Oh, we're doing this now, Hm?
Summary: Following their recent argument, Dean and Y/N are still upset with each other. The group choose to visit a club off-campus. As the night goes on, Dean thinks of various ways to win her forgiveness.
You can read this on its own, but to fully experience it, I suggest reading Every Party, Every Time We Go Out... First.
The girls' dorm room was actually kind of chill for a Saturday night! Music was blasting from Hannah's speaker, and the four of us were just chilling in her room. Sabrina was sprawled across Hannah's bed, painting her nails a sparkly pink, while Grace was on the floor, digging through a mountain of Hannah's tops, trying to find the perfect one. Hannah was behind me at her desk, working her magic on my hair with a curling wand.
Grace's phone buzzed on the bed beside her. She reached for it with an absent smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she unlocked the screen.
"Logan's asking how much longer we're gonna be," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting as she read the next message.
A quiet laugh then escaped her. "Oh, and Garrett wants to know when to order the Uber because apparently 'they're getting snapped up.'"
Behind me, Hannah rolled her eyes so dramatically I could practically hear it. She clipped another section of my hair up before separating a smaller strand. "Tell Garrett to relax," she said dryly. "He's acting like Uber's shutting down for the night."
Grace laughed again, thumbs already flying across her screen. "I'll just tell them about an hour." She shrugged.
"Make it an hour and a half," I muttered, slumping further into the chair, and Hannah let out a short laugh.
"You are definitely not taking an hour and a half," she spoke.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and sighed. "I'm not even dressed yet."
"Exactly." Hannah wrapped another strand of hair around the curling wand, concentrating for a second before looking at me through the mirror. "Which is why you're sitting still while I fix that."
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "I don't need fixing."
"No," Hannah agreed without missing a beat. "But your hair does."
Grace snorted, covering her smile with the back of her hand. "I've got to admit, she's got you there."
"Its not that bad," I huff.
Across the room, Sabrina was half buried in the pile of clothes she'd dumped onto Grace's bed. She tossed one top over her shoulder before suddenly holding another one up triumphantly. "Found it."
Grace looked over immediately. "My blue top?"
"The black one or the blue one?" Sabrina spoke as she held up two hangers, one in each hand.
Grace squinted at both options, her head bobbing from side to side like she was trying to will the perfect choice to appear. "Ugh, I can't decide!"
"Blue," Sabrina chimed in, her voice bright and confident.
Grace's gaze shot up, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Really?"
Sabrina nodded enthusiastically, a playful grin spreading across her face. "It makes your eyes pop!"
Hannah gave a small nod of agreement as she unclipped another curl from the wand. "I was gonna say the same."
"Well... blue it is." Grace smiled, immediately taking the blue top from Sabrina.
The black top fell back onto the bed in a messy pile as Grace reached for her phone again. She scoffed, shaking her head, before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God," she exclaimed.
Hannah turned her head, curious. "What now?" she asked.
Grace glanced at the screen, her eyes widening. "Logan says Garrett's pacing."
Hannah let out a loud laugh, her amusement evident. "Of course he is."
"He knows if he rushes us," Hannah said with a playful grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "we'll only take longer."
"And yet," Sabrina replied, shaking her head with an amused smile as she continued to paint her nails, "he never learns."
Grace, still focused on her phone, typed out another reply before glancing up at the group. "I'll tell them we're nearly done," she announced, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Hannah paused mid-curl, raising a sceptical eyebrow as she looked at Grace through the mirror. "That's a lie," she said dryly, her hands still working on my hair. "He just likes to be on time,"
Grace shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. "It'll buy us five minutes," she reasoned, a smirk playing on her lips.
Sabrina rolled her eyes, correcting her with a laugh. "It'll buy us about thirty seconds."
Grace smiled innocently, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thirty seconds is still something."
I couldn't help but laugh quietly, the tension I'd been carrying since last night easing.
Hannah spun around to face me, a cheeky sparkle in her eyes. "So..."
The vibe in the room shifted, and I could feel the familiar tension creeping back in.
"What are you wearing tonight?" she asked, her voice all playful but kinda nosy.
I groaned and let my head flop back against the chair in frustration. "I have no idea," I admitted, feeling her stare like a weight.
"Hey," Hannah said, her tone a mix of serious and fun, "lean forward; you're going to mess up my curls." I huffed and leaned forward again, trying to go along with it.
She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "...Still not made up with Dean?"
I slowly shook my head. "No."
The room seemed to quieten for a moment before my phone buzzed on the desk beside me. All four of us glanced over instinctively, and Dean's name lit up the screen.
Deanie boy
Can't wait to see what you're wearing...
I stared at the notification for a few seconds before pressing the side button, letting the screen go black.
I didn't reply, nor did I even open the message.
"You didn't even read it." Hannah spoke with a small sigh.
I looked away from my phone, my chest tightening. "I don't want to."
She studied me for a second but didn't push, simply reaching for the next section of my hair instead. "I figured."
Grace glanced between Hannah and me before quietly picking up her makeup brush again, while Sabrina gave a small sigh and leaned back against the headboard.
