how can you look so peaceful?

Garrett Graham has been trained from birth to be able to take quick note of his surroundings. 

It’s from hockey. Obviously. The sound of the shrill whistle when his dad, and then his coaches, and then somehow, his dad again, acting as the early trainer. Now, he doesn’t need the whistle to pay attention. He may not always act like it off the ice, choosing to be nonchalant on the exterior, but he always, always, notices. 

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is the faint jasmine smell of her shampoo, as he wrinkles his nose to get the small itch from her hair off his nose. The next is the blanket that’s covering both of them, as he sticks his foot outside of it to get a flash of cool air. The third is his arm tossed over her stomach, caging her close to his chest. The fourth is that the sun is shining in a way that it’s early. Years of hockey practice before the sun got up has him trained to know the difference between a late morning sunshine and an early morning sunshine.

All of this is fine and dandy. They’ve fallen asleep in the same bed before. When Garrett’s exhausted from a game and refuses to drive home. When she’s studying late into the night on his bed and he forces a pillow under her head because she’s too tired for him to feel that it’s safe for her to drive back to hers. 

But then last night rushes back. The surprise when she walked through the front door of a party with Allie and Hannah, which settled into immediate happiness because he always feels instantly happier when she’s around. The comfort of seeing her float around his house, talking to everyone with her classic sweetness and smile. The panic when Tucker came up to him and told him that she had run out of the house in tears. The anxiety when she looked at him sobbing, trying to figure out what was going on and how he could fix it instantly. The relief when he found out that she was in love with him. The regret that he hadn’t said anything sooner. The pure happiness when she kissed him and he felt his world fall into place. The fondness he felt watching her munch on fries sleepily as he drove her back to her dorm. The peace he felt settle in his heart when she told him to stay the night, already dimming the light and offering the blanket for him to crawl underneath. 

He takes a look at her now as she’s still sleeping, chest rising up and down steadily. Garrett carefully extracts his arm from underneath her and she makes a noise, causing him to freeze. But she doesn’t wake up and he exhales a sigh of relief, smiling down at her sleeping figure for a moment before carefully climbing out of bed. He remembers from somewhere in the back of his mind that her roommate Yvonne went home this weekend, so he doesn’t have to worry about running into anyone and explaining something that he’s still wrapping his mind around. 

He brushes his teeth quickly with the toothbrush that he’s left here for over a year now, rinses his face, and makes his way to the kitchen to make them both some coffee. His black, hers with whatever creamer she’s trying out that month. After the pot finishes brewing and he grabs two mugs, he reaches into the fridge and chuckles under his breath. This month’s flavor is Chobani’s confetti birthday cake, whatever the fuck that means. 

Garrett uses his hip to open her bedroom door slowly, careful not to spill either mug. He smiles automatically, seeing she’s now awake, staring bleary eyed at her phone. She squints at him before visibly lighting up, sitting upward in the bed. 

“Hi.”

“Good morning,” he walks over to the bed and hands her her coffee, sitting down on the bed in front of her with one knee bent. “You feeling okay?”

Her nose scrunches. “I’m more hungover than I’d like.”

“What do you need?”

“Coffee’s a good start,” she takes a sip and warms her hands around the mug before yawning. “Do you have practice today?”

“No. Jensen gave us the day off. Must’ve really liked the win.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t question it,” he says. “What are you doing today?”

She shrugs, the blanket shifting the movement. “I have some homework I need to wrap up before tomorrow, but nothing really.” She smirks. “Why do you ask?”

His thumb rubs against her ankle as he looks up at her with a shy smile. “You know why I’m asking.”

She gasps playfully. “Oh my goodness! You want to spend time with me?”

“Well, now you’re pushing it.”

“But I’m not.”

“No,” he admits. “You’re not.”

She leans back, sleepy grin on her face. “You’re so easy all of a sudden.”

“I don’t want to be a pain in the ass and drive you away before things have barely begun”

“You’ve always been a pain in the ass and I haven’t been driven away yet.”

“And how lucky am I?” He places his coffee on her nightstand. “How about we study a bit here and then head over to mine after to chill? We can watch a movie or something, and Tucker’s talked about making chicken pot pie all week.”

She moans at the mention of Tucker’s cooking and Garrett hasn’t been awake for long enough yet to be normal about it. “God bless Tucker.” She tosses the blanket aside and puts her coffee down next to his, stretching her arms up. “I’m gonna take a shower. Do you mind setting up in the living room?”

“You got it.”

As the shower head turns on, he can hear her humming as he grabs both his backpack and her laptop and planner in one trip, and then going back to grab their coffees in another. He then takes a few eggs and some shredded cheese out of the fridge to make them both some food. While the eggs are in the pan, he finds some bread and plops it in the toaster. She’s walking into the living room as he’s sliding the last of the eggs onto both plates. 

Garrett watches as she freezes, hair damp with one of his Briar Hockey t-shirts draped over black flannel pajama pants. He watches in great amusement as her mouth opens, closes and then opens again. “You good?” He asks, not even bothering to hide the smugness from his voice. 

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, I made breakfast?”

She blinks. “You don’t cook.”

“Call it boyfriend privileges.” 

“You’re not usually a boyfriend either.”

“Exactly. It’s your lucky day,”

She chuckles, settling in beside him on the couch and taking her plate of eggs and toast from his hands. She smiles at him so softly and prettily that it causes a butterfly to flutter around in Garrett’s stomach. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.”

She forks some eggs in her mouth. “That’s new.”

“What is?”

“Baby.”

He furrows his eyebrows, munching on his toast. “No it’s not.”

“It is at the frequency you’ve used it in the last 12 hours.”

“True,” he admits. “Sue me. I’m allowed to now and I’m excited about it.”

She stares at him over the rim of her coffee mug and Garrett is so fucking fond. “What else does Boyfriend Garrett Graham entail? Flowers every day? Walking me to class? Forcing me to put on your jersey during games?”

He leans back, settling his arm over the back of the couch where his fingertips are centimeters away from her hair. “You’re allergic to most flowers and I don’t want to kill you. You would hate if I hovered and walked you to every class so that’s also a no. And the last time you wore my jersey we got smacked, and you haven’t done it since.”

“You’re telling me I won’t even get flowers out of this?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Hm. Do you know what is odd, though?”

He plays along. “What?”

She finishes her eggs before pointing the fork in his direction. “You still haven’t kissed me yet this morning.” Garrett blinks. Fuck, he hasn’t. He didn’t even realize it until she pointed it out. She hums, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I mean, it’s not like you’re bad at it, considering you’ve slept with practically half of the-”

“Alright, cut it out,” he says dryly, but his lips quirk up as she giggles. He shrugs, suddenly nervous in front of the girl who knows him practically better than anyone. “Honestly, I kinda forgot. Which sounds silly. But I think I’ve just wanted you for so long that I’m not used to the idea that I can kiss you now.”

She looks down at her coffee. “So you weren’t kidding.”

“About what?”

“When you said you’ve been in love with me since freshman year.”

“Oh. So we’re talking about this now.”

“I was always going to ask you at some point.”

“Nosy,” he says with no heat. His throat bobs up and down, as he takes the time to piece his words together. “Looking back, I think I fell in love with you more and more after every study session, even if I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I made it quite obvious, but I guess not.”

“Maybe you did,” she admits. “But I honestly just thought you wanted to be friends. Or, well, I convinced myself that’s what you wanted. The no girlfriends reputation didn’t help your case either.”

“I thought about telling you a few times.”

She turns her body so it’s directly facing his. “Oh yeah? When?”

“Uh, there was one time early sophomore year when we were at Malone’s. You got drunk and I drove you home and you were so trusting of me and just humming along to the radio under your breath in the car and you looked so beautiful.”

“I don’t even remember that.”

“How many times have I driven you home from Malone’s?” He points out, before continuing. “When we lost the Frozen Four last year, and you came into my room an hour after we had landed even though I was the worst company. You just sat in my room all day with me, even though I was moody and sad and upset.”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” she says, her eyes glassy. 

He reaches out to hold her hand, lacing their fingers together. “And that meant a lot to me, even if I didn’t tell you at the time.”

“You didn’t have to tell me,” she says with a casual shrug even though nothing about that moment was casual for Garrett. “I didn’t-you just lost a really big game. I didn’t want you to be sad alone.”

“And I wasn’t alone” he says softly. “Anyways, yeah. I’ve wanted to tell you. I just, I don’t know. I didn’t think you felt the same, and I really didn’t wanna risk it.”

“So instead you waited for me to lose my cool?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he protests, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. “But I’m happy you did.”

“Thank you for breakfast,” she says. “But there was one thing I didn’t like.”

His eyebrows immediately furrow in worry. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She pouts. “You still haven’t kissed me.”

He chuckles in relief, scooting closer to her. “Is this how you’re always going to be?”

“You wish.”

“You’re insufferable. Like actually-“

She kisses him to shut him up. Garrett doesn’t mind the slightest.

~*~*~

A few hours later, Garrett kills the engine of his jeep as they both gather their things. They had studied for most of the morning and he tried to be as minimally distracting as possible. It didn’t work, considering how many glares she shot him and how many times she threatened to kick him out. But now he can kiss her as an apology, which is a nice perk. 

Garrett jogs up the steps, looking instinctively behind him, as if she’s going to run away any second. She just grins at him, right hand on her backpack strap and left hand holding her phone. He pushes the door open, holding it so she can walk through first. 

A chorus of greetings rings out from Tucker, Logan and Dean, used to seeing her walk in the house on a Sunday afternoon. Tucker’s cooking up a storm in the kitchen — hopefully the chicken pot pie that he mentioned a few days ago — while Dean and Logan are playing video games, eyes glued to the TV. 

Dean looks over momentarily with an easy smile. “G. Flower.”

Garrett nods as she smiles, taking off her shoes and putting her feet into the slippers that she bought a few months ago and leaves at the hockey house. No one has questioned it.

 “Hi Dean,” she says. Garrett watches as she puts her backpack by the foot of the coffee table, ruffling Dean’s hair (which he yelps at, like always). She puts her hands on Logan’s shoulders, squeezing them in greeting. Logan turns back quickly to smile and say a soft hello before returning back to the game. 

Garrett just trails behind, putting her backpack down next to hers, watching her go to the kitchen, grinning at Tucker. “Hi Tucker.”

“Hi Flower,” he sings, tucking her into his side for a quick hug. “You staying for dinner?”

“If I’m allowed.”

“You’re always allowed,” Tucker nods at his teammate. “‘Sup Garrett.”

Garrett flashes a small smile. “Smells good, man.”

“Thanks.”

She looks over Tucker’s shoulder at his skillet. “Do you need help?”

“Oh, no. I’m-” he stops at the glare she gives him. Tucker’s shoulders deflate. “If you could help chop up the rest of the vegetables, that would be super helpful.”

