Brendon Park x Pediatricnurse!wife!reader | @/gingerhouseplant
Insecure!chubby!nurse!female!reader | @vulbott
Drabble | @starlord-s
Park the shark x marine biologist!reader, pt. 2, pt. 3 | @lo-jo-s-blog
A collection of short thoughts about Park and AFAB!reader who knows how to handle and tame a predator.
SHARK WEEK, part 2, part 3 | @pureeffervescentenrichment
a week crushing on the shark has you confronting scarier things than the orthopedic surgeon's music taste
FORBIDDEN FRUIT | @vautour
Treading Water; First Touch | @lockeswoodss
Scenes of an engagement | @zivistardust
Brendon Park x Robinavitch! Reader
Park not being able to stop thinking about the NICU baby. | @the-shark-pitt
THE SHARK’S DEBT | @mareenaauditore
What happens when "The Shark" finds out that one of the hospital’s most promising residents also dances at a strip club to pay off her student loans and rent?
Code: Baby Shark. | @/mareenaauditore
Sunshine, an ER nurse, is called back from maternity leave to care for Baby Jane Doe. Everyone is in for a surprise when they discover that the baby in her womb is the daughter of the hospital’s most feared orthopedic surgeon.
The Shark’s Sanctuary. | @/mareenaauditore
Robby acts like a jerk toward Sunshine, and only one person speaks up for her (and, secretly, for everyone else Robby has offended)
The Resonance of Him. | @/mareenaauditore
There's a multi-vehicle accident, and the ER staff is taken aback when Park “The Shark” refuses to treat one of the patients. They're even more surprised when they discover she's his wife.
Ortho!reader | @blnondex
b nice, p. | @/vulbott
The Paradox of Irresistible Force | @omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts
You’re Dana’s niece and absolutely off-limits to the Pitt staff, especially to the intimidating ortho surgeon upstairs, but when did that ever stop deep-seated attraction and young love?
Shark Attack | @megalony
Nobody knows that (Y/n) is married to the frightening ortho surgeon. But when a patient attacks her, Park the shark is the only person (Y/n) is asking for and will let help her. The Pitt is shocked.
Hook, Line and Sinker | @lazypinkpig
I love our little Candy | @lipsunsmokedcigarette
Shaky hands | @/lipsunsmokedcigarette
Little whispers | @/lipsunsmokedcigarette
Casual Secret | @amnatreal
Five POVs discovering a new side to Park The Shark + one very revealing incident.
Special Delivery | @imaginesofwonder
You went to drop off lunch and ended up face-to-face with Park the Shark.
Attack of Baby Shark | @/imaginesofwonder
A routine ER shift takes a sharp turn when fear sends you rushing to Brendon, and he drops everything the moment he hears your voice.
Shark Off Duty | @/imaginesofwonder
A casual lunch accidentally reveals a secret you never mentioned. You’re married to Dr. Park, leaving your coworkers completely shocked.
Dad!Park | @kenziexoxoxo
𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 | @coligraven
if you see a six foot two, two-hundred thirty pound man groveling at the feet of his soon-to-be wife... don't save him. he's exactly where he wants to be.
𝐓𝐈𝐁-𝐅𝐈𝐁 | @/coligraven
after snapping your leg while defending a friend in a bar fight, you are rushed to the pitt against your will. you refuse to tell the night shift your name in hopes of saving yourself from your husband's wrath, but it isn't long before he discovers what happened. and all hell breaks loose.
Take The Bait | @redsakura101
Brendon Park’s wife is a marine biologist that specialises in Sharks. One day she pops in to drop off some lunch for him. Being coy about her relationship with him she instead chooses to talk with those around her while waiting for him. One thing leads to another and somehow you get to talking about why Park is known as a Shark.
The Shark’s property | @/mareenaauditore
A moment in the gym, before the shift, where an idiot decides to say something about Brendon's wife.
Imagine | @/totallynotashieldagent
Sunshine!reader | @yournamesnob
Brendon x wife!reader | @/yournamesnob
Blurb | @rr-after-dark
betting pools//idiots in love//first time together
angst with comfort | @/toxicgetou
Brendon Park x reader | @thesewordsareallihavetogive
who brings him his lunch | @prettydaisygirl
dr. park leaves his lunch at home, so you, his wife, bring it to him. the only thing is, absolutely no one knows he's married
secret baby trope | @crrtite
wherever you go, wherever you are | @mxtantrights
brendon park (is not a total dick) | @joviemotional
Headcanons | @hlfmooncookie
wild night | @/midnghtprentiss
brendon found you very tipsy after a few drinks with your girls.
My Perfect Girl | @xreader1989
Calling him | @/yournamesnob
Claimed in Ink | @/mareenaauditore
Princess, Perlah, and Trinity gossip after hearing rumors from the Ortho floor about Park The Shark and some... tattoos?
Summary: Gracelyn didn't realise how much of Boston she associated with Jake Oettinger until he was gone.
Warnings; light angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, ignoring the existence of COVID-19 to fudge the timelines, college years, one incident of mild harassment, some bad language.
Words: 11.4k
A/N: jumping in as a pinch hitter for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2023! Writing for @jarmorie - I really hope you like this and I really hope I hit all your prompts! Spreading the Otter love as he deserves 💛 I was listening to this song and immediately got so inspired.
Tagging some fellow Otter fans: @senditcolton @extratragic @texanstarslove
Inspiration (and title) from Mine, by Taylor Swift
~~~
I was a flight risk, with a fear of falling,
Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts.
~~~
September 2016.
Gracelyn Davis had never left Fayetteville, West Virginia before. At least, not before her father drove her across the country to Boston University like he had done over the past two days. Her mother had decided being in the car for that long with them ‘wasn’t for her’, and considering her father was a man of very few words, the 12 hours, spread over two days with a sleep stop in the middle, had been spent split between rereading one of her favourite books and watching the world go by out the window.
It was a quiet ride. Gracelyn was used to it.
Butterflies filled her stomach as they pulled into campus parking, the crowds of people almost overwhelming. They weren’t even in the heart of the city and already this was the busiest place she’d ever seen. Gracelyn matched her father’s silence as they unloaded the car, using the offered hand trolley to help with her boxes, her father pushing those with her duvet and pillows piled on top while Gracelyn pulled two suitcases and a large duffel bag. It didn’t take long to get herself all signed in, and once they’d piled all her belongings in the empty dorm room, she knew it was time.
With a brief hug and a ‘do your best’, her father left. She hadn’t really expected much more. Even the fact that she’d finally left her small town was more than she could ever have dreamed of.
“Whoo! Go Terriers!”
Gracelyn watched out the third storey window as small parade of energetic people dressed in red, white, and black jogged past her building, smiling to herself at the cheerful chaos. This was nothing like Fayetteville. She loved it already.
“Hey roomie!”
Gracelyn turned around sharply, hand to heart in surprise at the voice in the doorway. The campus had assigned housing to all freshman who’d applied, and she’d been put in contact with a ‘Madison’ to get to know each other. All she really knew was that Madison had blonde hair, came from Queens, New York, and was going to be studying Digital Marketing. That, and she had very strong opinions on everything from Taylor Swift to correct recycling methods to sheet thread count. Blonde, tanned, perfect white smile, and all the confidence of a city-kid that Gracelyn didn’t have.
“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s nice to meet you, Gracelyn,” she grinned.
At least she was friendly too.
“Nice to meet you too, Madison. I prefer Gracie,” Gracelyn said, smiling shyly.
“Gracie it is! And please, call me Maddie. We’re going to be the best of friends. I can already tell,” she grinned, throwing her blonde hair up in a bun. “Do you mind if I put on some music while we unpack?”
~~~
May 2020.
How time had flown by. As Gracelyn pulled out the first of her cardboard boxes to at least attempt to start packing up her half of the dorm room, memories flooded in. Maddie hadn’t been wrong – they really had become the best of friends over the past four years, forming a wider group of six of them in total. Herself, Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, all girls scattered across their original freshman dorm building floor, all of them forming bonds that stuck with them over the past four years.
Each of their had majored in a different subject, each other them came from different states, but each of them had been the loyal, sweet, kind friends that Gracelyn had always hoped for, so she knew that even though their time at college together had officially come to an end, she wouldn’t be losing these friendships any time soon.
Late night study sessions, movie nights, sleepovers, makeovers, campus concerts, dinners out – all of these memories scattered across polaroid photos, Instagram accounts and genuine memories. All of the things that Gracelyn was going to miss so terribly.
She was even going to miss the parties, the wild nights out that were so often accompanied by singing at the top of their lungs, dancing until their feet ached, and nasty mornings after.
Speaking of parties, Maddie wasn’t the only person who Gracelyn met in her first week in Boston who turned her life upside down.
~~~
September 2016.
“Are you sure I look okay?”
Maddie gave her an incredulous look. “Gracie baby, you have the best ass in our group, of course you look okay. You look stunning, own it.”
Gracelyn blushed heavily, shaking her head with a laugh. The two of them had made quick friends with a few girls down the hallway, and somehow they’d all persuaded Gracelyn to go out to a party tonight. Her first proper college party. Her first proper party in general, if she was being honest.
“You know what I mean. I’ve never…you know I’m not a party girl,” she sighed.
“I’m not a party party girl either. I’m a hang out with my friends kind of girl, with music, and drink we shouldn’t have access to, and we’re going to dance and sing and have fun, okay? If there happen to be cute boys there who stare at your incredible ass, then so be it,” Maddie grinned.
The confidence of this girl was incredible. No-one had ever boosted Gracelyn up like she did either.
“It’s not too much?”
Gracelyn looked back at herself in the full-length mirror that Maddie had brought with her, checking out the deep-red tight dress that clung to her every curve, borrowed from their friend Chanel. If her mother could see her now, she’d have a conniption. Then again…maybe that was a good thing. The Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville would never have showed off her body like this – yeah, maybe she had a slight pouch on her belly, and maybe her thighs didn’t have a gap, and maybe ass was a bit more of a bubble than she would like…but maybe for the Gracelyn Davis of Boston that was a good thing.
“It’s definitely not too much. How about you throw a leather jacket over the top and wear those comfy black ankle boots, hm? That way it’s not over the top, but still dressy, hm?” Maddie suggested, unwinding her final blonde curl from her curling wand.
That…that was a good suggestion. Thank god for Maddie.
“That sounds good to me,” Gracelyn said shyly.
“Atta girl,” Maddie grinned, “Now help me pick which lipgloss says try anything and I’ll bite.”
Four lip gloss swatches later and the two of them had headed out of their dorm room, Maddie knocking on their friends’ doors until the six of them were on their way to the alleged party, wherever that was.
“Now remember, the hockey guys are all mostly a bit dumb and will probably get a little handsy after a few hours of drinking, so don’t feel like you can’t loudly tell them no. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, stay with a group of us girls, yeah? I’ve heard most of the team are harmless, but there’s bound to be a bad apple or two in the bunch,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes.
Brilliant. That didn’t settle Gracelyn’s nerves at all. Girl time it was.
“How did you find out about the Terriers party anyway Daisy-boo?” Maddie asked, looping her arm through Gracelyn’s.
She clung on with gratitude.
“Eh, this Sophomore was trying to impress the new freshman players – I said I’d think about turning up with a few friends,” Daisy said coolly, her smile sharp.
Again, the confidence. Incredible.
“Treat ‘em mean, I like it,” Jenny snickered.
“He was harmless enough. Sounded like a good excuse for a party anyway, and the upperclassmen are providing booze with the caveat that no-one underage gets super wasted, so I figured why not have our first party in style, right?” Daisy shrugged.
As the rest of the girls sounded their agreement, Gracelyn tried to relax. She knew that her friends wouldn’t let anything happen to her. They already had a game plan for if any of them felt uncomfortable. She didn’t have to drink anything more than what she actually wanted to. She could do this, right?
“Here we are!”
Daisy’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, turning her attention to a large house that already had red solo cups scattered across the lawn and loud music blasting. Maddie squeezed her arm, dropping it so their hands were linked, the other girls pairing off in twos too, making sure that none of them got separated while they wound their way through the crowd. Gracelyn tried not to get overwhelmed at the sheer number of people squeezed into the main living area, managing to smile as Daisy waved flirtatiously at a guy she could only imagine was the Unfortunate Sophomore.
“Let’s get some drinks!” Jenny said loudly, earning cheers from around them.
Gracelyn just stayed silent as beers were passed around, Maddie just winking at her. This was it. This was her first college party. This was her first college beer. She was finally here. She’d made it. So she took a big swig, letting the cool cheap alcohol run down her throat, Maddie just whooping before doing the same with her own drink.
Time seemed to blur together after that. Not in a drunk way, but in a way that everything was so new, so overwhelming, that Gracelyn just let it wash over her. She was trying to follow Maddie’s lead, going with the flow as her New York roommate would say, so by the time she’d finished her third beer, Gracelyn was more than ready for a glass of water and a breather.
Thankfully, Maddie and Daisy had been roped into playing beer pong, which was outside on the back porch, so while the other girls grabbed more beer, Gracelyn grabbed a bottle of water and hopped up on the porch railing to watch. Despite Maddie being eagle-eyed, Daisy was swaying a bit, so this would be interesting.
“Hey, is this space taken?”
Gracelyn turned her head to the sound of the voice, not sure if it was being directed at her or not, only to come face to face with the cutest guy she’d ever seen. Tall – at least 6ft 4, if not 6ft 5 – with broad shoulders, messy dark hair and a sweet smile. Pretty eyes too. He was talking to her?
“Uh, no, go for it. I’m just watching my friends about to play,” she said, jerking her head in the beer pong table’s direction.
“Ah, yeah some of my teammates are about to face them. The blonde girl looks dangerous,” he mused, leaning against the railing himself in the space to her left.
“Oh you have no idea,” Gracelyn grinned, making him laugh.
Actual natural human interaction with a cute guy. Wow.
“I’m Jake,” he said, holding out his hand.
He immediately looked embarrassed at himself for holding out his hand, but the fact that he didn’t backtrack made her smile.
“I’m Gracelyn. Or Gracie, to my friends,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you Gracie,” he said, smiling.
Bold. She liked it.
“Not much of a drinker?” he asked.
She frowned until he shook his own cup and looked down at her water bottle, and immediately her cheeks flushed. Was he making fun of her?
“Um, I…”
She trailed off, before clearing her throat. No damn it, she was Gracelyn Davis of Boston now.
“I already had three cups of beer and I didn’t party back home, so I’m trying to pace myself. A little lame maybe but it’s literally first week of freshman year so…” she said, shrugging.
“I feel that,” the guy…Jake nodded, smiling still, “And it’s not lame. It’s my first week of freshman year too and I know that the freshmen will be clearing up tomorrow morning, so I don’t want to be horrendous after my first team party.”
He was a freshman too? Built like that? And he was a hockey player? Damn, what was he doing talking to her?
“Ouch, I’m sorry you have to clean up,” she said, grimacing as right-on-cue someone threw up over the porch railing a little ways down from them.
Jake grimaced himself, before shaking his head. “It’ll be worth it to play on the team.”
“Go Terriers?” she offered.
Jake just laughed, throwing his head back. Damn. Damn he looked so good.
“Alright boys, you’re going down!” Maddie said loudly.
The crowd cheered and whooped, Gracelyn and Jake included. Daisy took her first throw, immediately sinking the ball into a cup, clearly more sober than she looked. What a hustler - this was going to be a messy one. The freshman hockey player groaned but laughed, drinking the beer in the targeted cup down in one go, earning more cheers for himself.
“I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing more of each other, Gracie,” Jake said, smiling wide.
For some reason, she had a feeling that he was right.
~~~
May 2020.
Yeah, Jake was…Jake was different. Right from that first night, that first meeting, the two of them had stayed in touch, slowly becoming friends through texting as well as more hockey team parties. Maddie and their friends always dragged her along to any party at the hockey house, especially when Daisy started hooking up with the Unfortunate Sophomore, and the more she went to, the more she actually looked forward to them, mainly because at some point in the evening Jake would find her and the rest was history.
He wasn’t a rowdy dumbass like the other college players he lived with. Sure, she was cautious, a little introverted, always hesitant, but Jake was sweet and kind and patient, and never pushed her more than she was socially capable of in the moment. Maybe it helped that he was a goaltender – which she’d found out the second time she met him because someone dared him to show off his box splits and he did so without hesitation – because he was so different to all his friends, but she liked it.
She liked him.
He was a little more focused, more responsible maybe for his age, but still encouraged her to come out of her shell. Over those first few months, she found herself slipping out of her old social binds of Gracelyn Davis from Fayetteville and into her new self of Gracelyn Davis of Boston, and so much of it was because of him.
That’s why it hurt so much still, when everything changed.
There were so many memories of their friendship over the years, entwined with those memories of Gracelyn and her girlfriends, more than she dared to think about while she attempted to make a start on packing up her college life. She still had over a week left on campus, until after commencement weekend, but that didn’t mean she could put everything off until last minute. That just wasn’t the way her brain worked.
She could at least make a start on closing this chapter of her life.
But in the first shoebox she moved off of one of her shelves, she found a couple dozen polaroids, all ones she’d taken off being pinned on her noticeboard in Junior year – all ones of her and Jake. All photos of memories that made her heart ache all over again, flashing across her mind as she continued to look through them one by one.
~~~
November 2016.
“Hey, do you want to take a walk?”
Gracelyn looked up from her notebook, seeing Jake standing in the doorway of her dorm room.
“How did you get up here?” she asked, placing her pen and paper to the side with a smile.
“I bumped into Chanel and Luisa on the way through,” he shrugged, “They said you’ve been studying in here since your last class ended, and, uh, encouraged me to do something to change that.”
Yeah that sounded like Chanel and Luisa. Meddlers. Her friends weren’t wrong though – she really had been studying in her room since her last class ended, knowing that Maddie was still out in a class of her own and there was a movie night on campus later, so she wanted to get ahead of herself. It was only month three of freshman year after all – she couldn’t afford to get behind yet.
Still…a small break couldn’t hurt right?
“You want to go for a walk?” she mused.
“Yeah, it’s not snowing out so I thought it might be nice?” he said, smiling shyly.
Oh what a sweetheart. In what world would she say no to that?
“And you’re asking little old me?” she grinned, kicking off her slippers.
“You’re one of my best friends Gracie, you know that. And you’re definitely the only sane one,” he said, shrugging with a smile.
Well that much was true.
“I’m in,” she laughed.
It didn’t take her long to slip into more appropriate boots for the weather, as well as a thick coat, knitted hat and gloves to help out with the cold, and soon enough the two of them were walking out of campus along the Charles River.
“So what’s really going on?” Gracelyn asked, when the crowds around them had thinned out to only a couple of people.
Jake opened his mouth to protest, before closing it again with a huffed laugh. “You can read me that easily, huh?”
“You’ve got a pretty expressive face,” she shrugged, although made sure to smile so he knew she didn’t mean it as a bad thing, “And you’ve never wanted to just go on a walk before. Not that I mind, obviously – it’s always good to get fresh air and you know I like hanging out with you – I just hope that nothing bad has happened?”
He quickly shook his head but then grimaced, wiggling his hand to indicate it was something so-so. Hm. This was going to take more than their usual casual talking, she could tell.
“Do you want to grab a coffee and find somewhere to sit?” she suggested.
“Sure.”
It didn’t take long to pick up a couple of lattes each, and even less time to find an isolated snow-free stone bench to sit on, not far from the Hatch Shell, and by that point Jake looked a little less tense.
“Thank you, Gracie,” he murmured.
“For what?” she asked, confused, “we haven’t even started talking properly yet.”
“You’re giving me the chance to get something off my chest that I haven’t been able to bring up to anyone else. Or that I feel I can bring up to anyone else. I appreciate it, that’s all,” Jake shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.
“Well now I’m worried,” she said, trying to make it a joke to hide her true concern.
What was wrong with him? Was he sick? He couldn’t be failing any classes, right?