"He really doesn't get how annoyed you are, does he?" Sabrina spoke softly.
Grace caught my eye in the mirror, her expression softening, setting her mascara down. "Has he texted you today?"
I glanced at my phone, where it'd been lying face down on the bed, and let out a quiet, humourless laugh. "Just a 'good morning' message."
Sabrina looked up from fastening one of her earrings. "He called too."
She raised an eyebrow. "You answer?"
I shook my head. "I just... let it ring."
Sabrina gave a small nod. "I would've done the same."
Behind me, Hannah switched the curling wand off for a moment and rested it on the heat mat before meeting my eyes in the mirror. "I know Dean."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "So do I."
"No, I mean..." Hannah sighed, choosing her words more carefully this time. "I genuinely don't think he understands why you're angry."
Grace turned around in her chair to face me properly. "If he did, he wouldn't have sent a 'good morning' text like everything was normal."
"Or tried to fix it with one conversation," Sabrina added. "Dean likes sorting things out straight away."
I looked down at my hands, picking absent-mindedly at a loose thread on my sleeve. "I don't even want an apology right now."
"Then what do you want?" Sabrina spoke softly, and I thought about it for a second before answering.
"I just want him to get it." I swallow.
To understand that it wasn't about the girl.
It was about standing there laughing with her instead of ending the conversation.
None of them tried to argue, they just looked at one another before Hannah reached over and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"I think he will," she said quietly. "Eventually."
Hannah, then glanced around the room, then clapped her hands together with a sharp sound that made everyone stop what they were doing and look at her. "Okay, listen up!"
Grace looked up from her spot on the bed, where she was sifting through her makeup. "...What?" she replied, raising an eyebrow at Hannah.
Hannah pointed at each of us like she was making a point. "No more talking about hockey boys."
Grace blinked in disbelief. "But Logan just texted me!"
"And... what if it's something important?" she shot back, crossing her arms defensively.
Sabrina let out a quiet snort from the floor as she zipped open the small toiletry bag she'd brought with her. "It's Logan."
Grace started to speak up for him, but before she could say anything, Sabrina dug into the bag and pulled out four folded sheet masks.
The moment Sabrina pulled out the face masks, Grace's entire expression brightened. "I'm listening," she said eagerly.
"I knew you would be," Sabrina replied with a grin.
Hannah laughed as she began clearing space on the floor. "C'mon. We're having ten minutes where nobody mentions Dean, Logan, Tucker, or Garrett."
Sabrina raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in her voice. "I can manage that."
Grace made a face, her uncertainty evident. "I'll try."
A few minutes later, the four of us sat in a circle on the floor, clad in oversized T-shirts, our identical green face masks covering most of our faces. Grace had somehow convinced us to paint our nails while we waited for the masks to work.
"You realise this is going to end badly," Hannah muttered as she unscrewed the nail polish.
"It'll be fine," Grace replied brightly, her confidence unwavering.
Sabrina extended her left hand, a hint of scepticism in her tone. "Don't make me regret trusting you."
"She's finishing off your nails, not performing surgery," Grace shot back.
"There's a difference?" Sabrina challenged.
"There shouldn't be," Grace insisted.
Hannah carefully brushed the polish across Sabrina's nail, her concentration surprising. The room fell silent for a mere five seconds before Sabrina broke it.
"You've smudged it," she announced, her voice laced with accusation.
Hannah didn't even look up from her task. "I literally haven't."
"You were thinking about smudging it," Sabrina countered.
Grace burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she leaned sideways into my shoulder. "You two sound like an old married couple."
"We'd kill each other," Hannah replied matter-of-factly.
"Probably," Grace agreed, her laughter escalating to the point where she nearly knocked the bottle of polish over with her elbow.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, catching it just in time and dissolving into another fit of giggles.
Watching them, I felt the corners of my mouth lift before I could stop them, and the conversation drifted away from Dean for a while.
Grace launched into a story about how Logan somehow managed to lock himself out of his room, wearing nothing but a towel. "He had to knock on Garrett's door," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sabrina burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. "Please tell me Garrett answered," she gasped between giggles.
"Of course he did," Grace replied, barely containing her laughter.
"What happened?" I leaned in, curious.
Grace grinned wider, looking over at Hannah, who rolls her eyes but nods. "He answered, with only sweatpants on, and Hannah was covering herself with a blanket,"
Even I couldn't help but laugh at that.
"See?" Hannah chimed in, her smile brightening the room. "Much better."
As soon as we peeled off the face masks, it was go time. Hairdryers were blasting, straighteners were sizzling, and makeup bags were everywhere. Grace was chilling on my bed, blending eyeshadow like a total boss, while Sabrina was digging through my jewellery box like it was a treasure chest.
"You have, like, six pairs of hoops," she said, holding one up.
"They're all unique," I shot back, rolling my eyes.
"Um, no, they're really not," Sabrina replied, smirking.
"Well... they are to me," I insisted, crossing my arms.
Hannah popped up behind me, mascara wand in hand. "Look up," she said, and I did, feeling the brush tickle my lashes.
She leaned back, checking out her work before grinning. "There."
I glanced in the mirror. "...Okay."
