🦈

you’re halfway through your eyeliner when michael materializes behind you like a six-foot-five shadow, pressing his entire body into yours while you’re hunched over the vanity. he’s already showered and dressed—black henley hugging his broad chest, gray sweatpants clinging to those ridiculous thighs—and apparently decided his only mission today is to be chaos in human form.

“you’ve been in here forever,” he murmurs, voice thick with fake dramatics as he nuzzles your neck. his hair is still damp, his jaw freshly shaved, and he smells so good it should be illegal. “are you drawing on a new face? because i like the old one.”

“michael, i have ten minutes,” you say, trying to flick the wing sharp enough to cut glass, but his mouth is on your shoulder now, mouthing at the bare skin where your dress dips. he’s not even pretending to be helpful—he’s literally licking your shoulder blade. “jesus, stop licking me!”

he grins, teeth grazing your skin in a playful bite that almost makes you mess up your liner. both hands slide around your waist, fingertips splaying over your stomach, and he rocks you back into him, crowding you so the stool creaks. “can’t help it. you taste good. kind of like that vanilla body lotion and kind of like you’re mine.”

“you’re messing me up,” you complain, but it comes out on a breathy laugh because he’s dragging his tongue up your spine now, slow and utterly obnoxious, leaving a wet trail that cools quickly in the air-conditioned room. you swat at him with your free hand and he catches your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “seriously! go bother socks.”

“socks doesn’t look like this in tight satin,” he says, eyes dropping to the dress you’re trying to zip. it’s a sleek navy thing that hugs every curve, and he clearly has no intention of letting it remain intact. one of his hands slips down to the zipper at your hip and, before you can stop him, he tugs it halfway down with a smug little click. “i like easy access.”

you gasp, elbowing him in the ribs, which only makes him laugh harder. “michael. i swear to god—”

he kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then the shell of your ear, a relentless assault of affection that makes holding your eyeliner steady impossible. just when you think he might back off, he reaches for your makeup bag, pulls out your blush brush, and starts dusting it across his own nose like a child.

“baby, no,” you say, lunging to grab it. he dodges, brandishing the brush like a sword. “that’s expensive!”

he sticks the handle between his teeth and leans in, eyes teasing, the brush bobbing up and down like a ridiculous prop. “mmm,” he mumbles around it, “tastes fancy.”

you finally wrestle it away, glowering, but he just grins wider and tugs you onto his lap, turning the stool so you face him. “you look perfect,” he says, softer now, the obnoxiousness melting into genuine admiration. “you don’t need another second in front of that mirror.”

“you’re unbearable,” you huff, but your hands are on his shoulders, feeling the smooth heat under his shirt, and his hands have found that open zipper again, thumbs sliding under the satin. “and you unzipped me!”

“yeah,” he says, unabashed, kissing your jaw. “so zip it back up before i pull it all the way down.”

“pervert,” you whisper, but you’re smiling, cheeks flushed from more than blush.

michael's sitting in the corner of the sectional, eyes transfixed on some co-op game his buddy dragged him into on the tv. his massive fingers move wildly against the controller, headset tipped off one ear so he can hear both the game and your footsteps, always attuned to your every movement.

ranger is playing with the drawstring on his sweatpants when something in the game disturbs michael's deep, calm focus, his voice raising, "no way that counted!" as his brows furrow in adorable concentration. he's trying to get back in the zone when you zip by, and immediately everything goes off the table.

you pay no attention, sauntering into the kitchen, wet hair darkening michael's oversized, gray t-shirt down the spine, but he sees so much more. he sees your thighs peeking out from under the hem—obviously, pants were an afterthought to you—your nipples stiffening beneath the fabric, your flushed, post-shower face, everything.

his jaw drops a little, but he couldn't care less as he gawks, "hey. wait. no, no, no, come back here." he drops the controller and reaches up, signalling for you to come to him with the grabby hands of a toddler. he looks adorably dishevelled, hair sticking up in all directions, and you can't refuse him so you roll your eyes and walk over, stepping over a black-and-white fuzzy companion in the process.

"how can i be of service, king?" you embellish with a little bow, and he scoffs, grabbing your waist when you're close enough, making you squeak.

he grins devilishly, "whatcha doin', walking around here looking like an absolute snack?" a little burst of air comes out his nose as he shoves his face into your belly, sensing that he's cringed at his own words. "god, you smell so good..."

you smack the back of his head softly, "nuh-uh, you're not getting any tonight." you punctuate your words by carding your fingers through his hair, pulling his face up so you can look into his eyes. he immediately pouts, arms moving to wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer.

"but whyyyyyy," he drags, petulantly, "you know i'm fucking obsessed with you, right, baby? you show me a little bit of what i know i could have and i'm hard as a rock." he manages to get a handful of ass, hand big enough to palm a basketball, and you sigh, smiling despite yourself.

"i'm well aware, pretty boy. but sometimes, we keep our hands to ourselves, hmm?" you grab his wrist behind you and pull it off your ass, smoothing down the shirt so it covers you. a part of you misses the straight possessiveness of his contact, but the fun of teasing him is unbeatable.

he obeys, arms relaxing, his pout remaining etched on his face, although there's a hint of playfulness. "i can't. no way. by moving in with me, you signed up for this, for being my eye candy," he smirks, leaning his face up further to slot his lips against yours, "it's the rules."

"the rules, huh?" you reply smiling, going in for another kiss which he immediately tries to deepen, tongue tracing the seam of your plush bottom lip. you comply, the act getting wetter, sloppier, his hands on you again as he grabs the backs of your thighs and flips you on top of him on the couch as if you weigh nothing, making you gasp.

he pulls off, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths which he wipes away with his thumb on your lip. "yeah. you know i'm a real stickler, especially for the most beautiful girl in the world."

"hey fraser can you come here for a sec?"

"yeah baby hold on a sec...what'd you need?"

"can you put your arms up just like this while i do something real quick?" guiding his arms into position above his head.

trusting you completely, fraser doesn't question you and simply complies with whatever you're making him do. with one last quick and unnoticeable glance at the camera, you press your lips together in a lingering kiss.

with fraser always listening to your instructions, he leaves his arms up whilst he meets you halfway in the kiss, cherishing the moment and committing it to memory.

all the videos you saw of other couples doing this trend had their partners engulfing them into their arms. however, you felt an unexpected absence, the feeling of fraser's arms not being around you therefore, breaking the kiss to see what was happening.

"fraser baby why are your arms still up?" a slight chuckle leaving your lips.

"because...you said i needed to put my arms up" with a soft flush starting to colour his cheeks in embarrassment, thinking he had done something wrong.

you explain the trend to him, realising that your fraser will always listen to what you say.

MACKLIN CELEBRINI

for what feels like years but in reality has been a few hours, you've been trying to find the right moment with mack to do the couples trend that you've been seeing all over your for you page. you've either forgotten about it in the moment, being caught up with something else, or mack hasn't been around as soon as you remember to do it.

it's just you an him laying on the couch together, watching your comfort show when you finally find the time to do the trend on mack. the end credits roll on the episode you're watching and you ask mack to pause the show before it jumps to the following episode.

"what's up? do you want a snack or a quick break before the next episode?"

"that sounds good, but can you actually stand up for a second?"

with confusion written over his face as to why you asked him to stand up, wondering if you wanted him to get the snacks for you two.

"can you put your arms up like this for me?" demonstrating to him what position you wanted him to get into.

complying with your request with his arms tensed over his head, he's still confused "what? why?"

"just ugh you'll see in a sec" not wanting to ruin what you were about to do.

getting excited that you finally have your moment, you lean in for the kiss, wrapping your hands around his face.

mack hadn't seen this coming, but was enjoying every moment of it. immediately, his arms fell from above his head, wrapping them around you to embrace you better. all tension was released, and all that was left in his mind was sharing this moment with you.

finally breaking away from the kiss, mack asked why he had to put his arms up. you explained the trend to him through a series of all the videos you had liked leading up to the kiss you two shared.

"you melted like butter."

WILL SMITH

this whole evening, you've been seeing a new couples trend pop up on your fyp. video after video, you were watching all these people melt into their partner's kiss.

you've been waiting for will to come home from his game, you unfortunately not being able to make it tonight due to other responsibilities. constantly looking back and forth from the time to see if it was any closer to the eta will gave you, and the door waiting impatiently for the doorknob to turn and see him walk through.

with what feels like eternity, will finally arrives home and you rush over to greet him.

"babe! you're finally back! congrats on the game, i saw that goal you scored!!"

appreciating you and your support, will puts down his things and starts heading to your shared bedroom. quickly following him, you stop him in his tracks before he lays in bed.

"wait wait will can you quickly help film something for me?"

he hesitantly agrees, wanting to get ready and go to bed, but still puts you and whatever you want him to do as his number one priority.

you set your phone on a nearby table, propping it up against something to capture the memory.

"put your hands up like this for me."

following suit, he does so without further questions.

immediately, your lips meet his, engaging in a passionate kiss. will didn't see this coming, but he wasn't complaining one bit. he assumed this was just another form of praise and applause from the success of his game tonight, relaying his gratitude by closely holding you against him, completely forgetting about you asking him to put his arms up.

when you two finally let go of each other and are tucked into bed will clarifies what the kiss was for, still not understanding why his arms were up at first.

explaining the trend to him, you show him all the videos you've seen, and replay the video you took as well. will was beyond glad he agreed to help you.

CONNOR BEDARD

you're not too sure if connor has seen the new couples trend floating around tiktok recently, but you were still curious to see how he would react to your kiss.

you prop your phone up somewhere nearby the couch connor was currently sat on.

"hey connor can you get up real quick?"

complying to what you asked of him, he stood up and found your phone suspiciously stood up like it was recording him.

"can you put your arms up like this?" as you raise your arms to the side.

red flags are raised in connors mind -- the camera pointing at you two, you asking him to put his arms up, and a stick nearby that was completely unrelated to what you were about to do. he's seen this before on his own for you page.

"wait...i know what you're doing!"

"oh" feeling a bit defeated as you wanted to see his reaction.

"you're going to posture check me and then tickle me! absolutely not!"

it clicked to you that he assumed you were going to do the prank that was trending a few months ago.

"what? i wasn't going to do that! i promise you no tickles will happen. you have my word"

"you promise?"

"i never break my promises."

connor reluctantly puts his arms out, trusting that you would keep to your promise and not tickle him. keeping to your word, your lips meet his, and all his initial guards fell. his arms fall to wrap around you, realising that he could trust you entirely.

when your kiss finally breaks, his arms don't leave their position, still wrapped around you.

"i really thought i you were going to hit me with a tickle attack for a sec."

"i told you there would be no tickles."

"i know. i can always trust what you say."

The night starts soft - the kind of soft that feels intentional, like the world is dimming its lights just for the two of you.

Lando’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you out of the restaurant, thumb brushing your knuckles in a rhythm that gives him away. He’s been like this all evening: jittery, bright‑eyed, smiling too much, laughing too easily. Championship glow, sure… but there’s something else simmering under his skin.

You don’t call him out on it yet. You let him have his little secrets.

He opens the car door for you - unnecessarily dramatic, because he bows - and you roll your eyes, but he beams like you’ve just handed him the trophy again.

The drive is quiet, but not awkward. His playlist is low, his fingers tapping the steering wheel, his knee bouncing. Every few seconds he glances at you, then away, then back again like he’s checking you’re still real.

“Lando,” you murmur, amused. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not,” he lies immediately, voice cracking like a teenager.

You laugh. He groans.

He turns off the main road, then another, then another, until the world is nothing but open fields and the faint hum of the engine. When he finally parks, he looks at you with that boyish, hopeful expression that always melts you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you out of the car.

The moment you step into the clearing, your breath catches.

Stars. Everywhere. A sky so full it looks like it might spill over. Like someone dusted the universe in glitter and forgot to stop.

Your chest tightens. “Lan… this is beautiful.”

He watches you instead of the sky. “Yeah. It is.”

You elbow him, but your smile is soft. He knows you love stars - knows you always look for them, even in cities where they barely exist. And he’s brought you here, somewhere quiet and perfect, just so you can have them.

You lie down on the blanket he spreads out, your head on his chest, his heartbeat thudding far too fast for someone supposedly relaxed.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up. “Okay. Talk.”

He freezes. “Talk about what?”

“You’re vibrating.”

“I’m not vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

He covers his face with both hands. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He sighs, long and shaky. “I’m just… I’m just thinking. And overthinking. And then thinking about the overthinking.”

You sit up, turning to face him. “Lando. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He swallows. Hard. Then he stands.

Your heart stutters.

He reaches into his pocket.

Oh.

Oh.

He drops to one knee.

Your breath leaves your body in a single, burning rush.

“Okay,” he says, voice trembling. “Okay. I had a whole speech. Like… a whole thing. I practiced it. In the mirror. Twice. Three times. Maybe more. But now you’re looking at me like that and I can’t remember a single-”

And then, mid‑sentence, the ring slips out of his fingers.

Both of you watch it fall.

Bounce once.

Disappear into the grass.

There is a full three seconds of absolute silence.

Then:

“NO NO NO NO NO-” Lando drops to his hands and knees, scrambling like a man possessed. “I HAD ONE JOB. ONE. JOB.”

You’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. Tears blur your vision. “Lando-”

“DON’T LOOK AT ME,” he yells, face inches from the ground. “I’M A FAILURE.”

You join him, still laughing, brushing through the grass. “It’s fine-”

“It is NOT fine, I lost the ring, I lost the PROPOSAL, I lost the MOMENT-”

“Lando.”

“-I’m going to have to propose with a dandelion-“

“Lando.”

He stops.

You reach forward and pluck something shiny from the grass.

His jaw drops. “You found it.”

“I found it.”

He takes it from your hand like it’s made of glass. Then he sits back on his knees, breathless, hair a mess, eyes wide and terrified and in love.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Round two.”

