting outside the locker room. he could just be an eighteen-year-old.

on those nights, you’d let him lose himself in you, letting the pressure of his hockey career melt away in the dark of your room. he'd hold you tight, touch you, and he'd whisper things against your skin that felt too close to affection. before the first signs of dawn could slide through your curtains, he’d pull his clothes back on, kiss you softly, and slip out into the morning. he'd leave your bed cold and smelling like him.

for a long time, you convinced yourself that this was enough. you were happy to be the person he ran to when he needed to breathe. the only problem with rules is that they are incredibly hard to keep when you're dealing with matters of the heart. the problem with will was that, despite his self-imposed ban on labels, he was terrible at keeping his distance.

sometimes, the lines got so blurry they practically disappeared.

sometimes, he treated you exactly like a boyfriend would.

there was one cold tuesday evening in november that played on a loop in your head, a constant, beautiful but painful memory. he had texted you saying he was coming over, but when you had opened your door to let him in, you were a complete mess.

you had spent the entire afternoon crying over a brutal exam, your head was pounding, your eyes were swollen, and the weight of your own life felt like a crushing pressure on your chest. you were exhausted, emotionally drained, and you absolutely did not have the energy to put on the happy, uncomplicated act you usually wore for him.

you had stood in the doorway, your sweatpants baggy and your hair tied up in a messy bun, looking down at the floor.

"hey." you had whispered, your voice stripped and rough. "i'm sorry, will. i... i don't think tonight is a good night. i'm really not in the mood. i'm just so tired."

you had braced yourself for him to nod, make a polite excuse, and turn around to walk down the hall. after all, that was the contract, wasn't it? you were his escape. if you couldn't provide that, why would he stay? instead, will had just stared at you for a long time, his blue eyes softening in a way you had never seen before.

"okay." he had said softly.

he didn't leave. instead, he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. he didn't reach for you, didn't try to kiss you. he just kicked off his sneakers, leaving them neatly by the door.

"will, you don't have to—"

"shh." he murmured, walking past you and into your makeshift kitchen. "where do you keep your snacks?"

you had blinked in confusion. "the cabinet above the microwave. why?"

will opened the cabinet rummaging through the contents until his hand landed on a half-eaten bar of dark chocolate you’d bought weeks ago and forgotten about. a small smile played on his lips. he reached into your mini fridge pulling out an unopened box of fresh strawberries.

"go sit down." he instructed gently.

you had watched him grab two bowls from the top drawer of the 'dresser' that your microwave sat on. he stood there in his gray bc hockey t-shirt, his shoulders slightly hunched, carefully breaking the chocolate bar into small, even pieces and dropping them into the bowl. he was so focused, his brow furrowing slightly as he stirred the melting chocolate with a spoon ensuring it didn't burn.

when the chocolate was done, he brought the bowl over to your couch, along with a bowl of washed and dried strawberries. he sat down beside you, his legs stretching out in the space. he handed you a strawberry.

"here." he said, his voice quiet. "eat."

you had taken the fruit, dipped it into the warm chocolate, and took a bite. the sweetness of the strawberry combined with the warmth of the chocolate was incredibly comforting, but not half as comforting as the simple presence of the boy sitting next to you. you didn't do anything physical that night. you didn't even kiss. instead, you just sat on your couch for three hours, dipping strawberries into chocolate and talking.

you talked about your childhood, about your annoying professor who refused to curve grades, about how much you missed your family back home. will had listened. he didn't check his phone once. he didn't talk about hockey, or the draft, or the pressure. he just looked at you his eyes fixed on your face, laughing at your stupid jokes with a warmth that made your chest ache horribly.

at one point, when you had shivered slightly from a wind coming through the window, will had reached over, grabbed your favorite fleece blanket from the bed, and draped it over your shoulders, tucking it in around you with a gentleness that felt so deeply intimate it made you want to cry.

when he finally left that night, he had kissed your cheek, lingering for a second too long, his breath warm against your skin.