“Say no more.” Without hesitation, she grabs a clean knife from the drawer and meanders her way to clear up some counter space. She reaches behind the toaster to grab a clean cutting board and starts chopping. Garrett, suddenly extremely aware of how she moves around this kitchen like it’s her own, just sits on a stool at the kitchen island across from the books, observing. 

He and Tucker start talking about mindless things. How Garrett has an exam this week. How the house looked this morning (“Yeah, thanks for helping us clean, asshole,” Dean calls out from the couch. Garrett snaps back. “Usually I’m the one helping out and you’re still sleeping, alone or with someone, so fuck you, Dean.”) Logan tells her that he’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to take a look at the shelf in her bathroom. She talks about a new project she’s starting with the second grade class she helps teach at a local elementary school as part of her degree. And Garrett just watches her, smile on his lips because she’s his best friend and he loves her. 

When the pie is in the oven and Tucker is upstairs taking a shower, Dean and Logan are done with their game and both wander into the kitchen. “Hey,” Logan starts, pouring himself a cup of orange juice. “Did everything end up okay after last night? You kinda ran out of here and then I couldn’t find Garrett either.”

Having planted herself next to him, she shoots Garrett a knowing look, before turning back to Logan. “Everything’s good. Thanks for checking. You’re sweet.”

Logan smirks, pointing at Garrett. “You hear that, G? Flower called me sweet.”

“Flower has poor judgement,” he responds dryly. 

She gasps, whacking Garrett’s arm. “Rude.”

“But true.”

“Also don’t call me Flower,” she lightly reprimands him. “You don’t do that.”

She’s right. He doesn’t. Deep down, he adores that his friends have adopted a nickname for her, accepted her into the fray way back when with harmless teasing, protective gestures and brotherly hugs. That came with the nickname that Garrett himself never really adopted, choosing just to call her by her name, usually in an exasperated tone. Or baby, now. That’s an option he likes a lot. 

He just shakes his head lightly. “Sorry, baby.”

She smirks. “Forgiven.”

Dean, who is smarter than anyone gives him any credit for, points his spoon inbetween the two of them, honey yogurt partially still in his mouth, which is gross. “Weird.”

She rolls her eyes. “Weird?”

“Whatever just happened between you two. Weird.”

“Eloquent,” Garrett notes. 

“Avoidant,” Dean responds. 

Logan’s head tilts. “Hm. Now that you say it though, Dean, something’s definitely going on.”

She steals a sip from Garrett’s water bottle with a casual shrug. “I think you guys may still be hungover.”

And they let it go for the time being, Garrett with an amused look on his face as Logan and Dean keep going at it with her. There was a time at the start where she was shy, especially at the beginning of their friendship when they were still only hanging out by way of study sessions. But she’s wiggled her way into the hockey house dynamic, which always warms Garrett’s heart. And she’s found herself as more than just Garrett’s constant plus one, as he’s come home many times to her already being here, watching a movie with Dean or helping in the kitchen with Tucker or giving Logan relationship advice he never takes. 

And it’s completely deserved. In Garrett’s eyes, she’s the best person he’s ever met. So of course everyone else wants to be around her.

With that, they both know sooner rather than later, that everyone will find out the new development between them. 

Garrett Graham is observant and careful. Usually. Until 20 minutes later, when Tucker has served the chicken pot pie and everyone is eating in happy silence. She mumbles to herself that she’s going to grab a glass of juice, to which Garrett’s chair scrapes back as he puts a hand on her shoulder. “I got it.” 

That’s normal. Garrett has always done things for her. What’s not normal is when he places the cup in front of her and she says thanks before pecking him on the lips. 

Because Garrett is observant, he notes every single reaction from his friends, while she continues eating because he knows that it slipped her mind completely and it’ll take her a delayed moment to catch up. Logan’s eyes balloon so widely that Garrett thinks they’re going to pop out of his head. A knowing smile just appears on Tucker’s lips. Dean’s motionless, before his fork drops onto the table with a resounding clang.

At the sudden sound, she jumps in her seat. “Jesus, Dean. Hold onto your fork. You almost made me spill my juice.”

“What was that?”

She finishes chewing. “What was what?”

Dean sputters. “That! You just-you two just kissed!”

“Oh my god,” Logan nods sagely. “You guys fucked last night.”

“Logan.” She shakes her head like a disappointed mother.

Garrett tuts. “Don’t be crass, man.”

“No they didn’t,” Tucker pipes up, shoving the last of his chicken pot pie in his mouth and putting his dish in the sink. 

Garrett looks at him suspiciously. “How would you know?”

“Because it’s Flower,” Tucker says matter-of-factly.

Dean’s still processing like someone just told him that he has a secret brother. “So you two are dating? Like, for real dating?”

Garrett just looks at her, smile playing at his lips at how cute she looks with his hoodie on, strands of her hair falling out from her ponytail. He turns back to Dean, eyebrow raised. “Will you be annoying if we say we are?”

Logan smirks at Garrett. “Finally got your head out of your ass, G?”

He rolls his eyes as she giggles. “Oi,” he pokes her side as she squirms away. “Don’t go joining their side.” She just winks at Logan. 

Dean heavily sighs. “Can someone just please answer my question? Are you two dating now? Can I say finally?”

And classic her, always adding fuel to the fire, she just answers the blonde’s question by kissing him She pulls away with a cheeky grin as chaos ignites again from the three boys. Garrett doesn’t even have it in him to be mad. 

~*~*~

Garrett Graham didn’t do girlfriends, but it’s been on his mind since they made things official. 

He heads to Malone’s after his last class of the day, knowing that Hannah works this shift and that it usually isn’t too busy around this time so he won’t be too disruptive as she works. 

The brunette looks up from the counter as soon as the door swings open. In her usual Hannah way, she smiles seeing who it is. “Graham.”

“Wellsy.”

“What can I get for you?”

“Nothing this time, actually.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh, so you’re here to bother me?”

“Only for a few minutes,” Garrett sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Hannah crosses her arms. “What’s up?” He’s silent for a bit too long, and she immediately drops the joking tone. “Garrett?” Her voice softens. “Is everything okay?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

His eyes lift up from his shoes to meet hers. “Telling me to tell her how I feel.”

She nods slowly, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Oh yeah? You finally put on your big boy pants?”

“Watch it,” he says with no bite. “But yeah, I did. Well. She did first.”

Hannah snorts. “That’s not surprising.”

He clocks his good friend. “You knew.”

“Allie’s not exactly good at keeping secrets,” Hannah pauses as she quickly refills someone’s coffee. “You also forget I have class three mornings a week with her.”

“She told you?”

“She alluded.”

“So you prodded.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “I call it making conversation. Not everything is an interrogation.”

Garrett chuckles before clearing his throat. “So, we’re good?”

“Good?”

“Like, there’s no hard feelings?”

“Between us?” He nods. “Garrett, no. Of course not. Why would you think so?”

“I don’t- I don’t want you to think those dates we went on meant nothing or that I was thinking about someone else the whole time.”

“For someone with a reputation of not having time for relationships, you seem to be decently emotionally intelligent.”

“Don’t go spreading that around,” he says dryly. 

“Oh, I’d never,” Hannah smiles. “I’m serious, Graham. We’re good. Don’t worry yourself so much about being a righteous person.”

“I’m not,” he clears his throat. “You’re my friend. And I want to keep being friends. Which means I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We are,” she assures. “I promise.”

He stares at her for a few more seconds, before nodding in satisfaction. The smile comes back on his mouth. “Okay, good. I’ll leave you alone and stop bothering you.”

“You always bother me.” 

He rolls his eyes before pulling her into a quick but tight hug. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“See you then,” he pulls away and flashes one last smile before turning around. Before he can leave though, she calls out. “Garrett?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t screw this up.”

He nods once. Firmly. Resolutely. “I won’t.”

~*~*~

Garrett Graham grew up believing things were black and white. 

Well, for the most part. He had to learn quicker than most kids that things were rarely simple. But with hockey and other things in his life, he’s sorted things into categories. It’s how he functions. How he manages. How he survives. 

But as he’s staring at her now, her on his bed and him at his desk, a sudden realization floods through his bloodstream that he almost has to shut his textbook due to how overwhelmed he is. She’s chewing the tip of her pen, scrolling through something on her laptop while developing a lesson plan. Her ankles are crossed in the air as she lays on her stomach, sunlight through his window hitting her at an angle where it looks like a spotlight is illuminating her. 

Slowly, day by day, without even trying, throughout the last two and a half years, she’s brought so much color into his life. Life isn’t shades of blacks and whites, he realizes, staring at her concentrated face.

As long as she’s in it, it’ll always be full of color. 

~*~*~

Aurora Vallee should’ve known her luck would run out. 

San Jose is not that big and she knows the guys frequent the same places as they did before. Hockey players are creatures of habit. Maybe in another world, after the breakup, she would’ve completely avoided the area altogether. But she grew to love it here during her college years. This place was hers long before Macklin Celebrini came along. And has still been hers after he's left.

So she’s here at Salt & Coffee, waiting in a long line for her usual iced caramel latte. She took her black graduation robe and cap off, leaving them in the car with her family. Her family is currently sitting in a nearby park and talking amongst themselves before their dinner reservation. But Aurora is surviving on four hours of sleep. After sitting through the heat at commencement earlier, she thinks she’s earned a sweet treat.

“Rory?”

The casual turn of her body to greet the voice stops suddenly, as Will Smith scratches the back of his neck. He’s wearing a navy hoodie with shorts, baseball cap flipped backwards on his head to cover his long curls. He has an easy smile on his face though, because everything about Will has always been effortlessly easy. 

“Will,” she says, the tone echoing something that’s equal parts gentle and accusatory. 

If he’s offended, he doesn’t show it. “Thought that was you. Hey. It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” she greets, swallowing as he steps in line with her, elbow brushing against hers. “It’s been a bit.”

“Around a year, yeah,” he responds quickly. Almost too quickly. “How’ve you been?”

Aurora looks away briefly, because the natural piercing blue of Will’s eyes are dangerous in the way that whenever he had wiggled himself inbetween her and Macklin in the past, she had a sudden urge to tell him everything. Her eyes meet his again as she tries to smile. “Okay. I’ve been-yeah. Okay.”

“Good,” he nods. His eyes finally scan her outfit, a white dress that stops just above her knee, the soft layers of the skirt billowing with the wind that sneaks in whenever the front door of the cafe opens. And Will. Sweet Will, who’s smarter than most people give him credit for, blinks, before recognition sits on his face. “Did you graduate today?”

She nods, trying not to smile but failing anyways. “Yeah.”

They move forward in line as he grins. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head, fond smile still sitting on his lips. “Miss. Stanford. How do you feel?”

“Like I want to sleep for a million years. Hence the coffee.”

“I can imagine.”

Her stomach settles from the aware and defensive stage into something more comfortable. “How was your season?”

His eyebrows lift. “You weren’t keeping track?”