You wipe your cheeks, nodding.

He exhales, steadying himself. “I love you. I love you more than racing, more than winning, more than anything I’ve ever cared about. You’re my favourite part of every day. And I want… I want all my days to have you in them.”

Your eyes burn again.

He holds up the ring - carefully this time. “Will you marry me?”

You don’t even let him finish the sentence before you’re nodding, laughing, crying, all at once. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

His relief is so intense he nearly falls over. He grabs your hand, slides the ring onto your finger - perfectly, this time - and then he’s pulling you into him, arms tight around your waist, face buried in your neck.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, voice thick.

“Good,” you whisper back. “I want to be.”

Above you, the stars burn brighter. Or maybe that’s just him - your champion, your idiot, your fiancé - glowing like he’s finally found his whole universe.

ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ: ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ᴇxᴄʟᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: ʀᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ’ꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴀᴜ’ꜱ - ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴏʀɪᴛʏ ʀᴇϙᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

"it is," he murmured, looking at you instead of the sunset. "but you know what's even better?"

"hm?"

"you."

you laughed immediately, nudging his side with your elbow.

"that was so cheesy."

"it worked though."

"it absolutely did not."

"it made you smile."

"...okay, maybe a little."

his grin widened triumphantly.

moments like these had always been your favorite. no cameras. no interviews. no crowds chanting his name from the stands. just the two of you walking barefoot along the beach after one of the few vacations he managed to take during the season.

you had been together for years now, growing alongside each other through transfers, victories, injuries, and the overwhelming attention that came with dating one of football's brightest stars.

through everything, joão had remained the same.

still the boy who stole fries off your plate.

still the man who insisted on holding your hand whenever you crossed the street.

still the person who looked at you like you hung every star in the sky.

he suddenly stopped walking.

you turned toward him with a confused smile.

"what?"

"i..." he scratched the back of his neck, looking oddly nervous.

that alone made your eyebrows lift.

joão félix? nervous?

"you okay?"

"yeah."

"...are you sure?"

"...no."

you giggled.

"you're scaring me."

he took a deep breath before pulling something small from his pocket.

your smile slowly disappeared.

"joão?"

his hands were shaking.

actually shaking.

"i had this whole speech memorized," he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "i practiced it in the mirror... probably a hundred times."

you felt your heartbeat speeding up.

"but now you're standing here looking at me..." he smiled softly, his eyes already glossy. "...and i forgot every single word."

a laugh escaped you, quickly followed by tears you hadn't even realized were forming.

"oh my god..."

"i know." he laughed too. "i'm messing this up."

"no."

you shook your head immediately.

"you're not."

he inhaled deeply before lowering himself onto one knee.

everything around you seemed to disappear.

the crashing waves.

the breeze.

the distant sounds of people farther down the beach.

all you could see was him.

the man you loved.

the man who had become your home.

joão carefully opened the small velvet box.

inside rested the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

"i've been lucky enough to score goals," he began quietly.

"i've played in incredible stadiums."

"i've worn jerseys i dreamed about as a little kid."

"but none of those moments compare to meeting you."

fresh tears streamed down your cheeks.

"you've celebrated every win with me."

"you've stayed beside me through every loss."

"you remind me that i'm more than football."

his own voice cracked.

"and every single future i imagine..." he smiled through watery eyes. "...you're in it."

you covered your mouth, already crying too hard to speak.

"i don't want another day where you're just my girlfriend."

"i want you to be my wife."

he looked up at you with so much love that it made your chest ache.

"so..."

he laughed nervously.

"will you marry me?"

you didn't answer immediately.

mostly because you physically couldn't.

you were crying too hard.

joão's expression shifted into panic.

"was that too much?"

you shook your head.

"no."

"you don't have to say yes if-"

"joão."

he stopped talking instantly.

"yes."

his eyes widened.

"...yes?"

you nodded over and over again.

"yes."

"yes, i'll marry you."

"oh my-"

he stood so quickly he almost dropped the ring.

you both burst into laughter through your tears.

"so that's a yes?" he teased.

you laughed harder.

"i literally just said yes!"

"i wanted to make sure!"

"you're an idiot."

"your idiot?"

you cupped his face with both hands.

"my idiot."

he carefully slid the ring onto your finger with trembling hands before staring at it in complete disbelief.

then at you.

then back at the ring.

then back at you.

"you can't take it back now," he whispered.

"i wasn't planning to."

he wrapped both arms around your waist, lifting you off the sand as he spun you around.

your laughter echoed across the quiet beach.

"i love you," he breathed against your forehead.

"so much."

"i love you too."

he kissed you slowly, gently, like he wanted to memorize the feeling forever.

when he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"so..."

"so?"

"what do i call you now?"

you blinked.

he grinned.

"my fiancée."

the word made both of you laugh all over again.

"my fiancée," he repeated softly, smiling even brighter.

you looked down at the ring sparkling beneath the fading sunlight before looking back up at the man who had just promised you forever.

there would be wedding plans.

guest lists.

flowers.

late-night decisions over venues and colors.

a lifetime of memories waiting to be made.

but for now... there was only the ocean.

the sunset, and the way joão looked at you as if your "yes" had been the greatest victory of his life.

Having heard movement, he's already looking up when you come out of the hallway. "Hey, what're you doing up?"

"What're you doing up?" you lob right back at him.

You stifle a yawn, drape yourself over his shoulders.

His phone is open to some sort of statistics document you don't have the energy to try and decipher right now. You don't have to be at peak mental awareness to know what he's doing: worrying over things he can't hope to change in the middle of the night in your kitchen.

You kiss the side of his face. "Come back to bed."

"I should do this. Should know this all by heart."

He's still beating himself up. "No one expects that of you."

"Some do. The engineers talk like I should know everything. Daniel knows it all."

"A decade of experience will do that to you. Anyone who expects you to know everything is stupid or something. Mentally deficient."

Liam laughs at your sleepy rambling. "You should go back to bed."

"Not without you."

"Babe—"

"Worrying over data sheets at 3AM isn't going to fix anything. Sleep well, then memorize numbers when you're mentally prepared for it."

Liam seems convinced. Your neck kisses may have something to do with that.

"Always so sensible, you."

"What would you do without me?"

"Self destruct, apparently."

Liam presses you into the mattress once you're back in the bedroom, climbs over you and claims your lips. You exchange lazy kisses, ridiculously wet as your tongues tangle, fingers fumbling to push your panties to the side.

"This isn't what I meant by come to bed."

Liam answers by kissing your neck.

Being friends with Macklin at Boston University meant that you absolutely hated Boston College. Not the school itself, necessarily, the campus was fine, and the parties were decent but more specifically, you hated their hockey team. And more than anyone on that team, you hated Will Smith.

You couldn’t even remember the exact reason the hatred had started. Whatever it was, Macklin remembered and told you, and that was enough for you. He was one of your closest friends so obviously you were on his side.

Anytime there was an upcoming game where BU was playing against BC, you two sat in your dorm room and complained about him. “He’s just a pretty boy..” Macklin grumbled, scrolling through his phone with a scowl. “He literally thinks he can just flash that stupid smile and the refs will hand him the game.”

“Right? God forbid he actually works for it instead of relying on those baby blues and flowy hair.” You agreed. You didn’t even notice you knew that information about Will, but Macklin didn’t think much of it so neither did you.

Macklin laughed. “Exactly. I don’t know, he just thinks he’s God’s gift to the sport..”

So when the notification lit up your phone _willsmith2 started following you. you nearly dropped it.

You were in the dining hall between classes, when the little heart icon appeared. Why the hell was he following you?

You didn’t follow him back right away. You even considered showing Macklin the notification just to laugh about it, but something stopped you. Instead, you closed instagram and went about your day like it hadn’t happened.

That resolve lasted until you were back in your dorm room, lights dimmed, your roommate already asleep. It was a little after 11pm when boredom and curiosity finally won. Your thumb hovered over the button for a long second before you clicked Follow Back. The blue button turned gray instantly.

Not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a new message.

Will Hey👀

You stared at the message, this was a terrible idea. If Macklin ever found out you two were even following each other after all the shit talking.. you didn’t want to think about it.

Before you could overthink it more, your fingers moved on their own.

You Hi?

Will Are you this petty without Macklin around too?

Your eyebrows shot up. The audacity.

You How do you know I’m not with Macklin right now?

Will It’s 11pm

You And?

A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You quickly pressed your lips together, glancing at your sleeping roommate.

Will And Macklin doesn’t strike me as the type to let his attack dog stay up late texting me

You I’m not his attack dog but ok

Will Isn’t that why you don’t like me?

You bit your lip, equal parts annoyed and.. entertained? You knew you were wrong, but why did you like this..?

You I never said I didn’t like you

Will Is that right?

By the time you finally put your phone down, it was almost 1am. A heavy wave of guilt settled in your chest. You should tell Macklin. You knew you should. But what would you even say? “Hey, so Will followed me and now we’re texting, but don’t worry, I still hate him.. mostly”?

The next time Macklin tried bringing up Will, you forced a smirk and said something that wouldn’t give anything away, but now the words just tasted a little sour. You didn’t know if you could just go on talking about Will, when you have been in his dms for the past couple of days. So you changed the subject quickly.

Will knew one thing you didn’t like: when he brought up Macklin.

After two weeks of texting that had somehow become the highlight of your days, he finally worked up the courage. The message came through while you were halfway through a lecture: Want to get dinner this weekend?

You’d stared at your phone before typing back a simple Yes.

He was more surprised than he let on. Part of him had been convinced you’d say no because of Macklin. You didn’t tell many people. Just one of your close girlfriends, who immediately raised an eyebrow and said, “Macklin isn’t going to like that.” You rolled your eyes and shrugged it off. One day he’d have to accept it, whether it was Will or anyone else.

Will picked a nice restaurant well outside the usual BU-BC radius for obvious reasons. He insisted on paying for everything despite your protests. He was funny, quick witted, and genuinely curious about your life outside of university. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have fun.

His baby blues really were distracting up close, and his smile was charming too. You wouldn’t be surprised if hockey didn’t work out and he became a model instead.

After dinner, he drove you to the beach to watch the sunset. You two sat on his jacket spread across the sand, the waves gently rolling in. You told him about your major, the classes you were taking, and how much you’d learned so far. “Me and Macklin are studying the same thing.” You said, hugging your knees. “I’m scared if he gets drafted he’ll leave and I’ll be stuck here alone.”

Will was quiet for a moment, staring out at the pink sky. He couldn’t lie, he was starting to really like you so hearing you say this wasn’t nice. He realised how close you two were and what if you liked Macklin? “You can always visit him if he gets drafted.” he offered.

“Yeah, I hope so.” You glanced over at him. “I honestly don’t even understand why you two don’t like each other. You’re so much alike. You’d probably be great friends.”

Will’s jaw tightened slightly. Is that why you’re hanging out with me? he thought. Because I remind you of him?

He shrugged. “Are you two dating?”

You burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained. You held your stomach, trying to calm down as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Will raised an eyebrow. “Alright, it’s not that funny..” he muttered, but his lips were twitching.

You finally caught your breath, still giggling. “Macklin and I? He’s like a brother to me. You think I’d be here right now if we were dating?”

“You’re right.” he conceded, a small smile breaking through. “Does he know you’re with me right now?”

Your smile faded. “Why do you keep asking about Macklin? I’m not going to hang out with you if you keep bringing him up.”

Will smirked, leaning back on his hands in the sand. “Is there a next time?”

You looked at him, the sunset casting a warm glow across his face. You nodded. “Thought you’d want there to be a next time?”

The next hangout escalated faster than you expected. You found yourself in Will’s dorm room at his campus, straddling his lap as the two of you made out like you couldn’t get enough of each other.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer against his body. The kiss was heated and a little desperate.

When he finally dropped you off near your BU dorm later that night, the car idled at the curb. You leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips, smiling softly.

Back in your room, you quickly texted Macklin: Hey, I’m finally back. You can come over now

A few minutes later he strolled in, flopping down on your bed like he owned the place. “Where were you?” he asked, scrolling through his own phone.

“I was hanging out with a friend,” you said casually, turning to your desk and pulling out your notebook.

“Can you pleaseeee get me some snacks? I’m starving.” Macklin changed the subject.

You groaned dramatically. “Mack, you’re so annoying-”

“Okay fine, I’ll get it..” he cut in, starting to stand.

“It’s fine, I’ll get it.” you said quickly, waving him off. You left the room, leaving your phone on the bed where you’d been sitting.

At first, Macklin didn’t think anything of it. But when your phone buzzed once, then again shortly after, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced at the door, then picked it up. The screen lit up with two new messages from “Will”

Will: the hangout was so nice this time

Will: maybe next time you should come over again

Macklin’s eyebrows furrowed. Will? No. There was no way. This couldn’t be the Will he was thinking of, right? Were you seriously hanging out with THE Will? As in Will Smith? The same guy you both had spent months complaining about? And right after being with him, you came back and acted like nothing happened?

He stared at the messages, mind racing with questions. How long had this been going on? Did you actually like him? After all you said, you were in his dorm?

The sound of your footsteps coming back down the hall snapped him out of it. Macklin quickly locked your phone and set it back exactly where it was, trying to keep his face neutral even as betrayal and confusion churned in his chest.

You and Macklin did your project together, you were halfway through outlining the next section when Macklin suddenly spoke. “Someone also texted you while you were getting snacks.” He said, pointing at your phone.

“Oh, thanks.” You picked it up and unlocked it. Will’s messages glowed on the screen, a smile tugged at your lips. You closed the app and set the phone face down, figuring you’d just answer later.

“You aren’t going to answer?” Macklin asked, his tone deceptively casual. “I think it was important.”

“Nah, I’ll just answer later.” You replied lightly. “It can wait.”