"'Okay'?" Grace chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Y/N, you look amazing."
"You always do," Sabrina added, her voice genuine. "You just don’t see it."
Hannah crossed her arms, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "And Dean's gonna realize what he's missing tonight."
I shot her a look, my cheeks totally heating up. "I'm not dressing up for Dean."
"I know," she said, her expression softening a bit.
Grace smirked knowingly. "But it wouldn't hurt, right?"
Sabrina nodded seriously. "You're not trying to make him jealous or anything."
"You're just showing him that messing around with random girls has consequences," Hannah added, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.
"It'll be fine," she reassured me.
I met her gaze in the mirror, looking for some hope. "You really think so?"
"I do," she said, her confidence kinda rubbing off on me.
Grace chimed in, "Dean can be such an idiot sometimes."
"But he's your idiot," Sabrina reminded me, a playful grin on her face.
"And once he actually gets why you're upset," Hannah said, "he'll fix it."
I glanced back at my reflection, feeling a tiny spark of belief for the first time since Malone's.
At the hockey house, Garrett glanced down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyebrows pulling together as he refreshed the Uber app.
"These things are practically booked up," he muttered, showing the screen to no one in particular. "Someone text one of them and ask how long they're gonna be."
Logan, stretched out on the sofa with his arm thrown over the back, didn't even look away from the television. "On it," he said, already reaching for his phone with the same bored expression he wore whenever he was pretending he wasn't invested.
Dean, however, was clearly not as relaxed. He'd tossed his phone onto the coffee table a minute ago, only to pick it straight back up again when it buzzed. He checked the screen, sighed, and dropped it back down. "It's been nearly two hours."
Logan glanced over at him, unimpressed. "And?"
Dean looked at him like the answer should've been obvious. "And they're still getting ready."
Before Logan could respond, his phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down, reading the message before letting out a small laugh. "Grace says they're almost done."
Dean immediately sat up straighter. "Almost done means what?"
Logan looked back at him. "What do you mean?"
"Like... actually almost done? Or girl almost done?"
Garrett snorted from the other side of the room. "That's actually a fair question."
Logan shook his head, typing a reply. "I'll let them know we're waiting on an Uber."
"Tell them to hurry up," Garrett said, checking the app again. "I need to book this before every car disappears."
Logan dropped his phone beside him and leaned further into the sofa. "They're not going to hurry up because you told them to."
Garrett looked over. "Why not?"
Tucker walked into the living room at that moment, a bag of tortilla chips tucked under his arm. He paused when he saw the three of them. "What are we complaining about now?"
"Their getting-ready time," Dean said without hesitation.
Tucker glanced at the clock. "They've been gone for, like, an hour and forty minutes."
Dean looked at him. "Exactly."
Tucker stared for a second before slowly shaking his head. "That doesn't really prove your point."
"It does," Dean insisted, sitting forward. "I just don't understand how putting on an outfit takes longer than playing an entire hockey game."
Logan finally laughed, shaking his head. "Dean, you've dated y/n long enough to know these girls make sure not evene one hair is out of place."
Dean only shrugs in response, "Doesn't mean I have to accept it."
Garrett looked back down at his phone, still waiting for the Uber prices to stop climbing. "You know what the worst part is?"
Dean looked over. "What?"
"They'll probably come out looking amazing, and we'll all forget we were annoyed."
Tucker nodded, grabbing a chip. "That's usually how it works."
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know they're girls," he said, throwing his hands up slightly. "I get that. But it still doesn't explain why getting dressed has become an Olympic event."
Logan looked at him with a grin. "You complain now, but the second Y/N walks through that door, you're gonna forget you were ever annoyed."
Dean opened his mouth to argue... but then he thought about it, "...maybe."
Garrett laughed. "Thought so."
Logan's phone buzzed again, the sound cutting through the room. He reached over lazily and picked it up, but the second he read the message, a grin tugged at his mouth.
"Grace says they're 'nearly done,'" he announced.
Tucker, sitting in the armchair with a bag of chips balanced against his stomach, let out a short laugh. "Are they fuck."
Logan looked up from his phone, amused because he knew Tucker was right. "No, seriously. They've been 'nearly done' for the last forty minutes."
Garrett shook his head from where he was standing near the kitchen counter, still refreshing the Uber app every few minutes. "That's actually impressive."
Dean, who had been staring at his phone like it might magically make Y/N appear faster, let out a loud groan and dropped his head back against the sofa. "I'm dating a menace."
The words came out dramatically, like he was personally suffering, but none of them missed the smile that followed.
Garrett glanced over at him, immediately catching it. "You love the menace."
Dean didn't even bother pretending otherwise. His expression softened for a second as he looked down at his phone again. "...Yeah."
Logan watched him with an amused shake of his head. "You're so gone."
Dean looked up, already preparing to argue. "I'm not."
Tucker raised an eyebrow, tossing another chip into his mouth."You spent the last twenty minutes complaining about her taking too long to get ready, and now you're smiling at your phone because she exists."
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again making Garrett laugh quietly.
Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop the small grin from returning as he glanced back at his phone. "Whatever."