She shrugs. Because she was. But saying it out loud feels like admitting defeat, which she doesn’t want to give him so easily. “Numbers don’t tell the whole story.”

She sees Will’s eyes shift into something else. And it takes her a second to catch up. When she does, she curses herself internally. Because it sounds exactly like something Macklin would say. Thankfully, Will continues without causing a fuss. “It went well. Wish we made a deeper run in the playoffs, but it’s a step forward.”

“When are you heading back to Boston?”

“In a week or so. Just chilling around San Jose for a bit.” They’re interrupted when they step to the front of the line. She orders first, ready to slide her card in but Will simply covers her card with his hand. She opens her mouth to protest but it’s drowned out by Will ordering. A cold brew and an oat milk latte. Two drinks, she notes. And then her stomach sinks. 

Oat milk latte. Macklin’s order. 

“You really didn’t have to,” she says as they step aside. She feels small all of a sudden for a reason she doesn’t want to explain out loud. 

“Consider it a grad gift,” he says casually. Casual: another thing that he embodies that Macklin never really could naturally. When the three of them used to hang out together, it was a balance that Aurora always welcomed, and, if she’s honest, took for granted. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, hoping that Will understands. It seems like he does, based on the smile he gives back. That’s another thing about Will that Aurora grew to love. He always had a smile on his face, always determined to make sure she had one as well. And it usually worked.

They grab their drinks from the counter, and Will clears his throat. “I should go, before-”

Before Macklin throws a fit. She just smiles, hoping it doesn’t look pained. It feels pained, but lucky for her, Will doesn’t comment on it. “Thank you,” she repeats. “It was good to see you.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says, and he stares at her in a way that has Aurora wanting to actually listen. “I mean it,” he continues. “I know what happened between you and Macklin… happened, but I miss hanging out with you. We all do.”

“I miss you guys too,” she manages to say. 

“Are you still going to be in the area? After grad, I mean.”

“Yeah. I’m working at a clinic nearby while applying to med school.”

“Cool,” Will says. “I know I won't be here for a bit but you have a phone. Use it.”

“Bossy.”

“I’ll send pictures of Rigney if that helps?”

“You make a tempting offer.”

He chuckles, before wrapping her in a hug. Or trying his best with a drink in each hand. “Congrats, Rory. Seriously. I’ve always known you were a smart cookie. Now you have the degree to back it up.”

“Thanks, Will. Have a good summer.”

With one last smile, he walks out. Aurora takes three deep breaths before walking outside back to her family. 

~*~*~

13 months earlier…

It’s Monday morning. They’re both at their favorite cafe in downtown San Jose, Salt & Coffee. Well, that’s the plan. Aurora’s been here for around 15 minutes waiting for Macklin to finish practice. She doesn’t mind. Not really. It’s not the first time he’s been running late because of hockey. 

She drums her fingers against the side of her iced caramel latte, having claimed a spot by the window so that she can see when he comes through the front door. But mostly she likes staring at the daffodils growing in a small patch of grass on the sidewalk. 

She feels antsy in a way that shouldn’t be happening because she and Macklin have been dating for a good year now. But it’s the kind of antsy that’s been sitting at the front of her heart for weeks now. Where she’s been taking note of everything she says when she’s around him, or not taking note at all and then bracing for his response. He’s never cruel, never would be. There’s no bone in his body that’s born cruel. But the snippy remarks and the controlled breaths between both of them have heightened recently, with no practice or losing skid or exam or school club drama to blame it on. 

The only blame can be put on both of them. But they’re both too tired, too stubborn, too prideful to admit it. So they just continue sitting in this weird in-between. 

Macklin walks into the cafe a few minutes later, ordering his oat milk latte before stopping at her table. He flashes a smile before sitting down across from her. They small talk about how their days are going and what the rest of the day is going to look like, before he has to go grab his drink. 

While walking back to the table, he’s stopped by a few girls, no doubt asking for a picture or an autograph or both. They look to be around their age, maybe a bit younger. He obliges, and his smile doesn’t actually look pained today like it usually does. Aurora pointedly looks away, staring out the window again. 

“Sorry,” he says, sitting back down. 

“It’s okay.” She says, because it is. And isn’t. But mostly, it is. “How was practice?”

“Good. Tiring,” he signs, leaning back. “Just, you know, playoff push. Everything’s going all the time.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you? Exams are soon, right?”

“In a few weeks, yeah.”

“You ready?”

“Probably. Probably not.”

“Have time to spare for a game anytime soon?” She tenses. She hates that she does. Looking up, Macklin’s eyes are wide. He clears his throat. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been.”

“I don’t know,” she trails off. “I just have so much going on.”

“No worries,” he responds, but the damage has already been done. The usual Macklin excitement that she fell in love with way back when is muted. Not in the way where it is when he meets fans, where it’s genuine but careful. This one is something entirely different. Like he has already accepted the hurt and disappointment. 

She opens her mouth, but finds that nothing comes out. She tries again, clearing her throat. “But I’ll be there for the last home game. Promise.”

He nods, already miles away even though he’s right in front of her. 

~*~*

A week later, they broke up. No fanfare, though it also felt like it was a snowball waiting to crash at the bottom of a hill. The hurtful words didn’t come all at once. Instead, they had dispersed over a few months until that day. Just a muted conversation at that very cafe where someone muttered “this isn’t working anymore” and the other person just said “I know.” Aurora didn’t leave that cafe for a long time, silent tears streaming down her face long after Macklin had driven away. 

She never did get around to seeing that last home game in person. She hasn’t seen any hockey game in person since then, actually. Which is a shame. She grew to love going to Sharks games while she and Macklin were dating. It was the perfect break whenever she felt herself drowning a bit too much in exams. When the throb behind her eyes hurt a bit too much, going to a hockey game always made it better. 

But she knew she had to give that up after they broke up. Maybe one day she’ll go back to a game, but she’s not ready yet. It’s been over a year, and she’s still not ready. 

It’s been around a month since she ran into Will. She’s tucked it in the back of her head mostly. Except he kept to his promise and started texting her. Nothing crazy or needing commitment, but sending pictures of his dog or a funny meme that reminded him of her. It’s exactly how he used to text her when she and Macklin were still dating. But she finds she doesn’t mind it, having caught herself smiling more than once on breaks at the clinic. 

Aurora has technically moved on. She went through the months where she cried her eyes out. Deleted the text chain. Doesn’t have the urge to look through her camera roll anymore. She’s even gone on a few dates from guys she’s come across in class or on the dating apps. But nothing has quite stuck. 

Sometimes, only sometimes, she lets herself indulge and watch a Sharks game on her laptop. notebooks and textbooks and highlighters littering all over her desk as she watches Macklin break yet another franchise record. She can’t help but smile whenever the camera zooms on him. His intensity on the bench, his frustration after a missed shot, or, on the rare instance, an elated smile. 

Being with him during his sophomore season was beautiful, looking back. Seeing him burst out on the scene, nationally and internationally, and prove to everyone what she knew the second she met him at Salt & Coffee after he accidentally reached for her order: he’s a star. And nothing will stop him.

Even her. 

It’s a nice Sunday morning in August, and Aurora dragged herself to, you guessed it, Salt & Coffee. In her tote bag is her laptop, a notebook, a bunch of highlighters and pens and her textbook. She’s taking the MCAT in October, so when she’s not at the clinic typing up notes, meeting patients, or dealing with her shitty boss who knows no boundaries, she’s studying. 

It's summer. Which means fewer students around. Which means the cafe is emptier than it would be during the school year. 

Summer also means no hockey players. Or, it should. 

“Aurora?”

For a split second, she feels a sense of deja vu. But that’s immediately replaced by a sense of dread paired with panic. It takes everything in her to look up, putting the cap back on her highlighter. “Macklin.”

He’s wearing a backwards hat, a gray sweatshirt and shorts, which is a very typical outfit for him. But he looks older than he did just a year ago. Sharper jawline and features growing into themselves. His eyes scan all the study materials on her table and her outfit of a Stanford sweatshirt and jean shorts. She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing. If she also looks older. More tired. 

He clears his throat. “Sorry. Sorry if I’m-”

“You’re not.” He looks at her unconvinced. She hastily closes her textbook and places her notebook on top while gathering her pens over to one side. “You wanna sit?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I could use a break.”

He nods, before sitting down across from her, tentatively setting his latte down in front of him as she slides her laptop back in her bag. “Studying?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the summer.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “How do you think you get into med school? I'm taking the MCAT in October.”

Macklin chuckles sheepishly, looking down at the table. “Right.”

A flood of something uncomfortable rushes through her stomach. And then it’s gone. She wets her lips, trying not to let her voice crack. “It’s August. I thought hockey players dispersed back to their hometowns in the summer.”

He shrugs. “Had to take care of some things. I’m going back home tomorrow though.”

“That’s not vague at all.”

He smiles. Almost smiles, at least. “It’s August. I thought students dispersed back to their hometowns in the summer.”

“Not a student anymore,” she smirks. “At least, not yet. I’m working at a clinic here for my gap year.”

“Sounds smart.”

“You think everything I do sounds smart.”

“True.”

They both take a sip of their coffee, staring out the window at the tourists slowly admiring downtown, the residents walking with purpose to wherever they have to go and the workers on their own coffee runs, chatting with other coworkers about office politics, lanyards with IDs clipped to their blazer or slack pockets. If they squint in the right direction, they can see the tip of SAP Center. 

“How’ve you been?” He asks. 

She turns back to him. He’s not quite staring at her, but not looking away either. “I’ve been okay,” she says. “You?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You enjoying off-season?”

He nods. “I am.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows lift. 

“Trying to,” he admits. 

“That sounds more like it.”

The right side of his lips lift up before it disappears again. “How does it feel? Being a college graduate.”

“The same as it does being a non-college graduate. Except people automatically assume you know what you’re doing just because you have some piece of paper now.”

He leans back in his seat. “I don’t know. I feel like you always gave off the impression that you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

She takes a sip of her drink, noting the condensation. “Congrats on playoffs. I’m sure it wasn’t as far as you wanted to go, but still.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, so casual to the point where she could’ve been asking about the weather, not talking to one of the NHL’s biggest stars on the season he completed a few months ago. 

Aurora can’t help but roll her eyes. “Never satisfied, huh?”

“I could say the same about you,” he says, nodding to her textbook. 

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s not true. It’s all a choice.” 

She swallows, lips suddenly drying up. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it when she can’t decide what should come out of it. Macklin, who has found a particular spot on the table to look at periodically throughout the conversation lifts his gaze back up. Steady, but something unsure swirling behind the murky green of his eyes. 

“I’m really sorry.” 

The air between them becomes heavy as Aurora gulps. She notes coffee machines whirring and something that sounds suspiciously like Gracie Abrams crooning softly in the background. It feels cruel, in a way, to be having this conversation here. At the place where they met, the place they came together over a hundred times and the place where they broke up. 