"thanks for hanging out." he had whispered. "i needed that."

it was nights like those that ruined you. because how were you supposed to keep your heart out of it when he was doing things like that? how were you supposed to remind yourself that you were just 'fuck buddies' when he looked at you with so much more than lust?

as the weeks bled into months the situationship began to change. what had once felt exciting and secret began to feel heavy and suffocating. the emotional baggage of your unspoken feelings grew larger with every passing day, an invisible shoulder bag you had to carry around.

you started noticing the little things. you noticed how he never held your hand when you walked from his car to the dorm entrance, his eyes constantly scanning to make sure no one was watching. you noticed how he never posted anything that could even remotely suggest he was spending time with someone. you noticed the way your chest ached when you saw other couples walking hand-in-hand near the library, their faces bright and completely free of the secrecy that was your love life.

you wanted that. you wanted to be his girlfriend. you wanted to sit in the stands at the arena wearing his number and have him look up into the crowd and know you were there for him. you wanted to be able to text him during the day just to say you were thinking of him without worrying if you were crossing some invisible boundary he had set up to protect his career.

but most of all, you were terrified. the fear of confessing your feelings was a constant fever that burned in the back of your mind. you knew will. you knew how stubborn he was, how protective he was of his career and his dream. he had a plan, and he didn't like to stray from it, no matter what.

if you told him the truth, laid your heart out on the table and told him that the situationship was destroying you what would he do? the answer was always the same in your head a hard truth that made your stomach sink.

he would leave.

he would look at you with those serious blue eyes, apologize, and tell you that he couldn't give you what you wanted. he would pack up his things, walk out your door, and you would never sit in his car in the middle of the night again. you would lose the chocolate-covered strawberries, and the quiet laughter. you would lose him entirely.

so, you stayed silent.

you swallowed your feelings every time they threatened to rise up. you smiled when he came over, you gave him a good time after his wins, and you pretended that the quiet hollow in your chest didn't exist. you wore your 'i'm perfectly fine with this' mask.

but masks have a habit of slipping, especially when the weight of them become too heavy to bear. as the winter wind continued outside your window you knew you were running out of time before the pressure finally broke you.

the winter chill had settled deep into the streets of BC turning the parking of the on-campus dairy queen into a frozen lake that reflected the neon red and blue of the sign above. the sign buzzed a low hum that was the only sound cutting through the quiet massachusetts night. inside will’s car, the heater was going full blast blowing hot-dry air through the vents, keeping the frost from creeping up the windshield.

it was 9:45 p.m.

by some miracle of the hockey gods the game at conte forum had been scheduled for an early afternoon slot. the final horn had sounded at exactly 8:15 p.m. leaving the entire evening wide open. post-game media, showers, coach meetings, and locker room wind-downs dragged on until the late hours of the night. but tonight, will had practically flown through his obligations, his skates off and his street clothes on in record time.

when he had pulled up to your dorm, he hadn't texted his usual, dry here. instead, his name had popped up on your screen with a message that made your chest squeeze.

will: game ended early. get dressed. we're getting dq.

now, you were sitting in the passenger seat the paper cup of a blizzard sweating condensation against your palms. will sat beside you his body was relaxed against the driver's seat, his legs stretched out under the steering wheel. his hair was still slightly damp from his post-game shower curling softly at the nape of his neck and he smelled of the team's body wash and the clean scent of the rink.

he was on a high. they had won, four to one, and he had gotten two assists. he was gesturing with his red plastic spoon his blue eyes bright as he broke down the second goal of the night.

"so, ryan gets the puck along the boards, right?" will said, his voice lively. he scooped up a bite of vanilla soft-serve mixed with cookie dough. "and i see the defenseman committing way too early. he’s leaning on his left skate thinking ryan’s going to cycle it back down. so i just skate into a better spot. i’m hitting my stick like, dude, just pass it. ryan spots me tape-to-tape pass, and boom i just tap it over to gabe. goalie didn't even have time to slide."

you forced a smile. "it was a good play will. i saw the highlight on my feed."

"it was perfect." he grinned. "absolutely perfect. coach was buzzing in the locker room. he said if we keep playing like this, the frozen four isn't just a possibility it's ours to lose."

"you guys deserve it." you murmured. "you’ve been working hard."

"yeah. it's all paying off. every early morning, every extra skate." will leaned his head back against the headrest, looking over at you with a soft, content expression. "it feels good. and it feels good to just sit here with you. no pressure. just ice cream."

he reached over, his thumb gently catching a stray bit of chocolate on your bottom lip, wiping it away before licking his thumb with a grin. the casual intimacy of the gesture sent an agonizing pang straight through your ribs.

the silence fell back over the car but it wasn't the comfortable kind. not for you.

the words you had been suppressing for months were clawing their way up your throat. you stared down at your melting cup your fingers tightening around the paper until it folded. you couldn't keep doing this. you couldn't keep pretending that this car was the only place you existed to him. you couldn't keep playing the part of the chill girl who didn't mind being hidden away.