She waited in silence for him to gather his thoughts, taking in the sight of the river slowly flowing by, until Jake finally cleared his throat.
“There’s been scouts coming to hockey games. NHL scouts, for me, following on from my time in the NTDP,” he said softly.
“Okay. Okay, that’s a good thing, right?” she said, frowning slightly.
She may not know much about ice hockey or the NHL or the NTDP, but she did know how important it all was to Jake. So what was the issue?
“I guess? But…it’s also so much pressure.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh bless his heart.
“I can understand that. That does sound like a lot of pressure. What exactly is worrying you about it?” she asked.
The more she understood, the more she could help, right?
Jake let out a shaky breath, looking down at his hands for a moment, before lifting his head to look out over the river in front of them.
“I’m nervous. Playing in the NHL…it’s all I’ve ever wanted. And it’s so hard to even be considered as a goaltender in the big leagues so the fact that they’re looking at me? Assessing me? It’s a lot,” he explained, voice quiet, “And it’s not like I can even talk to the rest of the team about how nervous it makes me either.”
Because so many of the guys won’t get a shot in the NHL like the scouts are considering for him.
Oh this sweet hearted boy.
What really made her sad though was the look of hesitance tainted with self-deprecation in his eyes. He didn’t deserve to look or feel like that, not ever.
“Hey, Jake, will you look at me?” Gracelyn asked.
It took a couple of seconds but he eventually did, emotion splashed all over his face.
“I know it’s scary. And I know it makes you nervous. This is your dream, and you’re pouring your whole self into it. But, Jake, these scouts wouldn’t be coming if you weren’t already proving how good you were, right?”
“I mean…”
He trailed off, wiggling his hand so-so again, making her shake her head.
“I mean it, Jake. If there wasn’t something in your gameplay that they liked, they wouldn’t be coming to see you. Just show them what you’ve got. You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself, okay? You’re Jake Oettinger, badass Terrier and incredible goaltender, and there’s nothing you can’t do,” she said firmly.
Jake choked out a laugh, hanging his head briefly before looking back at her. She chose to ignore the way his eyes were shining slightly.
“How do you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured.
Gracelyn just smiled, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “Well I don’t know about that…but I’m always here for you, whenever you need me.”
“So all I need to do to get your undivided attention is to text you, meet you at our spot?” he grinned.
Her blush deepened, traitorous butterflies filling her stomach.
“This is our spot?” she said, voice far breathier than she cared to admit.
“It is now,” he shrugged, “just you and me.”
Well damn, she liked the sound of that. Did he even know how that came across? What it implied?
“Alright, deal,” she nodded, trying to keep her cool.
“Besides, I can’t have you sharing your wisdom with everyone, right? Gotta keep some of that good magic all for myself. God knows I need all the help I can get. You don’t mind, right?” he grinned.
She couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from her chest, her head tilting back as it rang out loud and clear. His teasing request was more than a little shameless – with anyone else she would’ve been put off by the audacity, but with Jake? It was just charming, endearing her to him more than ever. When she’d finally composed herself, Jake had a slightly stunned look on his face – probably from the vivacity of her laughter – so she just smiled widely at him. How could she not?
“You truly are one of a kind, Jake Oettinger,” she giggled, finishing the last of her coffee.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said, giving a little shrug as he grinned.
Like she could ever insult him.
“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.
“What?”
“To keep this memory, of finding ‘our’ place. Of you giving me the advice I needed. Of me making you laugh like that for the first time,” Jake explained, making her smile at his enthusiastic listing, “one of the guys bought a bunch of cheap polaroid cameras at the weekend and I still have one in my pocket.”
“Well in that case…” she teased.
Jake just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to lean into his body. Gracelyn just tilted her knitted hat-covered head to rest against his and threw up a peace sign, smiling widely as Jake raised the camera in his hand. FLASH. She blinked a couple of times, listening to the camera whirring, but smiled softly to herself as Jake kept his arm around her. She appreciated the warmth from his body, if nothing else. With his free hand, he dropped the camera in his lap and pulled free the developing polaroid, shaking it a few times until the picture started to become clearer.
“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” Jake said happily, handing it over for her to see.
Gracelyn felt her breath hitch in her chest as she looked at their photo. Their matching wide smiles alone showed her exactly how happy he’d been in that moment, but the fact that it was with her? That was everything. She didn’t even know what to say.
“I love it,” she eventually managed to murmur.
“Then it’s all yours,” Jake said simply.
“What? No, it’s your camera,” she said, shaking her head.
But Jake just squeezed her shoulder, nudging her with his chest. “I insist. We’ll have years yet to take more photos together.”
She could only hope. Gracelyn just nodded silently, sliding the photo into her pocket with a grateful smile, leaning back into his chest as he put the camera back into his pocket without moving his arm from round her shoulders still. As her heart started beating all that little bit faster, she knew she was in trouble. She may not be particularly experienced in the nature of romance, but she knew from friends, old and new, what it was like to get a crush on someone.
How could she not start falling for him in this exact moment?
Gracelyn had always promised herself to keep her guard up, especially around her heart. Her parents’ relationship was toxic enough, their marriage fuelled by arguments and spite and cold disdain, and she’d always sworn to herself that she would never end up like them. There was a reason why she had no intention of going back home for Thanksgiving or the Christmas break. But being here with Jake right now? Tucked under his arm with him holding her against his chest after all those sweet words? It was dangerous, for her emotions and her resolve.
If she didn’t get this under control soon, there was no telling the damage this crush could do.
~~~
June 2017.
Gracelyn had been dreading June 23rd ever since she learned how significant the day was. Significant to Jake, anyway. Today was the first day of the 2017 NHL draft, and she already knew that Jake was predicted to go decently high in the first round – Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville hadn’t a clue about any of this but Gracelyn Davis of Boston now knew all too much – so she could only imagine how stressed he was today already. Over the rest of freshman year, she’d gotten more and more into watching hockey, mainly because of Jake asking her to come to games as his ‘good luck charm’, so she knew that scouts had been following him for quite some time still. Spending so much time with him this year – including studying, brunches, parties, and campus events, on top of all the games she’d gone to – hadn’t lessened her crush in the slightest, but things were definitely much more manageable. She knew what she could and couldn’t handle, and it helped that she knew Jake had no idea how she felt either, so their friendship had only gone from strength to strength.
Today could change everything. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.
While Jake and his family were in Chicago ready for the draft day, Gracelyn was at her summer job – administration at the West Virginia Science Adventures summer day camps, right there in Fayetteville. She worked 9-4 every day, helping to make sure that everything ran smoothly, and it meant that she was out of her house essentially all day, which could only ever be a good thing. That, and it also allowed her to surreptitiously listen to the broadcast of Jake’s draft day while she was typing up the stock request forms that her supervisor needed from her.
She took her time typing, making sure everything was meticulous while she listened to the draft picks start getting called.
And then came the 26th pick, from the Dallas Stars.
“From Boston University, Jake Oettinger.”
There it was. He’d done it! The first goalie of the 2017 draft was picked, and it was him! She couldn’t stop the happy squeal that left her lips, glad that no-one else was in the office cabin right now, especially since she couldn’t help the stupid smile on her face or the tears in her eyes.
Jake had been drafted to the NHL, just as he’d always dreamed. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and he deserved it so much, and even though she knew it meant he was leaving her behind, how could she not be proud of him?
To: Jake
From: Gracelyn
You did it! Congratulations!
I’m so proud of you!
I told you that everything would pay off!
I know you’re busy so don’t worry about texting back.
But just know that I am so so happy for you, okay?
Speak to you later ❤️
With a breathy laugh, she put her phone down, exiting out of her messages and turning off the broadcast. She didn’t care what else happened in the draft – she only cared about Jake. Now that was done, she could get on with her job without feeling guilty, even if the buzzing in her veins kept that smile on her face for the rest of her day.
It wasn’t until Gracelyn was home that she got a message back from Jake, after she’d cooked and eaten dinner by herself and was relaxing with a book in her bedroom.
To: Gracelyn
From: Jake
Thank you so much Gracie.
I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling.
This is crazy. I actually got drafted.
The Stars drafted me!
I’m still committing to BU, for more development, but I can’t believe they want me!
Gracelyn frowned slightly at the reply from Jake, confused. He wasn’t going straight to Dallas? He was staying in Boston? Why?
To: Jake
From: Gracelyn
I thought you wanted to jump right into the NHL?
That’s the dream right?
Don’t get me wrong, I will miss you.
But this is your dream?
Gracelyn chewed her bottom lip while she waited for him to reply, rereading over the same few pages until her phone buzzed a few more times. She felt so stupid for the way her heart was beating like crazy…but this was important. This was Jake.
To: Gracelyn
From: Jake
Oh you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis.
This is definitely the right thing for me right now, and I know the Stars will understand.
Boston is still where I need to be right now, so you’ll see me in September! ❤️
Well if that was what he wanted, she wasn’t going to complain. Still, it would only be a matter of time before Jake took his dream in both hands and leapt for it, so she would have to make the most of the time she had with him. That was all she could hope for, right?
~~~
September 2017.
“See, I told you I’d come back.”
Gracelyn jumped at the familiar deep voice, her friends just cackling at her reaction to Jake silently creeping up behind her, but she found herself smiling at him as she turned around to face him properly.
“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack with this sneaking up behind me,” she mused, hands on hips.
“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Jake grinned.
With that, he slung his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into a hug which she returned happily, hiding her blushing face in his chest slightly before pulling away. Jake didn’t drop his arm from over her shoulders though, making Maddie smirk at her, and Gracelyn could only be grateful that Jake seemed not to notice.
“Alright superstar, let’s get some food,” Gracelyn said, sighing dramatically.
“I missed you too, Gracelyn Davis,” Jake laughed.
I missed you more, Jake Oettinger.
“WELCOME BACK PARTY AT THE HOCKEY HOUSE!”
The crowd around them whooped, Luisa and Daisy looking particularly happy about the potential frivolity, whereas Gracelyn just smiled at the interruption.
“You and Maddie are still rooming together this year, right?” Jake murmured, leaning down so only she could hear him among the ruckus.
He remembered them talking about that?
It was true though – Gracelyn and all her friends had decided to move out of freshman dorms and get neighbouring apartments in the dorm buildings available for Sophomore students. Maddie and Gracelyn had decided to stay sharing a dorm, whereas Luisa and Daisy were roommates now, as were Chanel and Jenny. It was an arrangement that worked perfectly for them, and she couldn’t wait to actually have all of her friends living together.
“Yeah we are, why?” she said softly in return.
“Well I know that you’ll definitely be coming to the party if your girls are there to persuade you,” Jake teased.
She rolled her eyes playfully. “I would’ve come anyway.”
“You would?” Jake asked, surprised.
There were so many things she could’ve said in that moment, both innocent and incriminating, but in the end she chose just to shrug. It was the safest option.
“Food! Let’s go!” Maddie said cheerfully.
As her roommate linked their arms together, Jake’s arm slipped off her shoulders, making Gracelyn look up at him properly. “Are you coming, Jake?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding quickly.
After eating lunch and hanging out for a few hours, Jake and some of his lingering friends went back to the team house to set up for the party, leaving Gracelyn and her friends to get ready. Just like freshman year, their first party of Sophomore year was going to be at the hockey house, so they spent their time getting all dressed up in pretty eye-catching dresses (with a little pregaming, thanks to the stock they’d all brought along from home), and by the time they arrived at the hockey team house the party was in full swing.
Gracelyn spotted Jake easily, and he waved enthusiastically at her from across the room, making her friends laugh and pull her into the kitchen to get drinks of their own. Over the next few hours, Gracelyn and her friends alternated between drinking in the kitchen and dancing on the make-shift living room dancefloor, celebrating the return to college and the start of the new school year. It was everything she’d missed about Boston, having fun with her friends, finally feeling like she was back where she belonged.
Soon enough though, Gracelyn needed to make a trip to the bathroom, leaving her friends where they were in the kitchen and heading upstairs to the nicer of the bathrooms that Jake had always let her use. But on her return trip downstairs, her path was blocked in the front corridor, by a guy she didn’t recognise. He was taller than her, bigger than her, and much drunker than her – she could smell the beer on his breath from a few feet away but even more so as he stepped even closer.
“Well hello. I haven’t seen you around before,” he drawled.
What the hell?
“I’m a sophomore. I’m not new,” she frowned, confused.
“Shh, sweetheart, don’t talk so much. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better, hm? That ass of yours? Damn.”
What the actual fuck.
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not interested,” Gracie said shortly.
“Don’t be like that baby, I’m a real nice guy,” he grinned.
The sleaze dripped off of his words like oil, making her recoil, but it was as she moved to step around him that he grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Fuck. Oh fuck.
“Let’s try again, hm?”
“No,” she said shakily.
“No-one says no to me. You should be nicer to guys that show you interest, you know.”
Gracelyn just froze in place, mind blank and body stiff. This had never happened before, being confronted like this, and it didn’t matter how much advice she’d been given over the years, it all had flown away in the moment.
She took a deep breath, ready to yell out for help, when a familiar large body appeared by her side. Jake. She felt like crying in relief, even more so as her friend easily knocked the drunk guy’s hand off her arm.
“She’s not interested. Move on, bud,” Jake said firmly, stepping up close, making the guy look up at him with a glare.
“Back off man, I was here first,” the creep slurred.
What the actual fuck. She wasn’t prize cattle at an auction.
“I said no,” Gracelyn repeated.
With her desperate glance up at him, Jake clenched his jaw and his fists, drawing himself up to his full height as he pushed himself between Gracelyn and the creep.
“Last chance. Fuck off,” Jake said angrily.
It was all she could do to clutch at the back of his tshirt, hands shaking and heart racing.
“Whatever man, she’s ugly anyway,” the guy scowled.
She inhaled sharply as a pang of hurt ran through her chest, only to gasp out louder as Jake lurched forward, pinning the guy to the opposite wall with his forearm across his throat.
“Apologise, asshole. You’re not worth the air she breathes,” Jake all but growled.
The creep choked a little, trying to get Jake’s arm off him, and it was only then that Gracelyn noticed the crowd that was starting to form around them.
“Hey, Jake, he isn’t worth it. Don’t get in trouble because of this scumbag,” she pleaded, resting her hand on his shoulder.
Jake looked down at her with pursed lips, waited a beat or two, before nodding. She let out a shaky breath as Jake shoved the guy into the wall one last time before stepping backwards, still standing himself in front of her.
“Stay away from her, you hear me?” Jake demanded.
“Whatever freak,” the guy muttered, storming off.
Jake’s frame tensed but Gracelyn just reached for his forearm, desperate for Jake not to follow after him. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to get into a fight because of her. The creep wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.
“What was that all about?”
Jake turned around to see his captain frowning behind them as the crowd dispersed, and scowled again.
“That guy wouldn’t leave Gracie alone when she told him no. Was making her uncomfortable, a real fucking creep,” Jake muttered, clenching his hands for a moment again.
“Oh shit, for real? Damn, Gracelyn, sorry about that. I’ll make sure he’s kicked out,” Jake’s captain frowned.
What?
But before she could voice her confusion, the Senior walked off, leaving Gracelyn and Jake alone.
“He’s got a no tolerance policy for sexual harassment,” Jake murmured.
Well…that explained a few things. But still…
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“I think so? I just…I froze. Everything about that guy screamed at me to run away and all I could do was freeze,” she sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair, “I feel so stupid.”
“Hey, no, it’s okay. So not stupid at all. I hate that you ever experienced this at all, you know? You should never…”
She could see his anger rising again and did the only thing she could think of. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, burying her face in his shirt, just letting herself breathe and willing him to calm his anger back down. Jake froze briefly in surprise before quickly hugging her back, clutching at her firmer than she’d anticipated.
“Thank you, Jake. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” she murmured.
Jake stiffened at her words before nodding, squeezing her body before letting go to look down at her properly.
“I’m glad we never have to find out what could’ve happened. I’m pretty sure you would’ve snapped and decked him, Gracie Davis, just as he deserved, but I’m glad I could at least help,” Jake said firmly.
She laughed softly but shrugged. “You did more than help. Superstar and knight in shining armour? I’m glad you’re in my life hey?”
Jake huffed out a laugh and slung his arm over her shoulder as usual, guiding them both into the kitchen towards the beer keg.
“I told you you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I meant it,” he said, smiling sweetly down at her, “So let’s get back to the party as it should be, yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I think Maddie’s about to kick some ass in beer pong if you wanted to watch?” she mused.
“Just like when we met a year ago. Perfect,” Jake grinned.
~~~
March 2019.
Jake didn’t leave for Texas in Sophomore year. Didn’t sign an entry level contact, didn’t leave Boston, didn’t leave the Terriers. Didn’t leave Gracelyn. All throughout the school year, they only got closer and closer, somehow spending even more time together than they did previously – any time that Gracelyn wasn’t with her friends or studying (and even then, sometimes she was studying with Jake), the two of them could usually be found together. It seemed like the welcome back party of Sophomore year triggered something protective in Jake, and he always made sure that she was okay wherever they went, even to the point of scaring off guys regardless of whether they were being creeps or not. Her friends – especially Maddie – called Jake a cockblock, but it wasn’t like Gracelyn protested at all. Her crush on Jake hadn't lessened at all, so why would she be interested in other guys? Especially if Jake wanted to be by her side.
He was always her partner in study groups, in beer pong, in video games, and he always sat next to her when they went out for food, to the movies, to campus events. She was even pretty sure that some of the freshmen on his team thought they were actually dating, considering how often they asked her where he was if they couldn’t find him.
As she said, she wasn’t going to complain. She had Jake in her life in ways that she never could’ve hoped for – and the longer he didn’t leave Boston to sign a contract with the Stars, the more her confidence built, waiting for a moment when she felt sure enough to actually tell him how she felt. It was a lofty goal, but each day that passed, she got a little closer.
When Jake was named an alternate captain prior to the 2018-2019 season, her hope soared.
Throughout the start of Junior year, Jake’s responsibilities to the team kept him longer at practices, longer in team meetings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t put in the extra effort with Gracelyn still, even going as far as to stay behind in Boston with her for Thanksgiving to spend that time together that they hadn’t really been able to. Her friends all thought she was nuts for not just confessing, but she was still too scared. So scared to lose him, the most important relationship in her life, the most important friendship, so she continued to stay silent, just grateful for whatever time that her friendship with Jake could afford her.
She knew that he appreciated her – he always made sure she knew it – and she knew that she wouldn’t trade what they had right now for anything, unless she knew for sure that it wasn’t going to all blow up in her face.
She had to know, before she took that risk.
Before Gracelyn knew it, it was the beginning of March, with Spring Break coming up right around the corner. Maddie was out to lunch with her boyfriend Jackson (business major – a little dry, but adored her friend), so Gracelyn was finishing off a paper in her room alone, having spent some time with her other girlfriends that morning over coffee. She was just finishing off her last editing readthrough when her dorm door was knocked on, in a familiar pattern that made her smile.
“Come in Jake! The door’s unlocked!”
Gracelyn hit save on the word document before closing her laptop, Jake walking into the room quickly. The serious look on his face made her heart clench a little, even more so as he sat down next to her on the bed in silence.
“Hey Gracie, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Of course not. What’s up?” she asked, worried.
“I just…I wanted to tell you before I told anyone else. Well, other than coach, but yeah.”
She knew it.
She knew it.
She knew it.
“Tell me what?” she asked as lightly as she could, feigning ignorance as he sat down beside her.
“I signed a three-year entry level contact with the Stars last weekend. And I’m heading to Texas to play in the AHL in a few days time.”
She was too late.
She was too late.
She was too late.
“Oh Jake that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! But it’s happening quick, no?”
Jake huffed out a laugh, nodding as he smiled weakly at her. “It happened a lot faster than I thought. But my agent said this is the best option for me, to start my hockey career off. I’ve got to follow my dream, you know?”
Even if it meant leaving her behind. She’d been prepared for this for a long time. That didn’t make it hurt any less. But this wasn’t about her – this was about him, and everything he’d worked for, and everything he still had to work for in the future.