But everything surrounding Macklin has felt like a movie, in the best and worst way possible, so maybe she should’ve expected this. 

He forges on. “I’m sorry for everything. For how it went down. I really didn’t want it to go down the way it did.” 

“I’m sorry too,” she says.

He leans forward, hands on his coffee. “I said some pretty awful stuff in the months leading up, and I know you said it was okay but it wasn’t. I’m really sorry.”

She bites her lip, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“But I did anyways.”

“Yeah. I also hurt you too, though.”

He shakes his head so hard that she’s momentarily afraid he’s going to hurt himself. “No. No. It wasn’t the same.” He clears his throat before taking a deep breath. “I think-I wanted to be with you. That never changed. But I didn’t know how to do it and be everything else.”

“Everything else?”

“Hockey, mainly. But also, just, you. And not in the way where you were something to handle. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“But it ended up feeling that way,” she concludes for him flatly. 

“Because I didn’t know how to handle it,” he huffs. “It was nothing about you. I loved you for everything you were. The late night studying and the intense love for french fries and the fact that you always have a pen behind your ear. Everything.” Sure enough, there’s a black pen behind her ear right now. She hastily takes it out and he makes a noise, not quite a laugh but something close. 

The words circle her throat like something circling down a drain before she forces them out. “I don’t think I made it easier sometimes. When you had to deal with the hockey stuff and also with me.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“And I didn’t ever mean to make you choose between the two.”

“I know,” he assures quickly. She thinks he’s telling the truth. She hopes. “But it still felt like that sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry for not taking the time to get it. I thought I had it down, but I didn’t realize… or maybe I knew. I don’t know. Maybe I knew and was too stubborn to acknowledge it and do something about it. It always felt like we were at a crossroad where neither of us was willing to help the other find their way.”

“Yeah,” he says. And tension in the air loosens. Not completely undone, but unwound like two limp strings. Two people who used to be everything to each other trying to figure out where that changed, while acknowledging that they both inherently have changed as well. 

Aurora is starting to breathe easier. Breathe without thinking. He crosses his arms and leans on the table, looking at her. “There was just a lot going on that year. Sophomore season, so I wanted to prove that the rookie year wasn’t a fluke. And then the Olympics. And then losing in the Olympics. And then being in reach of the playoffs. And then not reaching the playoffs. And along the way, I thought you’d just adjust with me. But that’s not how it works. I should’ve made room for you, not made you feel like you had to squeeze into the space.”

“Macklin-”

“You had your own life, with school and everything that I didn’t try to really understand. I just acknowledged that it was your world, rather than finding out where I fit in there.”

She plays with her straw wrapper, ripping it into tiny pieces. “I loved the fact that you were so intense though.”

“Even when I forgot about you?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t always mind it.”

“Not sustainable for a long term relationship though.”

“Probably not.”

A smile tugs at his lips and Aurora remembers how beautiful a Macklin Celebrini smile is. “I also didn’t intend to ever give off the idea that your life was less than mine in any way. I’m sorry if it ever felt that way.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

His phone, which has been face down on the table this whole time, buzzes. Macklin takes a peek and chuckles before locking it. “It’s Charlie. Said if I don’t come back for a croissant for her she’s going to burn all my hockey gear.”

That gets a genuine laugh out of Aurora. “She just graduated, right?”

“Yeah,” Macklin purses his lips. 

“Why is she in San Jose with you?”

“Funny you ask. She’s, uh, moving into college today. At Stanford.”

Aurora snorts before she can control it. “You’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“What was your reaction when you found out?”

“I was so proud,” he admits, like getting him to say that he’s happy for his baby sister is harder than pulling out teeth. “Said that now two of the best people I know will have gone there.”

Her stomach becomes gooey before she can help it. “Flatterer.”

“Only telling the truth.” 

“Well, that’s great news. Give her my number or something. I can tell her all the places to go.”

“Maybe you could tell her yourself?” She blinks as Macklin’s eyes widen in panic. “Shit. I, uh, I’m jumping ahead.”

“No, keep going. I’m enjoying this.”

“Can we forget I just said that?”

“No. But I can pretend to. For your sake.”

“Typical.”

“You know me.”

That gets a laugh out of him, one where all his teeth are showing and he’s actually laughing, not just doing it for the cameras. 

His teeth disappear and he fidgets with his sweatshirt sleeve. “I was in the car when you ran into Will here.”

“I figured.”

“You did?”

“Well, I know Will doesn’t drink oak milk lattes and you guys do everything together.”

He bites his lip. “Did that ever bother you?”

“What? Your oat milk lattes?”

“No. Will. The fact that we’re-”

“Best friends?” Aurora shakes her head emphatically. “No. It never bothered me. I love Will. And you both need each other.”

“It really never bothered you?”

“Maybe if it was anyone else, it would’ve,” she responds honestly. “But with Will? No.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Macklin clears his throat. “Anyways, when he told me he saw you, I kinda, I don’t know. It probably should’ve hurt. And it did, a little. But he talked about how you were literally in your graduation outfit and how happy you looked and all I felt in that moment was pride.”

Her eyes become wet all of a sudden. “Mack-”

“I just, I remember when I’d come to yours after a game and I was dead on my feet but you were wide awake with three textbooks spread out and three coffees deep, with your arm out as you were looking at it trying to memorize God knows what.”

“So, after every home game?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. So, I know you’ve worked hard. And I’m really proud of you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“So what’s next? Just studying for the MCAT?

She swirls her half-empty macchiato with her straw, crossing her legs. “I started working at an allergy clinic last month. So doing that, while studying.”

Macklin lets out a low whistle. “Non-stop.”

“Same as you.”

“I have an off-season.”

“Like hell you do.”

He tugs at his lower lip and Aurora straightens up, because she has a feeling the next thing he says is going to ruin her. 

“I’ve missed you a lot.”

Even though she was prepared, her throat dries up. “Mack-”

“And I know that doesn’t fix anything that I did.”

Silence. Before Aurora tries to shave the bitterness out of her voice. “It shouldn’t.”

The right side of his lip quirks up in a way that reminds her that while he never graduated, he did go to college and knows how to be a pain in the ass. “Oh?”

“Don’t even,” she says with an eye roll, before her shoulders deflate. “I’ve missed you too.”

Any hint of smugness disappears as his eyes soften. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I shouldn’t. And for awhile I really tried to shove that feeling away. But I don’t know. With you in front of me right now…”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “I gotta say, though, I’m surprised you’re admitting it so easily. It used to take a lot more for you to tell me what you were feeling.”

“Because I like giving you a hard time,” she says with a smirk as he rolls his eyes fondly. She bites her lip. “But I don’t know. I think that was part of the problem too. I should’ve told you more about how I felt before letting it fester.”

“I don’t think I always made it easy for you to do that though.”

“Well, we’re both just a duo of shit communicators, aren’t we?”

Macklin laughs. Truly laughs. Not the one he plasters on for interviews or politely in front of fans. His real laugh. Her heart aches. He nods towards her coffee. “Caramel latte?” 

“I’m a girl of routine.”

“I know. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Mack bites the right side of his lip before letting it go with a swallow. He looks straight at her in a way that makes Aurora’s throat close. “You always felt like home.” The words settle over her like a heated blanket that had gone too hot in the middle of the night. Then, he chuckles. “Don’t respond to that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s sappy and cringe.”

“You are sappy and cringe, Macklin.”

“I have a reputation to uphold.”

“To who? The Sharks fans who call you Captain Baby?”

“Straight out of the cradle, as they say.”

She shakes her head fondly, before looking down at her phone. Her eyes widen when she realizes what time it is. She’s supposed to meet some friends for happy hour in two hours and she’s behind on her study plan. Macklin, who still has the ability to be one step ahead of her mouth, shifts in his seat. “I’ll leave you to study.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I won’t be the reason you’re behind schedule. I'd rather be benched in the Stanley Cup final."

“That's dramatic. I’m literally telling you that you can be.”

“Maybe when I get back next month?”

That makes her freeze. She watches Macklin watch her. He starts fidgeting, which was always the most obvious signal that he just said something and is afraid to hear the answer. She remembers when he would do that when he cancelled plans for the third time in a row, or when he couldn’t go to an important event of hers because of hockey. 

And now, it’s happening not because he’s about to reject her, but he’s afraid of her rejecting him. 

“Macklin-”

“If the door is closed shut completely, I get it. And I’ll leave you alone. But if there’s even a small chance of a crack or an opening, I’d love to take it.”

Aurora stares down at her hands. She used to dream of these words coming out of his mouth, but now that they are, she’s not so sure how she feels about it. But she owes him an answer. Even if it’s not the prettiest. 

“I can’t do it again if it’s the same exact thing we tried the first time.”

“I know. I can’t either,” he says firmly. She watches his throat bob up and down as he tries to find the right words. “And it won’t be. You’re different. I’m different.”

Her lip trembles. “I’m going to be just as busy studying and then med school. You’re only going to get busier. What’s really different this time around?”

“I know what life is like without you now. And it absolutely fucking sucks.”

She lets out a choked chuckle and Macklin’s eyes flash with the briefest hint of hope before it disappears again, as if he won’t let himself feel that yet. She can feel the sweat on her stomach and squeezes her eyes shut momentarily, before opening them and forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she says with a single nod. “We try again. And we try to fuck it up less this time.”

He laughs in relief, eyes sincere and glowing. “I’ll try my damn hardest.” He stands up and takes three steps over to her side, bending down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ll leave you to study.”

A smile spreads across Aurora’s lips before she can help it. “Okay. Tell Charlie I said hi and give her my number?”

“I will. Promise,” he says, grabbing both of their empty cups to throw them away. He turns to leave but stops himself, facing her again. “Should I go with the chocolate croissant or the plain one?”

Her smile settles into something comfortable and worn, like your favorite sweatshirt that you refuse to part with. “You know that’s a dumb question to ask me.”

He laughs. “Chocolate it is.” His teeth disappear but his gaze is soft, scanning over Aurora one last time. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off him as he orders and walks out the door, waving when he waves through the window. Aurora turns back to her work only when Macklin’s completely out of sight. Well, she tries, because her phone buzzes. She turns it around, glancing at the screen to see a name she hasn’t seen pop up in a long time. It makes her stomach warm. 

Macklin🩵

Good seeing you 

And I mean it. Thank you for the second chance

I won’t let you down

The first tear of the day falls down her face as she types back with shaky hands 

Aurora 🎇

I know you won’t 

It all comes crashing down on a random, abnormally mild Saturday night in February, which is so cliche in itself that she would laugh about it if it wasn’t so stupid. 

It’s the night after a big home win that required overtime heroics from Logan. Garrett notched the slick assist, but no one would know that since he’s his typical easy going self, both taking in the praise but also brushing it off in a way that only he can get away with. 