Macklin let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Is that why you were hanging out with Will?”

Your stomach dropped. You cursed yourself internally, he knew. You forced your expression to stay neutral. “Yeah, but I’ll just answer later.”

“It’s not the Will I’m thinking of, right?”

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the project. “Nah.”

“But it’s the only Will we both know.” He pressed.

“Well, I can know other Wills without you knowing..” you shot back, tapping randomly on your keyboard. “There are plenty of people named Will in the world.”

“Yeah, right.” Macklin’s annoyance was clear now. He closed his laptop with more force than necessary.

“Macklin, what is your problem?” you asked, frustration creeping into your tone.

“You know what my problem is.” He snapped, standing up from your bed.

You crossed your arms. “I really don’t.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the betrayal in his eyes hurt more than you expected. “Maybe we should finish this another day..” he muttered, already grabbing his stuff.

You wanted to stop him to explain everything, because he deserved to know the truth. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t that simple, that Will wasn’t the villain you both had painted him as. But the words stuck in your throat. Macklin gave you one last disappointed look before heading toward the door, leaving you alone.

Two days went by without you and Macklin talking. You understood where he was coming from but you also wanted him to understand that it wasn’t that simple. You wanted him to see the side of Will you’d gotten to know.

You’d talked to Will about it the night before. “How would you feel if I just told Macklin about us?” you asked. You didn’t want to lose your best friend, but you also didn’t want to lose whatever this was with Will.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m not thrilled. But if it’s that important to you, then do it. Just, make sure he doesn’t kill me, yeah?”

On saturday afternoon, Macklin finally texted you: I’m sorry I overreacted. And I’m sorry I thought you were lying.

You replied quickly: It’s fine but I think we need to talk.

You met up at the small park near campus, sitting on a bench under the trees. The air felt thick with awkwardness as you started. “First off, I’m sorry I didn’t explain everything that night when I should’ve.”

Macklin nodded. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have just assumed it was Will Smith you were talking to. And you’re right, there are plenty of Wills in the world.”

You cut him off gently. “No.. you were right. It is the Will you’re thinking of. But I need you to-”

“What?” Macklin’s eyes widened.

“Macklin, it’s not a big deal. You two are-”

“It’s a big deal to me.” he interrupted. “Does that matter to you? No!”

“It does matter.” you said quickly. “But he’s literally not the person you think he is. And you two might even get drafted to the same team one day, so you should warm up to each other. I just want you to get to know him first and then make your own judgment.”

Macklin stared at you. “How do you even know where we both might get drafted?”

“I’m not stupid..” you replied. “And he told me that.”

“Whatever.” Macklin rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. “Are you two dating?”

“No, we’re not dating.” you said honestly. “At least not yet.”

He didn’t want to accept that his best friend was talking to Will of all people. But looking at you now, he could tell you actually liked him. And as much as it annoyed him, he knew he couldn’t talk you out of it. Once your mind was made up, it was made up.

He let out a long sigh. “This is weird as hell.”

“I know.” You said softly. “But can you at least try? For me?”

About two weeks later, someone from BC was throwing a party and a few people from BU were invited too. Will had asked if you wanted to go, and you saw it as the perfect opportunity to finally introduce him to Macklin properly. You’d texted Macklin the address and told him you’d meet him there.

When you arrived, you met up with Will near the entrance. You felt a little shy as he introduced you to a couple of his teammates. They were friendly, handing you a drink before you and Will found a spot on the couch to talk.

Macklin texted that he’d be there in a few minutes. You quickly sent him a picture of where you were sitting. Will smiled at you, reaching over to gently push a strand of hair off your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a second.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the noise. You looked up to see Macklin standing right in front of you. You stood up quickly, and Will followed.“Macklin, this is Will,” you said, gesturing between them. “Will, this is Macklin.”

They shook hands. It was stiff and awkward at first, both of them clearly sizing each other up. But after a few minutes of small talk, the conversation started to flow more naturally. To your relief, they actually seemed to be getting along.

When Will excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving you and Macklin alone, you turned to him excitedly. “So? What do you think?”

Macklin shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean.. he’s fine, I guess.”

“See? I told you!” You grinned, unable to hide your excitement. “You’ll spend more days together and you’ll be like best friends!”

“Okay, hold on,” Macklin said, raising an eyebrow. “Who said I’ll be hanging out with him?”

You laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Come on, you know what I mean. It wasn’t that bad, right?”

Like Will had mentioned, he and Macklin ended up getting drafted to the same team. It was bittersweet. They both moved away for the new chapter in their careers while you stayed behind at BU, finishing your degree. You and Will officially became girlfriend and boyfriend, and Macklin was actually happy for the two of you. And you also visited them whenever you could.

It had only been a couple of months when they bit started sending you pictures together, whether it was after practice, in their shared apartment or just an silly picture of them hanging out. And you were really grateful they got along like you’d hoped they would.

You quickly typed out a group text to both of them answering to the picture: I’m jealous rn of you both.

Will replied almost immediately with a laughing emoji, while Macklin typed back an get used to it.

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honestly, life was actually going pretty good. you could tell by the way the sunlight streamed in through the glass window, filling the room with a soft glow. the birds outside that usually were obnoxious as hell now sounded quite magical the way they tweeted a cheery little tune. not only that, it felt like just the right temperature underneath the blankets and the room had that nice fresh-morning-smell to it. to top it all off, your boyfriend was slotted up next to you peacefully with an arm wrapped around your waist- just the way you liked it. 

before, franco would always be the one up first, brushing his teeth, throwing on his williams kit, chugging down his maté, and racing out the door in record time. you were left waking hours later in an empty bed with the light smell of his shampoo on his pillow before you made your way to your first lecture. but now, with your boyfriend’s four-week formula 1 fall break starting the day before, at the same time as your college’s, it's no wonder you felt completely stress free. you now had more than enough time to spend with franco, and there would be absolutely no homework assignments to be finished, random pr work to be done, quizzes to study for, and sim sessions to be completed that would distract either of you. 

so, for once in a long time, you took in what it felt like to wake up next to your boyfriend. 

you’re halfway through memorizing the way his body is pressed up behind you and the way his legs are entwined with yours when you feel his hand slightly twitch from its spot around your waist. you know he’s trying really hard to be silent, but you hear his breathy little giggles underneath his breath.

rolling your eyes, you turn over to face franco.

his eyes are closed, but a stupid little grin is plastered on his face.

“i can hear your giggles, baby. i can tell you’re awake,” you remark.

from this close, you can see beauty marks littered across his face, his mussed wavy brown locks, and incredibly long eyelashes that any girl would be jealous of. 

still, he refuses to open his eyes.

you take this chance to launch an attack of kisses on his face, until he finally breaks into giggles and pushes you off of him. 

“that was not so nice, what you did, little lady,” he states with a fake pout. “i was sleeping so nicely, dreaming of winning all my races and getting a million dollars until you woke me up so rudely!”

letting out a melodramatic gasp, you clutch your metaphorical pearls the best you can, being tucked close to franco.

“how dare i!” you exclaim. “oh, handsome sir, how could i ever show you how sorry i am?”

you see a flicker of mischievousness in franco’s eyes and the way his eyebrow quirks up for a millisecond after you finish your sentence.

“well,” he states plainly. “you can give me hea-”

almost immediately, you slap your hand around his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. 

“franco, you freak,” you say, laughing in disbelief. “it’s, like, 8am! i am not doing that!”

he huffs dramatically. 

“fine, i guess i’ll settle for a cuddle session.”

you almost fall asleep again in your franco-mandated cuddle session. he has his muscled arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, lightly squashing you against his side. you can smell the familiar citrusy scent that he always seems to smell like, along with the light soapy smell of detergent on his sleep shirt. one of his hands is tucked half-way into your own sleep shirt, mindlessly drawing circles and stars lightly on your soft skin. every so often, he presses a light kiss to the top of your head. a comfortable silence stretches between you both. 

your eyes are on the edge of fluttering shut when franco tilts his head to whisper into your ear. 

“baby,” he says quietly. “i think i’m going to end this session short- i want to go make some maté.”

he doesn’t even wait for you to respond before he unwinds his hand from its spot and starts scooting off the bed.

you fight the urge to sigh. if there was one thing that your boyfriend was a fein for besides cuddles, it was definitely maté. if you were to be honest, if you were to make a pie chart of things franco cared about besides racing, it would probably be, like ⅗ maté and ⅖ everything else. 

“francooooo,” you groan, dragging out the ‘o’. “it’s cold- come back!”

however, franco just laughs at your antics. 

“if you like, just shift in your cat form and you can just chill on the counter,” he suggests. 

you don’t waste a second before shifting into your orange cat form and bounding into his arms.

from your place on the kitchen counter with a blanket wrapped around you turning you into a burrito, you watch as your boyfriend brews his maté. it’s kind of mesmerising, the way he pours the maté leaves, brushes off the extra powder, and dumps a stream of hot water into the pot in one smooth move. 

once he sips his concoction, he beams at you. 

“sit there and look pretty- i’m gonna go make breakfast!”

with how skilled he was making his maté, you assume franco must be good at making breakfast too…right? 

you squirm out of your blanket and pad your way on the cold marble counter close, but not too close, to the stove that franco was standing at. it looked like he had dumped an entire bottle of cooking oil in the pan, and you were pretty sure you saw at least 3 pieces of eggshell in there. 

hmm. he definitely wasn’t a gordon ramsay. 

franco doesn’t seem to notice though, and instead turns away from the rapidly bubbling pieces of ingredients in his pan, and gestures over to the tall spices cabinet to you.

“would you mind getting the aji molido, baby?”

you nod, and bound over to the towering brown cabinet. using your paw to bat it open, you search for the chili spice. it’s on the third tier, which is no problem, because you easily bound upwards, using your claws to propel you up. once you grasp the little bottle of aji molido in your jaws, you get ready to leap down from inside the cabinet. however, franco speaks up before you are able to jump down.

“look at this!” he exclaims, and you just know he is about to do something idiotic. 

he swishes the entire pan and tries to flip the frankly, burnt eggs in midair like one of those five star chefs. of course, he wasn’t a five star chef, so the eggs just go flying in the air, and land straight on the ground.

from your birds-eye view in the cabinet, you can see the eggs splat everywhere on the ground.

you don’t even bother to hide your soft sigh as you leap back down to the kitchen counter and drop the now useless aji molido from your jaws. if you were in your human form, you likely would have shook your head and told franco off. 

your boyfriend blinks once- twice- before letting out a frown. 

“well, um, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

after your boyfriend cleans up the rather large amount of oil and burnt, exploded egg on the ground, you herd him over to the fridge. 

it was funny- he couldn’t fry an egg but he could drive a formula one car?

you opt for him to cut up some fruit instead- there’s no way you can mess that up. 

franco seems to misunderstand your intent as he opens up the fridge, reaching for the eggs again for the top shelf. you have to hop up into the fridge and snap at his hand in order to redirect it to the strawberries on a lower shelf. 

“jeez- okay,” he complains, rolling his eyes. “dramatic much?”

unfortunately, you were wrong again. 

you had supervised his every move closely, from washing the strawberries (he dropped three into the drain) to plucking the leaves off of the top (he managed to squish five strawberries while doing so ?? ), making sure to hiss at him whenever he was doing something wrong (it was a lot of times).

it didn’t compare to when he started chopping the strawberries, though.

you had padded to the knife drawer and carefully fetched the knife for him in your canines, setting it gently next to the chopping board. he thanked you, pressing a kiss to your soft head, and picked up the knife. you clearly expected him to chop the strawberries in halves like a normal person, but instead, he started aggressively slicing them vertically, like a weirdo.

“watch this, baby!” he proclaims, waving his knife around. he then proceeds to cut a blob-looking object in the strawberry and hold it out towards you. 

you tilt your head, trying to figure out what the hell he just cut out of the poor strawberry, when he gestures at it again.

“it’s you,” he supplies helpfully. 

when you give him a blank stare, he huffs and puts it gently on top of the pile of “cut” strawberries.

you continue watching, tail twitching, as he chops energetically, making a red-stained mess on the board that not even the williams engineering team could fix. 

franco is about to make a “squiggly” slice when you hear a sharp “crack” that fills the air. you exchange looks with him.

no fucking way.

underneath his knife, the board was split in half.

at this point, you were not going to sit around in your orange cat form as he broke another appliance in the apartment. you jump off the counter and shift back into your human form, immediately snatching the knife away from your boyfriend. 

“i’ve seen enough, franco- you are not touching another appliance in the kitchen! i swear, the next time you touch something, you’re going to blow the apartment up- and i don’t think james will appreciate having one of his drivers blow up during fall break.”

with a few “pleaseee,” you reluctantly let him toast a few slices of bread in your new toaster. It was literally two steps- put the bread in, and slide down the lever- so it was theoretically impossible to screw up. 

you watch him super-carefully as he gently slides each piece of white bread into the slot. once both are correctly in, he looks over to you, for approval. seeing you nod once, he then slowly presses down the lever until it clicks. 

perfect! now, all there was to do was wait. 

you glance over to franco, who was now poking at his mountain of wildly cut strawberries (you had transferred it to a bowl). it was oddly endearing in a way, seeing him experimentally taste the girlfriend-shaped-piece-of-strawberry that he had cut out, even if he had broke your cutting board and gotten egg all over your kitchen before doing so. honestly, you know you must look like a creep, just leaning on the counter and looking at him with big doe eyes, but you couldn’t help it. he was just so…i don’t know, biteable or something. the cuteness aggression really got to you in the mornings. 

“what?” he says, a smile spreading on his face when he sees you watching him. he sets down the girlfriend shaped-piece-of-strawberry back in the bowl with a bite taken out of what looked to be your legs. “why are you looking at me like that? are you checking me out?”