Logan leaned back into the sofa, smirking. "Sure, Di Laurentis."
Dean ignored him, but the fact he didn't argue only proved their point.
For a moment, the room went quiet again. The TV continued playing in the background, some hockey commentary filling the silence, but Dean wasn't really paying attention. His eyes dropped back to his phone, thumb hovering over Y/N's name before he locked the screen.
"Well..." he started, dragging the word out as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She's still mad at me, isn't she?"
The joking tone he'd been using all afternoon had faded slightly.
"So..." Garrett said slowly, glancing between Dean and Logan like he already knew where this conversation was going.
Dean looked over at him. "...What?"
Garrett gave him a look, and Dean sighed, already knowing. "Seriously?"
"You and Y/N," Garrett clarified.
Dean flopped back on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck like it could somehow help him figure things out. "What about us?" he asked, his voice kinda shaky.
Tucker, who was mindlessly munching on chips, looked up, suddenly serious. "Did you talk to her?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice.
Dean let out a soft sigh and grabbed his phone again, flipping it around in his hands like it was supposed to give him answers. "I texted her this morning," he said, trying to sound chill, but the fact that he’d checked his phone like twenty times since then totally gave away how much it was bothering him.
Garrett nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Okay," he said, keeping it chill.
Dean turned to Garrett, looking confused. "Okay?" he repeated, wanting more info.
"And what about the rest?" Garrett asked, clearly curious.
Dean paused, thinking about how to say it. "Just a simple message: 'Morning. Talk later?'"
Silence filled the room for a moment, making Logan glance up from the couch. "That's it?"
Dean frowned deeper. "What do you mean?"
Garrett shook his head, a bit annoyed. "We'll talk about that later."
Dean just ignored him, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. "I called her too," he finally admitted, breaking the awkward silence.
Logan, who had been glued to the TV, turned to Dean. "Did she answer?" he asked, clearly curious.
Dean shook his head, a hint of frustration crossing his face. "No," he said simply.
Tucker, watching the whole thing, felt bad for Dean. His expression softened a bit as he muttered, "Ouch."
Dean leaned back, shrugging it off, but inside, he felt the weight of it all.
“She let it ring,” he murmured, looking down at his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dim room.
“She always picks up my calls,” he added, frustration creeping into his voice.
That was what really bothered him.
It wasn’t just the silence.
And it wasn’t just that she was mad.
What really got to him was the fact that Y/N, who always answered without fail, had seen his name pop up on her screen and decided to ignore it.
Garrett exchanged a look with Logan. It was quick, but Dean caught it. The kind of look that meant they were both on the same page, and judging by the way Dean immediately frowned, he already knew he wasn't going to like whatever Garrett was about to say.
"You should text her again," Garrett said, leaning back against the sofa.
Dean didn't even think about it. His hand moved straight for his phone, almost automatically, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to check it again. "I did."
The three of them looked at him, and Dean paused with his phone still in his hand, glancing between their faces. "What?"
Logan lifted his eyebrows, his expression saying, 'Seriously?' without needing to say it.
Garrett nodded towards the phone. "What'd you send?"
Dean looked back down at the screen, scrolling through the conversation before reading it aloud. "'Can't wait to see what you're wearing.'"
Silence. And not the comfortable kind either. The kind where everyone was trying to figure out how Dean had somehow managed to make things worse without realising.
Logan slowly turned his head towards him from where he was sitting on the sofa, staring at him for a long second. "...Seriously?"
Dean's eyebrows pulled together. "What?"
Garrett let out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "Dean..."
"Oh, you're done, man," Tucker laughed, looking way too entertained. "You are absolutely cooked." The warning in his voice was enough, but Dean only looked more confused.
Garrett gestured vaguely towards his phone. "Out of everything you could've texted her..."
Dean shrugged, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "I thought it would make her smile," he admitted, and deep down, he truly believed it would. That was the most frustrating part of it all.
Dean wasn't trying to dismiss her feelings. He genuinely thought he was doing the right thing. He was trying to remind her that he loved her, trying to bring things back to normal.
He just wasn't understanding that normal was the thing she wasn't ready for yet.
Logan leaned back against the sofa, staring at him. "It probably made her want to throw her phone across the room."
"I know for a fact those girls are laughing at you," Tucker said, laughing as he shook his head. "Like, I'm not even trying to be mean, but there is no way they aren't."
Logan looked genuinely baffled. "Because she's still mad at you."
"I know that." Dean frowned, like that answer didn't make sense.
Garrett shook his head slightly. "No. I don't think you do."
Dean looked between them, his shoulders tightening. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're acting like this is just something she needs to get over," Tucker said, shaking his head. "Like she's gonna wake up one day and be like, 'Cool, I'm good now.' Dude, that's not how people work."
Dean opened his mouth, but Tucker held up a hand, stopping him.
"And before you say anything, that's not even what she's upset about."
Dean looked down at his phone, his thumb running over the edge of the case. "I was trying to act normal." He swallowed.
"We know that," Garrett said, leaning back with a shrug. "And honestly? She probably knows that too."
Tucker shifted slightly and looked over at him. "That's the problem," he said, his voice quieter now. "You keep thinking it's about fixing it or making it go away, but it's not."