“Of course you do, Jake. Anyone that tells you differently is an ass. Follow your dreams and don’t look back, hey?”
It was only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes and quickly shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m not losing you. I can’t.”
She choked out a wet noise, half laugh half sob, and just shook her head.
“You go and be the superstar that you are destined to be, okay?” she said, smiling sadly at him, “The rest of us will figure out the rest.”
Jake pulled her into the tightest hug he ever had done, burying his face in her dark hair.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.”
Gracelyn just stayed silent, letting her tears fall.
~~~
May 2020.
She never did tell him how she felt. He never did find out how much she loved him. Maybe it was for the best, when their texts slowed over the summer of 2019, because by the time Gracelyn had started up her final year of college in the September of 2019, she’d hardened up her heart enough to make it through the year without him.
She hadn’t realised how much of Boston she associated with Jake until he was gone.
The pizza place where she and her girlfriends would meet up with the hockey team after a winning game. The coffee cart they always picked up a coffee to go before lectures or study sessions or hangouts on the quad. The amazing smoothie bar that didn’t actually overcharge students and gave decent portion sizes. The little independent cinema that always smelled like burnt popcorn and only ever had two films running at one time. The Terriers ice hockey games in general. Even the yoga classes where Jake would maintain – and show off – his flexibility had become a no-go for her, which felt ridiculous the more she thought about it.
Gracelyn particularly avoided ‘their spot’ near the Hatch Shell along the Charles River, the place they’d gone to at least once a week for nearly two and a half years, unable to get all of the time spent relaxing there together out of her head, the time they would just sit and watch the world go by.
Two and a half years of friendship, gone with the wind – and she never expected to see him again. How was she supposed to cope with that?
She knew all of her friends worried about her, hated how she retreated into her shell throughout the whole of Senior year. Gracelyn did try to keep up her life as it had been before, going to parties like she used to, hockey games with her friends, but after a particularly awkward party at the hockey house in November, Gracelyn was done.
After a mild intervention before the winter break with Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, following a couple of weeks of complete hermit behaviour, Gracelyn made a compromise – she would no longer go to parties or have anything to do with the hockey team, but would still go to everything else. She just couldn’t – she and Jake had always found their way together, talking off to the side away from the chaos of that side of her old social life, and for all the parties she’d attempted to go to in September to November, she’d struggled more than she’d expected – so that was her bottom line, it had to be a big no.
So life went on – Gracelyn went to all the fun campus events she used to, still went out for lunches and dinners and girls nights and all the things she’d always done with hers friends, but for her own sanity she had to stop the major things that she associated with Jake. It was the only way she was going to get through her Senior year, the only way she was going to get through her heartbreak that wasn’t even really heartbreak.
At least studying for her final papers, her final exams, gave her all the genuine excuses she needed not have that social side of herself any more anyway.
When it came to finishing off her final week of exams in May, Gracelyn was drained. She pushed herself to her limits, maybe even further than she should’ve done, andby the time she stumbled back to her dorm after her final exam, it was all she could do to collapse onto her bed into a much-needed nap.
It wasn’t until hours later that a gentle hand shook her awake, the smell of Thai food filling nose.
Gracelyn blearily opened her eyes, sitting upright with more difficulty than she expected, accepting the offered food with a thankful groan that just made her friend laugh. The two of them ate quietly, the open window giving them the ambience of campus, and Gracelyn found herself smiling as she relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages.
“You’ve finished your final exam now, right?”
Gracelyn just nodded, smiling through the noodles in her mouth, making Maddie laugh. She knew that her roommate had finished two days ago, seeing as Gracelyn’s exams were some of the last of all the Seniors.
“So…there’s a hockey house party tonight…”
Gracelyn stopped chewing, narrowing her eyes, to which Maddie just laughed and held her hands up in surrender.
“I know you haven’t been to parties all year. Not since…he left. But this is our last big blow-out, you know? And you shouldn’t let a dumb boy ruin the last big college party, right?”
Gracelyn huffed out a breath, setting her food down to the side, just running a hand through her dishevelled hair. Parties just hadn’t been the same since Jake left in Junior year, especially not ones at the hockey house – she’d stopped going to them for a reason.
But maybe Maddie was right. Jake wasn’t here. He’d left. She was still here and she was graduating and she shouldn’t let herself feel so sour when she’d worked so hard. Fuck it. This was her last week of college – she wasn’t going to hold herself back any more.
“I’m going to need to shower. And shave my legs. And I have no idea what to wear,” Gracelyn eventually said.
Maddie just squealed, clapping her hands together.
“Go and shower now. Shave everything. Leave the outfit to me and the girls. Tonight is going to be the best night ever, okay?” Maddie said happily, whipping out her phone, no doubt to text their friends of the plans.
“Can I at least finish my food first?”
Maddie just laughed, not even looking up from where she was typing.
So Gracelyn took a shower, shaved, primped, and dressed up in clothes she hadn’t worn in months. The girls all rallied around her while they got ready too, all chipping in with her hair and make-up, making her heart clench in gratitude for her incredible friends and their love. The evening, the party, was going to be the best, just as Maddie had promised. She could feel it in her bones.
She knew that a few of her former social crowd glanced at her in surprise as their group walked through the hockey house, but Maddie didn’t give her a chance to get self-conscious in the grey bodycon dress, pressing a shot of vodka and a beer into her hands with a big smile.
“We’re graduating, motherfuckers!”
Jenny’s whoop raised a loud cheer in the kitchen, more shots being passed around quickly, and it allowed Gracelyn to relax a little in the familiar atmosphere, almost like nothing had changed at all. The whole evening passed in a blur of dancing and drinking and laughter and beer pong, Gracelyn sinking into the support of her girlfriends to let loose, finally shaking off all the tension and stress of the past few weeks of exams. Of the past year, if she was being honest.
It wasn’t until after 1am that the group separated out a little bit, Daisy and Gracelyn on the makeshift dancefloor with the other scattered through the kitchen, bathroom and outside. The two of them sang along to the upbeat Megan Thee Stallion song, dancing free and wild, until a cute guy shyly approached Daisy, dancing with her briefly before whispering in her ear and making Daisy giggle. Then her friend looked over to her, and Gracelyn knew exactly what she was silently asking.
“Go! Go make-out!” Gracelyn grinned, shooing Daisy away teasingly.
Her friend just giggled and smiled her thanks, slinking off deeper into the crowd with the cute guy, making her smile. Why shouldn’t her friend have a little fun, hey?
Gracelyn moved out to the edge of the dancefloor and glanced around the room, trying to spot Maddie or Luisa or Chanel or Jenny, but the person her eyes landed on instead made her audibly gasp. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. How could he be here?
What the hell. What was he doing here? Why was he back in Boston, after all this time? Why was he here right now at the same party was her?
Was she dreaming?
Then Jake turned his head and spotted her too, smiling widely.
No this was definitely a nightmare. Gracelyn couldn’t move as he walked over towards her, and it was all she could do to force a smile on her face as he stopped in front of her, towering over her as he always had.
“Hey Gracie. It’s been a while.”
Yeah no shit.
His sweet smile and gentle voice still sent shivers down her spine though.
“What are you doing here?” she asked coolly.
“I wanted to surprise everyone. I know I couldn’t finish off my degree here but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see everyone graduate.”
Wanted to surprise everyone? See everyone graduate?
Was he even going to tell her he was there?
Obviously not.
“Well it was nice to see you, Jake. Good luck next season,” she said, smiling politely.
The confused expression on his face, paired with his flinch at her tone of voice, almost made her defensive walls crumble down – but she’d made that mistake before, letting her guard down around him. Three years she spent letting him slowly take over her heart, and she knew that if she let him in one last time that she’d never recover. She just couldn’t handle it again.
“Gracie, wait,” he murmured, reaching out towards her.
Hearing her nickname fall from his lips was almost enough to stop her, but she stepped back ever so slightly out of his grasp, enough that his confusion turned to hurt.
“Goodbye, Jake,” she said softly.
And with that, she made herself walk off, heading straight for the kitchen, hoping to find someone, anyone, because by the time she’d steadied her breathing through the house, she was done. She was so done, with the hockey house, with the party, with the whole night. It was all she could do to force a smile on her face when she found a few of her friends in the kitchen – Maddie, Chanel, and Luisa – Maddie’s eyes immediately narrowing at her expression.
“Hey, I’m exhausted, it’s been such a long day. I’m going to head back to the dorms,” Gracelyn announced.
It was just past 2am now, so it wasn’t like she was being a killjoy. Chanel and Luisa booed teasingly, making her huff out a laugh, whereas Maddie just smiled sadly. Her best friend always knew how to read her mind.
“Do you want company on the walk back?” Maddie offered.
“No, no, it’s okay, please stay and enjoy the last hockey house party. The fresh air will do me good. Thank you though,” Gracelyn said, shaking her head.
She would always be grateful for Maddie.
“Brunch tomorrow, yes?” Chanel said, smiling as she pointed a taloned-fingernail faux-threateningly.
“Of course!” Gracelyn laughed, making the rest of the girls laugh too. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
With a round of hugs and the promise to text when she arrived back at the dorm, Gracelyn left the hockey house for the last time. She hated that tears were stinging at her eyes, closing yet another metaphorical and physical door, so she wasted no time in just starting to walk away, letting her feet guide her. By the time she’d managed to compose herself, she realised she’d somehow walked out to the Charles River, all the way down to her old spot with Jake near the Hatch Shell, and she just felt like crying for real this time.
Why here? Why now? Why did this have to be the ending of her college years?
She managed to blink the tears back as she sat down on their usual…old stone bench, just in time to hear footsteps coming towards her. Her heart clenched in her chest as she snapped her head in that direction, only to see Jake jogging towards her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wild.
“Gracie! I was looking everywhere in the house for you. But when Maddie told me you left, I knew you’d end up here,” he said, breathless but relieved.
Maddie told him? That meddler. Gracelyn felt a lump rise in her throat at his words though. What did that even mean? What was he doing? Why did he even care?
“What do you want?” she asked, frowning.
“I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t leave Boston again without talking to you. It’s kind of perfect that it’s by our old spot – I can’t get the memories of this place out of my head.”
~
November 2016.
“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.
“What?”
“To keep this memory, of finding ‘our’ place. Of you giving me the advice I needed. Of me making you laugh like that for the first time,” Jake explained, making her smile at his enthusiastic listing, “one of the guys bought a bunch of cheap polaroid cameras at the weekend and I still have one in my pocket.”
“Well in that case…” she teased.
Jake just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to lean into his body. Gracelyn just tilted her knitted hat-covered head to rest against his and threw up a peace sign, smiling widely as Jake raised the camera in his hand.
~
“Oh, well if you want to talk now, then go ahead!” Gracelyn said sharply.
Jake flinched again at her harsh tone of voice, looking even more confused than before.
“Why…what do you mean?”
“I haven’t heard from you in over a year. You stopped replying to my texts, you hurt me. But it’s all good now that you’ve shown up again and declared you want to talk, right? So go ahead. Talk. Tell me why you think you can just reappear in my life after leaving me alone,” Gracelyn said angrily.
The moment that the ranting words left her lips, she regretted them, even more so at the upset look on Jake’s face. Here it was, what she’d always feared would happen. She wished she could use the beer and shots as an excuse but she knew they were barely a factor after all of the dancing. She’d pushed too far this time. He was actually going to say goodbye for good. And why wouldn’t he? That’s what everyone else important in her life had always done.
Braced myself for the goodbye,
'Cause that's all I've ever known.
“I’ll never leave you alone again.”
His sudden words broke her out of her swirling thoughts.
“What?”
“I should never have left you behind, not without telling you how I feel about you.”
What the hell.
“Jake…”
“I have been such an idiot, Gracie. Such a coward. I remember how it felt sitting by the water here with you, letting the world pass by like nothing else mattered, like it was just you and me in our own little world. That first time we were here? I made you laugh, and your laugh was the best thing I’d ever heard. The smile you sent me after you’d stopped laughing made my heart beat like crazy. I wanted to kiss you right then and there, but I chickened out. Every time I looked at you after that, it was like the first time all over again. I don’t know when it happened, probably moments after I met you, but I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I wanted to tell you so many times. I should’ve told you, but I was so scared to ruin everything. Turns out me not saying anything ruined us anyway.”
His words washed over her like a wave, overwhelming in their honesty and emotion, and the more he spoke, the more Gracelyn felt like crying. This was how he felt about her? After all this time?
He was in love with her too?
He wasn’t saying goodbye?
“You loved me?” she managed to whisper.
Jake swallowed heavily but nodded, eyes starting to fill with hope. “Love. Present tense. I still love you, and I am so sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you last year. Am I too late?”
“Too late?” she asked, confused.
“Too late to have a chance with you?”
Oh.
Oh.
“Jake, I…I don’t even know what to say. I’ve spent this whole last year trying to repair myself after you left with barely a goodbye, and now you just…you want to give us a chance? Just like that?”
The guilt that washed over Jake’s face sent a pang through her body, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to speak. She needed to know. He needed to tell her.
“I know you’ve guarded your heart. I know it’s for good reasons. But we’re not going to make your parents mistakes, Gracie. I never want to go a day without telling you how much I love you. I don’t want to spend another day apart. I don’t know where I’ll be next season – I might start down in the AHL but it’s likely I’ll be called up again. But I’ve got to know…will you come with me?”
“To Texas? You want me to move in with you in Texas?”
Her mind was swirling, even more overwhelmed, her emotions choking up her throat as her jaw dropped slightly. That was the last thing she was expecting. Was this too sudden? Was she holding back for no reason?
“Shit, I shouldn’t be asking you that at 2.30am. I’m so sorry, so stupid,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair.
“You’re not stupid,” she said quickly, gently pulling his hands back down, “I just…it’s a lot? Let me think about it?”
“Of course. Whatever you need, I…”
He trailed off, an old familiar look of hesitance and self-deprecation in his eyes, enough to make her heart pang. Enough to make up her mind, at least a little bit.
“I love you too, Jake,” she murmured, smiling slightly as his breath caught in his throat, “I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit. I was trying to build up my confidence to tell you but then it was too late, you know? When you left, and slowly stopped messaging me, it broke my heart. I know you were busy working your ass off in Texas and I am so proud of you for chasing your dreams…but it still hurt so much. I spent all of this last year essentially back in the way that you first met me, introverted and quiet – tonight was the first party I’d been to since November. But I still love you. I don’t think I could ever stop.”
As she spoke, she watched his face shift from happy to sad to devastated to hopeful. She’d missed how expressive he was, especially around her, especially because of her, even if it was terrifying to share all of her thoughts and feelings with him. Things she’d never said to anyone, not even her closest friends. But here she was, confessing everything, hoping that the tears slowly trickling down her face were the only ones she’d cry over him again.
Jake stayed silent for a moment, raising a hand to wipe away her tears, letting his hand cup her face briefly, just long enough for the warmth to seep through his skin to hers before he dropped his hand again.
“I’ll never be able to make up for making you feel like this for so long, I know that. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to start over, to finally start us as we should’ve always been. To show you how much I love you.”
It was everything she’d ever hoped to hear, over the three years they spent as friends and the past year alone. Was it enough? Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?
“I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life, Jake. I know I’m not moving back home, but other than that? I don’t have any job or career lined up yet. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life after brunch tomorrow with the girls. But maybe you can walk me home tonight…and we can talk tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I’d love that,” Jake said quickly, eagerly, “Maybe I could stay until after commencement weekend? There’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be.”
There’s literally nowhere else she’d want him to be either.
So she huffed out a laugh, nodding, heart starting to beat that little bit faster as he took one of her hands in his, threading their fingers together. She stayed silent as he stood up, hands staying linked as she stood up too, Jake just as silent as her. It was only when he lifted their joint hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand that she made any sound, a soft sigh of his name, just loud enough for Jake to hear.
It was his answering smile that gave her hope.
~
Do you remember all the city lights on the water?
You saw me start to believe for the first time,
You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter,
You are the best thing that's ever been mine.
note: my first time writing for brock!! I hope you like it, as always feedback is appreciated !!
summary: in which your Brock’s best friend and the lines are blurry because you act like more both to him and his son.
content: sfw, a little person, fluff
wc: 2.35K
You were staring out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass of your coffee shop. The place was buzzing with people only minutes earlier, everyone wanting a hot drink to shield them from the stretch of bad weather that impacted the city these last few days, although that’s quite normal this time of the year. The buzz had died down and you were grateful since you just cleaned the floor, and didn’t look forward to having to do it again if someone else entered through the door with their wet shoes, the welcome mat at the entrance seeming to not do its job very effectively.
Your attention quickly shifted when you heard your phone ring and grabbed it out of your back pocket, heart beating a little faster when you saw who was calling.
“Vancouver Academy Preschool”
You had spent hours teasing Brock about how uptight this school sounded. It was preschool for crying out loud, and both you and Brock went to public school and turned out just fine, but he wasn’t budging. Only the very best for his boy. You didn’t feel a single trace of amusement seeing the name now though, only anxious as to why they could be calling.
“Good Afternoon, is this Brooks’ mom, YN speaking?” a woman's voice echoes over the speaker.
“Uh- that’s me but I’m not-”
“Oh thank goodness, we weren’t able to get in contact with his father, I’m glad I could at least reach one of his parents.” she continues, interrupting you before you could correct her that you weren’t Brooks’ mom. Brock was still at the rink, that’s probably why he wasn’t answering. “I’m Brooks’ teacher and I’m calling because there was an accident at school today and we were wondering if you would be able to come pick Brooks up from school?”
Your throat constricts a little at what she's saying, not being able to comprehend the words Brooks and accident in one sentence. “An accident? What accident? Is he hurt?” you ask frantically, questions flying one after the other.
“He’s perfectly fine ma’am. He had a little fall and bumped his head. There was a little scratch but we had our school nurse clean it up and check him out, but we thought since there were only a few hours left of school anyway and he seemed a bit upset, it may be better if he just went home for the day.”
Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was only noon. You had another four hours to work at most, but you also knew that Brock probably wasn’t going to see the school’s messages before then and you couldn’t leave Brooks at school until then. The thought of him hurt and upset was enough to make you remove the apron from your waist and say, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
“Sounds serious,” you hear from your left seeing Lydia, one of your waitresses standing there.
“It was Brooks’ school. I need to go pick him up. I know it was your day to leave early but do you think you can stay until closing time? If you really can’t we’ll just close up early today,” you ramble, moving to grab your coat and searching for your keys.
“Of course, don’t even worry about it, I’ll close up.” she says
“I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t even try to apologise. You do what you need to for your kids, I get that.” and she did. Having two kids of her own.
“I know but he’s not even really mine. Not biologically at least. It’s not the same and I know this was your Friday to leave early,” you say remorsefully.
“Stop that. He’s yours in every way that matters. If I’ve ever seen anyone be a mom to that little boy, it’s you.” she says and your eyes sting a little and you have to blink up at the ceiling for a minute to stop them from falling.
“Thank you. I owe you one, I’ll see you Monday?” you ask and make your way out the door when she nods.
How you ended up in this situation, you honestly had no idea. It hadn’t been your intention to end up having your name registered as a parental contact. But you did feel an immense sense of warmth that Brock trusted you enough to do it.
Brock had been your friend for many years, and when Brooks came into the world, he only brought you closer. You would have never wished for Brooks’ mom to abandon him and Brock, and you would forever hold resentment in your heart for her because of that, but it did create a hole in their lives that you had somehow filled.
When you pull into the parking lot at Brooks’ school, you clench the steering wheel tightly and let out a big breath, releasing all the confusing thoughts about your role in Brooks’ life and the confusing relationship you had with his father. One day maybe you’d address those thoughts, but today isn’t that day.
You step out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you to shield from the cold and take a little jog up to the front entrance. The receptionist immediately glanced up when you entered and sent you a quick smile.