"will." you said quietly.

he turned his head, his brow furrowing slightly at the change in your tone. "yeah? what's up? you barely touched your blizzard."

"i need to tell you something." your voice was trembling, and you hated it.

you cleared your throat trying to find some semblance of strength, but your heart was hammering so violently against your ribs you were sure he could hear it.

will set his cup down in the cup holder, his entire posture shifting. "okay. you're using your serious voice. did something happen?"

"no. nothing happened. it's just..." you took a deep breath looking him straight in the eyes, determined not to look away. "i can't do this anymore."

will blinked his expression blank for a second. "do what?"

"this." you said gesturing between the two of us. "the late-night texts. the sneaking around. the 'no labels' rule. i can't keep pretending that this is enough for me."

the silence that followed was loud. the neon light from the dairy queen sign cast a red glow across the side of will's face highlighting the sudden, sharp tension in his jaw.

"we talked about this." he said his voice dropping into a quiet, careful tone. "right at the beginning. i thought we were on the same page."

"we were. or, i thought we were." you corrected, your voice cracking.

you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to quiet the hurt. "but it's been months, will. and the more time we spend together, the harder it is to just turn my feelings off when you walk out my door at three in the morning. we don't just act like a 'sneaky link.' we sit on my couch and melt chocolate and talk for hours about our families. you look at me like you care about me, and then the next day, we walk past each other on the quad and we have to pretend we're strangers."

"i have to keep things simple." will said, his voice tight. he gripped the steering wheel with one hand.. "you know what my life is like right now. the pressure is insane. if the media gets wind of anything, or if i get distracted—"

"is a relationship really a distraction, will?" you interrupted, a single tear finally escaping and slipping down your cheek. "or are you just scared?"

"it's not about being scared." he snapped though his voice lacked its usual certainty.

he looked away staring out the windshield at the empty parking lot. "it's about my career. i am the fourth overall pick. everything i do is under a microscope. i have to be focused on hockey. entirely. i can't be worrying about relationship drama, or putting effort into a label when my entire life is about to change in a few months. i really, really like you. you have to know that. but i can't give you what you want right now. i can't do the boyfriend thing."

there it was. the cold hard boundary you had been terrified of hitting.

the pain was sharp but you forced your face into a look of calm acceptance. you had spent weeks preparing for this exact moment, bracing yourself for the worst. you wouldn't beg. you wouldn't make him feel guilty for choosing his dream.

"okay." you whispered.

will looked back at you, surprise flickering in his eyes at how easily you had let it go. "okay?"

"yeah. i get it." you said forcing a small, empty smile onto your face. you set your half-eaten blizzard in the console. "you've always been honest with me. i'm not going to argue with you about your own life. let's just... go back."

"are you mad at me?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding younger, almost vulnerable.

"no, will. i'm not mad." you lied smoothly. "i'm just tired. let's just go."

the drive back to the dorms was excruciating. neither of you said a word. the radio played some soft pop song in the background. it was a big difference to the tension inside the car. when he pulled up to the curb of your building, he didn't turn the engine off.

"i'll text you." he said quietly, his eyes searching yours in the dim light of the dashboard.

"goodnight, will." you replied, not answering his promise.

you grabbed your phone, opened the door, and stepped out into the freezing night. you didn't look back.

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for the next several days, your phone was completely silent.

no texts from will. no random updates about practice, no post-game check-ins. you spent monday, tuesday, and wednesday trying to throw yourself into your schoolwork, staring at your textbooks until the words blurred together. every time your phone buzzed with a notification, your heart would leap into your throat, only to crash back down when you saw it was just an email or a text from a classmate.

you told yourself it was for the best. you had drawn the line, and he had chosen his side. the band-aid had been ripped off. now you just had to wait for the wound to heal.

but then came thursday.

it was around 8:00 p.m. you were sitting at your desk, wrapped in a blanket, typing out a response to a discussion board post. the rain was beating a steady, relentless tattoo against your window pane.

buzz.

you glanced at your phone, expecting nothing.

will: are you busy? can i come over?

your breath hitched. you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. you should say no. you should tell him that unless he had changed his mind, there was no point in reopening the wound. but the feeling of his absence over the last week was a powerful and terrible force.

you: i'm not busy.

not even ten minutes passed before there was a knock on your door.

it wasn't the usual, quiet, almost silent double-tap he used when he was trying to slide under the radar of the resident supervisors. it was a firm and solid knock that echoed in the quiet hallway.