Dean glanced towards him.
Tucker shrugged, but his expression was more serious than usual. "You're acting like yesterday didn't happen."
Dean leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his phone dangling loosely between his hands. He stared at the screen for a second like it might magically explain everything for him.
"I already told you guys, I wasn't flirting," he said.
Garrett glanced over, completely unfazed. "We know."
Dean looked up. "Do you?"
Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Dean. Believe it or not, we do occasionally listen when you talk."
Dean scoffed, leaning back slightly. "Good. Glad one of you has finally figured that out."
Tucker shook his head from the other side of the room. "That wasn't the point."
Dean's eyes flicked over to him.
Garrett shrugged. "I mean, we know you weren't trying to flirt."
"Y/N probably knows that too," Garrett added.
Dean looked down at his phone again, jaw tightening just slightly.
Garrett tilted his head. "I mean... yeah. Probably."
Dean let out a quiet laugh, but there wasn't much humour in it. "Great. Love the confidence there, Graham."
"You're welcome," Garrett said easily.
Dean rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Because the annoying part was Garrett was right. It wasn't about whether Dean had meant anything by it. He knew that. They all knew that.
The problem was Y/N didn't need a reminder that he hadn't meant to hurt her. She needed to know he understood why she was hurt.
That seemed to frustrate Dean more, as he sat back slightly, running a hand through his hair. "Then why won't she talk to me?"
Logan reached for the remote beside him and muted the TV, finally giving Dean his full attention. "Because, genius, that's not the point."
Logan leaned back into the couch, rolling the remote between his fingers. "It's not about whether you actually wanted the girl."
"It's about what she saw," Logan added, his tone losing some of its usual teasing edge. "And trust me, those two things aren't always the same."
Garrett leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You stood there talking to her. You smiled, joked with her, and never really shut it down. Doesn't matter that you weren't flirting. From the outside, it looked like you were."
"I was just being nice," Dean said, frowning. He looked between the three of them like they were the ones making this more complicated than it needed to be. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?"
Tucker looked over from the armchair and gave a small nod.
Dean's smile had disappeared completely.
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck before letting it fall, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of his phone. For the first time since the conversation had started, he didn't have a joke ready.
His jaw flexed. "I honestly didn't think it'd upset her this much." he said, and his confession lingered in the space.
Garrett looked at him for a long second, the frustration he'd been wearing easing into something more understanding. He knew Dean. Knew that, beneath all the cocky one-liners and effortless charm, hurting Y/N had never been the intention.
"I know," Garrett said, his voice quieter now.
Dean let out a slow breath, staring down at the phone in his hands. The screen had already gone dark again, reflecting back his own expression.
Logan leaned back into the sofa, folding his arms across his chest. "That's the thing," he said, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. "You keep talking about what you meant."
Dean looked up. "I know what I meant."
"We know what you meant too," Tucker replied from the armchair. He tossed another chip into his mouth before dusting the salt from his fingers, his gaze settling on Dean. "You're not the problem."
"The girl was flirting," Tucker said simply. "Everybody knows that."
Dean nodded once, as if that proved his point. "So..."
"So," Logan cut in, "you keep stopping there."
Garrett leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes stayed on Dean's, waiting until he had his full attention before he spoke again. "You've got to stop looking at it from your side."
Dean's brows pulled together, and Garrett continued, patient as ever. "Forget what was going through your head for a second."
Dean didn't interrupt. "Think about what Y/N saw."
Nobody spoke, and Garrett didn't rush to fill the silence.
"She walked into a bar with her boyfriend," he said evenly. "Then she watched another girl flirt with him while he stood there smiling and talking to her."
Garrett maintained eye contact with Dean as his shoulders fell almost silently. "That's what she went home with."
The words landed harder than any of Logan's sarcasm had, and Dean looked back down at his phone, turning it over slowly between his hands. This time, he didn't try to defend himself.
Dean rubbed both hands over his face before letting them fall into his lap. He stared at the floor for a second, then looked back up at the three of them. "So..." He exhaled through his nose. "What the hell do I do tonight?"
Nobody answered straight away, as Dean shifted forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I've gotta fix it somehow."
Logan broke the silence first, his tone casual yet pointed. "You don't try to fix it."
Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "...What do you mean?"
"You heard me," Logan replied, shrugging one shoulder as if the answer was self-evident.
"You shouldn't approach her the moment she arrives, demanding to know if she's still upset. She's already angry; there's no need to escalate it further." Tucker nodded in agreement, casually tossing another chip into his mouth. "And for heaven's sake, don't spend the entire evening sulking just because she's with the girls."
Dean's expression shifted, almost offended. "I don't sulk."
Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.
He let out a resigned sigh. "...Fine. Maybe just a little."
Garrett chuckled softly, raising a finger in Dean's direction. "And if another girl even looks like she's about to approach..."
Before he could complete his thought, Dean cut in, "I walk away."
Logan shook his head firmly. "No."
Dean blinked in surprise. "No?"
"You can't just walk away," Logan said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. "You need to come straight back to Y/N."