“Hi I’m here to pick up Brooks Boeser,” you say and her eyes widened significantly, looking a lot more interested when she heard that last name and called through to the classroom. That almost would have been amusing had you not been preoccupied by your nerves about Brooks. You knew Brock paid a lot of big donations and checks that ensured him and Brooks were treated well here, and it looked like that treatment extended to you.
A door buzzes open and through comes Brooks, his hands tightly clasped on the straps of his backpack, his feet shuffling against the ground.
His eyes were red, cheeks flushed, a little bandaid on his forehead where you assumed the little scratch was. As he neared you his eyes teared up and the bottom lip started to wobble.
“Yn!” he yells, picking up his pace when he sees you and tripping into your legs, wrapping his arms around them.
“Oh my little love, did you get hurt?” You ask bending down and pushing his hair away from his forehead and gently running your fingers over the bandaid, as he nods.
“What exactly happened?” you ask his teacher who was only standing a few feet away observing the interaction.
“Brooks was playing outside with a friend and when he came back inside his shoes were wet and he ran, slipped and fell. He hit his head against a table and there’s a little scrape but as I said on the phone our nurse checked him out and he seems to be just fine. I can contact the nurse to talk with you if you’d like” the teacher says
“That won’t be necessary, I trust that everything was handled as it should be,” you say in a tone suggesting that anything else would be ridiculous since Brock spends so much money on this school.
“Brooks was so excited when he found out his mom was coming to get him,” his teacher redirects the conversation and you smile tightly at her, that word causing your throat to squeeze tightly.
You squeeze Brooks tightly, the little boy still clinging to you as if his life depended on it. You pick him up, throwing his bag over your shoulder and making your way to the door when the teacher holds it open for you.
“Thank you,” you say politely and she smiles back at you.
“Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday Brooks,” she says as you make your way to your car.
When Brooks is tightly secured in his car seat and you’ve let the car warm up a bit, you make your way to the arena.
“Wanna go visit daddy at work?” you ask Brooks, reaching back and squeezing his foot when you reach a red light.
“Yes!” he yells and you smile at his excitement.
“He’ll be happy to see you,” you say, focusing your attention back on the road.
“Happy to see you too,” Brooks replies and you glance at him in the mirror seeing a teasing little smile on that face.
“You think so?” you ask and he nods
“Uncle Petey told dad he’s happiest when he sees you,” Brooks says matter of factly
“Have you been listening to your dad’s conversations again?” you ask and he smiles guiltily
“No. They thought I was sleeping,” he admits softly and you smile, shaking your head at him. He’s sneaky.
“Do you love my daddy?” Brooks asks and you swallow thickly thinking about it for a second. You knew Brooks was going to be asking about your friendship with his dad sooner or later, you’d just hoped it was later and that Brock was the one being asked.
You didn’t know how to say it without giving Brooks the wrong idea, and you definitely didn’t need him running back to his dad and telling him about your feelings for him. You weren’t entirely sure Brock was over what happened with Brooks’ mom. You didn’t think he was in love with her, but the way she just left and abandoned both of them still had an effect on Brock. He still hadn’t gone back to dating even after all these years.
“Of course I love your dad. He’s my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him and he smiles happily.
“Do you think my dad is pretty?” Brooks asks curiously
“He’s very pretty, just like you,” you say to Brock’s mini-me.
“My dad thinks you’re pretty too. He told uncle Quinny while you were making noodles,” Brooks says, referring to a few days ago when you cooked pasta for Brock and a few guys at his place.
“Are you two going to get married?” Brooks asks and you nearly swerve off the road.
“What made you have that idea?” you ask more calmly than you feel
“A girl in my class said that if two people love each other and think they’re pretty, they get married,” Brooks explains
“It’s a bit more complicated than that bud,” you say gently, relieved as you finally pull up to the arena.
You walk into the arena, Brooks’ hand clasped tightly in yours and wait in a little room you were directed to while someone called for Brock. You were sitting on a couch, Brooks cuddled up in your lap when Brock finally entered the room, closing the door behind him. Brock observed the two of you for a second, a strange emotion clouding his face.
“Dad! Look, I have a scratch on my head!” he says as you stand up and walk towards Brock, Brooks still on your hip.
Brock’s panicked eyes find yours before brushing Brooks’ hair away so he could inspect the little scratch more carefully, his other hand falls to your waist, pulling both of you close.
“He had a little fall, scraped his head, he’s okay. I took care of it,” you reassure him, and Brock’s shoulders relax a little bit.
Brock nods, pressing a kiss to Brooks’ forehead before moving to kiss your cheek, and your breath hitches at the intimate gesture. Brock had always been affectionate but lately he’s been doing a lot more often and openly.
“I’m gonna go grab my stuff, I’ll be back in a sec. Do you need anything?” Brock asks, his hand caressing the skin at your waist lightly.
“No, we’re fine. Go finish up,” you say and he smiles, giving you both a peck again before leaving the room again.
Later that day when you’ve got Brooks passed out in his bed, Brock joins you in the living room taking a seat on the couch, sitting as close to you as he can without actually touching you.
Brock leans his head back, letting out a trembling breath.
“He’s okay Brock. It’s just a little scratch. You know that if I suspected he wasn’t okay I would’ve taken him to-”
“I know. It’s just that you shouldn’t have to. It’s my job to take care of him and I wasn’t there.” Brock says and you sigh, moving even close to him.
“Look at me,” you insist softly, and he does, his gaze so incredibly soft and fond it makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst.
“You’re a great dad Brock. You love that little boy so much, and he knows it. You’re doing the best that you can and it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” you say and his hand falls to your upper thigh, caressing it softly.
“It’s not fair to you,” he argues
“I love that little guy and there’s nothing I love more than taking care of him. Of both of you.” you say and Brock looks at you for a moment.
“I love you,” he confesses and you can feel a ball forming in your throat.
“I love you too,” you reply and Brock shakes his head.
“No, I love you. I’m in love with you. I always have been”
“Brock-”
“I can never bring myself to regret being with Brooks’ mom. You weren’t available back then and I was convinced you never would be, but somehow your ex managed to mess it up and you were single and I was so happy because I was finally gonna get my shot. And then Brooks happened and I love that kid to death, so I could never ever regret it, but it’s always been you.” he says softly, framing your face with both hands and kissing you softly.
“This family isn’t complete without you. I hope you know that.” Brock says, gently caressing your face when he pulls away.
“Will you stay the night?” he asks and you smile.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you answer, and a few weeks later all your things were in that house, knowing you were never leaving again.
summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together
notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼
request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?
[5.1k]
You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.
You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.
Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.
Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.
You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.
“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.
You roll your eyes at him.
“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”
“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.
“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.
Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.
“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.
“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.
Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”
You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.
When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.
You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.
You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.
You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.
As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.
Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.
Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.
After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.
Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.
The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.
Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.
No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.
You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.
That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.
The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.
You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.
Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?
Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.
Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.
You were in for a long week.
———————————————————————————
“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.
“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.
“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.
Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.
You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.
Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.
“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.
“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.
He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.
“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.
“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.
“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.
You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”
You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.
Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.
Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”
A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.
You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.
Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.
Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.
You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.
After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.
You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.
Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.
“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.
“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.
You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.
“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.
Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.
“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.
“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.
“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.
“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”
You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”
“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.
You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.
“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”
“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.
A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”
Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.
“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”
You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.
“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.
You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.
“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.
“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.
After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.
All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.
Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.
You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.
You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.
You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.
You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.
You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.
“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.
You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.
“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.
“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.
“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.
“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.
He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.
“Hi, Schatz.”
You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”
“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.
You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.
Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.
His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.
Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.
You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.
You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”
Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”
“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.
He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.
“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.
“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.
You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.
“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.
“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”
“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.
His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.
Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.
“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.
Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.
Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.
You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.
You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.
“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.
“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.
Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.
You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.
“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.
“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.
“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.
“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.
“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.
The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.
“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.
“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”
You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.
“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.
You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”
He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.
“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.
You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.
“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.
You burst into a fit of giggles.
You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.
Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.
You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.
You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.
a/n: i've been back in a rut with writing and my mental health once again has taken a plunge so i've been trying to give myself time away from things. this is the first thing i've managed to write in a couple weeks at this point, and i'm not entirely happy with it, but it's something :)
based on this anon ask
summary: nico tries to make the first time you stay the night at his place perfect, but experiences some hiccups and nerves
word count: ~1.9k
“Scheisse, scheisse, scheisse,” Nico’s voice rings out in the house the moment you walk through the door. Furrowed eyebrows and a frown on your face, you step closer to where you heard the curses flowing from, only to find Nico in the kitchen, running his hands through his hair, the window open and a thick burning smell filling the air.
“Can’t fucking believe I did that,” he mutters to himself, still not having realized you walked in.
“Nico?” You quietly call out, apologizing when he turns around, clearly startled by your unannounced presence. “What’s going on?”
He sighs heavily, seemingly close to tears as he walks over to you, taking deep breaths.
“I wanted to make dinner for you but the pasta water overflowed and because I was so distracted trying to clean up the water and burnt pasta that fell into the fire, I forgot there was garlic bread in the oven, so that also burned,” he says, clearly upset with how things have gone.
He runs his hands through his hair again, his eyes sparkling with the beginning of tears. He stares at the tray on top of the stove, smoke still billowing from the charred bread.
“Hey, hey, hey,” you whisper, moving to stand in front of him and cupping his cheeks in your hands. His gaze drifts away from you but you tap his jaw lightly to get him to look back. Moments later, his brown eyes meet yours, upset and disappointment clear in them. “I didn’t need a fancy dinner for tonight.”
“I know, but I wanted to do something nice for you, my love. I wanted tonight to be perfect, and I-I…” he pauses to catch his breath. You allow him to take his time, not wanting to rush him in any way. But when he doesn’t say anything, you step in.
“Nico, it’s alright. Yeah, it is sort of a big night in terms of our relationship, but you could have ordered some fast food or take out from somewhere, plated it, and I would’ve been happy. While I do appreciate the effort and the idea of you wanting to spoil me, you’ve already impressed me enough; I’m already your girlfriend.” Nico can’t help but laugh softly at your words, realizing that you were in fact right.
“I’m glad, honestly. If this were my way of impressing you, I would crawl in a hole and hide forever.” You can’t help your own laugh that slips from your mouth at his embarrassment. Deep down, though, you still feel terrible for how things have gone for him.
He had invited you to sleep over at his place, a step that you had yet to take in your still-growing relationship, mainly due to his crazy schedule. But now that he was back for good for the time being, all he longed for was to fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up to your sleepy self.
He didn’t tell you that he was planning on making you dinner, though, this was all supposed to be a surprise; which is why he’s beating himself up so much over it.
“How about this? We order some food from your favorite restaurant, the one you took me to on our second date, we sit in the living room, watch movies and eat our food. No need to be in the kitchen anymore, no hassle of cooking, and afterwards, we’ll clean this up together.”
Nico’s expression softens as you tell him your idea, your eyebrows raising in question when he doesn’t respond. You could tell he had a ton of thoughts swirling his mind, but when a smile finally breaks through, you mirror it.
“I’d love that,” he whispers, leaning closer to you to pull you flush against his body. “I appreciate you so much, darling.”
“It’s what I’m here for, baby.”
The two of you stand there for a bit before you pull away to take your phone out and bring up the menu for the restaurant not too far away from Nico’s place. After some deciding, Nico calls in the order that you’ve typed out in your notes.
Soon, you find yourselves curled up on the couch, your plates full of the appetizers and entrees you ordered, and one of your favorite movies playing on the TV. Even though Nico was in a better mood, you could tell deep down that there was something still bothering him; and that came out not long after you finished dinner.
The two of you stood in the kitchen, attempting to clean the chaos that he dealt with earlier, music drifting in from the living room to lighten the mood. Nico doesn’t say a word, being reminded of all the things that happened before you arrived.
“C’mere,” you whisper, holding out your hand for his after you put all the dishes away. He hesitantly places it in yours, your left hand delicately resting on his shoulder, and you begin to slow dance with him. Nico’s chuckles when he realizes what you had planned, and he leans into it moments later.
His right arm goes around your waist as the music continues to play, and finally, you can feel your boyfriend relaxing under your touch.
“I have everything ready for you in the shower,” he says after a while. “I figured you brought your own products, but I have a shower scrub that’s brand new and towels on the counter. And if you want to take a bath instead, I have some bath salts and lavender and-”
“I’m okay with just a shower,” you chuckle, cutting him off. He offers a shy smile and nods, a blush creeping up his neck. “But thank you for the option.” He leans in and presses a tender kiss to your cheek.
“Anything for my lover,” he whispers, trailing his kisses along your cheek, down to your jawline. He goes no farther, much to your dismay, but the moment is quickly ruined by the music suddenly cutting off, the house becoming still and silent. Both of you look in the direction of the living room, confused as hell, but Nico laughs to himself, shaking his head in slight embarrassment.
“I think my phone died,” he comments, having remembered the issue. Giggling, you follow him to the living room and sure enough, you find that his phone, which was sitting on the coffee table, was now dead with a blank screen.
You end up going to take a shower now that the moment was over, bringing your toiletries bag with you, along with your pajamas. However, Nico had taken it upon himself to place a t-shirt of his, along with a pair of sweats for you, just in case you wanted to wear those instead.
While you were taking a nice, hot shower, your muscles loosening from the long day, Nico was in the bedroom panicking once again. He was busy trying to tidy up his room a bit, even if he knew you wouldn’t care about it being slightly messy, he still wanted to impress you in some way.
He threw a bunch of dirty clothes into the hamper, organized his dresser and night stand a little, hiding some things he’s embarrassed by, like a bottle of Tums and a bottle of lube, something he doesn’t wish to explain to you right now.
He straightened up his bed as well, but after he looked at it for a minute, he got to spiraling again.
Is my bed going to be too firm or too soft for her? Is my comforter enough? Or does she like sleeping with a second cover on top? Is she going to be too cold? Too warm?
It was all getting to be a lot, so he sat down on the bed with his head in his hands, trying to stop the spinning feeling. He’s not sure how long he sat there for, but when he hears someone clear their throat behind him, he shoots up, eyes wide with curiosity. However, he eases the second he sees that it’s you, and even more so when he takes in what you’re wearing.
You decided to change into the clothes Nico left out for you, finding that they’re far more comfortable and warm than your shorts and tank; his house was rather cool, not that it was a bad thing, but something you picked up on after your steaming shower.
“You look…so fucking adorable,” he breathes out, making his way over to you. In an instant, all of his anxieties and worries washed away, and nothing else matters but you.
A strand of hair falls from behind his ears and frames his face, the simple change giving him the appearance of a prince worshipping his princess. He stares at you intently, the sight of you in his clothes lifting his mood instantly, more than he’d like to admit.
He quickly brushes the hair back, out of his face, not wanting his sight to be obstructed by anything, with you standing there in front of him.
“U-um, so I have a pretty thick comforter, and I keep the room pretty cool because I like falling asleep in the cold, so if you need another cover, tell me and I’ll get you one, but-”
“Everything is perfect, Nico, really,” you reassure him, grabbing his hands and giving them a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be okay, your hoodie is pretty cozy and warm anyway.” He nods and lets out a shaky breath in, bringing you over to the bed.
It was nearing midnight by this point, and exhaustion was starting to overtake your body. Nico crawls into bed and opens his arms up for you to fall into, which you happily take solace in. With a quiet giggle, you snuggle up into his side, the comforter being thrown over you after doing so, shielding you from the air conditioned room.
He was right, it was rather soothing to sleep under a thick cover in a cool-tempered space, and you could feel yourself growing sleepier and sleepier by the second, his touch adding onto it.
Nico’s lips place kisses all along your forehead, his arm placed almost protectively around you, tracing patterns on your skin, his hand creeping underneath your shirt a bit; not that you minded, his skin was so warm and velvety, despite a few callouses from playing hockey.
“I love you,” the whisper falls from your lips with no thought into the otherwise silent room. The feeling swells in your chest when you realize what you’ve said, not that you regret it, but you felt right saying it in the moment.
Nico’s heart beat speeds up rapidly underneath your hand resting on his bare chest. Gazing up at him, you notice he has tears forming in is eyes, which were staring straight up at the ceiling. Seeing that he wasn’t responding, you were worried he didn’t want to say it back, but you knew he couldn’t hide the physical reaction it caused, which you felt.
“I love you more than anything, sweetheart,” he whispers confidently, glancing down to meet your line of sight, adoration obvious in his brown irises. Leaning up, you kiss him deeply, your hand lifting to mess with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I would say it in German but it’s not as pretty as English.”
Laughter spills from your lips at his comment, his hand caressing your cheek after you calm down some. His touch is gentle and hesitant, but when he sees the grin tug at the corners of your lips, he knows it was the right move.
“I’ll never get tired of that smile,” he says, his thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Nico was glad that the night took a better turn, and now, he couldn’t wait to have more nights like this, with the fears and nerves gone and just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.
Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic, not just particular chapters.
Word Count Chapter: 4411
Word Count Total: 37,302
Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can’t seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn’t have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. This part begins with Clementine. There be SMUT (kinda)
Part Nine
*~*~*~*~*~
A beam of sunshine was glancing off a gazing ball in the garden and the concentrated stream of light was shining right in my eyes. Blinking a few times, I realized my brain was remarkably quiet. Without moving, I did a mental assessment of my body. Everything seemed to be in order, so I graduated to slowly wiggling my fingers and toes. I didn’t feel like I was in my pajamas and I peeked under the covers. I was still in my dress from last night. It wouldn’t be the first time I was too tired to get into pajamas after taking my evening pills, but I realized I didn’t actually remember getting home.
I flopped a hand to my nightstand and my hand hit a packet of makeup remover wipes and not my phone. This morning was turning out to be entirely too surreal and without my internal naysayer screaming in my ears, I could actually hear normal morning sounds like sprinklers and birds, and the army of landscapers mowing yards in the neighborhood.
Sitting up with a sigh I tried to unravel the mystery of the night before: all memory seemed to stop when Barbs put me in the car to drive me home. Sleep had long been a problem for me, considering I hadn’t slept well since the day before my wedding, and despite the divorce, I still remained a notoriously light sleeper. Half-heartedly, I wondered if I had been drugged, but Bill had done that to me a few times and this did not feel like that at all. Also, context and what I did remember seemed to rule that out as a possibility.
Daze was in her corner of the bed, head on her paws and she was assessing me. “I don’t suppose you’re going to reveal what happened?” She just licked her paw. If I wanted answers, there was only one way to get them and strangely, I didn’t feel like I could roll over and fall back to sleep.
10 minutes later, I was padding barefoot through the house in leggings and an Avs shirt that was starting to get seriously baggy, hair in a messy bun on top of my head. My keys were mysteriously hanging on the hook where they belonged. The Corvair was parked in the driveway where it belonged. My phone was still in the cradle on the air vent, almost dead, and my wristlet from the previous evening was discarded on the floorboard. It honestly left me with more questions than I started with. I distinctly remembered Mark putting me in the car, but all my stuff was still in it? How did he get home? How did he know where I lived? Dear lord, did he interact with my parents?
There were about 100 text messages from Nora on my phone.
Nora: How’s the party?
Nora: Is it fabulous? Who is there? What does Mark look like? I bet he looks like sex on a stick.
Nora: Ok. I can only assume you are ignoring me because you are actually having fun and I support this. But text me when you get home.
Nora: It’s 10:15 and you haven’t texted. Uh…
Nora: Ok I can only hope you are being WORSHIPED by some gorgeous Italian STUD, but like I’m gonna need details.
Nora: Hi, it’s morning. Are you dead from orgasms?
Nora: Seriously, Clementine, I was joking before, but are you dead for real?
Nora: I’m calling the FBI.
Nora: CLEMENTINE.
The last one came in as I was reading the text string and I hurried to respond before Nora had a mini breakdown.
I’M FINE. Kind of. Mostly. I think. Don’t call the FBI. I just woke up.
Nora: I’m coming over.
No. I just woke up. I need coffee. I’m fine.