She was convinced by Allie and Hannah to come by the hockey house for the party, which, to some people’s surprise, despite being a close friend of Garrett’s, she doesn’t love doing. Parties have never really been her scene and she’d rather cuddle up in bed with a movie. She’s seen the hockey house more in the morning aftermath of a party than when the party is actually happening. And that’s been the case for three years.

But Allie started tossing clothes at her right after she two came back to her dorm from the game. 10 minutes later, her roommate Hannah had wandered in, quietly urging her to come out in contrast to Allie’s loud begging. 

She met Allie when doing lights and sound for a theater production way back in freshman year, and she’s become a great friend since. Hannah, she doesn’t know as well, but she always has a smile on her face when serving her and her friends at Malone’s and is a very easy conversationalist. 

She also knows that a few months back, Hannah and Garrett went on a couple of dates, which only perked her interest because Garrett Graham doesn’t go on dates. No one really told her what happened — she doesn’t feel close enough to Hannah to directly ask and Garrett weirdly avoided any interrogation she would try to start — but as far as she knows, they’re not dating. Which is weird. Because Hannah is actually a really great girl and if someone were to lock Garrett down, it would be someone like Hannah.

Briar is small enough where it’s not weird that people who wouldn’t ordinarily cross paths do. How she and Garrett met was really simple, despite him being a hockey hotshot and a history major and her being a education major who dabbles in the theater department. They were both put in a four-person group project in their Intro to Psychology class the second semester of freshman year. Somehow, she and the Garrett were the ones who pulled the weight, and she got to know the hockey superstar through multiple library sessions, where by the end of the semester, he knew her coffee order by heart and knew when making a snarky comment would earn a laugh or a surprisingly hard slap in the chest. He always took both in stride.

After that class had ended, she figured that would be it. But on the first day of sophomore year, she had run into him on the quad and caught up with him on their summers and it felt like no time had passed at all. Since then, they’ve become close friends. If she thought too much about it, she would even consider Garrett her best friend. 

She knows when the smile on his face is polite versus real. The latter comes out in flashes, either when they’re both watching a movie on her bed on a Wednesday night or at Malone’s on karaoke night and Tucker is trying to find the melody. She knows the way his jaw clicks when he looks down at his phone and it’s his dad trying to reach him, or how and why he shuts down when his dad is in the crowd of his games. He’s a boy, so everything she’s learned about his relationship with his dad has come little by little, usually accidentally. She knows that despite the cocky, charming aura he exudes across campus, he’s deeply caring and has taken the time and effort to learn things about her that she’s never outwardly told him. 

Garrett knows parties like this aren’t her thing and has always respected that. So when she does trail behind Allie and Hannah into the lively house, dressed in embroidered jeans and a basic white t-shirt, he notices her immediately and makes a beeline towards her. 

He wraps both Allie and Hannah in side hugs first before his eyes land on her, smirk already forming on his face. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

She rolls her eyes, eyeing his black hoodie ensemble. How boring. “I’m already regretting it.”

His arms come around her shoulders and he kisses the top of her head as she pulls away, his arm still around her shoulder as she instinctively tucks into his side. “Glad you’re here,” he says.

“Thank these two.”

He turns to Allie and Hannah with a chuckle. “Thank you for dragging the princess out of her tower.” He earns a slap in the stomach for that one, just as Dean comes up with his classic Dean charm, two drinks in his hand. 

“Hello my fair ladies.”

“Dean,” she greets flatly, as he kisses Allie on the cheek. Hannah just flashes a friendly smile.

He hands Allie a red cup and Hannah a closed can of what looks like a canned margarita. He nods at her. “Surprised to see you here, Flower.”

Instinctively, she rolls her eyes at the nickname that Dean coined for her ages ago, based on the amount of floral clothes she has in her closet. “Don’t go announcing it everywhere. I just wanna come in, maybe enjoy a drink or two, watch people make bad decisions, and then go home. Maybe get some fries along the way.”

Just then, Beau’s walking past and even he double takes. “Oh my goodness! Flower’s here.”

Yeah, the nickname caught on. She smiles, though. She’s always had a soft spot for Beau. “Hi Beau.”

Beau elbows Garrett. “Get your girl a drink, dude. What are you doing just standing there?”

“I was getting there,” he says pointedly before turning to her, Allie, Dean and Hannah already wandering farther into the house. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”

He steers them both to the kitchen even though she could navigate this house with her eyes closed. “Since when did you become a bartender?”

“I’m not. If I had been expecting you though, I would’ve been ready with a drink for you as soon as you walked in.” He opens a higher cabinet and takes out a bottle before grabbing a red cup. “Whiskey and coke still good for you?”

“Whiskey seems a bit fancy for a pseudo-frat party.”

He pours the whiskey before going into the fridge for a can of coke. “We don’t usually bring it out, hence it being on the top shelf.”

“Oh, so I get the special treatment.”

He shrugs, closing the fridge and opening the can of coke. “You get the Garrett Graham treatment.”

“Delightful.” she says, tone completely the opposite.

He hands the cup over to her. “You love it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“But really. What made you want to come out tonight?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes Allie and Hannah can be really convincing.”

“More than me?”

“You haven’t asked me to come to one of these things in over a year.”

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “Did you want me to ask?”

She laughs. “No, Garrett. God, no. This is a very limited time thing for me.”

“Okay. Good. Because you’re always welcome. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Graham,” she takes a sip of her drink and hums. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you about to give me a grade?”

“Maybe.”

“Alright, hit me with it.”

“A solid B. More whiskey, please.”

He blinks, before barking out a laugh, reaching back into the cabinet. “My bad. I’m out of practice. I forgot you like your drinks strong.”

He pours a shot’s amount more of alcohol into her cup and she smiles sweetly. “Thank you.” She takes a sip before looking around the house that’s filled with people. Dean, Tucker, Allie and Hannah are now playing what she thinks is beer pong, though the rules seem to be very loose. And a bunch of people whose faces she recognizes are scattered around. Her ears pick up on a familiar tune and she chuckles, turning back to Garrett. “XS by Rina Sawayama? Really?”

“You love this song.”

“I do. But I figured hockey parties would be a breeding ground for Top 40 or like, rap.”

“Not when I’m in charge of the aux.”

The song then changes to Wet Dream by Wet Leg. She narrows her eyes at him, as he’s trying to hide a smile. “Are you playing our shared playlist?

“Maybe.”

“Do you do this at every party?”

“Maybe,” he smiles charmingly in his way that even has professors going easy on him. Not on her though. The shine has long gone dull. But she loves it anyways.

“I do have good music taste.”

He scoffs and comes closer so she can hear him better. “Excuse me. It’s our music taste.”

“Yeah. Totally. Whatever you say.” She bumps his hip with hers. “Where’s Logan?”

“Probably out on the porch. Why?”

“I need to ask him if he can fix up this shelf in my bathroom.” She flashes a bright smile at Garrett. “Catch you later?”

“Of course.”

Later turns into an hour and a half. She’s buzzed to the point where her tongue is more loose than normal and her reaction time is a hair slower, but she’s having a better time than she thought she would, chatting with her friends and dancing when a particular catchy song comes on. She hasn’t really talked to Garrett, as he’s been floating around from person to person like the popular busy bee he is. But she doesn’t mind. 

Or, she thinks she doesn’t. Until she’s talking to Tucker and her eye catches Garrett across the room sitting on a chair smiling at… Maeve? Molly? He’s smiling his real smile at her, as Melissa or Melanie perches on the arm of the chair. They’re close enough that she knows where this is headed, Garrett’s demeanor flirty enough to know what he wants. A small flame of unwarranted hurt and indignation flares up in her stomach. 

She must not hide it well, because Tucker tracks her eyesight and gives her a look. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just, I think I’m going to go get some air.”

She doesn't wait for a response before she scurries to the front door, ignoring Tucker yelling after her. The alcohol in her body also causes her to shiver, as she wraps her bare arms around herself to try to generate some heat. 

It’s annoying at best and aggravating at worst that she’s in love with Garrett Graham. It’s so hilariously predictable that she would be partly ashamed if she had some tact.  And she knows he doesn’t feel the same way. She’s heard stories of his hookups. From himself and other girls on campus. It makes her feel almost worse that even though he sleeps around, he’s rarely truly a dick to the people he hooks up with. It would almost be easier if he was. 

And the thing is, she knew. When she first met him, she knew there would never be the chance. Yet, sometime during the end of sophomore year, when he had squeezed her so tight and taken her out to dinner to celebrate her getting her dream summer internship, the realization hit her like a truck. 

And what did she do about it? Absolutely nothing. She would rather be shoved so deep in the friend box because at least she’d still have him. And she loves being his friend. Truly.

She doesn't know why it’s hitting especially hard tonight. She’s been pretty good at hiding it from everyone. Maybe this is partially why she doesn't go to parties. The bass and the alcohol and the people and the hormones mix together to create a higher possibility of emotions slipping free. 

She didn’t even realize she had started crying. She curses under her breath, wiping at her eyes to try to get herself to stop fucking crying. The night isn’t over yet. She wants to go back inside and have fun. But as she swallows and squeezes her eyes shut, that sinking feeling gets more impossible to usher out. 

“Hey!” 

She lets out a deep breath. Of course. She turns and plasters a smile on her face as Garrett walks closer. “Hey, Graham.”

“Tucker told me you stormed out and looked upset. What’s-are you crying?”

She sniffles. “No.”

Garrett snorts, “I believe you.” He stops right in front of her and his expression turns serious as she’s trying her best not to make eye contact. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine.” And she thinks she would’ve maybe gotten away with it, if her voice hadn’t cracked at the end of the word. 

“Hey. Hey.”

And something about how soft and caring his tone is has a sob escaping from her lips. His eyes flash in a panic as he quickly scans her face, trying to figure out what’s going on. She hiccups while trying to calm herself down, staring determinedly at her shoes. 

“Here,” he says in the middle of a hiccup. She looks to see him holding out a hoodie for her. He must’ve grabbed it when Tucker told her she came outside. It’s the purple one she steals constantly when she comes over because Garrett likes keeping his room absurdly cold. That alone has more tears rushing down her face. She thanks him softly, tugging the sweatshirt over herself. Immediately, she’s warm, surrounded by the scent of his laundry detergent, eucalyptus from his shampoo and something so inherently Garrett. 

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” She swallows, trying to wet her throat so she can respond. “Did someone hurt you?” He asks firmly.

“No, Garrett. No. Nothing of that sort.”

“Did someone say something?”

“Unless you count your roommates being their typical selves.”

“Hey, you know the stuff that comes out of Dean’s mouth sometimes is absurd,” he says with a hint of playfulness. 

That gets her lips rising quickly in a smile. “Dean’s harmless.”

“Well, he likes you. So that helps.” She crosses her arms again, making herself small as Garrett watches, giving her space but trying to figure out exactly how much. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m okay,” she tries to assure him. “Really. You can go back in and keep talking to whoever you were talking to.”