Dean fell silent, his thoughts swirling as Garrett seamlessly continued from where Logan had paused. "You need to be where your girlfriend is," he advised.
A frown creased Dean's brow. "I was."
"Were you really?" Garrett's tone wasn't accusing at all... It was more like he was just curious.
Dean parted his lips to respond but found himself at a loss for words, closing them again.
Garrett offered a small, knowing smile, as if he understood something unspoken. "Exactly." The room went quiet for a second, filled with all the stuff we weren’t saying.
"So..." Dean rubbed the back of his neck again. "Just... act normal?"
Garrett shook his head. "No."
"Act like her boyfriend." Garrett adds.
"I am her boyfriend." Dean frowns.
Tucker smiled to himself. "Yeah." A beat passed. "But last night you were just Dean."
Dean frowned. "I don't get it."
"You don't have to flirt to look available," Tucker said simply.
"And you definitely looked available," Logan added.
Dean let that sink in. For once, he didn't have a comeback. He just sat there, staring at the carpet. "...Harsh."
Logan snorted. "You'll live."
Dean glanced between the three of them, his mind racing to comprehend the situation. "So what am I supposed to do?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Just act like everything's fine?"
Tucker shook his head, cutting off any response from Garrett or Logan. "No."
He settled back into the armchair, the bag of chips resting on his knee. "Don't pretend like nothing happened," he advised, shrugging slightly. "Just... be her boyfriend."
Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "I am being her boyfriend."
"You think you are," Logan muttered under his breath.
Tucker, however, kept his focus on Dean. "You need to make her feel like she's the only girl in the room."
Dean didn't hesitate for a moment. "She is the only girl," he declared, the words flowing from him so effortlessly that none of his friends doubted his sincerity.
Garrett's expression softened a bit. "We know."
Tucker chimed in, "It's just time you make sure she knows it too."
Logan's phone buzzed in his hand, interrupting Dean before he could respond. He glanced down at the screen, a grin spreading across his face as he read the message. "Grace says they're ready."
Garrett let out a laugh, pushing himself off the sofa and reaching for the jacket draped over the back of a chair. "Fucking finally," he exclaimed, slipping it on while still shaking his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think we'd make last orders before they even left the dorm."
Dean lingered behind the others, moving slowly as he reached for his jacket but was hesitant to put it on. His mind was elsewhere, racing with doubt. "Do you really think it'll be alright?" he asked, glancing at Garrett.
Garrett fastened his jacket and met Dean's gaze. "I reckon you've got some making up to do."
Dean nodded slightly, his hand instinctively moving to the phone in his pocket. He retrieved it, his thumb gliding over the screen until Y/N's conversation caught his eye.
The last message remained unread.
He stared at it for a moment, then locked the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "...Yeah."
By the time we finally pulled up outside the hockey house, I had a feeling the guys were completely over waiting for us.
The front door flew open almost as soon as Hannah knocked.
"Finally," Garrett said with an exaggerated sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he looked the four of us over. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself before he turned towards the living room and raised his voice. "Guys, they're here!"
The house instantly came to life.
Logan appeared first, taking the stairs two at a time before shoving his phone into his pocket. Tucker wandered out from the kitchen, still chewing whatever he'd managed to raid from the cupboards. Dean was the last to move, pushing himself off the sofa with an unhurried stretch that made it look like he'd been claiming that spot for hours.
My eyes found him before I could stop them.
Dark jeans. A navy quarter-zip sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. The colour made his blue eyes stand out even more, and his hair looked like he'd run a hand through it one too many times while waiting.
For one stupid second, everything else disappeared.
It would've been so easy to walk over to him. Normally, he'd be smirking already, arms opening before I even reached him, making some cocky comment about how I clearly couldn't stay away for more than a few hours. He'd kiss my forehead, steal my bag, and act like I weighed nothing when he pulled me into his side.
Instead, he just looked at me.
I hated pretending he was just another person in the room.
Logan's face broke into a grin the second he saw us. "I was starting to think you guys had ghosted us," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he slipped an arm around Grace's waist the moment she reached him.
Hannah laughed, not missing a beat.
"Nah," she said, jerking her thumb towards Grace. "That was all her."
Grace gasped, pressing a dramatic hand against her chest as she looked between all of us in mock offence. "Excuse me?"
"You changed outfits like three times," Sabrina reminded her, struggling to keep a straight face.
Grace's eyebrows shot up. "I changed twice."
Hannah raised one right back. "And yet you're still wearing the blue top you tried on first."
Grace opened her mouth to argue, paused, then frowned. "...That's not the point."
"The point," Sabrina replied with a smile, "is that we could've been here twenty minutes ago."
Logan looked down at Grace, a smirk spreading across his face. "For the record," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "you would've looked good in any of them."
Grace's expression softened immediately. "See?" she said, looking triumphantly at Hannah.
Logan chuckled. "I'm not saying they're wrong," he added quickly. "I'm just saying I'd have happily waited either way."
Grace rolled her eyes, though the smile she was trying to hide gave her away as she lightly shoved his shoulder. "Oh, you're so cute."
"I've been called worse," he sighs.