Nora: Too late. Alex was up until like 3am playing with his little video game friends and I can’t focus on anything until you tell me what happened last night.
I sighed and just gave up. I needed my morning Go juice and I didn’t have the brain cells for higher function until that happened and I certainly didn’t have the energy to argue with Nora. It was generally best just to let her do her Nora thing when she got an idea in her head.
When I made my way back into the kitchen, my mom was starting the coffee pot that had already brewed one pot of coffee today and was then scrubbed until it shone brand new because god forbid we have appliances that looked used, that wouldn’t do in the home of Coach and Doris Jones.
I sat on the barstool on the other side of the breakfast bar with a sigh and plugged in my phone. Her entire aura said “I’m irritated but pretending I’m not.” Finally, she poured a mug of coffee and pulled out the creamer and milk, pouring a hefty dollop of each into the liquid before she slid it across the stone.
I took a sip before waving a hand at her, whether in greeting or resignation I wasn’t sure. “Mom,” I started, “You obviously have something to say.”
She balled up a dish towel in her hands, apoplectic. “I just thought you were doing so much better!” she snapped, “I don’t understand how you could let this happen? Your father and I are so disappointed. I don’t know if I can go through this again.”
I mean, naturally whatever happened was my fault. It always was, and she was always the victim. I figured I would go with the practiced response to this, as I wasn’t yet caffeinated enough to think my way through the rest of this conversation, much less mount the compelling defense I knew it would take to try to win this argument. And who was I kidding? I’d never win. As soon as I’d learn the rules of the game, she would change them. “I know, Mom,” I said placatingly, “I’m so sorry. It will never happen again, but out of curiosity, what did I do?”
My mother hung the dish towel back on the hook by the sink, incensed, trying to maintain the appropriate decorum for a woman of her status while, at the same time, managing to express only her most essential feelings regarding this situation so I could appreciate the evident severity of its nature. “Clementine,” she admonished, “You don’t even remember! That makes it worse. You took a sedative before you came home! That poor hockey player had to drive you home and carry you to bed!”
Well, she was being hyperbolic, there was no way Barbs carried me. I certainly didn’t remember taking any pills at Gabe’s party, and looked at her, confused. “Mom, I didn’t take a sedative,” I clarified, “I had a few anti-anxiety meds in my clutch for an emergency, but none of them would have knocked me out and I didn’t even take them!”
“Oh please, Clementine,” she responded, almost before I’d even finished my sentence. “You were sleeping like the dead.” She crossed herself like mentioning the word “dead” was a sin. “Your father had to have a talk with that young man to make sure he didn’t turn this into another scandal.”
A scandal. That’s what my marriage of 7 years boiled down to. A scandal. Like I had a child out of wedlock in 1950 or wrote some emails that got hacked and released to the public. My horribly emotional, physical, and sexually abusive marriage was a scandal that I could have somehow avoided. Snapping back in, her words filtered through my brain and started to make sense. “Wait, Coach did what?” I asked her.
She started stress cleaning, an affliction with which I used to be possessed before the one-two punch of psycho and pharmacotherapy, as she informed me, “He had a talk with that boy.”
“Mom,” I said, with as much calm as I was able to muster, “‘that boy’ is a 30 year old man. A multimillionaire man. Who is a professional athlete. And a gentleman, who I am dating, can we give him a little credit?”
She shook her head, tutting back at me as she scrubbed, “You know you aren’t the best at picking men, dear.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose since she was the one who practically pushed me at Bill the minute I turned 18, “You know what,” I said, standing up off of my stool and grabbing my phone, “I don’t actually have the spoons to process this. I’m going to take Daze for a walk.”
I was halfway down the block, meandering as Daze smelled every single dandelion flower next to the sidewalk. Sighing, I looked at my phone and tapped out a text.
Sorry about my family. Thank you for getting me home safely last night.
Daze and I kept wandering until Nora pulled up next to us.
“Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”
I just stared at her, which I was pretty sure drove her nuts. At least, I hope it did. When I didn’t dignify her with a response, she continued, unfazed, “Look bitch, I realize you are going through some shit this AM but I said I was coming over. Where do you think you are going?”
Nora’s Yorkie, Captain, was standing on her lap, front paws on the door as he tried to get his head over the window and make his well-intentioned albeit ill-fated escape to freedom. Rounding the hood of her car, I stuck Daze in the backseat and climbed into the passenger side, informing Nora, “We are going to breakfast.”
She shrugged, “Not a bad plan. So, what drove you out of the house this morning?” Had she known me less well, the events of the morning would have been surprising. But she didn’t. And they weren’t.
“Apparently, I took a sedative and passed out and Mark had to drive me home. But I *KNOW* I didn’t take anything last night and I wasn’t drugged because this doesn’t feel like that. But I was so out of it, Mark had to carry me into the house and put me into bed.”
Nora’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she pulled away from the curb and Captain came to investigate my lap with happy yippy barks. “Well,” she said, “That’s a lot of information to process and all I am getting is Mark Barberio was in your bedroom and you didn’t have an orgasm. I really feel like that’s false advertising. Zero out of five stars. I’d like my money back.”
“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “OH,” I remembered suddenly, “and Stephanie was at the party, with Burky.”
Nora gasped, with the appropriate solidarity a best friend should have in these situations, “THAT Stephanie?”
I nodded. “The very same.”
Nora didn’t respond, so I continued, “Apparently, she helped Barbs do some “emotional labor.”’ I used air quotes for emphasis.
“Wait, are you using air quotes because you think it was a euphemism for sex, or because he actually used the phrase emotional labor?”
“The latter, though the first is valid. But apparently, Little Barbs couldn’t uh… perform.”
Nora slammed on the brakes as she swerved to the shoulder of the road. I was half surprised Captain didn’t fly off of my lap and hit the windshield as she screeched, “SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. Are you telling me. That that amazing Adonis of a man. Has erectile dysfunction?!”
I cleared my throat, slightly afraid that the next thing I would say would make Nora’s voice hit notes only dogs could hear and with two of them in the car, I didn’t like my odds. “Uh… he does not.” I chose my words carefully as I continued, “Apparently, Stephanie wasn’t what he wanted the other night.”
I could literally see every word hit her brain and she swallowed before speaking, her voice strong but restrained as she said, “Before I freak out, I need to know how you know he doesn’t have erectile dysfunction.”
It was my turn to swallow, and pick imaginary lint off my leggings, “I…. um… felt it… with my butt? I honestly don’t even know how to make that sound better. We had clothes on, in public. It was not as erotic as it sounds but like also it was.”
Captain huddled in my lap, like he needed to seek shelter immediately and it might be safer there than the car at large when whatever was about to happen did indeed happen. Nora turned in the driver’s seat. Her words were surprisingly quiet but every word was punctuated by a pause. “That’s. So. Hot. No wonder you passed out and you can’t remember anything. I’m like 99.1% sure I would just pass out if I was within like 5 feet of him.”
I clucked and straightened Captain’s little jeweled collar, “You know, your saying things like that does not inspire me to bring you to team functions where you would be within 5 feet of an entire team. And yes, before you ask me for the 100th time, Cale really is that sweet.”
My phone vibrated in my hand and my expression must have given away the identity of the sender, because Nora leaned over, “What did he say? Did he meet Doris and Coach? Poor thing.”
(303) 123-4567: Good morning Sleeping Beauty.
Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I must have taken a sedative, but I swear I don’t remember. And I’m sorry for my parents. Again.
(303) 123-4567: You didn’t take anything last night though. I swear. And you don’t need to be sorry.
Well, I must have, I don’t normally sleep like that.
(303) 123-4567: It must have been my calming presence.
Anyway, again sorry about the whole thing and thank you for getting me, Daze, and my car home safely.
I put my phone face down on my thigh and met Nora’s gaze. It was impatient, “Well, what did he say?”
She pulled away from the curb again as we headed toward our breakfast destination, “I had texted him this morning basically apologizing for last night, but he seconds my gut feeling that I didn’t actually take anything last night. And he’s a moronic hockey player but also strangely observant? So I don’t fucking know, but if I did, I’m glad he was there.”
Nora didn’t say anything except her little “hmm” that told me she had her own opinions and wasn’t going to share them.
My phone kept vibrating on my thigh and Captain stared at it, offended. Like mother, like son. I didn’t move to check it and Nora glanced over at me, “Are you going to check that or...?”
“Is it bothering you?” I deadpanned, quite aware of the degree to which her FOMO was being activated.
“YES.” Her stare rivaled Captain’s at this point and I wondered if, between the two of them, it might just spontaneously combust from the level of evil eye being emitted against it. “I know it’s Mark,” she insisted, “and *I* want to know what he has to say, even if you don’t.”
I also wanted to know what it said, but part of me was a little afraid it was something like, “So last night was fun let’s never do it again.” Since I was just coming around to him not being the worst I didn’t really feel like being rejected right this moment.
Nora reached over and tapped my phone impatiently. “Hello, trying to live vicariously through you.”
I sighed and picked up the phone reading the text before tapping out a reply.
(303) 123-4567: So whatcha doin?
Going to breakfast with Nora. My love for waffles is only second to Leslie Knope.
(303) 123-4567: What about after?
“What is he saying?” Nora pestered me some more.
As she pulled into a parking spot, I just handed the phone to Nora and she made interesting noises as she read and then started tapping out a text. My terror must have been written clearly across my face as I made grabby hands at her and made a halfhearted attempt to get my phone out of her iron grip.
She snorted and continued typing, entirely unapologetic. “What did you think would happen when you handed me your phone with an ongoing text string with the professional hockey player that OBVIOUSLY likes you and apparently doesn’t have ED?”
Realizing the true futility of any resistance, I resigned myself to petting Captain while she tapped away on my phone, telling him, “I may have been the one institutionalized, but your mom is probably crazier than me. Yes, she is.” Captain yipped and jumped up to lick my chin.
Finally, Nora opened her door and dropped my phone in her purse.
“Um!” I offered, in protest.
“He declined joining us for breakfast, but I said you would text him later.”
I sounded like a broken record, “Um.”
She opened my door and deposited Captain in her purse before opening the door for Daze. “Let’s go, ‘Tine. It’s waffle time.”
And for the second time in two days, I had breakfast with Nora.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The episode with Clementine’s parents the night before was more than a little off-putting and I struggled trying to get to sleep. Around 4am, I discovered you could actually do therapy over the internet and by text message. By 6am, I had been matched with a therapist and we were conversing via text message. It was enlightening, to say the least, and I realized immediately why Stephanie had recommended it.
By 8am, it was clear I was never going to sleep so I donned a pair of headphones and headed out into the neighborhood, trying my darndest to process everything swirling around in my head and when that didn’t work, I tried to focus on my footfalls and on the pavement and my breathing.
The Denver sun was relentless and my shirt was sticking to my skin when I got back and I peeled it off, throwing it onto the couch while I grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge. My phone vibrated on the counter.
Lemon: Sorry about my family. Thank you for getting me home safely last night.
It pissed me off she felt like she needed to apologize for her family. If anything, her parents owed her a hefty apology. I took a few swallows of the drink before I tapped out a reply and hit send.
Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.
Her response was immediate and she apologized, again.
Lemon: Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I must have taken a sedative, but I swear I don’t remember. And I’m sorry for my parents. Again.
I frowned, upset they were still convinced and now had apparently convinced Clementine she did something wrong when she 100% didn’t. You didn’t take anything last night though. I swear. And you don’t need to be sorry.
Lemon: Well I must have, I don’t normally sleep like that.
The empty plastic bottle crumpled in my grip and I threw it with more force than necessary into the sink, where it ricocheted against the stone. I tried to think of something lighthearted to get her mind off of it. It must have been my calming presence.
Lemon: Anyway, again sorry about the whole thing and thank you for getting me, Daze, and my car home safely.
I had honestly never spent so much time thinking about my responses to women before, but then again… I hadn’t really ever cared about the outcome of my words, either. It was a new feeling. Finally, I tapped up something completely lame and grimaced as I hit send. So whatcha doin?
Her response took a moment this time and I downed a glass of water while I waited. Lemon: Going to breakfast with Nora. My love for waffles is only second to Leslie Knope.
I had never been one to crave someone’s attention before and before I could stop myself I sent, What about after?
There wasn’t a reply and I had about given up when my phone buzzed again.
Lemon: Nora here, I hear you got to meet the ‘rents and anyone who has to endure that deserves a Screwdriver for breakfast.
It was a little weird that her friend had taken her phone, but I had a feeling that that happened more often than one would think. Z was known for stealing unattended phones in the locker room and sending raunchy texts. I think I’m going to have to pass for now, have to start the season diet, but thanks.
Lemon: She will text you when we are done, promise.
I tossed the phone on the counter and headed down the hall for a shower, needing some sort of distraction or I was going to be checking my phone every 2 seconds until she texted.
My shower was basically like an 8x8 glass room with the tub along one side. It was completely possible for someone to be in the generous bathtub while I showered right next to them. If someone wanted to be.
I stepped under the spray before it had warmed and grimaced as the water felt like tiny ice daggers hitting my skin.
It didn’t stop me from thinking about Clementine being in the tub next to me while I showered, her beautiful hair piled on top of her head and held up there with a single chopstick. How women did that was a mystery to me, but it was attractive as hell. I remembered what she looked like asleep. Totally relaxed and I pictured her looking like that, head resting on the back of the tub, bubbles barely covering her chest while she relaxed, letting the heat ease the stress from her bones.
The water started to warm and I rubbed a bar of soap with a loofah molded right into it across my skin. It was supposed to exfoliate or some shit. It was a present from my sister. It did feel good as hell, though. I rubbed it between my hands gathering lather and the image of Clementine relaxed in the tub jumped back to the front of my brain as I slid a soapy hand around my junk. I probably got hard in record time, thinking about her trailing her fingers across her collarbone, and down between her breasts before she circled one and rolled the nipple between her fingers. The idea took my breath away and I suddenly had a desperate desire to know what her moan sounded like.
My dick was just as hard as it had been the night before, maybe even harder as I imagined her other hand disappearing between her legs, fingertips sliding around her opening. I squeezed the head of my cock, precum leaving a clear trail in the lather. I used my thumb to gather it up and I spread it across the wide tip. I could feel the orgasm building in my balls and the sensation only kept climbing as imaginary Clementine fucked herself with two fingers and I wanted to know what her cunt felt like wrapped around my cock instead of my soapy hand.
Fantasy Clementine and I came at the same time, my orgasm taking me by surprise as I imagined her beautiful face twisted in absolute pleasure. My cum spurted against the wall of the shower, and my hips involuntarily shot forward fucking my hand. When I was done, I had to lean against the wall and I desperately wished for a bench because my legs felt weak. I hadn’t had an orgasm that good in years.
Hours later I was scrolling through instagram, trying not to let it get to me that Clementine’s friend said she would text and that felt like 100 years ago. I spent an embarrassingly long time googling her name, reading articles that made me want to slam everyone involved into a concrete wall and looking for any social media she might have before a notification popped across my screen.
Lemon: What are you doing, Barbs?
Attempting to stalk you on social media. Why I decided to be honest about this, I have no idea. Probably not a good idea to joke about stalking a woman who’d been in a toxic relationship with a totally violent fuckhead. But that didn’t occur to me until after I sent it. I hoped she wouldn’t read into it too much.
Lemon: Ah, all my accounts are private, sorry.
I made a face and thought about how to phrase my next text. Does it have anything to do with your ex being a police officer and the lack of charges brought against him?
The text bubble as she typed a response appeared and disappeared several times. Lemon: So I guess you know my darkest secret now.
I had to think again as I composed a response and I figured it had been decades since I put so much thought into a conversation. I believe you, you know, and I’m a little worried you seem to have gotten out of one controlling relationship just to end up with your parents who seem to gaslight you and make you doubt yourself.
My heart was pounding in my ears by the time I hit send. Again I waited with bated breath as she typed a response.
Lemon: “gaslight,” Mark Barberio, have you been reading books?!
Actually, I started therapy this morning. Did you know you can text therapists now?! Technology!
Lemon: LOL. I have to admit I’m a little surprised at you Mr. Barberio.
A second text came through before I could respond, and I smiled, despite myself.
Ok. A lot surprised.
You can’t tell anyone. It would ruin my street cred.
Lemon: Your secret is safe with me. I will see you at work.
I wanted to keep talking but she had drawn a line in the sand and managed to dodge my concerns. I spent the rest of the day trying to find something to watch on TV and after an hour, I gave up and utilized the gym in my condo building. I usually trained at the Avs facilities, but I felt like that would just invite questions I didn’t want or didn’t know how to answer. I worked out until I felt like I couldn’t lift my limbs. That night, I tossed and turned into a fitful sleep.
Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic, not just particular chapters.
Word Count Chapter: 6782
Word Count Total: 32891
Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can’t seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn’t have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. This part begins with Clementine.
Part 8
*~*~*~*~*
It was SUPREMELY unfair; no one had any business looking as good as Barbs looked in a plain black t-shirt (that hugged his body in all the right places) and a pair of jeans (that fit him in a way that literally made my mouth water). How was I supposed to stay mad at him, or even indifferent towards him, when he had the audacity to just walk around looking like that? And then his dumb little jokes. It was irritating and I wanted to stay aloof, but I couldn’t.
Lord knows whether the flowers were actually for Gabe, but I was certain that if anyone knew how to order a floral centerpiece, it was him, and those were sure as fuck not centerpiece flowers. They were a bouquet. Full Stop.
My heart was bouncing around in my chest; however, the minute I took Mark’s arm, its rate plummeted from “being chased by zombies” to “cat leisurely taking a nap in a sunbeam.”
When Gabe opened the door with the phone in hand, it was back to Being Chased by Zombies pace and when he snapped our picture, I was pretty sure it was just going to stop entirely. As Gabe went all paparazzi on us he exclaimed gleefully, “Wow, Barbs. Finally! You asked Tine out? That took forever.” I had thought Gabe the Party Planner was bad, but Gabe the Matchmaker was even worse. As if to confirm the thought, he continued, “AND you bought her a bouquet!” I could feel the blood rushing to my face and the distinct urge to be Anywhere Else starting to work its way through my body.
He turned, inviting us into the house, which was huge, and had the most open uncluttered floor plan I had ever seen in my life, despite being full of people. Shouting to the group at large he cried, “GUYS, BARBS BOUGHT HER FLOWERS!!” At which point I realized, to my horror, that the house was entirely filled with COUPLES. Between Mark and I, I’m not really sure who was more surprised but at some point we had both donned identical expressions, gaping like suffocating goldfish.
We looked at each other in anguish, and he pulled his arm from my hand, replacing it with the bouquet in question. “I guess these are for you,” he offered, “and I believe we just got “Landied.”
I looked at him incredulously, almost not wanting to know the answer to the question I heard blurting out of my mouth. “Does this seriously happen often enough that he has his own verb?”
Mark just looked at me and said flatly, “He’s the Swedish Fairy Godmother no one asked for.”
There were at least 32 pairs of quizzical eyes staring at us and I could feel the pressure start building in my chest, sort of like I would imagine one feels when being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor. Sensing my discomfort, Daze whined, and Mark reached past me and pulled the door shut in front of us. He stepped between me and the door, hands on my hips and dragged me into his body. He was so close I could smell the mint from his toothpaste. “Hey,” he said gently, “We don’t have to go in there, we can go somewhere else.”
My brain short-circuited from its short circuit. “We?”
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering enough I wanted to lay my head in his palm, “Yes. We.. I’m not leaving you alone when you are clearly on the verge of a panic attack.”
And just like that, the boa constrictor around my chest loosened. In a bold move, I grabbed his hand from my hip, weaving our fingers together; if Gabe wanted make-believe, then I was going to indulge both of our fantasies. Mark looked surprised, but the corners of a faint smile appeared in his beard. His eyes met mine and before I could change my mind, I told him, “Open the door, Barbs.”
“Lemon, are you sure?” His fingers squeezed mine.
“Not even in the slightest,” I responded, squeezing his fingers in return, “But I know if I make a fool of myself, you’ll be right behind me making a fool of yourself.”