“no, no, no, i wasn’t looking,” you deny vehemently, turning your head, like you didn’t just become mesmerized at the way he ate a piece of fruit that was supposed to look like you. his grin spreads wider, and he jokingly strikes a bodybuilder pose in front of you, making sure to emphasize the way his arm muscles ripple- visible even under his soft faded sleeping shirt.

like a cat drawn to a fluttering bird, your eyes move from the bowl of strawberries with the girlfriend-shaped-piece-of-strawberry at the top, and instead trail down his body as he stretches.

“i wasn’t looking, i wasn’t looking,” he parrots in a teasing tone when he feels your gaze on him.

you roll your eyes, ‘hmph’-ing. 

whatever.

you’re about to shoot back a remark, when your eyes grow very wide. 

behind franco, your toaster was on fire. 

one fire extinguisher, two very burnt pieces of toast, and a completely wrecked toaster later, you collapse on the couch. you weren't even sure how franco had managed to do that.

he eyes you wearily from his place on the soft cushions where you sent him to sit at in order to prevent anything else from spontaneously combusting. 

“you’re indefinitely prohibited from the kitchen,” you rasp, rubbing your face exhaustedly. your entire front is covered in fire extinguisher foam. you 

he nods forlornly, sipping the other thing he didn’t mess up- his maté. 

“oh yes, one more thing,” you add. you shove a box of cereal in his lap. “breakfast.”

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The last thing I wanted to do with only two weeks left before classes started again was attend my cousin’s wedding.

But since I was seventeen—and in my family that meant I had absolutely no say in anything—I swallowed my complaints, rolled my eyes, and endured the long drive to the middle of nowhere.

Because nothing screams happy marriage quite like getting married in the middle of fucking nowhere.

By the time we arrived at the villa where everyone would be staying, I was ready to throw myself onto the bed and not get up until thirty minutes before the bride said I do. Unfortunately, my mother had other plans, so we headed off to meet the rest of the family instead.

“I thought we’d never get here,” my mother complained the moment she spotted my grandmother.

“Don’t even get me started. I thought I’d need another hip replacement after sitting in that car for so long,” my grandmother joked, her dry laugh echoing through the room.

A wave of disgust settled in my stomach. Anyone listening would think she was just a funny old woman enjoying the last years of her life. None of them would ever guess she’d spent years making mine miserable.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to say hello to your grandmother?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I swallowed the sigh of irritation threatening to escape.

“Hi, Grandma.” I gave her a quick, half-hearted hug.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She was just about to lecture me when my cousin’s dramatic voice interrupted her.

It was only Wednesday. The wedding wasn’t until Saturday, yet according to my cousin, there were still a thousand things left to do before the groom’s family arrived the next day.

I spent the entire day running around, fulfilling every one of her demands. Every time I considered refusing, my mother shot me a look that promised my funeral would be sooner rather than later.

As far as she was concerned, I should’ve been grateful they’d even invited me. Apparently, after everything that had happened, being included in my cousin’s wedding was the greatest honor I could receive from that side of the family.

By nightfall, everyone gathered outside on the patio after dinner.

Several conversations were happening at once, but one in particular caught my attention. It was between my cousin Rose—the bride—and my cousin Angelina, who was about two years older than me.

“So… he’s really coming?” Angelina asked, lowering her voice.

Rose smiled immediately.

“Of course he is. He’s Carlo’s cousin. Why wouldn’t he come? He’s even one of the groomsmen.”

“And you said he’s single?” Angelina bit her lip, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

“As far as I know.”

“Well… I hope he’s as handsome as you say.”

Rose laughed.

“Trust me, he is. And he’s loaded too. He’s a driver in a major racing series.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm. His name’s Kimi.”

Angelina’s eyebrows shot up.

“Guess I’ll have to make a little extra effort this weekend.”

Rose nudged her arm.

“I don’t think you’ll have to. My mother-in-law has been saying for weeks that you’d make the perfect couple.”

They both laughed.

I shook my head to myself.

Another conversation about men. Another conversation about setting someone up with someone else.

I lost interest almost instantly and focused on the glass in my hands instead.

Nothing that happened in this family mattered enough for me to join their conversations. And years ago, I’d learned they didn’t particularly care whether I did or not.

The next morning began as soon as the sun came up.

The villa fell into complete chaos with the arrival of the groom’s family. The most affected by it all seemed to be Angelina, who looked like she was waiting for Prince Charming himself to walk through the door.

As everyone introduced themselves, I limited myself to a polite smile and a handshake. Angelina, meanwhile, kept glancing toward the entrance. Apparently, the guy still hadn’t arrived.

Rose leaned over and whispered something in her ear and Angelina answered by making the saddest puppy face imaginable.

Pathetic.

I slipped away to another part of the villa to get some fresh air. About an hour later, I went back inside to find something to drink.

I poured myself a glass of lemonade. As I took a sip, I noticed a tin of cookies sitting on top of one of the kitchen cabinets. It was far too high to reach, so I dragged over a chair and climbed onto it. I had the cookies in my hand.

Victory was only seconds away.

Then the chair apparently decided it had fulfilled its purpose in life and It snapped beneath me. I braced for the impact, but instead, a pair of hands wrapped around my waist, stopping me just before I hit the floor.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest, and I was certain every trace of color had drained from my face.

My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones staring back at me with the same startled expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully studying my face for any sign that I wasn’t.

I let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah.” The word barely came out.

God, this had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. I was standing in front of one of the most attractive guys I’d ever seen, and he’d just saved me from falling off a chair because I’d risked my life for cookies.

“You should be more careful,” he said as he let go of my waist and stepped back. “That could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“Stupid fucking chair,” I muttered, glaring at the broken pieces scattered across the floor.

A quiet laugh escaped him.

I looked down at the cookies still clutched tightly in my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding them.

I lifted the tin slightly.

“At least I accomplished my mission.”

He smiled.

“All this… for cookies?”

“They weren’t just cookies.”

He frowned.

“They were the cookies.”

“I see.” He nodded with exaggerated seriousness “A completely justified near-death experience.”

“Exactly.” For the first time since arriving in Italy, I smiled without feeling like I had to fake it.

He held out his hand.

“I’m Andrea.”

“Y/N.” I shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” There was something oddly calming about him. He didn’t seem like the type to force a conversation just to fill the silence.

His eyes drifted toward the broken chair before returning to me.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?”

“Depends.”

“Next time, try not to declare war on the furniture.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a brief silence. Not an awkward one, the kind that happens when two strangers realize they genuinely don’t mind each other’s company.

“Are you part of the groom’s family?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I’m his cousin.”

“That explains the accent.”

He smiled.

“And you?”

“I’m the bride’s cousin.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to survive this wedding together.”

“Are Italian weddings really that bad?”

“No.” He shook his head “Big families are.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I laughed again.

For a brief moment, I found myself thinking that, under different circumstances, I’d probably like to get to know him better.

Then voices echoed down the hallway.

“Kimi! Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He closed his eyes for a second, like he’d known this was coming.

“Coming!” he called back before turning to me.

Kimi.

My stomach flipped.

Not Andrea.

Kimi.

The Kimi Rose and Angelina had spent half the previous night talking about.

He looked at me one last time, offering a small, almost shy smile.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“I guess you will.”

I watched him disappear down the hallway. The moment he turned the corner, I heard an excited voice.

“Kimi!”

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of fucking course, it had to be him.

(…)

The rest of the day, my family put on the most painful humiliation ritual I’d ever witnessed. I barely said a word, yet I could still feel my face burning with secondhand embarrassment.

By then, everyone had found out that Kimi—whose full name was Andrea Kimi, hence the confusion—was none other than a Formula 1 driver. Apparently, that earned him a red carpet and the right to have everyone kiss the ground he walked on.

I was genuinely worried my eyes would get stuck from rolling them so much.

Angelina and her parents were by far the worst. They never outright said anything, but the way they hovered around him made it painfully obvious how desperate they were to throw Angelina at Kimi every chance they got.

I simply watched in silence.

Every now and then, I’d feel someone looking at me. Whenever I glanced up, I’d find Kimi already watching me. He’d offer me the smallest of smiles.

I never smiled back.

By sunset, the bridesmaids and groomsmen were called away for the rehearsal. That was my cue to disappear unnoticed. I wandered around the property, lost in my thoughts.

Spending time with my family always left me feeling like this.

Exhausted.

Reflective.

From the outside, we probably looked like a loving family, maybe even a healthy one. But underneath it all, we were rotten.

I ended up beneath a large tree, watching the sun disappear beyond the hills while the first stars slowly emerged overhead.

Small lanterns lined the pathways around the villa, casting enough light that the gardens remained bright despite the growing darkness.

I was staring at the horizon when a familiar voice, carrying that unmistakably Italian accent, pulled me from my thoughts.

“Mind if I sit down?”

I looked up to find Kimi smiling at me. He didn’t wait for an answer before lowering himself onto the grass beside me. He held out a can of soda.

“For you.”

“Thanks.” I accepted it, and we both took a sip.

“So…” He glanced sideways at me. “What are you doing out here by yourself? I thought you’d be at the rehearsal with us.”

“I’m getting some fresh air. My family can be… a bit much.” I smiled faintly. “And to answer your other question… I’m not part of the bridal party.”

“You’re not? I thought everyone seemed really close.” His eyebrows lifted.

“They are.” I looked down at the soda in my hands. “I just don’t get along with Rose’s side of the family. My mom and my sister do, though, that’s why they’re involved.” I shrugged again, deliberately leaving out the rest.

Confusion flickered across his face, he clearly had questions. To his credit, he didn’t ask them. Instead, he tilted his head.

“How old are you?”

I laughed.

It was such an obvious attempt to steer the conversation somewhere lighter that I couldn’t help it.

The conversation drifted naturally after that. We talked about his family, childhood stories, my classes, and what life was like at boarding school in Switzerland.

“You go to boarding school?” His eyes widened. He looked genuinely astonished.

Like children raised in boarding schools were some sort of endangered species.

I laughed. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten that reaction.

“Yeah, it was my dad’s decision before he passed away.” The smile slowly faded from my face.

Kimi noticed immediately. Without saying a word, he gently squeezed my hand.

Then, just as quietly, he changed the subject. I silently thanked him for it.

We talked until there wasn’t a drop of soda left in either can. Until my throat felt dry from talking. Until my stomach hurt from laughing. Until the night had completely settled around us.

When we finally stood up, we exchanged a warm hug and a pair of quiet smiles before heading our separate ways.

The next morning started just as early as the previous one. The only difference was that the few hours of sleep I’d managed to get had left me in an even worse mood. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, and I’d already argued with both my mother and my sister.

I escaped outside with my breakfast, hoping to eat in peace.

A moment later, Kimi appeared and sat beside me with an amused smile.

“So… How’d you sleep?” He leaned a little closer. “Did you dream about me?”

He was obviously teasing. Probably because the expression on my face made it clear I wanted the entire world to leave me alone.

Unfortunately for my bad mood, It worked. A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

“Thankfully, I didn’t have any nightmares.” I took a sip of my orange juice.

He clutched his chest dramatically. That made me laugh even harder.

“There you are.” Angelina’s voice made me look up.

She was wearing a white linen dress and her trademark flawless smile. The kind anyone else would’ve mistaken for kindness.

I knew better.

It was the smile she wore right before saying something that only hurt if you knew the context.

“Good morning, Kimi,” she greeted warmly before turning to me. “Your mom’s been looking for you for at least ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I muttered.

She made no move to leave. Instead, she sat down across from us.

“I didn’t realize you two had become such good friends.”

“We met yesterday,” Kimi answered simply.

“Yes.” Angelina smiled. “Y/N has always had an easy time making friends.”

Anyone else would’ve taken it as a compliment.

I didn’t.

I knew that tone, I knew Angelina and I knew exactly what came next.

“Although…” she continued with a light laugh, “…she does have a tendency to get herself into trouble because of it.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

There it was, the first stone.

“Trouble?” Kimi frowned slightly.

“Oh, nothing serious.” Angelina waved a dismissive hand. “My cousin has just always been… intense.”

Intense.

What a convenient word.

Vague enough to spark curiosity, harmless enough that no one could accuse her of saying anything wrong.

I lowered my gaze to the table, I knew this conversation. First came the joke, then the implication, then someone would ask what she meant, and before I knew it I’d be thirteen years old all over again.

I reached for my glass of juice, ready to leave before it got any worse. Then Kimi spoke.

“That hasn’t been my impression.”

Angelina blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ve only talked a couple of times,” he said calmly, “but she’s seemed like a genuinely nice person to me, maybe I just got lucky.” He shrugged.

Angelina laughed, this time, it sounded forced.

“Well… You’ll get to know her better.”

“I hope so.” He answered so naturally that, for a second, it almost sounded like he had no idea he’d just contradicted her.

But I knew.

And so did Angelina.

I saw it in the way her jaw tightened for the briefest moment before she smiled again. It happened so quickly anyone else would’ve missed it.

I didn’t.

I’d known her my entire life and she’d just realized that, for the first time, someone hadn’t accepted the version of me our family had spent years telling.

A little while later, I ran into my mother. Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see me.

“Angelina told me you’ve been getting awfully close to that young man she likes.” Her brow was deeply furrowed.

“Mom—” I didn’t get to say another word before she cut me off.

“Don’t say a thing, Y/N. I’m only going to warn you once. I don’t ever want to go through something like this again. God help me and give me the strength to restrain myself from what I’ll do to you if it happens.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

My eyes burned with unshed tears.

My breathing became uneven as I hurried toward the side of the house where no one would see me. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was making a scene and giving them yet another reason to make my life miserable.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to keep that familiar pressure from spreading across my chest.

“Are you alright?” A man’s voice made my eyes snap open.

A tanned man with graying hair was looking at me with unmistakable concern.

“Yes.” The smile I offered came out shaky.