"Right," Tucker cut in, pushing himself away from the kitchen doorway and clapping his hands together once. "If we're done roasting Grace's wardrobe, can we actually leave?"
Garrett immediately reached for the keys sitting on the side table.
"Yeah," he said, already heading towards the door. "The Uber's waiting, and I'm not paying a cancellation fee because you lot can't stop talking."
That earned a chorus of complaints, but everyone followed him outside anyway, the conversation picking straight back up as we trailed behind him towards the waiting car.
I lingered near the back of the group, smoothing down the hem of my dress more out of nerves than necessity.
"Hey." Dean's voice was quieter than everyone else's.
I looked up, and he was already watching me.
For a second, neither of us spoke, though his eyes did travel down my outfit, a familiar smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You look..." He shook his head lightly, almost laughing to himself. "Jesus, baby. You look beautiful."
"You look..." Dean's eyes swept over me slowly before he gave a quiet shake of his head, a breath of a laugh escaping him. "Jesus, baby. You look beautiful."
The words hit me harder than I wanted them to.
My stomach betrayed me with the smallest flutter, and for the briefest second I almost forgot why I was still upset with him.
Normally, I would've smiled.
Normally, he'd have slipped an arm around my waist, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and we'd have walked out of the house together without thinking twice about it. He'd have made some cocky comment about everyone staring at me before whispering that he couldn't blame them.
Instead, I just gave a small nod.
"Thank you," I said quietly, my voice barely above a murmur as I looked away from him before I could change my mind.
No playful, You're looking alright yourself, Di Laurentis.
Even saying those felt strange.
The silence stretched between us, and I could still feel him looking at me. It made my chest tighten.
Part of me hated how distant I was being.
The other part knew if I acted like everything was fine, he'd never understand why I'd been hurt in the first place.
With a quiet sigh, I glanced back up at him.
"You don't look too bad yourself."
His lips twitched into the beginning of a smile, but it never quite reached his eyes. He swallowed, almost like he'd expected more, before giving me a small nod.
Neither of us knew where to go from there.
Before the silence could grow any heavier, Garrett clapped his hands together once, instantly pulling everyone's attention back to him.
"Right," he said, jingling the car keys in one hand. "Uber's just round this corner. Let's move before the driver's had enough of waiting."
The group started filing out of the house, everyone naturally falling into conversation again.
Dean and I walked side by side at the back.
Normally, Dean would tell me a ridiculous story that would make me laugh, tell me to run off with him to the car for a quickie, or make up stupid jokes, but neither of us seemed to know where to begin.
I kept mine anywhere but on him.
On the cracked pavement.
On Garrett and Hannah walking in front.
On Logan trying to steal Grace's phone.
The silence wasn't awkward... It was worse than awkward. It was unfamiliar. Dean wasn't talking. I wasn't talking, and it felt like there was this invisible gap between us, one that hadn't been there twenty-four hours ago. The thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
I hated that things felt different.
I hated that I missed him even though he was walking less than a foot away. But I wasn't ready to pretend everything was okay just because we were going out.
By the time we reached the Uber, Garrett was already opening the passenger door. "Garrett Graham," he told the driver with an easy smile before climbing into the front seat.
The rest of us piled into the back, shuffling around as everyone tried to make enough room. Somehow, I ended up wedged against the window. Of course. Dean slid in beside me a second later, his leg brushing mine for the briefest moment before he shifted away to give me as much space as he could.
Logan and Grace argued the majority of the way about what to eat later, though I was all for team Grace. After a night out, McDonald's nuggets were the best.
Tucker soon cut in, saying he's grabbing a Taco Bell either way, mostly just to wind Logan up.
Sabrina sighed dramatically. "You all realise the driver can hear you?"
"He's lucky," Logan replied. "This is quality entertainment."
The driver laughed, and I stared out of the window.
Beside me, Dean shifted slightly, his knee brushing mine for half a second before he quietly moved it away again.
I swallowed at the contact; this journey was taking forever.
When the Uber finally pulled up outside the club, everyone climbed out, and we were immediately greeted by music spilling out onto the street and a queue stretching around the corner.
Garrett stretched his arms above his head. "Right," he said. "Let's go."
The group naturally started walking together, and Dean fell into step behind me. For a few moments everything felt almost normal; that was until I felt his hand settle against my waist.
It felt normal, like the same way he'd always done it. Before I could stop myself, I took a small step sideways, slipping out of his reach.
For a brief moment, I felt bad, but then I remembered how he had made me feel with that girl last night. He glanced at me as his hand returned to his side.
Then let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Oh..." His mouth tugged into a small, humourless smile, and he let out a breathy scoff, "We're doing that now, hm?"
There wasn't any anger in his voice. If anything, it sounded more disappointed than anything else, and the words landed harder than I expected.
"Okay, baby," he spoke, catching up toward Logan, and a flicker of guilt twisted in my chest, and for a second, I almost reached for his hand.
Instead, I looked away, focusing on the line outside the club as the rest of the group carried on ahead.
Soon enough, we were in line, and thank god Sabrina was chatting away to me instead of being stuck next to Dean's awkward silence. Thankfully he was talking to Garrett. We were also lucky, as the queue moved faster than I thought it would.