A grin split his beard, which he had trimmed. It was shorter and sculpted into a neat line on his cheek. The fact that I noticed this was seriously annoying, and I did my best not to let any of that show on my face.
He let go of my hand as he opened the door again, his palm settling on the small of my back; unlike Bill’s, Mark’s gesture wasn’t one of ownership or possessiveness but rather, protection. This time when we entered, only the couples closest to us made eye contact and welcoming noises.
Mel, ever the captain’s wife, breezed by in front of us, dressed in tailored slacks and beautiful blouse and took the flowers from my hands. “I’m sure I have something to put these into,” she volunteered, smiling at me beatifically. The bouquet was really beautiful; it was full of white hydrangeas and peonies with sprigs of eucalyptus to add greenery. It was simple and extremely elegant, and I had to give it to Gabe-- he had taste.
As his wife started looking for something to put my flowers in, Gabe came back with an appetizer plate, informing us, “These are caprese crostinis. Can I get you both something to drink?”
I shook my head, “Just some water for me, thanks. I drove.”
Mark’s lips were near my ear, “I can drive you home.”
Feeling his breath the helix of my ear made me shiver involuntarily and I felt the shudder down in my toes.
He did as well, it seemed, prompting him to ask me, “Are you cold?
I shook my head no, not sure if I was even capable of making words at the moment. All I wanted to do was bury myself in his body, wrap his arms around me and just absorb his warmth, his essence, just him, like reverse mitosis. He stepped behind me, his warm hands settling on my exposed shoulders and then sliding down my arms as he tried to warm me up.
I tried not to flinch when I felt his fingers glance over my collar bone. Mark murmured a comment about me being tense, but Gabe caught the flicker of the flinch and he regarded me with a veiled curiosity. I really hoped Gabe would let it go; tonight did not seem like the right time to divulge that I had been strangled several times by Bill. Amongst other things, it wasn’t polite party conversation, even I knew that.
Mark’s voice was against my ear again and he murmured, “Do you have a sweater in the car? Do you want me to get it?”
I nodded because it would give me space to think and dug around in the tiny navy wristlet that was serving as my purse for the day. How I managed to lose my keys in something so small was a mystery, but finally, I dug them out and dropped them in Mark’s palm.
In the meantime, Gabe put a crostini in my free hand and said, “Eat this. If you think no one has noticed that you never eat food and only take pills all the time, you would be wrong. It can’t be good for you to take medication on an empty stomach.” He was mostly right and was indeed meddling, but I was way too distracted by how delicious the appetizer was to give a damn. I covered my mouth as I spoke, asking “Oh my god, Gabe, did Mel make these?”
He laughed and patted the top of my head cheerfully; my confused look was met with him responding, “You’re new here, but pretty soon, you’re going to laugh too. My wife is a horrible chef. She could burn water.” Mel made eye contact with me across the huge kitchen island and winked. I had a stinking suspicion she could cook just fine but why would you argue with a husband who wanted to do domestic things?
“Well these are divine, Gabe, I think I’ll have another,” I snagged another from him and had barely wolfed it down when I felt my white cardigan settle over my shoulders and Mark’s hand found its way back to my lumbar.
“Have a drink if you want,” he murmured, “I will make sure you and your car get home safely, ok?”
I nodded, resisting the urge to turn my head just enough to make my ear collide with his lips.
“So what are you drinking, Lemon?” Gabe, ever the hostess with the mostest, seemed quite intent on meeting all of his guests’ needs, I’d give him that.
I cleared my throat, “Umm, bourbon on the rocks?”
Gabe and Mark looked at each other and there must have been some kind of hockey telepathy going on, because there was a pause before they both laughed, probably at the absurdity of a recent college graduate and former housewife drinking bourbon. “Coming right up,” he said.
Gabe wandered off with his tray of appetizers and Barbs wandered in the direction of the wet bar, leaving me and Daze alone and unattended amidst all of the couples in the room.
I pulled the cardigan tighter around my shoulders and fortunately, I was saved from the awkward task of trying to insert myself into an existing conversation by Ryan Graves. He walked up, his arm around a woman who looked like the quintessential girl next door; she spoke first and offered her hand, saying cheerfully, “Hey, I’m Frankie, Gravy’s girlfriend. Not to be confused with Frankie the goalie. I know we look alike and it’ll be tough to keep us straight, but such is life, right?” Her enthusiasm was infectious and I couldn’t help but return her smile.
Ryan’s huge hand cupped my shoulder joint in a greeting and I was beginning to learn this team was a touchy-feely bunch. I shuffled my clutch and Daze’s leash into my left hand and shook Frankie’s, introducing myself. “Clementine,” I said, “it’s nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand warmly before she confided with a smile, “I’m so glad I’m not the new kid on the block anymore. I love your hair, by the way.”
I absentmindedly brought my fingers to my hair after she released my hand, “Thanks.”
She gave me a knowing wink, “It will match Barbs’ third jersey so nicely.”
“Oh, we’re not… I mean, we’ve only had one date,” I stammered.
Mark returned and slipped my bourbon into my hands, “So, you admit it was a date?”
Ryan and Frankie exchanged a meaningful glance and Frankie sucked her lips in between her teeth like she was trying not to laugh. And then she reached over and patted my hand, “Call it what you want. These boys will just have to deal.”
Mark’s hand took its now-customary place on my lower back, and he took a swig of his light beer. His eyes were amused.
After some light small talk, Frankie and Gravy wandered off, leaving us alone together. I felt the chest behind me expand like he was going to say something, but we were interrupted by Andre and his date, who was beautiful, but obviously older than him. Andre was like a golden retriever puppy: happy, wiggly, cute, and kinda dumb. Daze, recognizing a kindred soul, gave an uncharacteristic “boof” and wagged her tail at Andre. He gave me a pleading look that would have rivaled any 5 year old and immediately dropped to the height of the dog when I nodded to give him permission to pet her. I had to hide my grin behind the hand holding my rocks glass.
His date looked unperturbed and just smiled fondly at Andre before offering a manicured hand over his head to introduce herself. “Hi,” she jumped in, “I’m Stephanie.”
My mind started to race. STEPHANIE. But that was a common name right? Mark’s hand stiffened against my lumbar and it was then that I knew it was the same Stephanie.
I felt the Stepford persona take over and I delicately grasped her fingers and plastered a smile across my face as I responded automatically, “Nice to meet you, I’m Clementine.”
“Oh, Clementine!” she cried, her smile turning genuine and warm as recognition lit her features, “Mark has had nothing but good things to say about you.”
I didn’t really have anything to say to that, and I looked at him over my shoulder in surprise. He had set his mostly empty bottle on the counter and was rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.
Andre chose that moment to stand up, and even he picked up on the tense silence that pressed our little group, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to read between the lines of the situation, clearly realizing that there was something he was missing. This all felt reminiscent of a time when I met one of Bill’s mistresses; despite everything, he never even attempted to hide her and all of a sudden, I felt the boa constrictor curl around my chest again and this time Mark’s hand on me just made it worse.
Daze nudged me with her nose and I was thankful for her. I stepped away from Mark’s touch, from Stephanie and Andre and the oppressive feeling of awkwardness that was ensconcing the situation and excused myself saying, “Sorry, I’ll be right back. I need to take Daze out.”
I was halfway to the front door before Mark caught up with me, but he didn’t touch me; He didn’t even speak until we were outside. When we’d made it to the front lawn, he reached for my shoulder and rushed out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I did not handle our conversation yesterday well at all, and Stephanie was kind of collateral damage this morning, but she is surprisingly wise and she actually helped me get my head on straight and given a moment by ourselves I would have told you what happened. I didn’t know Andre was going to bring her, I swear.”
The roaring in my ears was so loud I was only hearing every other word he was saying, and the negative voice inside of my head was hooting and hollering as she rolled around laughing.
Despite all of that, I had heard enough and I stopped short, turning to face him. I was so tired, all of a sudden; I didn’t want to play games and I didn’t want to be fed any more bullshit and I just didn’t have it in me to enable any more pretense and didn’t even try to fight it and be patient with him so I just spat out bluntly, “So why was she at your house at 9am, Mark?”
He gaped like a fish for a moment, taken aback. “I said I wasn’t handling it well and I relied on unhealthy coping mechanisms.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, hopefully conveying the deep skepticism I felt about what I was sure was his newly acquired vocabulary word. “Unhealthy coping mechanisms?” I repeated. “You know what a coping mechanism is?”
He shrugged boyishly, shaking his head. “I didn’t until Stephanie and I had a long conversation this morning.”
Oh...oh. “Oh. Is she your therapist? Did I jump to conclusions?”
“Uh, no....” he admitted sheepishly, “She is definitely a hookup, but I mean she might be...as her actual job. I don’t actually know what she does? But like, she helped a lot. And I kind of spilled my guts to her and she told me I was an idiot.”
I knew I didn’t have a right to be mad at him; I was the one who dropped the bomb that CAUSED him to go running right into Stephanie’s vagina, but fuck rights, I was. I was mad. And she was right, he was an idiot.
*~*~*~*~*~*
This day could NOT have gotten worse, and then Stephanie showed up with Burky and I thought I was going to hurl my guts into the nearest sink. However, Daze peed right on a bunch of the flowers lining Gabe’s lawn, and I took a bit of pleasure in that. Landy’s name was at the top of my shitlist; the only person above Gabe on my list, of course, was me, because after last night I seriously felt like the most royal King Dumbass of Douchebaggery on this side of the Mississippi River, if not in the entire continent of North America. Hell, maybe even the Western Hemisphere at large.
Getting back at Landy, though, was a problem for a different day, because after Clementine and Stephanie met each other, I could tell each realized who the other was and I had an entirely new shitstorm on my hands, which is how I found myself chasing Clementine out of Gabe’s house, trying to make her understand what had happened and why and that it was nothing other than that truly, I was a giant moron.
“Clementine, please,” I started, “Just hear me out. She really helped me this morning. She… fuck, what word did she use… she helped me with my emotional labor. I realize I’m stupid and I didn’t handle what you told me well at all.”
She stopped abruptly, and let Daze sniff as she echoed, “Emotional labor?” If anyone could master looking surprised and impressed and skeptical in the same expression, she nailed it.
Now, I’m not usually one to beg. Or to whine. Or pout my lip. But it was time to bring out the big guns. Using a combination of the three and doing my best human heart eyes at her, I asked again, “Please. Please, Clementine.”
Suddenly, she looked bored. And suspicious. Cocking an eyebrow at me, she clarified, “Please, what?”
I took a deep breath. “Please let me take you on a second date. Please give me another chance. Please let me explain. Just, Please. ”
She started walking again, albeit at one tenth of her normal speed-walking pace, letting Daze sniff her way down the street as she questioned me, “Why should I do that Mark? Dating me isn’t going to be easy. I’ve never had a healthy relationship, I don’t even know if I can, and eventually, we will have to talk about what happened… to me. And I gave you just the briefest glimpse last night and you literally tripped and fell into another woman’s vagina.”
I swallowed, “Actually…” Fuck. I rubbed my forehead. I really didn’t want to talk about this with her, but I really felt like I needed to tell the truth about not actually sleeping with Stephanie. I mean, it wasn’t a bad thing. It made me look bad. But it was a good thing? Maybe? Ugh. Feelings. Why was this so difficult? I took a deep breath, steadying myself before I confessed, “Actually, that part of me did not meet any part of her. We didn’t actually do much at all, because I couldn’t… It didn’t… There were some,” I swallowed, “performance issues on my part. And if you could keep that to yourself, it would be appreciated.”
Her footstops stopped and Daze looked back slightly concerned; it took me a minute to read the look on her face, and much to my relief, it wasn’t judgment or derision but rather amusement and incredulity. She cocked her head and studied me as she snickered, “Did you just admit an erectile dysfunction problem to me, Barbs?”
Her eyes glittered dangerously and I felt the need to get in her space because gleefully evil Tine was hot. I placed my finger on her lips and reminded her, “How about we keep our voices down and NO. I don’t have an ED problem.”
She pushed my hand away from her face, “Really?” she chided, the smirk evident in her tone of voice, “cause it sounds like it.” She was driving me crazy in the best way. Grabbing her fingers, I spun her around, so her back was pressed up against my front and I leaned down to whisper in her ear. She squirmed a bit, as if testing my hold, if I would let her go. When she determined she had free will, she stilled and I could see her pulse thrumming in her neck.
“Mmm no. And yes, I’m sure. Because all I have to do is think of you, naked on top of me. How good you’d look riding my cock. How hot it would be to watch your face as you lose control and cum all over my dick. And then I’m all ready to go.” True to form, I felt myself get hard behind the zipper of my jeans. I pulled her tight against me and I heard her small gasp when she felt it between her asscheeks. “So the problem definitely wasn’t me. The problem was she wasn’t you.”
Daze sat on the rapidly cooling pavement and I willed my erection to go down, but the citrus undertones of Tine’s perfume kept invading my nose and it was almost like my dick had heard the insult to his abilities directed at him and was going to remain hard enough to cut glass to prove a point.
I couldn’t see her face but I could feel her smile all the way down to my dick and she squirmed in a completely different and maddening way, “You’re having a problem now, aren’t you, Barbs?”
I swallowed and let my hands rest on her shoulders, instead of what I wanted to do which was wrap my arms around her and hold her tight against me. “Maybe.”
Sucking in a deep breath, my thumbs rested on either side of her spine and of their own volition, they began to move.They slid across her sweater, smoothing the muscle beneath it and I heard her draw a surprised breath and wince before she caught herself. There wasn’t a lot about her case online and I imagined it was because most of it had been scrubbed to protect the son of a bitch who hurt her, but there was obviously a ton of physical abuse the way she reacted when I touched her.
She was stiff beneath my hands and I lightened the pressure, but kept my hands on her shoulders. I swallowed and when I spoke my voice was low, asking her “Is this okay?” Her nod was almost imperceptible.
I don’t know how long we stood there, my fingers moving across the muscles in her shoulders as I chased the tension from them. Eventually, she gave a small contented sigh and her free hand reached up and covered one of mine.
This felt like a big moment for her, and I was content to let her have it. When she finally turned, her arms were wrapped around my middle and she tucked her head under my chin. It was reflex to embrace her back and I pressed a kiss into her hair without thinking. “You ok, Lemon?” I repeated.
She nodded into my chest, her voice small, “Yeah, I’m ok. Walk me back to the party?”
“Yeah, babe.”
With that, she stepped back and took my hand. Daze was totally bored by all of this and barely sniffed a fire hydrant.
An errant strand of hair fell in front of her face as she looked down at our hands. I tucked it behind her ear and when she looked up at me from beneath her eyelashes, she looked 10 years younger and nothing like the haunted woman I saw this morning.
I didn’t know what caused it but I knew I never wanted to be the cause of the weight on her shoulders. “Lemon,” I murmured, “Is everything ok?”
Her smile reached past her eyes and through her lips and across her body and probably through her entire being as her eyes met mine and she nodded, laughing, “Yeah Barbs, just can’t wait to see how you fuck up the second date.”
I didn’t know what I did to cause this change; I was thankful I didn’t seem to have damaged whatever we had irreparably, yet. God, I wanted to kiss her but waiting at least 24 hours after my tongue had been inside another woman’s vagina was probably just good manners. “Oh, I get a second date now?”
We were on the stoop of Landy’s front door when she tugged my hand, suddenly serious, and informed me, “That was the first time a man has touched me in a romantic way that didn’t cause me pain… and I decided I liked it.”
She pushed open the door and went inside, leaving me standing at the threshold feeling like the Hindenburg had just crashed. I took a deep breath, and then five more, trying to get my heartrate down. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears and I don’t think I have ever been so angry. Finally, I envisioned that news being put into a box marked “Deal With Later,” and I decided maybe Stephanie was right. I needed to find someone to talk to because it wasn’t my job to help Clementine; it was my job to just be there for her and dealing with my own feelings about what happened to her was my own problem.
The rest of the party seemed to go by in fast-forward. I did my best to always have one hand on Clementine and I noticed that, when I didn’t, she stood close enough that our arms touched, or she would step into my space enough that our hips touched. I didn’t know if I would ever know the extent of what she had had to endure, but if she wanted to be touched, I would oblige. She was experimenting with something new and I was more than happy to be her guinea pig.
Landy had organized a rotation of games that pitted the couples against each other and Clementine and I made a surprisingly ruthless team; she was every bit as competitive as I was. Every now and then, I risked a glance over at Burky and Stephanie and I was reassured to see she seemed to be having fun and my teammate was taking care of her. She had absolutely owed me nothing after this morning but regardless, she took the time to help me and for that, I wanted good things for her. I had even seen her chatting with Clementine and I had a moment of panic before they caught my eye and seemed to be laughing at my expense. I deserved it.
Tine was on her 3rd bourbon on the rocks and kicking everyone’s asses at Cards Against Humanity, because her selections were so often depraved and beyond fucked up that nobody could even touch her.
Daze was under the table and she stood up, putting her paw on Clementine’s thigh at the same time the woman covered a yawn with her hand. The party was starting to wind down-- 17 couples had dwindled to about 10. My hand slid up her bare back, her sweater hanging on the back of the chair, and my fingers settled on the side of her neck, pressing her towards me. I felt her resist and I relaxed my grip; when her brain caught up with her physical reaction, she leaned her ear toward my mouth. “Do you want me to take you home?” I whispered.
She looked down at Daze, the dog’s paw still on her thigh and she nodded. I stood grabbing her sweater and purse thing in one hand before announcing to the room, at large, “Well everyone, it’s been real and it’s been fun, but it ain’t been real fun. I’m going to take Clementine home before she turns into a pumpkin.”
I settled her sweater over her shoulders for the second time of the evening, and Gabe met us at the door. “Are you driving her home in her car?” he asked.
We both looked at Clementine who gave a sleepy nod.
Landy then looked at me, and even though I was still kind of peeved at him, this was his house and he was the host. “Hey man,” he said, extending his hand toward me, “why don’t you leave your truck keys with me, and I’ll pull it into the driveway when everyone leaves?”
I dropped my truck keys into his palm and clapped him on the shoulder, which was hockey guy speak for “I love you man,” and Daze and I managed to guide Clementine toward the street.
In her sleepy tipsy state, she seemed even more touchy-feely and I draped an arm around her shoulders as hers circled my waist. It was affectionate and couple-y, which was a weird combination for me.
We stopped in front of her car, the paint looking like a rich lavender under the artificial glow of the street light. I held her wallet-purse-thing up and informed her, “Lemon, I need your keys, babe.”
She sighed and reluctantly let go of me to dig around in what I assumed was a magic pouch, because she dug around in it for quite some time, far longer than its size would suggest possible, before she came out with the keys. Unlike a lot of women’s keys, she just had her car key and what I assumed was a house key on a plain ring with a hook. Any other woman I dated seemed to have 10 key chains linked around each other plus half of the keys to the city all jumbled together in one giant mess.
Sticking the key in the door, I unlocked it and held it open for her. Daze jumped in first and headed toward the backseat as Clementine slid into the passenger seat.
Her head leaned against the window as I rounded the hood of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. My knees were jammed up next to the wheel and I leaned down, struggling to find the manual seat adjustment.
I took a moment to orientate myself with the car in the dark, making sure I knew where the gear shift, blinkers and lights were. Finally, I was ready to set off and turned on the car. It rumbled to life and I couldn't help but smile. When I looked over, Clementine was resting her head against the window, her face turned toward me, and she was smiling as well, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“Ok Lemon, where am I going?” I asked.
“Oh, right,” she said, before she dug her phone out of her wallet, typed in the address and stuck her phone into the cradle clipped to the air vent. The address was in Cherry Creek, which was one of the older, more prominent neighborhoods in Denver and I felt better knowing I wasn’t going to drop her off in some sketchy neighborhood.
In the dark, my hand found her thigh and I was grateful the old car was an automatic, because I left my hand there as I drove, following the turn by turn instructions.