“You don’t look alright. Come, sit over here.” He gestured for me to follow him.

With my legs still trembling, I followed him to a small wooden bench nearby. We sat down, and without losing the concerned expression on his face, he gently guided me through my breathing.

After a couple of minutes, my breathing finally steadied, and I could feel myself calming down again.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“It’s nothing.” He gave me a kind smile. “It breaks my heart to see someone as young as you suffering like that.”

My cheeks flushed. I lowered my head, staring at my restless hands.

“What happened to you?” he asked softly. “What could’ve caused you so much pain?”

A quiet laugh escaped me, completely devoid of humor.

“It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.” I forced my best smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

He studied me for a long moment before letting out a sigh of quiet surrender.

“I suppose I’ll choose to believe you.” He offered me a warm smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” I held out my hand.

“Marco.” He shook it gently. “I’m Kimi’s father. I think you already know who he is.”

My eyes widened. Apparently, getting away from him wasn’t as easy as I’d thought.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Marco continued, “but I do want to tell you something.”

I looked up at him.

“Whatever it is you’re going through, you can overcome it.” His voice was calm and reassuring. “No hardship lasts forever. Keep going, and one day you’ll look back and realize you made it through everything you thought would break you.”

He gave my shoulder a couple of gentle pats before walking away without another word.

Marco’s words stayed with me for the rest of the day and the rest of the night. I didn’t exchange a single word with anyone during dinner, and unlike the previous evening, when everyone left for the rehearsal, I went straight to my room.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to feel socially obligated to interact with anyone else.

Finally, Saturday arrived. The day everyone had been waiting for, the wedding day.

My morning started later than everyone else’s. The bride and her bridesmaids had begun getting their hair and makeup done almost as soon as they opened their eyes.

I took my time instead. I sat down with a mug of hot chocolate while I waited for my phone to catch a signal, then slowly started getting ready.

I wasn’t excited about the wedding. If anything, I just wanted this whole circus to be over so I could finally go back to Switzerland.

Even so, I paid special attention to my appearance that morning. When I finished getting ready, even I had to stop and catch my breath.

My dark curls fell freely to the middle of my back, my sun-kissed skin glowed, contrasting beautifully with my deep green eyes, while my lips looked almost the color of a pink pomegranate.

A blue dress hugged my curves delicately, and although my sandals weren’t exactly comfortable, they were beautiful.

The ceremony took place in a small church not far from the villa where we were staying.

While my mother and sister sat near the front as part of the bridal party, I found myself several rows behind them, surrounded by relatives I barely knew.

In a way, that was exactly what my life felt like. My family together. Me, pushed to the edges of it.

I tried my best to look happy, but there were moments during the priest’s homily when something inside me shifted. It wasn’t exactly sadness, it felt more like grief.

Once the ceremony ended, everyone made their way back to the reception tent. The moment we stepped inside, the celebration truly began.

Food and drinks started flowing as the dance floor quickly filled with members of both families. At one point, I spotted Kimi laughing with some of his relatives as they danced together.

He must have felt me watching because he immediately looked back at me, flashing me a wide smile.

I simply looked away without returning it.

The music changed to a much livelier Italian song, and the entire reception seemed to come alive even more. The tables gradually emptied as couples, children, and even grandparents filled the dance floor.

I stayed where I was, absentmindedly stirring the melting ice in my drink.

“And why are you sitting here all by yourself?” I recognized the voice before I even turned around.

Marco stood beside me, a glass of wine in one hand and the same warm smile on his face.

“Because I don’t have anyone to dance with.” I shrugged.

“Well, that’s an easy problem to fix.” He extended his hand toward me. “Dance with me.”

“No.” I shook my head immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“And who said I wouldn’t?”

I couldn’t help smiling. Marco offered me his hand again.

I looked at the dance floor, then at his hand, finally, back at him. He wore the same calm expression he’d had when he’d found me struggling to breathe through my tears.

It was impossible to say no to him.

“Just one song.” I sighed.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He helped me to my feet, and together we walked onto the dance floor.

At first, my entire body was stiff and Marco noticed immediately.

“Relax your shoulders.”

I did.

“Now stop staring at the floor.”

I obeyed again.

“And smile a little.” He grinned. “You look like I’m forcing you to do this.”

“Because you are.” I rolled my eyes.

“Details.”

Another laugh escaped me. Little by little, the tension melted away.

Marco talked about anything and everything. How terrible his coordination was, how he always forgot the steps. About the time he had nearly dropped his wife in the middle of a dance.

Before I realized it, I wasn’t thinking about what everyone else might be saying anymore. I was simply having fun.

“That’s much better,” Marco said, sounding pleased.

“What is?”

“You don’t look like a girl waiting for the world to end anymore.”

I felt warmth creep into my cheeks.

Just then, the music changed again. It was one of those traditional songs where everyone switched partners as the dance went on.

Marco raised an eyebrow, an unreadable expression crossing his face. When it came time to change partners, he could have handed me off to anyone.

There were at least six people around us.

Instead, he turned directly toward Kimi. The two of them exchanged a brief glance that lasted barely a second.

Marco smiled.

“She’s all yours.” It wasn’t a question, nor an order. Just a simple sentence spoken with complete ease.

“My pleasure.” Kimi nodded.

Before I could process what was happening, Marco let go of my hand, and Kimi stepped into his place.

My stomach flipped.

“I think my dad just set us up,” Kimi said with a quiet laugh.

I couldn’t help laughing too.

“How embarrassing.”

“A little.”

The music continued playing. Kimi rested one hand gently against my waist, and we began moving to the rhythm of the song. It wasn’t a difficult dance, nor particularly impressive. But somehow, it felt incredibly easy when he was the one standing in front of me.

Our steps fell naturally into sync without either of us truly leading. It simply worked. Like we’d been dancing together for years.

“You look beautiful,” Kimi whispered.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

We danced through a couple more songs before I finally gave in to my thirst.

“I’m going to grab something to drink,” I said.

He nodded with an easy smile as I made my way toward the bar. I was drinking a glass of water when my sister appeared beside me. The expression on her face was anything but happy.

“Grandma wants to see you in the kitchen,” she said. “She needs to talk to you.” She shot me one last look—a grimace more than anything else—before walking away.

My heart tightened in my chest, I already knew what was coming. I swallowed hard before forcing my feet to follow her instructions.

When I reached the kitchen, my grandmother was waiting for me. Angelina’s mother stood beside her.

“So,” my aunt said, her raspy voice breaking the silence, “they finally managed to pry you away from that young man.”

“We were just dancing, like everyone else at the wedding,” I replied immediately.

“Such an impertinent little girl,” my grandmother snapped. “If you were half as quick and clever at doing something worthwhile with your life as you are at talking back, you might actually amount to something.”

“But—” She didn’t let me finish.

“No ‘buts.’ Your cousin Angelina is having a panic attack because, thanks to you, she’s making a fool of herself in front of everyone.”

“She’s making a fool of herself because you’re trying to parade her around like she’s a piece of meat. It has nothing to do with the fact that one guy isn’t interested in her.” The moment the last word left my mouth, I knew I’d just signed my own death warrant.

The looks on both my grandmother’s and my aunt’s faces confirmed it. For a moment, my grandmother said nothing. She simply walked toward me, slow but unwavering.

I held my breath.

“You’re an insolent little girl.” Her hand struck my cheek with enough force to snap my head to the side.

Tears immediately stung my eyes. I tried to hold them back but there were simply too many, a few escaped and rolled down my face.

“You have no right to cry,” she hissed. “For years, you’ve been the source of this family’s misery. A little whore like you belongs in hell. We tried to give you a chance, but a pig will always find its way back to the mud.”

She looked me up and down one last time. Then she turned around, took my aunt by the arm, and walked out of the kitchen.

The moment they disappeared from sight everything inside me broke. I sank onto the cold kitchen floor and cried.

I cried like this would be my last day on earth.

I cried like there was no escape from any of it.

And I cried like the thirteen-year-old girl who was still wounded somewhere deep inside me.

(…)

I had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing I knew was that wine tasted a whole lot better after you’d finished half the bottle.

At some point, I’d gotten up from the kitchen floor, stolen a bottle of wine, slipped out of the reception, kicked off my uncomfortable heels, and decided to walk the mile back to the villa barefoot.

The plan would’ve been perfectly fine If I hadn’t gotten a little too enthusiastic with the wine.

Now I was sitting on the curb somewhere between the reception and the villa, too dizzy to take another step without collapsing onto the pavement.

The only things keeping me company were the moonlight, the sound of crickets, and a swarm of moths circling the streetlamp above my head.

I knew that if anyone in my family found me like this, the lecture would be absolute hell. But the truth was that I couldn’t find a single atom in my body that gave a fuck.

Somewhere in the middle of all that chaos swirling inside me, I decided it would be a great idea to start singing.

I was so painfully off-key I couldn’t even compete with the crickets.

The thought made me laugh like an idiot.

I was so caught up trying not to die from my own laughter that I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until they were less than a yard away.

“There you are.” Kimi’s voice instantly sobered me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I studied his face. There was worry in his eyes but there was also something about his expression that struck me as so funny I burst into laughter all over again.

He looked at me somewhere between amused and concerned. Clearly unsure of what was going on, he sat down beside me.

That was when he noticed the wine bottle.

“What are you doing drinking this?” He picked it up, inspecting the label. “You’re seventeen. You’re not supposed to be drinking.”

The concern in his voice hit me so deeply that every emotion I’d been holding back came crashing down at once. One second I was laughing. The next, I was crying.

Kimi immediately set the bottle back on the ground. Without asking questions, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tried to comfort me.

It was obvious he had no idea what had happened. All he cared about was making sure I was okay.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked once my sobbing had finally settled.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyebrows pulled together.

“Because everyone in my family thinks I’m the Antichrist.” A ridiculous laugh escaped me.

Kimi let out a quiet chuckle.

“I think you’re more like the Second Coming of Jesus. The problem is your relatives are fake believers, so they can’t recognize the miracle when it’s standing right in front of them.” He simply shrugged.

I couldn’t stop looking at him.

It made no sense. This boy had walked into my life only two days ago, yet he’d already shown me more kindness and understanding than my own family had in years.

Without saying another word, I grabbed the wine bottle and took another long drink beneath Kimi’s disapproving gaze.

As soon as I lowered it, he gently took it from my hands. Then, to my surprise, he lifted it to his own lips and took a long sip. It felt almost symbolic, as if he was trying to tell me I wasn’t alone in this.

He set the bottle back on the ground before turning to look directly into my eyes.

“You know something?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. My heart pounded wildly as I watched him slowly lean closer.

Neither of us looked away. I barely blinked, terrified of what might happen next.

I knew that one small movement could lead to something I’d regret later. But the longer I looked into his eyes the blurrier that thought became.

Finally, I gave in.

My gaze dropped to his lips for the briefest second and that was all the invitation he needed. He closed the distance between us and kissed me.

At first, the kiss was gentle and careful. But little by little, it grew more intense. My hands found his face and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer like he couldn’t bear the space between us. We stayed lost in that kiss for what felt like forever.

Then, without warning, my grandmother’s cold, unforgiving eyes flashed through my mind.

I pulled away abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, breathless. “I can’t do this.”

I grabbed my sandals from the ground. Adrenaline flooded my body. I jumped to my feet and ran toward the villa as fast as I could.

“Y/N!” Kimi’s voice echoed through the empty road behind me.

But I never stopped running.

(…)

I couldn’t sleep that night. The image of Kimi telling me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, followed by the kiss we had shared, replayed in my mind every time I closed my eyes.

Around four in the morning, I heard everyone returning to the villa. About half an hour later, silence settled over the place once again.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of sleeping. I got out of bed, took a shower, and decided to go for a walk.

My body was still paying the price for my impulsive decision to drink a bottle of wine the night before, and I figured a little fresh air might help.

Hiking had never really been my thing, but I knew there were a few overlooks nearby with breathtaking views and since it was my last day there, I wanted to watch the sunrise.

At least I’d leave with one beautiful memory.

I’d been walking for a while when I started hearing footsteps behind me. I hadn’t noticed them before because the trail had only just become rocky enough for each step to echo.

When I turned around, I found a familiar face.

Kimi was about fifteen feet behind me, he looked exhausted. The moment he realized I’d noticed him, he stopped walking.

He didn’t greet me with one of his usual smiles. Instead, he wore an expression so serious that I decided not to say anything and simply continued on my way.

For nearly twenty minutes, we walked like that. He kept the same distance between us. Whenever I stopped for a moment, he stopped too.

Eventually, I reached a cliff overlooking the valley. The landscape stretched endlessly before me as the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of gold and pink. I sat down to take it all in.

A moment later, Kimi finally closed the distance and sat beside me.

“Why did you follow me all the way out here?” I took a sip from my water bottle before handing it to him.

He accepted it gratefully.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He took a long drink before continuing. “Then I saw you leave by yourself so I followed you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t decide to throw yourself off one of these mountains.” He glanced toward the cliffs.

There wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. I let out an offended scoff.

“Trust me, if I ever wanted to do that, it wouldn’t be here.” I shook my head with a quiet laugh. “My family would hate me even more. They’d probably say I couldn’t even stop bothering them with my dying breath. ‘Of course she’d choose to die dramatically the day after Rose’s wedding.’”

Kimi smiled for a brief second, then the seriousness returned.

“I wish I understood you.” The words came after several minutes of silence. “I know you like me and I like you too. I’ve felt this… whatever it is… ever since I caught you before you fell off that chair.”

He smiled faintly to himself.

My heart stumbled inside my chest. I held my breath.

“But for some reason, you won’t let yourself accept it. I know we’ve only known each other for three days,” he continued quietly, “but for me… that’s been enough to realize I’ve found the woman of my dreams.”

The morning sun slowly climbed over the horizon, bathing everything around us in soft golden light.