He waves his hand noncommittedly towards the direction of the house. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re out here crying and I don’t know why.”

“Garrett.”

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” she says, wiping tears that are still coming out of her eyes. “Just hormonal probably.”

“Nope,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You were on your period last week and you hate using that as an excuse. Nice try.”

Momentarily, she blinks in pure confusion. “How do you know that?”

He chuckles. “You forgot your painkillers, remember? You rearranged my room to find a bottle of Motrin even though it was in my desk drawer all along and you just didn’t see it the first time.” He jabs his pointer finger at her. “You’re purposefully trying to avoid the subject.”

She pouts. “It’s not working?”

“Never. Not with me.”

She looks back towards the house as people continue casually spilling in and out. The bass is loud enough to be heard, but not in any way where any neighbor would be concerned. The hockey house always looks almost ethereal like this. Like a liminal space if it smelled like beer and the floors were sticky. 

And Garrett, her dear best friend, just waits patiently. Never pushing, but not giving any indication that he’s leaving. She could lie, but what would she say? Plus, he’d see right through her. When she’s completely sober and it’s not nearing midnight, she has better control of her emotions. But apparently, three whiskey and cokes in, the buzz of a college party and seeing her best friend talk to a girl who looks nothing like her will have you losing your filter a bit.

She looks back at him. And it sounds dramatic, but it feels like what she’s about to say is going to shift their relationship forever. She wonders if he can feel it too. 

“I’m in love with you.”

He freezes. She partially can’t believe that she actually said it. But that thought is quickly overshadowed by the fact that she can’t read his face at all. Something that she’s gotten really good at the last three years. That’s not good.

And because she apparently can’t shut her mouth anymore, she barrels on, wiping her tears now with haste. “I’m in love with you. And I saw you talking to Molly or Marissa or Mabel or whatever and something in me snapped. So then I came out here. Which is dumb, because it’s not like you haven’t talked to girls before in front of me. But there’s a first for everything, I guess.” She’s heaving now and she bites her trembling lip, waiting for his reaction. 

Finally, after seemingly an eternity, he clears his throat. “You’re in love with me?”

For some reason, that causes another set of tears to fall down her face. Gosh, can she stop crying? “Trust me, I’ve tried not to be,” she tries to joke. “Would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn’t.”

“Baby-”

“Do you know why I avoid coming to parties you guys host?” She breezes past him calling her baby because she cannot handle that right now. “Because I don’t actually mind parties once in awhile. It’s because everytime, it ends up with you going upstairs to hook up with a girl and I just have to stand there and watch and pretend it doesn’t fucking kill me that you’ll never want me like that.”

He looks torn. “That’s not-”

“And the thing is,” she’s on a roll now, having backed away from him slightly but hands waving wildly. “The thing is, is that it’s not even your fault. Garrett Graham doesn’t do girlfriends. I’ve known that since before we even met. But sometimes, I see you go upstairs holding a girl’s hand or at the dining hall chatting someone up or at Malone’s completely at ease with a bunch of girls around the team or, fuck, even when you went on a few dates with Hannah, which makes me feel even shitter because I actually like her. Anyways, it just all makes me feel really shitty. It’s not valid, I know it’s not. But that’s how it makes me feel.”

Garrett opens his mouth, but then closes it again, his hazel eyes murky and swirling with emotion that she can’t place. She swallows, bracing herself for the ultimate rejection.

He steps forward and she thinks, this is it. This is when she loses him. But he grabs her hands gently, interlacing their fingers together. She’s too in shock to do anything but reciprocate. 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Why didn’t I-because we’re friends, Garrett. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

“How was I supposed to know there was something to possibly ruin when you never gave a single hint that you loved me?”

She bites her lip. “You weren’t ever supposed to know.”

He scoffs. “What, so you were just never going to tell me?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s a shit fucking plan. You’re my best friend. Of course I was going to find out eventually.”

“Okay, ouch.”

“No, it’s just,” he heaves out a sigh and their hands are still fucking intertwined. “Holy shit. You’re my best fucking friend.”

“I know. You already said that.”

Garrett shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you do know. I-I don’t do relationships for a lot of reasons. You know that. But, fuck, baby. I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

Immediately, she recoils. “No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have,” he lets go of her hands finally, but now it’s his turn to back away. He runs a hand through his hair. “I never acted on it because since day one, you’ve given me shit like it’s your full time job but in a way that always makes me feel so fucking seen. You always know after a bad game if I need a verbal ass whooping or a warm hug and some mediocre pizza. You always pick up on how I’m feeling just a few seconds before I can and you adjust so seamlessly. At some point, you shifted from being a part of my life to just being my life. And that scared me because I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way. So yeah, I just hook up with people with no attachments because I just accepted the fact that you’re never going to love me back.”

“Garrett, that’s kinda sad.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Maybe. But at least in that way, I’d always have you in my life somehow. I always told myself that graduation was my deadline. I had to tell you before we graduated if I hadn’t already.” He steps forward and their toes are touching. “But classically, you beat me to it.”

“I beat you to everything.”

“That you do, baby.”

Her stomach can’t help but flutter when he calls her that. She swallows. “You’re not lying to me, right? Like, this isn’t some sort of bet and Dean is going to pop out and blow a noisemaker in my face?”

He flinches back, hurt flashing through his eyes at the mere idea. “No, of course not. I’d never do that to you.”

“So what? You don’t do girlfriends because you were convinced that I was never going to date you?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pathetic.”

“You are pathetic,” she deadpans. 

He rolls his eyes fondly. “No. I didn’t do girlfriends because hockey and school are important and they take up all my time. Also, so do emotions. But then we got put into a group in Professor Knight’s class and I fucking fell in love with you anyways. Then, I didn’t do girlfriends because they weren’t - do I ever tell you what actually happened between me and Hannah?”

She narrows her eyes. “No…”

“Did she ever tell you?”

“Honestly, not really.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Go figure.” He takes a deep breath. “Hannah’s great. You know that. I know that. But she clocked me on the third date when we were about to leave Shelly’s. I ordered your usual because it was right after that big exam you had last month and then when I was driving her home, before she got out of the car, she just turned to me and was like ‘there isn’t going to be a fourth date, is there?’ And God, I felt so bad, but she got me to basically spill the beans and I told her I loved you and I’ve loved you for the last three years. And, fucking Wellsy, she just laughed and told me to stop being an idiot and just tell you how I feel.”

“Hannah’s better than both of us combined.”

“Agreed.” 

Silence falls between them both. Her tears have stopped, thankfully, but her voice still cracks. “We wasted so much time.”

“No, we didn’t,” she looks up as he cups her face with so much care that she feels like someone just pulled in to tug her heart out of her chest. “I wouldn’t trade any second of what we’ve been for anything.”

“You’re my best friend,” she whispers, her lips brushing against his. 

“You’re my favorite person in the world,” he says, words rushing out like his mouth is speaking before his brain. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

She giggles. “Never thought you’d be the kind of person to ask, Graham.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“You’re the one who wants to kiss me.”

He laughs breathily. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, I do.”

She closes the gap and immediately, it feels like she’s kissed him in a past life. He tastes like the beer he’s been drinking all night with the spearmint from the gum he’s always smacking, and he’s kissing her like he’s been waiting to do this for a long time. She hums happily against his mouth, and he responds by kissing her deeper and lowering his hands from her cheeks to the small of her back. She feels like she’s coming home after a long day.

When she eventually pulls away, he chases her lips and she laughs, letting him sneak one more kiss before putting her hands on his chest to hold him still. “Give me a second, Casanova.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, not sounding sorry at all and staring at her lips.

“Don’t be,” she says. their usual bantering energy softening into the moment. She moves a hand from his cheek to tuck one of his stray hairs away from his forehead. He catches her right hand mid-air with his own, and she looks into his eyes as he raises it to his lips and kisses the inside of her wrist. She chokes out a laugh. “You’re such a sap.”

“No I’m not.” He protests.

She grins. “You so are.”

He shrugs. “Fine. You win. Maybe I am.”

She lets out a loud chuckle. “Wow. This is all it takes for you to admit defeat? To tell you I love you? If I had known that, maybe I would’ve done it sooner.”

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” He asks, tone becoming serious again. “Why tonight?”

Shrugging, she looks down at her feet, not really wanting to admit the real reason because it sounds so petty and jealous even though that’s exactly what it is. 

“Was it only because I was talking to Maria, who, by the way, is very in love with her girlfriend?” He asks. She looks up, and there’s a hint of smugness in his eyes that’s so annoyingly Garrett that she instinctively shoves his shoulders. 

“Fuck you.”

“So it was.”

“Not completely.”

“Oh?”

“For starters, I’m three whiskey and cokes in.”

“I know. I could taste it on your lips.”

She pokes him in the chest. “Rude.”

He catches her hand and intertwines their fingers and she hates that it immediately settles something in her. “But true.”

“And, I don’t really know,” she admits. “This is why I don’t go to parties.”

“They invite you to admit your feelings?”

“They invite me to do things I wouldn’t normally do,” she corrects. “And often it’s things I regret.”

“Not this time, though. Right?” She looks back into Garrett’s forest green eyes again and sees the slight uncertainty in his eyes. As if the idea of her telling him how she felt would be something she would regret, even though he told her he felt the same way. 

It’s hilarious, almost. Sweet, most definitely. 

She lifts up on her tiptops to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Right.”

He smiles, stealing another. “It’s getting chilly. What do you want to do? Do you wanna go back inside? We can hang downstairs with everyone or go upstairs to my room? We can go back to yours if you want.”

She hums in thought. “What do you wanna do?”

“Whatever you wanna do, baby,” he fixes the drawstrings on his, or her, hoodie. “Wherever you are, that’s where I wanna be.”

She looks back at the house, at the life of a college party that’s still going strong and not dying anytime soon. She looks back at Garrett, watching him watching her. Patient, waiting, hers. 

“Can we go back to mine?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me just grab my keys. Do you want to say bye to anyone inside?”

“Not particularly. I’ll text Allie and Hannah so they don’t think I went missing.”

“Okay,” he says softly, before kissing her on the cheek. “You can wait by my car. I’ll be two minutes tops.”

She nods before he spins and jogs back to the front door. She walks the 200 feet to his Jeep before leaning on the passenger door, mind trying to wrap around the last 15 minutes and what the next 15 minutes, and subsequently, day and week and life could bring. Which sounds crazy, but it’s Garrett. So it actually sounds like one of the best possible things right now. 

Her attention perks back up when Garrett steps through the front door again, his black backpack slung over his right shoulder. Because he’s Garrett Graham, he’s stopped by a few people as he’s leaving. Because he’s Garrett Graham, he politely smiles and gets pulled into a conversation or two. But the flutter in her heart that’s been occurring at an alarming rate since he told her he loved her is back, as his eyes dart to her direction and he nods in the middle of listening to someone else talk. Sorry. He’s saying. Give me another minute. He’s assuring. I love you. He’s reminding. 