Her eyes had drifted closed, but she placed her hand over mine and I knew she was still awake. “Did you enjoy the party?” I asked her softly.
A faint smile appeared on her lips as she replied, “Yes, I actually did. I’m just not used to socializing this much. It’s draining.”
The drive only took about 15 minutes, which was much too short for my liking and our route took me to a newer build, right in the heart of Cherry Creek. It was a house that rivaled what many of my teammates owned, and I remembered her mentioning living with her parents. Or someone did? I didn’t remember where that information came from, but it was in my brain nonetheless. I pulled into the driveway and lightly squeezed her thigh, whispering, “Lemon, babe, you’re home.”
She stirred but her eyes didn’t open and I gently shook her leg, “Clementine,” I repeated, a little more loudly, “wake up.”
I looked back at Daze, who had sat up in the back seat as we pulled into the driveway; however, she looked completely unperturbed, so I figured this was just a normal sleep. It didn’t seem like Tine was going to wake up easily and she had conked out so hard, I honestly didn’t know that I really wanted to wake her up. Crap. Now what did I do? Did I leave her in the car and lock her in with her keys? Did I carry her into the house? She had to have a house key on her ring. Did I carry her to the front door and ring the bell, waking up her parents?
I watched her for a moment, weighing my options. I didn’t like any of them. Leaving her in the car was easiest. But, it also felt really shitty. Trying to carry her into the house and finding her bedroom would probably lead to a police call, so I went with option three.
She was lighter than she looked when I picked her up from the passenger seat and I realized she had probably lost weight in the last few weeks, which was concerning. I gave a low whistle for Daze and she jumped out of the car, dragging her leash behind her. I managed to close the door and lock it, cradling Clementine against me with one arm.
Daze trotted ahead and scratched at the door repeatedly while I made my way up the walk. There was a light shining through the window, and I hoped that meant at least one of her parents was awake.
I was almost to the front door when it was flung open by a concerned looking woman, who I assumed was Mrs. Jones. She looked exactly like the mother of the woman in the photograph, but not like the woman in my arms and somehow that made perfect sense in the most fucked up way.
“Oh my goodness!” the woman exclaimed, “Is she ok?”
I swallowed, the awkwardness of the moment dawning on me, “I think so?” I nodded, hoping I sounded more assured than I felt. Belatedly, I added, “Daze seems unconcerned, so I think Tine’s just asleep.”
Clementine’s mother hovered around us while I kept moving toward the door, continuing her onslaught of questions. “Did she take a sedative? She normally takes a sedative to sleep. She should know better than to take one before she’s home!”
“Um, no, ma’am, I know she normally takes pills around 5pm and Daze didn’t signal tonight and I didn’t see her take anything. She just had a couple drinks. She fell asleep as I was driving her home.”
Her mom stopped and regarded me for a second, context dawning on her as well. I suddenly knew what animals at auction must feel like. I was being judged and I hadn’t met muster. “And who are you?” she demanded.
A man appeared in the doorway, still dressed, unlike his wife, who was in a nightgown and satin robe, and his voice sounded across the threshold as he reassured her, “Doris, that is Mark Barberio, defenceman for the Colorado Avalanche.”
She put her hand in front of her face, “Oh, wonderful, just want this family needs: another scandal.”
I felt my eyebrows raise as the man waved me inside, confirming, “Best get her in here before we become neighborhood gossip again.”
I suddenly felt the urge to turn around and put her back in the car and take her home with me and I decided if I was ever in this position again, that’s exactly what I would do. These were supposed to be her PARENTS, and they were acting like she was a burden on their social standing. Like anyone on this street was still awake and cared about what these people did.
He held the front door open as I entered their home, Daze on my heels. “Her suite is at the back of the house on the ground floor,” he directed.
Her suite? Who the fuck were these people? I moved in the direction he pointed, past the living rooms (plural), the dining room, and kitchen. Then, I entered an almost entirely separate wing of the house, which had french doors that opened into the garden. It was grand and beautiful, but knowing Clementine, she would have lived in a closet with a cardboard box just to have parents who loved her unconditionally and didn’t make her feel like a burden.
Her bedroom was an eclectic mix of the traditional decor her mother obviously preferred and the bohemian whimsy that suited Clementine. There were fabric covered lamps on several different surfaces, and a gentle glow lit the room as her mother hit the switch. It was comfy and cozy and somehow perfect for her personality. Her bed was unmade and Daze jumped on it and circled several times before curling into a ball at the foot of it. I set Tine in the bed, arranged her head on the pillow and took off her shoes.
It felt incredibly awkward seeing her vulnerable like this, especially in front of her parents, and I pulled the covers over her body. She had reapplied her lipstick at some point during the night and a thought occurred to me, leading me to ask, “Does she have those make-up wipe things? I don’t want her to stain her pillow or whatever.” It was a weird request, but I knew she wouldn’t want makeup staining her bedding.
Her father remained expressionless but her mom jumped slightly and started toward her ensuite bathroom. She returned with a package and for reasons unknown, handed them to me. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled one out of the pack, gently wiping the makeup from her face. She looked pale when I was done, the rosiness from the bourbon long having left her cheeks.
Her hair spread across the pillow, dark against the white floral bed linens that her mother had obviously chosen. The urge to touch her was overwhelming, and I pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. Her father cleared his throat and I was suddenly embarrassed that I got so lost in an intimate moment with her parents standing right there.
“I uhh, just get going.” I stood up and balled up the used wipe, shoving it into my pocket. I had to turn sideways to slip past her two parents to return into the hall and her father pulled the door closed behind me. Pulling my phone out to get an Uber back to Landy’s, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“You good to get home, son?” he asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, I’m just going to call a car, if you don’t mind my waiting out front?”
Her father nodded, and I noticed his wife hadn’t followed us to the door. “Of course,” he assured me, “And I don’t think I need to mention that this little incident should stay between us?”
I had no idea why these people were trying to see some kind of scandal where there wasn’t one. “No, offense sir, but your daughter just fell asleep on the ride home, and she obviously needs the rest. It was just a team get-together before the season starts, not a wild party.”
He shook his head, “She really needs to be more careful about her medications.”
“She really didn’t take anything in the last few hours,” I disagreed. I didn’t tell him I watched her like a hawk to make sure she ate something with her meds or giant vitamins.
“Son, she takes the sedatives to sleep because she’s such a light sleeper that everything wakes her up. Been that way for at least 10 years.” This seemed to be the final thought on the matter, his tone conveying that it would not be discussed further.
Despite his opinion, I was certain I hadn’t seen her take anything, though I realized that this was not the appropriate time or place to take a stand on this issue. I offered an awkward hand lift and smile before parting and let myself out the front door. Pulling up the Uber app, I ordered a ride and ran the awkward encounter with Clementine’s parents, which I’m pretty sure did actually happen, in reality, through my brain, again and again.
Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.
Word Count Chapter: 3954
Word Count Total: 14,198
Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can’t seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn’t have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. Today we are beginning with Clementine.
Part Four
The next morning I was in a fog that not even a venti latte with two extra shots could clear. I hated the feeling, but I hated the voice more and she was vicious. Man, you are sad. Can’t even put up with some valid self-criticism without medicating yourself into a coma and entirely screwing up your ability to function the next day. How are you supposed to keep this job? You’re pathetic. Just realize that you don’t even deserve to run the drive-thu window at McDonald’s.
I sighed and tried to tune her out; absently, I set my stuff on the chair behind me and started fiddling with my camera. Suddenly, she shut up and there was a presence looming over me. Barbs was on the other side of the glass, so close, his nose was almost touching it.
My eyes rolled of their own volition, but I felt the corner of my mouth quirk even though I was in no mood to verbally spar with a hockey player. I kept it simple and civil, “Hey, Mark.”
His grin was hopeful, “Hey, Orange. What’s up?”
“I’m tired, I didn’t sleep well. What do you want?” It was the opposite of the truth, I had slept like the dead and was feeling the effects of it still.”
“Want to grab coffee with me later,” he asked hopefully, but his smile fell slightly.
I sighed again, “I don’t want to go out with you, Mark.”
He nodded, “Okay, I hear you on that. What about a coworker taking another coworker out for coffee?”
At that moment, the offer was tempting; as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed more coffee and my Starbucks budget was severely waning for the week. “Fine. Just coffee, as coworkers.”
The grin that split his beard was almost infectious and I felt a little bit lighter as he skated off with a jaunty wave. Even more surprising, the voice in my head stayed quiet the rest of the morning.
As training camp began for the day, the environment at the rink was hypnotic and at one point I just closed my eyes and listened. The creak of the blades on the ice, the slap of a stick against the pick, the ringing that echoed through the large building as the puck hit the post or crossbar, coaches shouting, the quiet hum of players' voices as they spoke to one another. If I focused hard enough, I could put together a rhythm that sounded like the beginning of a musical number or a scene from STOMP.
When I realized the sounds were no longer happening around me, I opened my eyes. A glance at my watch told me I had basically been zoned out and meditating to the sounds of hockey long after camp had finished. I was packing up my bag when Mark came down the stairs. His hair was still dripping from the shower and his shirt was one button off making it hang crookedly.
“Hey, so coffee?” He asked breezily.
I couldn’t help but smile a little, “You didn’t have to rush Barbs, I wasn’t going anywhere.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me with a curious expression on his face as he questioned, “Rush? Who rushed? Not me. I didn’t rush.”
I gestured toward his shirt, “You’re crooked, dude.”
He looked down, confused, and tried to smooth the front of his shirt; I don’t know why, but it was an endearing gesture. Why I stepped forward to willingly touch him and started unbuttoning his shirt, down to the button he missed, was also a mystery -- I blame it on the meditation. I was so zen it was out of my control. My head was completely empty for once and I was acting on impulse. After unfastening the buttons that were misplaced and buttoning his shirt again coffectly, I smoothed my hand down the seam, his chest was firm beneath my palm and when I looked up he was so close I could see his eyes had ring of molten lava around the iris.
As a reflex, I cleared my throat, “Uh…” I said awkwardly, “so… coffee?”
Mark nodded his head, leaned over and grabbed my bag, smiling as he informed me, “I hope you understand that after feeling me up, this is officially a date now.”
I crinkled my nose at him and fought a smile as I remarked, “So you show up to a date disheveled with dripping wet hair? Good to know that’s your standard.”
“The second date.. Yeah,” he said through his own grin.
The eyeroll was mostly involuntary on my part as I snorted incredulously, “You actually get second dates?”
His grin turned totally douchey and I hated that I was a little bit attracted to it. He stopped to look at me and cocked his head, looking too damn smug for his own good as he said quietly, “Oh no sweetheart, the second date of the night. Not a second date with the same person.
This time my eyes rolled so hard I could see my own brain. Nonchalantly, I shortened my dog’s leash and told her, “Come on, Daze, the world’s biggest lying wannabe douchebro frat boi is buying me a coffee.”
“Harsh,” Mark complained, “But still a date.”
The border collie offered a sigh as we trudged up the stairs from the lower bowl and out into the corridor, “Nope,” I repeated, “Not a date.”
He shrugged his very nicely sculpted shoulders, “I mean, unless you halfway undress lots of men, this is a date.”
I didn’t have a response to that so I just stayed silent.
As we headed toward the street, Mark slipped my hand into his and wove our fingers together. I stopped dead in my tracks, surprising both Daze and Mark. I looked at our clasped hands and then at him directly before I attempted to untangle our fingers, trying to drop his hand, and said, “No way.”
He didn’t let go and kept holding my open hand and strolling up the sidewalk, decidedly ignoring my objection as he changed the subject and asked me, “So, how did I look today?”
It was clear he was going to hold my hand whether I liked it or not so I just gave up and let it fall to my side, “Why would I know that? Shouldn’t you ask the coaches?”
He offered a shrug, “I did and I got their opinions. Now, I want yours.” His little strut was ¼ my normal walking speed; so I adjusted my stride and started dragging him along at my normal pace. “Lemon, walking faster isn’t going to make this date go by quicker.”
I offered a dry laugh, “This is my normal walk. There’s a reason I have a border collie as a service dog and not a labrador.”
“Is the reason that you’re a high strung crazy pants?”
I stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, ready to say about 20 different things including that I wasn’t high strung, that I wasn’t crazy, and that using crazy as a derogatory statement wasn’t cool in the 21st century. But then, I realized that I was, in fact, a high strung crazy pants. I had a half a dozen different diagnoses, I had a voice in my head that was constantly tearing me down, I had anxiety as such a level it could be considered a personality trait; I was on like 10 different medications and only 3 of them weren’t for my brain disorders. It wasn’t PC, but it was an accurate description. I let out the breath I had been holding and one of Mark’s dark eyebrows arched as he said quietly, “Honestly, I thought that was going to earn a good verbal sparring.”
I shrugged, “I mean you’re not wrong. I literally have a dog because I’m such a high strung crazypants and I couldn’t even get a *normal* dog, I had to get one that could match my high strung crazy pants energy, so I guess… you’re not wrong.”
He started walking again, pulling me along by his clasped hand, smiling softly at me as he said, “And yet, you still manage to function better than so many people. It’s kind of inspirational.”
I tugged at my hand and he released it this time, “I’m not here to be motivational for you, Barberio. Every day is a battle for me from the minute I wake up until the minute I go to bed.”
He nodded at me, understanding clearly written across his features, and he looked like he was choosing his words carefully, “I’m just saying, you may have problems, but you do more than the average person so you should give yourself a break. Congratulate yourself on the hard work you do. Let go of the battle for just a few minutes and enjoy life. Stop trying to work on yourself every minute of every day and just be.”
Honestly, I was shocked that such a deep thought could have come from what I assumed was a shallow puddle of a brain. Huh. Here I was lauding my own intellect, despite it causing me such misery, when Mr. One Point Five Total Brain Cells seemed to be enjoying his afternoon. His philosophy was pseudo positivity bullshit, but yet, he wasn’t wrong. Again. I was waaay harder on myself than everyone else. I felt my failings intimately and forever, while my successes were infinitesimal, like chasing a fleeting high. But maybe in chasing the big successes, I was missing a lot of small ones. Like today, when I just let go and listened to the sounds of the game I loved.
I was so lost in my thoughts for a moment that I didn’t notice Mark taking my hand again, and so caught up in my own head I didn’t realize my fingers were loosely wrapping themselves around his in return.
This idea that I needed to be more present and enjoy life was going to haunt me for days and it really wrinkled my panties that it was a dumb jock that put the idea in my head and gave me a lightbulb moment and not the psychologist or psychiatrist I paid thousands of dollars to every year.
We wandered all the way to the coffee shop on the corner, which was quiet and mostly populated by people I had seen around the Pepsi Center. Mark maneuvered me in front of the register and I stared blankly at it for a few moments, still mulling over the comments he had made. He let go of my hand and I felt his palm against the small of my back; when he spoke he was close and his voice was low and patient as he murmured, “Clementine, come back to Earth and order what you want.”
Daze nosed me and I blinked a couple of times, “Venti latte, please,” I blurted out. It felt robotic and overly cheery, but the barista didn’t even pause. I was sure he saw all kinds of wild things, and my robot/AI malfunction wasn’t even in his top 100. It was just my latest in a series of embarrassing interactions that would keep me awake for the next decade.
Mark ordered a cappuccino over my shoulder and with his hand still on the small of my back, guided me to a table, after he slipped his credit card back into a money holder and returned it to his pocket.
Once we got our drinks and sat down, Daze took her spot underneath my chair. Mark looked down at her when her tags clanked against the metal table leg and he smiled softly as he commented, “you know, it’s amazing-- half the time, I forget she’s here.”
I nodded, “I mean that’s part of her job. She’s a dog, and a cute one at that, so she’s going to get attention no matter where she goes, but she’s supposed to be as unobtrusive as possible.”
He shifted in his chair and I thought he was going to lean back, but he leaned forward instead; with his forearms on the table and his brown eyes focused on mine, instantly, he prompted; “So how do you like the new job?”
I shook my head, “It’s not really a new job, it’s temporary at best for now. It’s a trial run for a position they’re thinking of creating.”
Again, he prompted, “And what position is that?”
I felt the corner of my lips tick upward, he was trying really hard to get a natural conversation going and I was giving him nothing, “Digital Content Media.”
He offered a sigh, “let’s just assume I have an IQ of 80, which, honestly, probably isn’t that far off, so could you explain that, please?”
I smiled for real, sometimes, he was ridiculously humble, even thought he put on a show of being a sex-obsessed moron, I was positive his IQ was a lot higher than 80. It was at least 100. “Basically,” I started, “I’d be like middle management between the creative director and the actual content creators. My job would be to take the content, photos, videos, etc. and create a storyline for behind-the-scenes videos, promotions, etc.”
He thought for a moment before responding; when he did, his question was not one I expected. “But I see you with a camera in your hands most of the time.”
It was actually a very thoughtful observation. I smiled again, “Well sometimes, if I’m going for a certain aesthetic, it’s easier to create examples of the content I’m looking for. Also, I like that aspect of it, I just can’t do it all.”
It was weird having a man ask so many questions and actually seem interested in the answers. If it had been anyone but Mark, I would have been suspicious as he continued, “That makes total sense. How did you arrive at this being your calling, for a sports team no less?”
I fingered the napkin under my coffee cup, “I like sports, I guess. My dad is the coach for the basketball team at DU and I think growing up it was the only way to connect with him. I ended up liking hockey more than basketball though. I actually even convinced him to let me play for about a year in middle school, but I was horrible.”
He looked surprised but not entirely thrown off as he continued, “Ah middle school, what was that like, fifteen years ago? So you’re like what? 26?”
A bark of very unladylike laughter escaped before I could stop it and I put my hand over my mouth, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” I squawked, “I’m just surprised, you caught me off guard -- I actually turned 30 earlier this year. I’m just a late bloomer, I guess.”
His dark eyebrows raised, “Well damn, girl. You look good.”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to accept the compliment. It was like 1 step forward and 2 steps back with this neanderthal.
Mark’s eyes flashed as if he knew what I was thinking as he pressed on, looking just a tad guilty as he confessed, “I have to say, I really dig the hair.”
I fingered the dark blue ends and absently nodded, “Thanks.” His confession made me brave enough to share one of my own, “My ex-husband made me dye my hair blonde and basically, I had to be this perfect little Stepford housewife that did all of these different things that he liked. This was my rebellion afterwards. Honestly, I’ve had my hair every single color under the sun at this point, and I like this one best.”
At that, his gaze became troubled, but we were distracted as Daze sat up and put her paw on my leg: a medication indicator. I dug around in my puse for my Caboodle of pills.
Despite this not being the first time he’d witnessed Daisy in service mode, Mark shook his head in amazement as he commented, “It’s so cool how she does that.”
I popped the capsule in my mouth and washed it down with the water bottle I kept in my bag for precisely this reason. “Yep. She has a lot of time and effort put into her training.”
When she took her post under my chair again, the conversation turned to the upcoming season, then dream vacation destinations, followed by the best places to eat in town. Conversation flowed easily with Mark and it wasn’t until the sun was shining bright through the western facing windows, the baristas started closing up shop, and our cups were long empty before we realized how much time we had spent talking.
My phone beeped, and Daze whined, “Holy crap,” I said, noticing the time, “I have to get going.”
He stood and shrugged like he didn’t have any place better to be, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
His hand found its way to the small of my back again and that seemed to rouse the voice inside my head again, as before I knew it she was yelling at me, ew why is he touching you. Does he know how gross you are? Part of me though, liked his hand there and I decided I was going to let that part of me win today and tell her to fuck off for now. I tried to ground myself in the moment, noting little things like how warm the sun felt on my skin through the windows, and how shiny Mark’s hair was now that it had dried, as well as the soft sounds of traffic rushing by outside the shop. It was enough to distract me from her unwanted commentary for a bit. Once we were outside, he didn’t move his hand. I stopped short and said, awkwardly, “Well, I’m just going to go to my car.”