“And I know you feel at least part of it too. That’s why I couldn’t understand what happened last night.” He finally turned to look at me. “It hurt. But I know it wasn’t really about me, it was about something inside you and I really… I really want to know what it is.”

For the first time since we’d met, the emotion in his eyes didn’t match the calmness of his words.

I looked at him for a long moment, taking in every detail of his face. He was sincere and deep down I knew he was right about everything he’d just said. So, against every instinct telling me to stay silent, I decided to tell him the truth, my truth.

I turned my gaze back to the sunrise because I didn’t think I’d be able to look Kimi in the face while telling him everything I was about to confess.

“When I was thirteen, my cousin Lina—Rose's sister—and I were very close. She was sixteen, but we had a lot in common, so we spent most of our time together.” I cleared my throat before continuing. “She had a boyfriend named Alex. I got along with him too, although I always kept a respectful distance because, well… he was my cousin’s boyfriend.”

I took another long sip of water, my eyes never leaving the horizon. Kimi remained silent, listening.

“Back then, I used to spend a lot of time playing an online game where you could also meet and talk to other people. One day, a boy sent me a message, and we became friends. I spent hours on that game during school breaks, and eventually we grew close.”

“Or at least what passes for closeness when you've only ever known someone through a screen.” I let out a quiet laugh. “The point is… he started making comments that made me uncomfortable. From the very beginning, I knew they were wrong, so I asked him to stop. When he didn’t, I blocked him. It scared me, but I tried not to think too much about it.”

I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, as if trying to shield myself from the cold that came with telling a story that, despite having happened years ago, still felt painfully close.

“A few days later, I was walking home from school when I ran into Alex. I greeted him like I always did, but he didn’t look happy to see me. Instead, he immediately started demanding that I unblock him in the game. He said I couldn’t play with his feelings like that.”

I glanced at Kimi and saw the shock written all over his face.

“You can imagine what that felt like. I’d spent months talking to my cousin’s seventeen-year-old boyfriend without knowing it. I didn’t know what to say or how to react and, even now, I still catch myself wondering what was going through his mind when he grabbed my face and kissed me.” I swallowed hard as a familiar knot formed in my throat. “I pushed him away and ran home. I told my mom and my dad what had happened. My mom couldn’t believe it, and my dad called his parents, then my cousin’s family.”

“After the initial shock wore off, my cousin started telling everyone I was lying. She said I’d gotten close to him through the game on purpose, that I’d been the one making advances, and that when he rejected me, I’d gone crazy and accused him of trying to force himself on me.”

I took a shaky breath before continuing.

“The rest of my family believed her. Every single one of them turned their backs on me. They all started saying I was a little girl my parents had failed to control… that I wanted to act like a grown woman.” I shook my head as I remembered their faces. “That had been my first kiss and that bastard stole it from me in the cruelest way possible.”

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

“After that, he tried to contact me again. Every now and then I’d see him hanging around my school. He’d approach my friends and ask them to pass messages on to me. It was terrifying and I couldn’t tell anyone because no one believed me.” My voice dropped to almost a whisper as I said the last sentence.

“Lina and Alex stayed together for a few more months until, according to her, he confessed that he couldn't be with her anymore because he was in love with me. He told her that every day he stayed with her felt like he was being unfaithful to me. That I'd somehow cast some kind of spell on him—that he couldn't stop thinking about me, didn't care what anyone else thought anymore, and was willing to fight for us to be together.”

I lowered my legs and turned to look directly at Kimi.

“I’d like to believe any reasonable person would’ve turned against him… but my family did the exact opposite. Instead, for them that only confirmed everything they already believed about me.”

“My grandmother came to my house and slapped me across the face. Right there, in front of everyone, she said God had revealed to her that I was the instrument the Devil would use to destroy our family. That Satan had clothed me in the beauty of the serpent so I could lead others into temptation… so I could become a stumbling block, luring men away from the righteous path.”

“That sounds like psychosis,” Kimi muttered, letting out a disbelieving scoff.

“It probably was,” I admitted with a nod. “But you can imagine what hearing something like that does to the mind of a thirteen-year-old girl. After that, my mother and my sister took everyone else’s side too. My dad was the only sane one, but even for him it became impossible to deal with the rejection his daughter was facing. So he sent me to a boarding school in Switzerland. That was the only way he found to protect me from Alex’s harassment and from the rejection and abuse of his own family.”

I looked back at the landscape, mentally preparing myself for the next part.

“A few months after all of that, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It was aggressive. He died six months later.” My eyes slowly filled with tears. “To this day, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. Nothing else has ever come close.”

I paused for a moment.

“The day of his funeral, my grandmother stood in front of everyone and said my father had died from the shame of having a daughter like me.”

The tears slipped down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away. I looked at him with a tired smile.

“After hearing all of that… I think you can understand why you and I can’t be together.”

“Your family is horrible.” Kimi’s expression was unlike anything I’d seen before. It wasn’t pity, it was compassion. “They made you carry the weight of something you were the victim of. I can't tell you what I would've done if I'd been in your shoes, because you survived the only way you knew how. And I'm not going to sit here and tell you that being with me will magically heal everything, because it won't. I know what happened to you left scars that run deep. I know your family changed the way you see yourself. But what I don't understand is why that means you can't be with me.”

“What don’t you understand? You know Angelina likes you, don’t you? If my family finds out there’s something between us…” I shook my head at the mere thought. “I don’t even know what they’d be capable of.”

“The fact that Angelina likes me shouldn’t mean anything. This isn’t about her seeing me first and suddenly me belonging to her. That’s not how people work, Y/N.”

“In my family, it is. And going against them would be terrible for me.” I tried to make him understand, but he remained stubbornly firm.

“I don’t give a fuck about your family.” Kimi reached for my hands and held them gently. “If things ever reach the point of no return… you can come with me.”

For a second, I couldn’t find my voice. I couldn’t believe I’d actually heard those words.

“Kimi… it’s not as simple as you’re making it sound. We just met.” I slipped my hands from his and looked anywhere but at his face.

“Y/N, look at me.” He gently turned my face back toward him. “I can’t tell you this will be worth it, because that’s something only you can decide. I’m just asking you to give me a chance.”

“Kimi…” His name escaped my lips as little more than a whisper.

“Give me that chance. We don’t have to tell the world right away. We can wait until you’re eighteen and you’re no longer dependent on your family. When that day comes, if you still think what we have is worth fighting for, we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

I looked at him for several long seconds. His warm eyes searched mine almost pleadingly. They were so beautiful and made me so weak.

Finally, I let out a long breath.

“Okay.” I nodded. “Let’s try.”

Kimi let out a deep sigh of relief, and a smile spread across his face.

He kissed my cheek.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He kissed my cheek again. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Despite all the wounds I carried, not for a single second did I doubt that he meant every word.

(…)

The next day, I returned to Switzerland and my life at boarding school, while Kimi headed to Brackley to take care of a few commitments before the season began.

From the very beginning, we stayed in touch.

Over the following weeks, we texted constantly and spent hours on FaceTime. Whenever I came across a video that reminded me of him, I’d send it to him, and he’d do the same.

A few days before leaving for the Australian Grand Prix, which marked the start of the season, he came to visit me in Switzerland.

I had to perform all sorts of acrobatics and come up with every excuse imaginable to sneak out during the week without anyone at the boarding school suspecting a thing.

Kimi took me around the little villages that surrounded the lake. We wandered through cobblestone streets where time seemed to move a little slower, stopped at tiny cafés to try their chocolate, and ended up sharing a carton of strawberries by the water as we watched boats glide peacefully across the lake.

Later, he drove us to a vineyard stretching across the mountainside. From there, we could see the snow-covered Alps reflected in the water below. We stood there in silence for several minutes, taking in the view, discovering that sometimes the right company made words unnecessary.

At one point, Kimi started taking candid pictures of me. The moment I realized what he was doing, I scolded him for it, but all he did was laugh.

“They’re for the memories,” he’d say, refusing to delete them.

Later, we got lost wandering through the streets of another nearby village. We stepped into a secondhand bookstore where he pretended to be interested in books written in French just so he could make me laugh by attempting to pronounce the titles with an absolutely terrible accent.

Before heading back, we sat on a bench overlooking the lake, arguing with complete conviction that neither of us was ever going to change the other’s mind about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

Time always seemed to move too fast whenever I was with him. So I found myself constantly finding excuses to delay saying goodbye for just a few more minutes.

Like neither of us wanted to admit that, sooner or later, I’d have to go back to boarding school, and he’d have to start preparing for Australia.

When he finally dropped me off at the entrance, neither of us made any move to say goodbye right away.

We simply stood there, looking at each other.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said with a confidence that made it sound more like a promise than a farewell.

I smiled.

“I hope so.”

I watched him drive away down the tree-lined road until his car disappeared from sight.

Only then did I walk back inside the boarding school.

The months went by, and without even realizing it, I had started to associate the word home with Kimi.

When two races were canceled in a row, Kimi invited me to spend a few days with him and his family. At first, I wasn’t sure. But if I truly wanted a future with him, I had to start getting used to being around the people who mattered most to him.

I was incredibly nervous at first, but I quickly discovered a family dynamic that was calm, loving, and nothing like my own.

Marco welcomed me with open arms, genuinely happy to see me with Kimi. His mother and little sister were just as kind. They kept dragging me along on little girls’ outings, and after a while I found myself looking forward to them.

That year passed so quickly that before I knew it, the first days of August had arrived.

Along with my graduation.

Only my mother came. I had asked her to be there more out of obligation than genuine desire.

After the ceremony, we went out for dinner, and she gave me a beautiful watch as a graduation present.

The following day, Kimi took me to Portugal as his graduation gift to me.

I had to convince my mother it was a girls’ trip so she’d sign the travel authorization.

Just like every other time I spent with Kimi, it was wonderful. We walked for hours, ate far too much, and enjoyed every second of it.

We also took countless pictures to remember the trip by.

When it was over, I returned to Switzerland to start organizing what my life would look like after graduation.

I’d told my mother that before enrolling in university, I wanted to take a preparatory course so I’d have a better idea of what my future degree would actually be like before diving into it.

That was part of the reason.

But it wasn’t the only one.

The first was that I had no intention of moving back in with the rest of my family.

They were just as unbearable as ever, and I refused to let them make my life miserable only months before I finally gained my freedom.

The second reason, was Kimi.

According to the plans we’d made together, once I turned eighteen, I’d move to San Marino and live with him.

I’d thought about it carefully. For a long time and in the end, I’d made my decision.

By then, we were officially a couple.

No one knew. For the time being, it was better that way. Kimi was having an incredible season, and we wanted to keep the focus exactly where it belonged.

My first few weeks back in Switzerland were fairly uneventful. Not much had changed about my routine. The only difference was that I was temporarily living with a friend.

It was Saturday.

Kimi was in Zandvoort, getting ready for the following day’s race.

We had just hung up after spending nearly an hour on the phone. That’s why I was surprised when I saw a message from him only a few minutes later.

When I opened it, I expected a funny video or a random picture. Instead, I found a text that immediately made my stomach drop.

KIMI ❤️: Please don’t look at social media right now.

Kimi should’ve said anything but that. He should’ve known that telling me not to do something was the fastest way to make me do exactly that.

I opened Twitter. It was the quickest way to find out what was happening in the world.

Sure enough It was the very first post on my feed.

@boxboxdaily Kimi and his alleged girlfriend 👀

Below the caption were four photos. Two of them showed the two of us together and the other two were candid pictures of me, completely unaware they were being taken.

My heart stopped for a moment. My hand flew to my mouth as a sound that could only be described as pure shock escaped me.

These weren’t pictures taken by a stranger on the street. They were photos Kimi had taken himself.

Private photos.

Which somehow made everything even worse.

How on earth had anyone gotten hold of them?

ME: Why are there pictures of us all over the internet? Aren’t those the ones you took?

KIMI ❤️: Yeah. They’re photos I posted on my private Instagram account. I have no idea how they got out. I’m guessing someone who follows me leaked them.

I sat down on the couch, trying to process what was happening.

Then I made the mistake of reading the comments. Every single one was worse than the last.

That familiar pressure began tightening in my chest again. I closed Twitter and started pacing around my room instead.

The moment my family found out I was completely screwed.

KIMI ❤️: I’m so sorry. I’m going to do everything I can to fix this. My dad and the team are already working on it. Please don’t read anything else online. I don’t want other people’s ignorance getting to you.

To be honest the comments didn’t scare me nearly as much as my family’s reaction did.

That night, I fell asleep with anxiety settling into every cell of my body.

And I had every reason to feel that way. Because the first thing I saw when I woke up the next morning was a message from my mother and a missed call from my grandmother.

MOM: Call me as soon as you wake up. I can’t believe you’re doing this again.

With trembling hands, I decided to call her and get it over with once and for all.

She answered before the second ring.

“So it was true.” She didn’t even bother to say hello.

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the window.

“Hello to you too.”

“Don’t change the subject. What’s all this that’s going around on the internet?”

“Mom, it’s not what it looks like.” I let out a sigh.

“Oh, really? Because the pictures seem pretty clear to me.”

“They weren’t published by the press. They were private photos.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds.

“Kimi posted them on a private Instagram account. Someone leaked them.”

“So you are dating him?”

I lowered my head.

“We’ve been seeing each other.”

“And it never crossed your mind—not even for a second—to think about everything this was going to cause?”

“I’m sorry…” The words slipped out almost automatically.

Like apologizing had become my first instinct, even when I wasn’t sure I’d done anything wrong.

“‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Y/N. Do you have any idea what kind of phone call I just got from your grandmother? She’s furious. The whole family is talking about this.”

“I figured.”

“I warned you that I didn’t want to go through something like this again.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“I know.”

“Then explain to me why you always end up doing the exact opposite.”

“Always?” I frowned.