Her smile is already on her face as he bounds down the front lawn towards her. He squints suspiciously. “What’s that smile for?”

“Nothing,” she sings, thanking him quietly as he does what he always does — opens the door for her. 

“Mhmm,” he hums. “I definitely believe you.” She doesn’t settle in her seat all the way, knees turning towards him as he leans his elbow on the top of the car, looking down at her. His teasing smile turns into a genuine one. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs. 

“Just,” she swallows, because she can be honest now. “Wanna look at you. That’s all.”

Another night, Garrett would probably snort and make fun of her. But tonight, his eyes just soften. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m tipsy and dressed in your hoodie and I have to wash my hair tomorrow. I also just told you I love you. Of course you think that.” I also feel and probably look sluggish.” 

“Still beautiful. Always beautiful,” he reaches into the side pocket of his backpack and pulls out a bottle of water. “Drink. Did you eat before you got here?”

She gulps down the cold water and hands it back to him. “Enough.” An idea pops into her head. “But can we-”

“Yeah,” he looks at her fondly. “We’ll stop for fries.”

She laughs tiredly, but it’s tinted at the edge with something comfortable. Something warm. Something new. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you.” 

He stares at her for a few more seconds before guiding her legs gently forward and shutting the door. She smiles giddly to herself before he opens the door to the driver's seat. He turns on the engine and cranks the heat up, before turning to her. He smiles, not in the polite way. Not in the Garrett Graham is the guy everyone knows on campus way. But in the way that’s solely always been private. 

And now, she’s realizing, it’s been because of her. 

“You’re staring again.”

“Shut up and drive me to my fries, Graham.”

Three years. Three years since Trinity Scarafone has walked through the Boston College campus that she spent four years at. 

Part of it is because she just simply hasn’t been here a lot since then. Her job as part of the equipment management team with the Seattle Kraken only has her in Boston once a year, and in the summers, she spends them in her hometown in upstate New York. 

The campus itself is still incredibly beautiful. Gasson Hall is still worth standing still for a second to admire, especially if there’s a clear blue sky behind to compliment it. She can feel her past self in various crevices along campus, whether it’s a particular bench or a grassy spot under the tree that she always liked to read at. She doesn’t take the time to walk inside any of the buildings, unsure if she’d be able to get into some of them anyways without a valid student ID. 

There’s only one building she’s required to walk into today. 

Conte Forum hasn’t changed much on the outside. Unassuming and shaped a bit weirdly, almost like a kid was given Lego blocks and someone took that as architectural design. She became accustomed to the gray skies, with specks of snow over the dead grass during the season. But seeing Conte at the start of a school year makes it look untouched. Like a building of promise and fresh air, the shadows of the previous season fading. 

She didn’t tell anyone that she’d be back for Homecoming. In a way, she’s still a bit confused how she convinced herself to come. It’s not like she didn’t like her time at BC. She owes a lot of who she is now professionally to her experiences during the three years when she was on the equipment team at Boston College. She owes them everything, in a way. 

Every year, a bunch of alumni — players and staff — come back for Homecoming and the day before the football game, there’s an informal skate at Conte. It’s mostly just an excuse for people in the hockey program of all generations to come together. This year, something in Trinity stopped when she saw the invite in the email two months ago. And instead of clicking “will not attend” in the RSVP like she had done the last three years, she clicked yes. She had then texted Adam, her old boss, who was ecstatic and then Hayley, her former partner in crime who was now in the hockey operations department with the AHL and who Trinity knew had been coming every year since graduation. She had proceeded to forgo the texting formality and called Trinity instead, talking a million miles a minute about how excited she was. 

“Everybody’s going to be so excited to see you,” Hayley had exclaimed. “Seriously. The other times I’ve gone, the first question people ask me is where you are.”

Trinity hadn’t asked more than that, just merely humming and assuring Hayley she’d text her the travel plans when she made them. 

She opens the back door into Conte, surprised that it’s unlocked. There’s no fanfare, which is how Trinity likes to remember Conte. While she loved how filled the stands got for game days and the thrill of being behind the bench during a game, it was in the everyday low buzz where Trinity really fell in love with this building — first when she was 18 at her first BC hockey game, then at 20 when she interviewed for the job. 

As she’s walking to the main concourse, where the email told them to meet, it starts becoming louder. Suddenly, Trinity’s hands start clamming up and she wipes them on her long skirt to try to compensate. There’s no reason to be nervous. She has the right to be here just as much as everyone else. 

“Trinity Scarafone?”

As she whips around at the familiar voice, her lips instinctively raise into a genuine smile. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ryan Leonard.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he walks briskly up to her as she lets out an involuntary oof when he thumps her into a tight hug. “You act like we haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Twice a season where we exchange maybe three sentences tops isn’t the same,” Trinity mutters into his chest before backing away. Ryan’s dressed in an old BC sweatshirt paired with black shorts, sneakers on his feet that probably cost more than what Trinity makes in six months. He’s 25 now, with a fresh A stitched on his Washington Capitals jersey, but he’s still baby Ryan to her. She thinks he always will be. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s even better to see you,” Ryan replies with ease, falling into step with her as they continue to the lobby. “And now I get to brag to everyone that I got the first hug.”

“Who blabbed?”

“No one blabbed,” Trinity just gives him an unimpressed look. Ryan rolls his eyes. “Okay, Hayley may have mentioned it to Jimmy that you were coming and you know Jim.”

She can’t even pretend to be surprised. “The baby freshmen always did love Hayley.”

“It’s cause she always snuck them candy. With you, on the other hand, we were lucky if we ever got a smile out of you.”

“You know that’s not true,” she lightly scolds.

Ryan bumps his hip with hers. “I know. I’m just playing.”

“So James is here?” She asks, trying to appear casual. 

If Ryan knows she’s trying to fish, he doesn’t show it. “Yeah, showed up with Dean and Gasser. I think I saw Rammer and Forter running around too. The Powells. Fowler. Gabo’s showing up at some point. Oh, and some of the guys from your first year on the team.” He smirks. “I know you have a soft spot for them.”

“I loved you all equally,” she says diplomatically. But he’s right. She’ll never forget the first roster she worked for. The one that planted the seed in her brain that this could be something she wanted to do for the rest of her life. 

Ryan hums. “He’s also here.”

She doesn’t need to ask him to specify who he’s talking about. “I figured. He loves a reunion,” she says evenly. 

“You going to be okay?”

She smiles thinly. “Wouldn’t have come by if I wasn’t going to be.” He hums again, and she’s once again thankful that he doesn’t press. “And it was so long ago anyways.”

Ryan gives her a major side eye. “Sure. But I also love holding a grudge, so I wouldn’t blame you.”

She barks out a laugh at that. Ryan was always extremely stubborn, on the ice and off it. It drove Trinity up the wall sometimes, as someone who had to work with him a daily basis. She just leans into him briefly, squeezing his elbow. “It’s good to see you, Ryan.”

“Sap,” he says, before they turn the corner. And suddenly, a flurry of voices call her name in excitement and Ryan just pushes her forward with a smug grin. Her throat is filled with sudden emotion as Hayley runs to embrace her, and then Cutter’s arms wrap around them both. She’s seen a lot of these guys playing on various NHL teams, or with Hayley, running around the same hockey professional circles, but it doesn’t compare to having everybody together under this roof again. It makes the uncertainty of being back at BC a bit duller. 

She’s overwhelmed at how enthusiastically she’s being passed around into hugs. Even Coach Brown catches her and shakes her hand warmly. It isn’t until the end when she has her senses again when she’s face to face with a painfully familiar set of eyes. 

Will Smith. Still the darling of BC hockey all these years later. A backwards cap sitting on top of his curls and dressed in a BC branded maroon quarterzip. His blue eyes have somehow gotten bluer with age and Trinity kinda wants to throw a drink at his face. 

Instead, she tries to muster out a smile. Part of it is genuine. “Hi Will.”

The grin that’s always on his face settles down into something smaller. No less bright, but something softer and more bittersweet and longing. Good. She’s vindicated that she still has that effect on him. “Hey Trin,” he says softly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” She tries to joke, but there’s an edge to it. 

“Yeah. It is.” 

She hates how sincere he sounds. She hates that she has to be the first one to break eye contact.

Luckily for them both, the flurry of activity around them tears their attention away from each other. Trinity settles back in with the people she knows the best, exchanging stories with smiles and laughter that bounces off the walls. It’s weird to walk around these halls again. It feels like walking back into your childhood home after years. She has tried her damn hardest to push the BC years away from her brain, or at least make peace with them. She’s done pretty well, but being back here is both exhilarating and heartbreaking, just like she knew it would be. 

The big event of the day is an informal skate and scrimmage for the players. and for old times sake, she finds herself back in the gear room, fiddling with machines and handing out practice jerseys. She’s lucky that she does this full time with an NHL team now, but when Gabe comes by and asks her with a twinkle in his eye if she can sharpen his skates, the grin almost breaks her face from how wide it is. 

People on the outside don’t quite realize how much the equipment management team is integrated into a hockey team’s everyday routine. She was often in at least an hour before the guys were, whether it was early morning practices to Friday night gamedays. After games, Trinity was always one of the last ones out of the building, though part of that became personal preference, as she developed her own little routine. Part of that became ending the night sitting in the stands for five minutes. 

She finds herself behind the bench as some of the alumni scrimmage each other, chatting with Hayley and Adam and taking it all in. She’s really glad she came back, even though there are moments when she catches herself and her stomach ties in knots. 

After the scrimmage, people are planning to disperse into various other homecoming activities, formal and informal. It’s all leading up to the homecoming football game tomorrow. Trinity takes a deep breath as she says goodbye to people. This was the hard part. And it’s over. 

As she’s walking past the rink again, she halts. She looks around and thinks for a moment before deciding, fuck it. 

She heads to the home bench, where she used to stand behind every Friday and Saturday night. Now, she gets to do it for a living in NHL arenas across the continent, but this is where it all started. She mutters under her breath, something like an apology to this arena, this place, this college, for not coming back all these years. Call her crazy, but in the hum of the arena, she feels like the ice is telling her it’s okay and that it forgives her. 

Trinity hears footsteps, and she suddenly shifts. “Yeah, I’m leaving in a second!” She calls out, grabbing her bag from the bench. She hears no reply and the footsteps stop. She slowly turns her head to the doorway to see Will, hands shoved in his khakis, teal gear bag on his shoulder, rocking back and forth on his feet nervously. She swallows. “How’d you know I was here?”

“You used to always linger after games.” She just stares at him. “Leno also told me he saw you coming out,” he admits. 

“I’m going to kill him,” she mutters under her breath. Will drops his gear bag and starts walking towards her. She sighs. “Will. I really don’t wanna do this.”