He looked confused and emphasized his words like he was making sure he wasn’t the crazy one, as he informed me, “Yes. I know.”
I motioned toward the employee parking lot on the other side of the block, saying, “So I’m gonna go.”
Finally, he seemed to understand, but when he spoke his words were soft, “Lemon, I’m going to walk you to your car.”
His hand rubbed a small circle on my back, and I hoped he didn’t see the confusion plain on my face as I insisted, “But why? I’m capable. Hell, I have a dog.”
He blinked like he wasn’t quite sure of himself and simply said, “Because it’s polite.”
I must have bristled a bit at the idea that I couldn’t take care of myself or even do something as simple as walk to the car, because I felt myself deflate a bit. Even though he was being polite, the voice decided to jump on that angle. See? He’s just being polite. He would never like you. It somehow sucked the joy out of the moment for me. God, I wish she would just go away.
Mark’s hand slid across the small of my back and he cupped my hip, dragging me against his body. My arm had the option of being crushed or relocating; I opted to grab the strap of my bag hanging on the opposite side, which squished my boobs together awkwardly and I really hoped I didn’t look as self-conscious as I felt.
If he risked a glance at said squished together boobs, he was sly enough that I didn’t notice. We passed the last line of cars in the parking lot, and I was pulled to a stop by the hand on my hip, “Lemon, where’s your car?”
I looked at my car, the only remaining car in front of us and we were walking straight to it, “Uh, the only one left and we’re walking right to it?”
His hand tightened on my hip, “You mean to tell me that you drive a pink convertible Corvair?”
I shrugged, my shoulder moving against his chest, “Technically, the color is called ‘Evening Orchid’ it’s a popular color for cars of this generation, but yeah I drive a 1967 Corvair.”
He clutched his pec with his free hand like he was having chest pain, “You’re killing me, Smalls.”
Other than quoting one of the best sports movies ever made, I didn’t know what was happening, “I don’t understand.”
His hand left my hip and his arm hooked around my neck and pulled my temple in for a kiss, “You wouldn’t and it’s one of the reasons why I like you.”
I had no idea what he was talking about and most of my attention was analyzing why I didn’t freak out about Mark being physically affectionate with me. My ex-husband had manhandled me all the time, but it was with malice and zero tenderness. Being touched by Mark felt more like a suggestion or an invitation and less like a painful reminder of dominance and ownership. His touch was always soft, like a caress. It never felt like an unyielding cage.
I stuck my key in the door and turned it, the mechanism clunking as it unlocked. Daze hopped in before me, taking her spot in the passenger seat and I tossed my bag into the back. When I turned around to shut the door behind me, Mark was close. I caught a whiff of his cologne; it had an undertone to it that had to be his natural scent, and it was intoxicating. I wanted to bottle that scent and spray it on a body pillow to cuddle with at night.
His hand slid under the curtain of my hair, his fingers on the nape of my neck while his thumb tilted my chin up. My jaw clenched as I tried not to flinch. His eyes met mine as he smiled at me softly and murmured, “Thanks for coffee.”
I swallowed before answering, “Well, you paid, so I should be thanking you.”
His smile evolved into a grin that looked like it might break his face, though when he spoke, his voice was still low and soft as he admitted, “You know what, you’re right, as usual.”
I resisted the urge to rub my face into his hand like a cat, “Get used to it, Barberio, I’m right a lot.”
He took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip, “Go home, Lemon.”
He leaned forward, fingers pressing into my neck as I reflexively leaned back. He stopped, sensing my hesitation, and I relaxed. After a moment, he leaned forward again, and this time, I didn’t retreat as he kissed my cheek, the corner of his lips catching mine.
We paused there, lips barely touching. I was the first to get overwhelmed and I stepped back half a step. When I spoke my voice was barely there, “Thanks for coffee.”
He held the door while I got in the car and closed it as I leaned over to buckle Daze into the passenger seat. After I buckled my own seatbelt he rapped on the window with his knuckles, “Lock the door, Lemon.”
I rolled my eyes and hit the lock down anyway, “Thanks, Dad.”
His grin was contagious and I felt myself smiling back at him, “See you tomorrow. See if I can’t convince you for a second date.”
I rolled my eyes again but this time it was for dramatic effect and I turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life, the exhaust whum whum whum whumming with a throaty growl.
Grabbing a hold of the gear changer on the dash, I slid the car into drive and pulled away.
Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.
Word Count Chapter: 2295
Word Count Total: 10,244
Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can’t seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn’t have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. Today we are beginning with Clementine.
Part Three
Being stuck in the elevator with Mark Barberio was probably the highlight and lowlight of my life.There were parts I knew I could come back and savor in 20 years and there were parts that were going to keep me up at night for the next 40. But, being able to toss out that last snarky line, wink, AND not fall on my face walking away? Just call me Wonder Woman. Granted, I fell down the steps as soon as I started down the stairwell, but no one witnessed that embarrassing moment so it didn’t count.
I didn’t see Mark for a week, unless there was plexiglass and a camera between us. However, I relived the elevator incident approximately 5 million times within that week, give or take, but who was counting? Training camp was done for the day and I was clicking through the pictures on my camera, making sure I had taken an entirely normal amount of pictures of Mark and exactly zero more than that. But, there were always 5x as many of him than anyone else. Actually, I had an entire folder consisting solely of photos of him that I had deleted from the camera. It was as I was sending one such picture off into the interwebs and deleted it from the memory card that my phone buzzed.
(303) 123-4567: What does a guy have to do to get a girl to buy him dinner around here?
Who is this? I had a suspicion of who it was and my traitorous belly did a flip.
(303) 123-4567: WOW. You have Landy in your phone, but not me?
I don’t have Landy in my phone. I’m in HIS phone.
(303) 123-4567: Oh man, now you’ve hurt his feelings. Good job, Nectarine.
That’s not even a citrus fruit, Mark.
(303) 123-4567 How did you know it was me!?
Well gee, let’s see….first of all, you’re the only one who calls me random fruit on purpose.
(303) 123-4567 Whatever you say, Strawberry.
I’m gonna block your number.
(303) 123-4567: What! No! I just got yours!
I have stuff to do, Barbs-- what do you want?
(303) 123-4567: Dinner with my favorite gal named after an orange.
Clementines are actually a hybrid citrus, not an orange.
(303) 123-4567: Does it ever get exhausting knowing more than everyone else?
Only when I’m speaking with idiots.
(303) 123-4567: I don’t know how to tell you this, babe, but if that’s the case, then you are in the wrong industry.
Seriously, Mark! What do you want?
(303) 123-4567: Hadn’t talked to you in awhile and my ego was getting too big. Almost couldn’t fit my head through the door earlier.
Pfft, that must be new for you, considering that’s the only thing you’ve got that’s big.
(303) 123-4567: I’m wounded.
You’re fine.
I slid my phone back into my pocket as I got ready to end my work day and headed for the hallway. Since the elevator incident had transpired, it had become my routine to take the stairs. It wasn’t a fear of elevators per se but more so that my conversation with Mark in the elevator was the longest conversation I had had with a man since my divorce, excluding those that centered around work or school, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. I also didn’t really fancy getting stuck in an elevator again and repeating the experience with someone who was not Mark.
I think the part that was most unsettling was that I wasn’t actually unsettled at all. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, I actually enjoyed it, enjoyed his company, but it felt self-indulgent, so I was doing my best to avoid the elevator and further potential conversations and/or encounters in an enclosed space with one Mark Barberio by taking the stairs. Problem solved.
As I was passing the bank of elevators the bell went off and the doors slid open, revealing a distracted Gabriel Landeskog. Daze and I tried to dart out of his way and retreat to the stairs without incident but unfortunately, he looked up about a beat too soon and spotted us, smiling widely. “Oh hey Tine!” he exclaimed, “Are you waiting for the elevator?” He offered a jaunty wink that would have been creepy on literally anyone else but on Gabe, it was just good natured if not mischievous.
It was difficult to be serious around Gabe and I found myself smiling despite my hesitance to stop and chat, “No.” I explained, “No more elevators for a while. I’m taking the stairs.”
He didn’t say anything but looked down at Daze, who had taken the opportunity to plop down by my feet, addressing her as he continued, “That’s basically animal abuse, isn’t it, Daze?” She didn’t react outwardly to him, but I felt her tail thud against the concrete floor.
“Animal Abuse schmanimal abuse, Gabe.” I responded, “Do I look like I do too much physical activity? My fitbit basically begs for steps. Plus, she has a cushy job. It mostly involves naps.” I was also looking down at Daze, and she started wagging her tail with gusto.
“Aww,” he said affectionately, “she’s devoted to you.”
I couldn’t help the snort, “Gabe, that’s kind of… part of the job description.”
He shrugged, “It’s still cute. Anyway, Mel and I are having this BBQ thing before the season, you should come.”
Oh man. I sucked at social invitations. Mostly because I sucked at social interactions. My mouth went off without my brain’s consent again as I shot out, “I’m busy.”
His blonde eyebrow raised, “I didn’t say when it was.”
I stuttered, “I mean...I’m probably…probably busy. Probably.”
He lifted his chin and looked down on me, eyes a bit narrowed, “Well then, Tine, why don’t you give me three dates that work for you, and I’ll plan it for one of those days.”
My jaw dropped involuntarily, “Shouldn’t this be, like, a players only thing? Maybe coaching staff?”
He wasn’t going to budge, “It’s an Avs ‘organization’ thing.”
“Can you do that?” I replied, still trying to get out of potentially seeing Mark without dozens of yards and a camera between us.
Gabe shrugged, “I can do what I want.”
I supposed he could. “What if I don’t want to go?”
He looked offended, “How could you not want to go? I’m handsome and charming, and I throw great parties that would be the front page of all society pages except Mel gives me a budget. Can you IMAGINE?”
I could actually. Gabe had a not-so-secret Pinterest page that even I followed, and honestly, his party board was pretty spectacular -- it was even broken up by themes and occasion. I lowkey wanted to go to one just for the aesthetic, to experience a Landeskog party.
“The horror!” I sighed, with only the teensiest bit of sarcasm, “You can’t impose budgets on greatness!” I wasn’t sure my faux mocking tone made it through, but either way, he smiled.
“See? You get it.” His phone started buzzing in his hand and he started to walk away, “This weekend, Tine. Party, you’re coming.” He answered the call before I could reply.
I watched his retreating back for a moment before Daze and I headed toward the stairwell.
*~*~*~*~*~*
I was pretty grateful Clementine hadn’t noticed that I had been trying to skate on the side of the rink she was photographing from, but after a week, she however, seemed to be the ONLY one who hadn’t noticed. By day 3 I was getting chirped so badly.
It had taken a yet to be determined favor owed to one Gabe Landeskog of all people, to get my pervy little fingers on Clementine’s phone number. As if the prospect of owing Gabe a favor wasn’t daunting enough, once I had her phone number I would theoretically need to use it which was terrifying in itself. So, I stared at my phone for 24 hours trying to figure out what to say. The text conversation lacked a certain… je ne sais quois. Actually, I knew exactly what it lacked: an agreement. From her. To go on a date. With me. I didn’t know why this was so important to me but I wanted to get to know her better.
I was back to glaring at my phone on the coffee table, wondering how to start another conversation. I wasn’t quite sure what my body was doing when it grabbed the phone off the table and tapped her name into my contacts and hit the green button. Shit, I was calling her. This was fine. I could be cool. I could be suave. Her voice sounded surprised when she answered.
“Uh, Hello?”
My mouth gaped open and closed like an oxygen starved fish.
“Hello?”
Ok, I could do this. Be smooth, “Hey,” I rushed out before she hung up. Great, that was super smooth.
She sounded slightly exasperated, “What do you want, Barbs?”
I wasn’t usually this awful at thinking on my feet or flirting with women, but she had this effect on me I couldn’t describe and my voice sounded foreign to my ears when I heard it ask, “How would you like to go on a date with a hockey player?” I winced internally because that was definitely NOT the way to get Clementine Jones to go on a date with me.
She snorted, “Cale is a little young for me, but I suppose I could make an exception.”
I put my hand over my heart even though she couldn’t see, “Wounded. I’m wounded, Lemon.”
“Seriously, Mark, why are you calling me?” I was pretty sure I could hear her eyes rolling through the phone before she continued, “I thought someone was dying. Text me your idiotic questions like a normal person.”
“So, asking you on a date is idiotic?” I felt my lips curve into a smile, in spite of myself. I loved our verbal sparring.
“It’s absurd,” she said impassively.
I could imagine her brows arching before that little wrinkle appeared between them, “Why?”
“Because, you can’t even call me by the correct name.”
Silly girl, “I think we both know that’s not true, Clementine.” I relaxed into the corner of the couch, bare feet propped up on the coffee table. I love our banter. It was the best type of flirtation.
She was quiet for a few breaths before she threw a bastardized movie quote at me, “What do you want to date me for, anyhow?”
Now, I’d never admit it to anyone ever, other than under threat of perjury or death, but Sweet Home Alabama was one of my favorite movies and that fact may have dictated my answer as I replied, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”
I heard her quick inhale of breath before she paused again; I was hoping that by quoting the feel-good, thoroughly underappreciated Reese Witherspoon classic would come across as romantic and charming and she would be knocked off her feet and her pause was due to trying to figure out how to contain her enthusiasm before responding. I was wrong.
“As a French Canadian,” she began, “you should never ever try a Southern accent ever again.”
I was pretty sure the smile was going to be etched into my cheeks forever, “Duly noted.”
“But that is a great movie. Hey, listen I have to go take Daze out. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, ok?” It was a deliberate severing of the little moment we had.
The smile fell a bit, as I found our conversation ending far sooner than I would have liked. “Yeah sure. See you tomorrow.”
I spent a long time staring at the phone in my hand after she hung up. I’d never ever met a woman that was completely immune to my charms and my attempts at flirting, even if they were lame. Maybe it was a good thing she’d hung up on me, as the more I said, the worse I seemed to make the situation. But yet, I couldn’t bring myself to feel too embarrassed about it, or at all dissuaded from continuing to think about her.
My phone vibrated and in that millisecond before the screen lit up with who was texting, I hoped it was Clementine.
Landy: Yo, bbq this weekend. No dates allowed.
Dudes night, sweet.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Nora: Wait. He asked you out AGAIN? How many times is that now?
Two?
Nora: Okay. I know you think it’s a joke, but like, what if he’s serious?
Ok but like. He’s a man child who plays a game for a living and bros out like a total bachelor. If he is serious, what part of that do I want?
Nora: You have valid points. However, I would like to counter with 1) He’s hot. Like Gabe is ‘baby Swedish’ hot but Mark is like ‘Italian Stallion Man Who Would Worship Your Body’ hot. 2) he’s dumb as a post and wouldn’t even begin to know how to emotionally manipulate and abuse you so…there.
I mean...how serious could he possibly be?
Nora: About dating you? Probably 100 out of 10 serious.
No, I mean, like...to date.
Nora: K so, I’m going to preface this by saying ‘I love you,’ BUT you married the only dude you’ve ever diddled AND said dude emotionally abused you for YEARS and then you were a shell of a person after that. SO….. maybe he doesn’t need to be husband material. Maybe he’s just rebound dude material.
Does a rebound have a statute of limitations?
Nora: Irrelevant. And not to play therpist, but why is sex illegal in your head? A statute of limitations is like… for felonies and it’s interesting you chose that phrase.
Well, you are A therapist. You tell me.
Nora: Yes, but not YOUR therapist. Although, I do play one on TV. I’m hoping to get syndicated soon, just you watch. But seriously.
Nora: OH AND are you going to go to Gabe’s party? I should go also, you know, in a professional capacity.
But you’re not my therapist.
Nora: But I want to go to where the hockeys are.
You are married.
Nora: But I’m not dead, and I find their brains fascinating. And also maybe their bodies, too. Consider it a good deed for the future. Of science and stuff.
I had no idea you were so fond of elevator music.
Nora: It’s my jam. :dancer emoji:
I slid my phone onto the nightstand and leaned back into my pillows. Half of my brain started mentally cataloging my entire wardrobe, and the other half thought about Mark: why he called me and texted, if I liked him or hated him, his intentions behind asking me out, and strangely, whether he was currently waxed or not. And if he was, how far down said waxing went. It occurred to me that I couldn’t remember seeing his chest hair curling out from under the collar of his polo the other day.
Finally, I had to admit to myself that I maybe was a little attracted to Mark. As a rule, professional athletes were not my preference. I tended to like pasty nerds or equally pasty hipsters. Safe men. Even if I happened to be attracted to a hockey player, it was someone cute and endearing and soft and a lot less… testosteroney and macho and overwhelmingly male.
If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that I had imagined him naked, more than once, but these thoughts were brief fantasies that often ended in me choking him after he said something incredibly stupid. He had a hefty dose of that Italian man machismo that I normally hated, but if I was even MORE honest with myself, I kind of liked it on Barbs. Which, yes, since we’re being honest, I had taken to calling him, in my head. Goddamnit. I realized it was getting late and in that moment, when maybe I was feeling a little soft for the man, I snapped a picture of Daze --who was laying horizontal across my bed using my calf as a pillow --and sent it off to Mark. My moment of positivity, however, was fleeting and I instantly regretted sending the picture.
Then, that internal negative voice, which I couldn’t seem to drown out and had been reinforced out loud for years, started. And I was too tired to do the mental gymnastics to shut her up. I don’t even know why you bother. You’re so fucked up no one could love you anyway. And you’re all fat now, thanks to your fucked up eating and the meds you pop like skittles to make you ‘normal’. You couldn’t even get some normal nerd to love you so why would a professional athlete with abs like a washboard give you the fucking time of day?? Pathetic.
With a sigh, I climbed off the bed to do what I normally do to turn the voice off. My routine went as follows: pop a sleeping pill, get into a scaldingly hot shower (like I could burn the voice out of me, no matter how many previous such attempted exorcisms she had survived), scrub my skin until it was red and raw (like I could rub off all of my imperfections and wash them down the drain with sudsy hot water), put screaming death metal (so loud I couldn’t hear her in my head even if I wanted to) on my shower speaker, and then, when I was finally about to pass out, get out of the shower and fall unconscious onto my bed, still wrapped in a towel. Daze was so used to this behavior she didn’t even bother getting off the bed.
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, freezing. With a sigh, I shed the towels from my body and hair and climbed under the covers.
I have a few math assignments to do so naturally instead of doing that I made this :) It’s positive procrastination okay.
Oh and you guys can totally send me your fics/recommendations of fics that you want me to read. You’re basically guaranteed a reaction in the tags from me if you need a little motivation to post that fic 😉. Just send me an ask/message or you can tag me in them if you’d like!
So without further ado… Let’s find out how many synonyms for the word great, I know
in the spirit of christmas, i’ve decided to throw together (another) list of some of my favorite hockey writers and one of my favorites on each of their fic masterlists (there are so many on each of their lists but we’d be here all day)! i’m so thankful for all of these talented writers and all of the people i’ve come across on this hellsite. happy reading and happy holidays to all!
(organized by team, * denotes multipart)
I know these things aren’t real and I scrolled past it but it didn’t feel right so now I’m back here reblogging this stupid ass post because I love my dad damn it
NAH LOOK TODAY MY DAD WAS LIKE HEY BREAK ME OUT A MTN DEW AND HE ALWAYS SAYS THAT BUT LIKE TODAY WAS MY LAST DAY WORKING WITH HIM AND I WAS LIKE THIS MIGHT BE THE LAST TIME I HEAR THIS AND THIS IS BAD JUJU I CANT FUCK WITH IT LOVE U DAD
I saw this before I left work last night and had a quiet hope, and today I checked my phone at about quarter to two, while I was still on my lunch break, and I’ve just got a job interview with the BBC next week
I’m not a big believer in anything much but I’m so happy holy shit. So like unrelated note but something real good happened to me at 1.42 today lol
i just posted this stupid thing last night and i swear to god my brother came over today and said oh by the way heres the $300 i owe you. no fucking lie!