“Yes. Always. You always find a way to get yourself into trouble.”

I felt something inside me crack. Something I’d been holding together for years.

“Get myself into trouble?”

“Don’t start.”

“No, Mom. Answer me. When exactly have I gotten myself into trouble?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No. I want you to say it.”

Her breathing grew heavier.

“Your cousin…”

A dry laugh escaped me. Of course, we always ended up there.

“That happened four years ago.”

“That doesn’t change—”

“What doesn’t it change?” I cut in. “That I was thirteen?” My voice trembled.

Not with fear.

With anger.

“That a boy kissed me against my will, stalked me afterward, and somehow I was the one who ended up paying the price?”

“Y/N…”

“No.” This time, I was the one who interrupted her. “I’ve spent years listening to this family talk about me as if I’d done something unforgivable.”

I felt a knot tighten in my throat.

“And do you know what the worst part was?”

She didn’t answer.

“You never defended me.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

“Not once.” I took a shaky breath, trying to hold back my tears. “Not once did you say, ‘My daughter is telling the truth.’ Not once did you ask them to stop treating me like I’d done something wrong.”

My voice broke.

“You chose to stay quiet because it was easier than standing up to the family.”

I could hear her breathing.

Slower now.

Heavier.

“It wasn’t that simple…”

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me.

“It wasn’t that simple for me either.”

Another long pause. When she finally spoke again, her voice had lost its sharp edge.

“I… I was just trying to keep things from getting worse.”

“Well, they got so much worse.” The tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. “Because while you were trying to keep the peace with them… I was learning that no one was ever going to be on my side.”

I could almost picture her sitting on the other end of the line, not knowing what to say.

“Y/N…” Her voice sounded different. Quieter and tired.

But for me It was already too late. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.

“I have to go.”

“We can keep talking…”

“No, mom.” I slowly shook my head. “We’ve gone four years without having this conversation. A few more minutes aren’t going to change anything.”

I waited.

For some reason, a part of me still hoped she’d tell me I was wrong.

That she had defended me.

That she regretted not doing it.

But she never did, she just stayed silent. So I hung up and didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty for doing it.

(…)

Later that same day, I found myself anxiously waiting for Kimi’s call after his race.

It came while I was sitting on the couch, staring off into space.

“I’ve got news, love,” he said the moment I answered. “Good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”

“The bad news.” I answered without hesitation.

Kimi chuckled softly.

“I think I’ll tell you the good news first.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smile.

“Just tell me already. I hate suspense.”

“Alright.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “We know who leaked the pictures.”

My mouth fell open. I immediately sat up straighter on the couch. Before I even had the chance to ask who, he answered.

“It was one of my cousins.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t intentional, at least not according to him. After the wedding, he kept talking to your cousin Angelina. During one of their conversations, he asked about our relationship. She told him she had no idea we were together and asked if he had any proof. Like the idiot he is, he sent her the pictures.” He let out a sigh. “I’m pretty sure that after that, she contacted one of those gossip pages and gave them the photos.”

“That bitch—” Kimi cut me off before I could finish.

“Watch your language, Y/N.”

I let out an annoyed groan.

“The point is,” he continued, “it doesn’t really matter anymore. Everyone knows now, so all we can do is deal with it.”

He paused.

“The other thing is… your mom spoke to my dad.”

I shot to my feet.

“What?”

“Yeah. We were just as surprised when she called. They talked for a long time, and in the end, your mom decided to give my dad permission for you to stay with us in Italy until you turn eighteen in a couple of months.”

That shocked me more than anything else he’d said.

My mother… Doing something selfless for me?

It was almost impossible to believe. Apparently, our conversation that morning had affected her far more than I’d realized.

“So,” Kimi continued, “whenever you’re ready, my dad will come pick you up in Switzerland. You can take the course you were planning to do in Italy… if that’s still what you want.”

“It is.” I nodded instinctively, even though he couldn’t see me. “I mean, it moves our plans up a little… but that’s what we’d always planned anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright.” I took a deep breath. “Now tell me the bad news.”

I was already biting my nails.

“Well…” He hesitated. “I guess it’s only bad depending on how you look at it. I had a meeting with Mercedes’ PR team, and everyone agreed that the best thing to do is not address the situation publicly.”

“Okay… and the bad part?”

“The bad part is that they also want us to keep an extremely low profile until the championship is over. No pictures of us together when we’re out, nothing like that. We’ll have to limit ourselves to seeing each other at home. And I can’t say anything to the media, no matter how awful the things they’re saying about you get.”

“Wow.” I leaned back against the couch. “That’s a little extreme… but I think I can live with it. It’s only a few more months.”

“Yeah…” His voice grew quieter. “But it doesn’t make me happy. I know there are sacrifices you have to make if you want to be with someone… but they shouldn’t feel like a punishment.”

My heart softened. Kimi was the most wonderful person I’d ever met and somehow I was lucky enough that he loved me.

So selflessly.

So sincerely.

So deeply.

A few days later, Marco got the paperwork signed by my mother and came to Switzerland to pick me up.

We flew straight to Bologna.

Maggie was by far the most excited to have me staying with them until I moved in with Kimi.

A couple of months later, my eighteenth birthday finally arrived. It was one of the most special days of my life.

Kimi and his family spoiled me with gifts and thoughtful surprises.

My mother called to wish me a happy birthday. There was still a certain awkwardness between us. Our relationship was nowhere near healed but we were taking it one step at a time.

Someone else tried to contact me too.

My grandmother. Unlike my mother, I had no interest in making peace with her. So I blocked her number and went back to celebrating.

A few days later, the season came to an end and with it the restrictions surrounding our relationship.

Our first public outing was a trip to the beach.

We spent almost the entire afternoon walking along the shoreline, competing to see who could find the prettiest seashells and laughing because Kimi insisted he could tell which ones had drifted over from Croatia.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Of course it does.” He grinned. “Trust my talent.”

“Your imaginary talent?”

He splashed a little water at me with his foot.

“Very funny.”

I immediately splashed him back.

Five minutes later, we were both completely soaked.

When we finally got tired, we collapsed onto our towels, staring out at the sea.

Almost instinctively, Kimi reached for my hand. He laced our fingers together.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

We didn’t have to hide little gestures like that anymore. We didn’t have to look around before holding hands.

“There’s my two kids.” Marco’s voice made both of us sit up at once.

He was walking toward us carrying three ice creams, wearing an amused smile.

“I figured all that running around the beach would’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Dad…” Kimi laughed, clearly embarrassed.

“What?” Marco shrugged. “I brought one for myself too.”

He handed each of us an ice cream before sitting down a few yards away, giving us our space again.

I stared at mine for a few seconds.

“How did he know this was my favorite flavor?”

Kimi smiled.

“Because Maggie made a list.”

“A list?”

“Yeah.” He started counting on his fingers “Your favorite desserts. Your favorite pizza. Your favorite coffee…”

I looked at him in complete disbelief.

“My family’s a little intense.”

A lump formed in my throat.

Not because of the list but because it was the first time in my life someone had gone to so much effort just to make me feel like part of a family.

Without thinking, I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He turned slightly to look at me.

“For what?”

“For giving me a home in you.”

A soft smile spread across his face.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

I smiled too, my eyes never leaving the sea.

A few yards away, a couple was walking along the shore. The woman discreetly lifted her phone.

I didn’t think much of it. I assumed she was taking pictures of the scenery.

Two hours later I realized she wasn’t.

The photos first appeared on an Italian gossip page. Then another account reposted them. Then another.

Less than an hour later they were everywhere.

None of the pictures were scandalous.

None of them were compromising.

In one, we were simply walking hand in hand along the beach. In another, I was laughing while Kimi tried to brush sand out of my hair and the last one showed Marco handing each of us an ice cream while we accepted them, laughing.

The internet did the rest.

@boxdarlingbox: The Antonellis literally said, “One more for the family” 😭

@leclrfamily: I’m sorry, did you SEE the way he fixed her hair? I’M UNWELL

@antogrande: I can’t get over Marco showing up with two ice creams like this is a romantic comedy

@grmylove: My love language is officially future in-laws bringing me ice cream

@merctonelli: The real hard launch was Marco showing up with the ice creams 😭😭

That last one made me laugh the hardest.

Apparently, the internet was far more interested in the ice cream than in the fact that Kimi and I were dating.

(...)

The first few months of living together felt strangely uneventful. Not because nothing happened, because everything did.

We argued over whose turn it was to buy groceries.

He left his racing suits hanging on chairs instead of putting them away. I complained, he apologized.

Then did it again the following week.

On Sundays when he wasn't racing, we drove to his parents' house for lunch.

Maggie always hugged me before she hugged her brother. Marco kept pretending not to notice whenever Kimi stole food from my plate. And every time we left, his mom reminded us not to wait so long before coming back.

Life became a collection of things that would have sounded painfully ordinary to anyone else.

But to me… they were extraordinary.

One afternoon I was looking for one of my notebooks. Instead, I found an old box I'd never bothered to unpack. Inside were things I'd carried from one place to another for years.

A school ID.

A dried flower pressed between two pages of a book.

And, at the very bottom, a photograph. It was a photo from my first days at boarding school.

I stared at it for a long time.

I barely recognized the girl smiling back at me. Not because she looked different, but because I'd spent years trying to leave her behind, only to realize she'd been doing the best she could all along.

I wondered what she'd think if she could see me now.

Not the apartment.

Not Kimi.

Not Italy.

Me.

Would she believe that one day she’ll stop apologizing for taking up space? Would she believe that silence could stop feeling like punishment? Would she believe that people could know every version of her and choose to stay anyway?

I heard keys turning in the front door.

"I'm home."

I placed the photograph back inside the box, not because I wanted to forget her, but because I no longer needed to carry her everywhere I went.

I closed the lid, stood up and walked toward the sound of home.

Some stories end when someone finally finds love.

Mine didn't.

“What? You wanna try mine?” you ask, lifting your spoon to his lips but he pushes it away with two fingers.

“I still can’t believe you.”

“Seriously?” you giggle.

“Yes, seriously!” he insists as you take the bite yourself. “The audacity.”

Your shoulders bounce as you fight off the laugh threatening to break past your lips.

“I’m being so serious right now, baby.”

“I know,” you whisper, the words barely breathing past your lips as you try not to crack.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You absolutely do not,” he counters.

He looks down at you, waiting for your undivided attention. You turn your head, looking up at him, watching the forgotten ice cream on his spoon drip off onto his bare chest.

You lean in, grinning, running your tongue up his warm, tight skin and he scoffs again, pushing your head away.

“Knock that shit off,” he scolds you through a half-laugh. “You don't get to lick me.”

His arm slips away, shifting from you completely, putting space between the two of you. He fixes his hat, muscles flexing with it, the gold chain around his neck flickering in the low light, just a pair of grey sweats and cozy socks on his body.

Your cheeks puff as you trap another laugh behind them when he gives you a jaded look for checking him out after all that.

“What?” His eyes narrow at you, voice still dancing between irate and amused. “You’re laughin’.”

“M’not.”

“You are.”

“I’m literally eating dessert, Cameron.”

“You can do both,” he mutters through a mouthful of ice cream himself.

“I don’t think I can.”

“You absolutely can because you’re doing it right fucking now—”

“Calm down,” you laugh when his voice cracks as it tumbles from his lips.

He thumps you on your head with his spoon and you push him away. Rafe leans a little closer, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t appreciate being mocked.”

“I’m not mocking you, baby.”

“Yes, you are,” he snips. “You're extremely easy to read.”

“Can't a girl ask questions?” you ask, looking back toward the movie.

He mutters under his breath, sliding a rough finger under the strap of your tank top, lifting it, letting it fall with a little snap, stinging comedically versus ever-so-slightly like he hoped it would.

“I have never been so disrespected in my own home,” he mumbles like a tired father.

The laugh slips free before you can stop it. “You so dramatic.”

“So dramatic?” he asks, turning his body toward you, sitting up straighter. “So dramatic?”

You have to bite the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurts just to keep yourself from laughing again. “I just asked what sport would you play if you were more athletic? I didn't mean to make you emotional.”

He pivots toward you slowly, eyebrow cocked, begging the silent question. Emotional… Are you fuckin’ kidding me?

You keep your eyes on the movie for another second before finally glancing over, and he's there for a question you'll hear loud and clear.

“What did you call me now?”

“…Unathletic?”

“No. Emotional.” He chuckles, letting out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head like he’s trying very hard to stay calm as a smile threatens at the corner of his mouth. “Are you actually outta your mind?”

“Rude,” you whisper.

“And I skated five miles last game.”

“Wowzers,” you giggle.

“My slapshots are over a hundred miles an hour, princess. You can't even drive that fast. And you're gonna sit there and act like that shit isn't athletic? You looked at me and came to that conclusion?”

Rafe lets out another long groan, dragging a hand over his face before pointing the spoon at you.

“You know what?” He sits forward. “I’m not done.”

You angle toward him, still trying not to smile. “You’re not?”

“I bench three-fifteen.”

“Hot damn.”

“Three-thirty-five on a good day.”

“Oh, thank god—”

“I squat four-fifty.”

“Sensational,” you answer, watching his nostrils flare.

“I’m givin’ you my actual stats and you don’t give a fuck—you’ve seen me shirtless.”

“A few times—”

“A few? All the fucking time.”

“I mean… You are a whore. I’ll give you that—”

“I’m making this embarrassingly easy for you. Use your eyes,” he huffs, flexing for you, trembling with the effort. He rolls his shoulder, showing off his triceps too.

“Wow…” you murmur, letting your eyes wander over his broad body. “…Big boi.”

“…Did you just call me big boi?” he asks, staring at you another second before his eyebrows lift.

“Good boy?”

Rafe’s lips fall open like that title might have very well crossed the line “…I hate that,” he admits.

“Huh?”