“It’s been six years. If we’re not going to do this now, then when?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and fully shifting herself to face him on the bench as he stops in front of her. “That’s incredibly fucking rich coming from you,” she snaps.

His shoulders shake slightly as he lets out a deep breath. He looks torn and Trinity can’t really bring herself to care. “I know,” he says lowly. “I know. I-I-” 

He trails off and she turns away, facing the empty ice. She flinches as he slides on the bench next to her. He’s close, but not close enough to touch. That’s good, she thinks. He knows better. 

“I’m surprised you came.”

“BC isn’t just yours,” she says coolly. “I have good memories here too. It’s not about you, which may be surprising.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Will backtracks quickly. “I’m glad you came. Everyone was really excited.”

She hums as silence falls over them again. Until Trinity, who hates that she doesn’t have the self control, breaks it first. “If you’re here to actually say something to me, then say it. If not, then I’ll see you when we play the Sharks.”

“That’s the thing, though.” he chuckles, even though there’s no humor. “You act like we don’t even know each other when we play each other.”

She cocks her head. “I mean, it’s pretty similar to how we left things off, no?” And Trinity knows. She knows she’s being petty. But he’s right here and she might as well be completely honest with him and say how she feels. 

“Trin-”

“And you know what? It sucked, sure. But I got the hint. And I kept showing up here at Conte because I had no other choice and I grew up love it again. I loved being at this rink and working, despite the fact that the person who made me really fall in love with BC hockey in the first place came back from losing in the national championship and proceeded to pretend I didn’t exist.” 

“Trinity-”

It feels like a dam has broken and she can’t stop as her voice cracks. “And that would’ve been all fine and dandy if you hadn’t made me think that whole fucking season that we actually had something.”

“We did,” he swallows roughly. “We did.”

“Then why do it?” She whispers. “Why ignore me and literally ghost me and not give me an explanation? Did you lose feelings for me? Did I become too clingy? Was it all just in my head? Did, fuck, I don’t know. Whatever. It doesn’t even matter anymore. Time’s passed. But it was shitty, and for you to try and finally talk about it with me six fucking years later is also really shitty.”

One long second of silence, and then Will shifts. “You done?”

She scoffs, staring back out at the ice.  “You have some nerve, Will Smith.”

“I do, because I didn’t six years ago and that’s why we’re here.” That gets Trinity to shut up. She feels him shift closer and she bites her tongue. He sighs. “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m so sorry. For cutting you off after that game and ignoring you and not giving you any sort of explanation.”

“Well, do you have one?”

“What? An explanation?” She nods and he shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter now, I guess, why I did it. It’s been so long.”

“I’d like to hear it anyways,” she says with her chin up. 

He blinks and a small smile peeks through before it disappears in a flash. “Thought you might. You’re not gonna like it.”

“Will.”

“I was scared, okay?” His hands fly into his hair and he actually looks frazzled for once. Will Smith rarely looks like he doesn’t have his shit together. “I-I loved you so much, Trin. And we lost and everything felt like it was caving in on me and the decision to sign or not to sign felt suffocating so I did the only thing that I thought was right.”

“Ignoring me? Cutting me off?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and softens. “I know it sounds bad. I know. But I thought that maybe if I just cut clean and let you go that it would be less painful.”

“For who?” She snaps. “Less painful for who, William? For you? You know, you’re a lot of things, but I never thought you were selfish.”

“I know that,” he fires back. “I know that now. But back then? Y-you still had two more years of college and you knew what you wanted and it scared me, Trin. The way I felt about you? 19-year-old me didn’t know what to do with that. So I just pushed it away and tried it make it disappear, thinking that it would just be better for both of us in the long run.”

Trinity feels like she’s living in a rom-com in the worst way possible. Exasperated, she asks. “And was it? Was it better?”

He snorts. “Obviously fucking not. I had to hear from Gabe that you got the gig with the Kraken and I had to pretend I wasn’t proud of you because I did that to myself. I pushed you away. I came every reunion, at the off chance that you’d come as well. When we play Seattle, I force my head down and play my ass off just so maybe you’ll notice me and I’ll catch your eye.” His voice cracks. “I’m so sorry, Trinity. There’s nothing else I can say except I’m sorry. And I know it’s six years too late. I know. But even if it’s late, you deserve an apology.”

She takes a deep breath, noting Will’s bright eyes and crease in his eyebrow. At 25, he’s just as pretty as he was the day they met, when he walked into the meeting room at Conte and his eyes went immediately to her. 

She had come back for her second year, knowing that she would be bestowed with more responsibilities this time. She always knew she liked being behind the scenes of a process. Being on the equipment team for a hockey team wasn’t something she thought she’d be doing, but like many freshmen, she was bouncing around booths during the Fall Student Involvement Fair. Something pulled her to the athletics section, and then eventually on an interest form, and then a meeting, informal interview, and then the first game of the season arrived. 

And she fell in love. With the job. But also, stupidly, with the freshman star with his green eyes and his blonde curls during her sophomore year. She fell in love and he left without an explanation. So she became the best she could be at her job, which paid off. And then tried to forget about the boy who broke her heart. She thought she had forgotten, but now that he’s sitting right next to her, she’s not so sure.

Will clears his throat. “I’m not expecting you to accept my apology or anything.”

“Then what do you want?”

He blinks. “Huh?”

She looks over at him, suddenly tired. “What do you want?”

He chuckles softly. Trinity’s chest tightens. “I don’t think I really have the right to ask for anything from you anymore.”

“You don’t,” Trinity can’t help but laugh a little. “But in an ideal world, what would you want?”

He shrugs. “Just to talk to you again. I’ve missed talking to you.”

A genuine smile peeks through her lips. “Yeah,” she says. “You were always so easy to talk to. It was one of my favorite things about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It was all real,” he swallows. “What you said earlier or whatever. None of what happened that year was in your head.”

“I know that now,” she responds softly. “I wasn’t quite sure at the time. Or right after. But I figured it out eventually.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. Trinity’s both amused and a little tired of all these apologies. He puts his head in his hands. “You shouldn’t have had to figure that out yourself. I should’ve never let you guess how I feel about you.”

“I kinda like this apology tour you’re going on,” she says lightly. Will laughs into his hands and Trinity laughs with him. They both look out at the ice again. 

He looks at her and knocks his knee against hers. She doesn’t flinch. “I’m so proud of you. Just. So fucking proud. You enjoying it? You like Seattle?”

“It’s no Boston,” she chuckles. “But yeah. I love it. Seattle and the job. You? You like San Jose?”

“Love it.”

“Good,” she says, meaning it with her whole heart. “And I accept. All the apologies.”

“You don’t have to. You probably shouldn’t.”

“You’re probably right,” she shrugs. “But it’s fun seeing you so frazzled.”

Will scoffs, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“You like it.” She takes a deep breath. “Thank you. For apologizing. Even if it’s way too late.”

“Thank you for not taking a stick from the equipment room and beating my ass with it.”

She laughs loudly. “You’re welcome.”

He clears his throat. “I should go. Leno will probably think you killed me and Gabe will be sad you didn’t.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It very much is,” Will says. “They, uh, they both gave me a lot of shit for what I did to you.”

Her heart surges with love at Will’s old linemates who ended up becoming her friends the year after he left, even when Trinity was reeling over heartbreak. The first month or so of being back at Conte without Will was really hard, but Ryan and Gabe, being themselves, were very helpful. Probably more helpful than they both realize. 

“Are you going to the football game tomorrow?” She asks. 

He nods. “Yeah. Are you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, if you are. I’ll see you then.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll see you later. And I mean it this time.”

She shouldn’t believe him, but she does. With a nod and a smile, she says, “Okay.”

~*~*~

When someone knocks on Trinity’s front door, she immediately thinks she’s hearing things. Everyone she’s close with in Seattle who would knock on her door without telling her in advance that they were coming can be counted on one hand, and she knows all of them are at their jobs. Because it’s a Monday afternoon. And practice already finished, so she knows it’s not work related.

She covers her yawn as she paddles to the door. Whoever is knocking is eager and won’t stop. 

When she opens the door, she lets a small gasp out. It’s Will. In Seattle. 

He swallows as the side of lip quirks up into a smile. “Hi.”

She blinks. “How did you-”

“Beniers told me. I mean, I had to bribe him, but he gave me your address. Nothing illegal, I promise.”

“That traitor,” she says with little bite. “When did you get here?”

“We just landed, like, an hour ago, maybe?”

“And you came here,” she says softly, crossing her arms. 

He nods. “I came here.” He shifts on his feet, suddenly nervous. “I’m not expecting-I can leave if you’re busy or-”

Trinity doesn’t let him finish. “Do you wanna come in?”

this is such a great question - thank you for sending it! firstly, it made my heart swell when mack said he was going to a BU game. i know the online sphere loves to talk about will and his BC history but BU meant a lot to mack too! and not just because i'm an alum and aiden is still there. when i realized BU had a home playoff game the day before the sharks game i was like oh hes so going to be there. and he was!!

secondly, i think they would've sat together! but idk if alessia would want to sit in a box you know? that's her community and she loves being out there with the fans. also, it was spring break (hence why there weren't many students at the game) so it's possible she wouldn't have been around campus / boston but because the sharks are in town to play the bruins tonight, i think she would've stuck around since they already dont get to see each other much in the season (i do have it in my head that alessia did fly to milan for the gold medal game and basically did a turn and burn that weekend, which is a story for another time!)

so tldr; i think they would've gone together and i think alessia would've either sat in the box (by mack's pleading and begging. and i do think toff still would've been there LOL) OR mack and toff would've sat in the crowd with alessia somewhere. honestly, i like the idea of the latter more, because i dont think alessia really wants to get any sort of special treatment. she's in that student section every weekend!! why would she!! and mack is down bad for her so he'd do whatever she wants to. so i picture them sitting in a section not for the students but also not in a box either.

i know from sources and things online that he was meeting fans and taking pics and signing stuff, and i think that stuff would still all happen! but also, at this point they've been dating for just over a year officially, so things have still been pretty quiet and between them and their loved ones (to both their choice) so maybe this is the first time fans have confirmation that he's dating someone. people speculated before (like people always speculate with willmack and other young players, which, ugh, but another convo for another day) but this was confirmation. and mack, being his anxious and overthinking self, did think about this and talk about it with alessia ("i want to go with you and sit with you, but people are going to talk") and alessia just straight up doesnt care. she knows people will talk. she's adjusted to the fact that her boyfriend is one of the biggest rising stars in the nhl and that he's dating her, someone he met in college. but alessia has a good head on her shoulders and ultimately, while agganis arena was mack's for a flash, it's also hers and BU hockey means so much to her. she's not going to pass up the opportunity to watch them with her boyfriend right next to her.

thirdly, i'm hoping to get at least a part two of them out soon! but if you've been here for awhile and been following my work, i'm always down to talk about any couple i write for because even if it's a one-off piece, i do care for them and always have a world i've crafted for them in my brain.