you stood up, your legs feeling like they could fail you at any moment, and walked over to the door. you took a deep breath steadying yourself, and pulled it open. the words you had prepared — the firm, polite boundary to protect yourself — died instantly in your throat.

will was standing in the hallway, looking like an absolute wreck. his hair was wet from the rain, sticking to his forehead in messy, dark clumps. his chest was heaving, his cheeks flushed red, and his hands were shaking slightly. in his right hand, he was clutching a small, slightly squished bouquet of grocery-store flowers — bright yellow daisies and red carnations wrapped in cheap, crinkly plastic.

before you could even ask him what he was doing, he pushed past you into the warm, narrow space of your single dorm, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.

"i can't stop thinking about you." he started, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a breathless, chaotic rush.

he didn't even drop his winter jacket. he just stood in the centre of your room, holding the squished flowers out toward you like a peace offering. "i haven't slept. at all. for three days. i tried to focus during video review yesterday, and coach literally called me out in front of the entire team because i was just staring at the screen with my head completely somewhere else. i almost got dusted at practice today because i was thinking about what you said at dairy queen."

you blinked, utterly stunned, your back pressed against the wood of your door. "will... what are you talking about?"

"i'm talking about us." he said, taking a step closer, his eyes incredibly blue and incredibly desperate. "i thought about it. i thought about it during every single drill, during every skate, during the entire drive over here. and i was being an idiot. a complete, absolute idiot."

"will—"

"no, please, just let me finish before i lose my flow." he pleaded, running a shaky hand through his wet hair completely ignoring the way the water dripped down his face. "you asked if a relationship was a distraction, or if i was just scared. and the truth is i was scared. i've spent my entire life being told that if i want to make it to the nhl, i have to sacrifice everything. i have to put hockey first, always. no exceptions. so i built this rule, and i told myself that labels were the enemy."

he took another step, his shadow falling over you, the scent of rain and his familiar cologne filling the small room.

"but the truth is." will continued, his voice softening. "not having you is a way bigger distraction than having you could ever be. i don't think placing a label on what we have is going to change things the way i thought it would. we already do the relationship stuff. we already sit on your couch and talk until two in the morning. you already know the worst parts of me, and you're still here."

a soft, breathless laugh escaped your lips your hands coming up to cover your mouth. will saw the shift in your expression, and a tiny hopeful spark lit up in his eyes.

he rushed forward, his words picking up speed again. "and i'm tired of the secrets. i'm tired of having to pretend i font know you when you walk past. i want to be able to hold your hand when we go get coffee. i want to take you out to a real dinner, not just hide in my car at dairy queen. and most of all i want to have the right to get jealous in public when another guy gets a little too close to you at a party. i want to be able to walk up, put my arm around you, and tell them you're mine."

you let out a bubbling laugh at that, the tears finally spilling over your eyelashes and running down your cheeks. "you want to get jealous?"

"yes!" will exclaimed, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his anxious expression. "absolutely. ryan was talking to some girl the other day who was talking about her friend who thought i was cute, and i literally had to sit there and pretend i didn't care because i didn't have the right to tell him i was already taken. it was torture."

he stopped rambling, his chest still heaving as he stared down at you. he slowly lowered his hands, setting the slightly battered bouquet of flowers onto your desk, before turning back to face you completely. he took your hands in his. his fingers were warm but still damp from the rain. they wrapped around yours with a strength that felt permanent.

"so please." will whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "will you be my girlfriend? for real this time?"

the relief that washed over you was so immense it felt like you were floating. the heavy, suffocating weight you had been carrying for months simply vanished into the warm air of your room.

"yes." you laughed, leaning into him your forehead resting against his shoulder. "yes, will. of course i will."

the words had barely left your mouth before his hands left yours, sliding up to cup your face. his palms were warm against your cheeks, his fingers sweeping back into your hair as he pulled you up into a kiss.

it was completely different from any kiss you had shared before. it wasn't a rushed, quiet moment in the dark of his car or a hurried goodbye before dawn. this kiss was slow, incredibly deep, and overflowing with a sweet, aching relief. he pressed his lips to yours so lovingly, his body relaxing completely as he pulled you flush against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

you could feel the radiant smile stretching across his lips even as he kissed you, his shoulders shaking with a happy laugh. he pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he stared down at you.

"girlfriend." he murmured, the word sounding sweet and foreign on his tongue. "i like the sound of that."