“I hate that I liked that. Stop sweet talkin’ me when I’m pissed at you.”

You blink at him, all innocence again. “…Why are you pissed?”

“Shut up… Fuckin’ brat.”

Your head snaps toward him, acting offended yourself. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Rafe Cameron,” he mocks you, lifting his voice to a higher octave.

“Don’t be a bitch about it. It was just a question.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Thin ice.”

“What?”

“That's what you're skatin’ on,” he mutters, his abs tightening with his laugh, the ice cream-slicked spoon gliding along his tongue, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

Rafe drops his spoon back into the bowl with a dramatic sigh, settling his big body into the couch a little more before he looks over at you.

“Can't even enjoy my sweet treat right now.” He points at you again. “Fuck you.”

“Ughhh,” you scoff, “I’m just messin’ with you, baby.” You reach forward, plucking your phone out of the place you had it resting, thumb tapping with a beep before you toss it to the side.

"…You're joking?"

“‘Bout what?” you ask, your lips curling into a smile.

“‘Bout what, my ass,” he scolds. “You were recording that shit.”

“Well…” You tilt your head, scraping the last bit out of your bowl. “I could lie—” You gasp as his hand closes around your wrist, eating your last bite of ice cream before you can react. “RUDE!”

“ME?” he fires back with the same offense. “You’re rude. And wrong. I’m athletic as fuck. Take it back.”

“I know, baby. I know,” your voice turns impossibly sweet, more sympathetic than not, like you’re trying really hard to believe that just as much as he does, which only fires him up more.

He lets your wrist go and you lean across the little space between you, cupping both of his cheeks in your hands and squishing his face until his lips pucker into an unwilling pout before you kiss him.

He lets you do it too, chuckling through it as you rub your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

“I believe you,” you breathe. “So fast.” Your lips pushing against his again. “So talented.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“Six miles a game is so damn impressive, baby.”

“I said five.”

“You’ll get there,” you breathe as his hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you into his lap, his other arm hooking tight around your waist.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters.

He kisses you deep, sugar lingering on his soft lips before his tongue slips in. Rafe’s hand drifts lower, dipping between the waistband of your leggings, squeezing the supple flesh underneath in his big palm.

“Should make you suck my cock right here for teasin’ me, pretty,” he mumbles into your kiss. His hand reaches farther, your panties already soaked when his finger traces along the fabric. “You get wet off tormenting me, or what?”

“Maybe,” you breathe.

“Hmm… I got a question for you, baby,” he mutters, letting the tip of his thick finger dip in your wet hole. He pushes in and out slowly, letting that comment dangle in the air for a moment.

“What?” you ask impatiently.

“You athletic, bunny?”

You chuckle against his lips, your chest pushing a little tighter to his. “Maybe,” you whisper, and a crooked smile slides across his lips.

“Run.”

“…What?” you laugh breathlessly, the man still teasing your pussy with his fingers even after the threat.

“You heard me… You. Better. Run,” the words drip past his lips into yours.

“Rafe.”

“I’ll even give you a ten-second head start, baby.”

“You’re kidding—”

“One.”

“…Rafe.”

“Two.”

You scramble over his lap so fast you stumble a little, feet finally finding the hardwood with a slap, fixing your tank top, tugging up the back of your pants as you scurry toward the steps, but he’s already to seven.

“Eight… Nine…”

Behind you, Rafe’s voice follows at the exact same steady pace, his spoon scraping up the last bit of his ice cream, completely unconcerned by your growing panic as your foot hits the first step.

“Ten…”

You squeal, grabbing the banister to keep yourself from slipping as your socks slide against the polished wood.

By the time you hit the middle of the staircase, you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, glancing over your shoulder, your eyes matching his.

Rafe’s long legs eat up the distance, moving like the captain of a D1 hockey team—fast, ridiculously athletic, and somehow already much closer than you could ever imagine.

Your scream echoes through the stairwell, bouncing off the high ceilings while Rafe’s laugh follows right behind it.

It isn’t even a normal laugh anymore. It’s loud and completely unhinged. Your heart pounds against your ribs, feet scrambling for any extra bit of traction while you practically throw yourself up the stairs two at a time.

You make it maybe three more steps before a pair of strong arms wraps around your waist, tossing you over his shoulder. Your entire world flips upside down, your eyes landing somewhere around the back of his gray sweats.

“Rafe!” you squeal—Crack! His hand lands against your ass with a playful smack.

“You’ve been runnin’ that mouth for thirty minutes,” he pants. “We threw gloves. I caught ya. Not my fault you’re slow as shit.”

He turns his head, chuckling against your skin before he bites teasingly. He isn’t actually angry—you know that much—but he’s absolutely decided you’re not getting away with tormenting him for the better part of half an hour without paying for it somehow.

“You’re in trouble,” he informs you matter-of-factly as he clears the last few stairs. You groan dramatically, going limp over his shoulder.

Your heart races wildly, every laugh stealing what little air you have left as you throw yourself farther up the staircase.

Rafe’s breathing barely changes. His footsteps never slow, never stumble, his strong legs carrying him up the stairs with the same effortless burst that gets him to loose pucks before anybody else on the ice.

And somewhere in between the first step and the last, you realize you probably should’ve picked a less athletic man to bully for the last thirty minutes.

“I’m sorry. Okay?” you giggle.

“Nah,” he chuckles, shouldering his bedroom door open, kicking it shut behind him with the heel of his foot. “Told you to run,” he reminds you, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Gave you a ten-second head start like a gentleman.”

You smack his ass in mock protest, still breathless from laughing all the way up the stairs but before you can say anything he’s flipping you back over.

Your body lands on the comforter, a surprised gasp tripping past your lips as you press yourself up on your elbows to get a better look, but he’s already climbing over you.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he catches your face with a single hand, smiling so hard he can barely keep a straight face.

The two of you end up rolling sideways, tangled together in a mess of limbs and discarded clothes.

“Fuck, baby,” he teases as his body presses down on top of yours, watching you struggle to catch your breath. “Breathin’ hard and I don’t even have my fingers in you yet.”

“—You should though,” you whisper, the sweetness in your voice almost breaking him. “Felt so good downstairs.”

“Is that so? Glad you were enjoying yourself, pretty,” he mumbles, and you can just hear the “but” waiting to leave his lips after all of that bullying. “You’re not gettin’ off that easy.”

His mouth parts against yours, tongue sweeping slow and hungry, tasting you as his hand moves away. You moan into him as your hands slide up his chest, finger twisting into his hair, dragging him closer.

Rafe’s hips press forward, grinding slow and heavy between your legs, gold chain swinging at his collarbone, dragging cool against your skin.

His hand slides up your body as his lips toy with your breast, biceps swelling when he tilts down, mouthing at your chest and sucking at the gentle skin of your cleavage. He moans around you when you bring his fingers to your lips.

His eyes flick up to yours—dark and heavy as you slide two into your mouth. The tips press against your tongue and your lips seal tight, cheeks hollowing.

He lets out the filthiest groan as you swirl your tongue—just like you would if it were his cock in your mouth—and you know from the look on his face that he’s remembering that little threat he made downstairs.

“You want it, huh?” he asks as you whimper a soft ‘yes’. “Suck it. Maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Baby,” you sigh, your lips trembling at the corners when you fight back a smile, forcing your lips into a pout.

“You want me to feel bad for you?” he chuckles, rolling you effortlessly on top. You giggle with delight, your hand slapping against his muscular chest as you steady yourself.

His hand tangles in the back of your hair, pulling you down to his mouth. His lips brush against yours, humming out a pleased sound having you on top like this. “Got twenty more minutes of teasin’ you. Do a good enough job and I’ll make it ten—”

“Football,” you grin.

“What?”

“I would have said football.”

“Keep talkin’,” he warns, his palm reaching up, resting on the top of your head, guiding you down. You laugh breathily, dragging your tongue along the deep ridges of his stomach, pressing kisses as you work lower and lower.

He sinks a little deeper into the pillow, lashes lowering as your fingers wrap around his thick dick, pumping as a line of spit falls from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That’s it.” The praise falls from his lips as his hand rests behind his head, propping himself up for a better look as you tap his swollen tip against your tongue.

The thick muscles in his thighs clench with each slap, jaw dropping as your lips wrap around him tight, one hand slipping into your hair.

You moan around his length, taking him deep, watching his eyes roll back. “Christ… Just—Just like that, baby,” he pants, guiding your head, using your mouth to stroke him.

You let him use you—let him fuck your throat—spit slicking your chin as your eyes water and your hands grip his thighs for balance.

The wet sounds fill his room—every moan, every gag, every obscene sound making you more and more desperate.

His big hands rest on the back of your head, eyes pinching shut, fucking up into your mouth from the bottom. Your nails drive into his thighs, throat hot with the effort as his dick swells on your tongue.

You can tell he’s close, his breathing quickening with each passing second—that praise leaving his lips coming out a little more slurred as your soft lips glide up and down his dick.

“Thinkin’ about cummin’ just like this, pretty. What do you think?” he grits through his teeth—a smug smile painting his features.

You mumble around his dick and he grins, pulling you off him, leaving you reaching for air.

He rolls you again, spreading you open, a scream leaving your lips when he slaps your pussy. Your legs clamp together and all he does is shake his head with a grin, clicking his tongue, gripping your thigh to pin it down again.

He drives into you, burying himself to the hilt, your hands finding his hips, trembling at how deep he is.

Your gasp snaps into a moan, back arching off the mattress, when he draws his hips back, the muscles in his chest and stomach flexing tighter when he drags his body. His eyes fall, eyeing his wet cock, the head dropping between his shoulders as he blows out a deep breath.

“Wanted you so bad I barely made you beg,” his words grumble past his lips as his chain swings in your face.

You pull him down by his necklace, crashing your lips to his again. Your teeth scrape his lip, his tongue licking into your mouth. You’re so wet he slides in and out of you with ease, slick sounds echoing between your bodies.

He grinds down, hips circling, making your breath catch. “Yes,” you cry, clenching around him, and he groans—loud and filthy.

“Look at you. Crying on my cock—” he grunts, slamming his hips forward so hard your body jolts, skin smacking against his. “Fuck, pretty girl. You made a goddamn mess for me, huh?”

Sweat drips off his brow, biceps flexing as he squeezes your hip, keeping you flush to him, using the leverage to slam into you harder.

His hands hook behind your thighs, folding you in half, pinning you to the bed as he drives into you. Your nails claw at the sheets, then at his back, then into his hair, pulling at the roots.

“Rafe—Rafe, holy shit—” he dips down to kiss you—his cock sinking impossibly deep.

“You’re right there. C’mon, pretty girl. Stop bein’ a brat and fuckin’ give it to me.”

Your head falls back, mouth open in a silent cry as your body tightens, every muscle trembling as he keeps hitting that exact spot.

“C’mon, baby. Let him hear who makes you cum.”

Your orgasm rips through you hard, a choked sob escaping your lips as you clamp around him, shaking under his weight.

“That’s it,” he whispers against your mouth, still thrusting through the aftershocks. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

You’re soaking him, dripping down your thighs, pulsing around him as he keeps fucking you through it, working you toward another.

“Feel that mess you made?” he asks, smugness laced in every word. “Proud of you, baby. So filthy for me. Need you on top.”

He pulls out fast, making you whine at the loss of him. Rafe wraps his hand around his dick, pumping as he watches you climb on, hovering over him, delicate fingers circling your clit as he licks his bottom lip.

You spread your thighs, sinking on his tip, taking the first few inches, moving up and down teasingly before you take the rest—eyes locked on his, nails digging into his chest.

You ride him hard, your bodies colliding in messy, rhythmic slaps, the sounds of your pleasure filling the room.

Rafe grabs your waist, lifting you just enough to slam back up into you. “You’re gonna cum for me again,” he rasps. “Right fucking now.”

And you do—your belly tightens, the band snaps, and his name tumbles past your lips as your head falls back. Your throat’s ragged from sobbing his name, thighs drenched in sweat and slick, shining under the low light.

“Goddamn, baby… I’m almost there,” he mutters, reaching up to hook a hand around the back of your neck and kiss you, his hips stalling out as a whimper slips from his lips when he sighs that he’s cumming, filling you with his heavy load.

You shut your eyes in exhaustion, his smile sliding against yours as his nose nuzzles yours. His cock throbs inside you still, his heartbeat thudding against yours.

He kisses you again anyway, both of you still breathing hard, forehead resting against yours. His smile lingers, lazy and completely satisfied at how exhausted and fucked-out you look.

“You know…” he murmurs, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You still haven’t apologized.”

“Yes, I did,” you laugh.

“Mm-mm,” he grunts, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Literally said I was sorry,” you pant, drawing in a breath as he waits for you to finish your sentence, not even trying to hide the teasing look on his face.

“For ruinin’ my sweet treat?” he lifts an eyebrow. “No, you fuckin’ didn’t.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.

“This?” he asks, tipping his chin toward your body. “This reaction’s apology enough for callin’ me unathletic, baby.”

His eyes drift over your face, taking in your damp skin, the little wisps of hair stuck to your forehead, the way you’re still trying to catch your breath.

“Stop,” you chuckle, turning your face away a little as he looks up at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Look at you… So sweaty,” he teases softly, his voice losing most of its bite as his fingertips tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Heat climbs into your cheeks, your lip bitten to hold back your smile. “Stop teasing me, Rafe Cameron.”

“Coming from you?” he smiles, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers before stealing another slow kiss. “M’serious that more than made up for you fuckin’ with me,” he whispers, the words deep—vibrating against your mouth. “Now delete that fuckin’ video.”

“Absolutely not.”

Rafe’s smile spreads against your lips before he lets out a quiet, defeated chuckle, already knowing exactly what your answer would be. He gives your hip a playful squeeze and shakes his head once.

“Well, fuck,” he sighs. “Round two, princess.”

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