Garrett led us through the queue until he was chatting it up with the bouncer like they were best buds, while Logan had Grace snug against him, both of them cracking up as she tried to convince him she’d totally crush him at pool later.
"You’ve never won against me," Logan said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the metal gate.
Grace rolled her eyes, her brows shooting up in defiance as she playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "I’ve gotten way better," she shot back, a smirk dancing on her lips.
Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. "You said that last time," he replied, his voice dripping with fake seriousness.
"I really have," she insisted, crossing her arms and tilting her head like she was ready for a challenge.
"You only sank the black ball on your first try," he reminded her, chuckling as he remembered that moment.
Grace shoved his shoulder again, this time harder, her laughter bubbling up. "I was under pressure, okay?" she shot back, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
Logan leaned back, shaking his head with a playful laugh. "You were under the influence," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached out to mess up her hair, making her laugh even harder. He then pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before we all disappeared inside.
The music slammed into us right away. The bass thumped through the floor, colorful lights flashing all over the packed dance floor while voices and laughter mixed into one big noise.
Garrett glanced back, checking to see if we all made it inside. "Drinks first?" he shouted over the club's noise, and everyone nodded eagerly.
The bar was packed, but Garrett managed to push us through a small gap, his height giving him an advantage. "What do you all want?" he asked, scanning the group, ready to take our orders.
Hannah and Grace exchanged looks and decided to share a pitcher, their laughter blending with the music. Tucker and Logan were deep in a debate, animatedly arguing about which beer wouldn’t taste like cat piss, and Sabrina just wanted a wine.
Dean was next to me, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, looking chill, but I could sense the tension. He caught the bartender's attention first, leaning in to be heard. "Can I get a lager?" he asked, sounding sure of himself.
The bartender nodded and grabbed a glass. Dean leaned against the bar, looking relaxed, but I felt this weird distance between us.
No playful teasing, no "What do you want, babe?" Just a straightforward order, and it hit me hard.
I watched him from the corner of my eye for a second, waiting for him to notice. And he did. Dean had always been annoyingly good at picking up on the smallest things, especially when it came to me.
A quiet scoff slipped out before I could stop it, making his head turn immediately. "What?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together slightly.
I looked away, folding my arms across my chest. "Nothing," I mutter. The single word came out a little too quickly, and judging by the way Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, he knew exactly what I was doing.
He'd always been good at reading me. Sometimes annoyingly good.
Dean let out a quiet breath, leaning one arm against the bar as he looked at me. "Yeah, okay."
I glanced back at him. "What?"
"That wasn't a nothing." He shook his head with a quiet, breathy laugh, but there wasn't much humour behind it.
I rolled my eyes, looking back towards the bartender instead. "You forgot to ask if I wanted a drink. " I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. And we both knew it.
For a second, Dean looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression softened slightly, like he hadn't even realised he'd done it. Then he gave a small laugh, dragging a hand over his jaw, but not because he found it funny.
Because Dean Di Laurentis always seemed to laugh when he didn't know what else to say.
"I thought..." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, I thought we weren't doing all that tonight."
I frowned, turning back towards him. "Doing what?"
Dean gestured between the two of us, his expression becoming slightly defensive. "That."
I stared at him. "That doesn't explain anything," I say, frowning.
"You know what I mean," he says, his eyebrows pulling together as he looks at me.
"No, Dean, I actually don't." I spoke with a frown and for once, he didn't have a quick comeback.
He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at me. "The couple stuff."
I stared at him. "The couple stuff?"
"Yeah." He shrugged, but there was something uncomfortable in the way he shifted his weight. Like he knew this wasn't coming out right. "I mean... you moved away when I tried to put my arm around you."
My eyebrows lifted, and I couldn't help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped me. "Don't be petty, Dean." I scoff lowly.
His lips parted slightly, like he genuinely couldn't believe I'd just called him that. "Oh, what? I'm being petty?"
Dean looked around for a second, almost like he was looking for someone to confirm he wasn't losing his mind, before turning back to me. "I thought we were both being petty." He swallowed slightly, and the familiar little tilt of his head would normally have made me laugh.
Normally, I would've rolled my eyes and told him he was ridiculous. Normally, I would've reached for his hand. But that was normally... Tonight felt different.
Because normally I didn't have to wonder if my boyfriend understood why he had hurt me.
"So asking your girlfriend if she wants a drink is 'couple stuff' now?" I say, and the question came out sharper than I intended.
Dean's expression changed... He didnt look angry, just... hurt, like he realised that this wasn't actually about the drink.
He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.
For once, Dean Di Laurentis, who always had something to say, had no joke, no teasing comment, no easy way out.
And somehow, that told me everything.
He then sighed. "That's not what I meant."
"Look, Dean, I'm not getting into this with you," I say, keeping my voice steady even though my heart is beating way too fast. "I came out tonight to have fun, not stand at a bar arguing."
The second the words leave my mouth, I see something flicker across his face.
It wasn't anger, but more like disappointment.
"What, so what?" he says, letting out a quiet scoff as he crosses his arms over his chest. "You're just gonna stay mad at me all night?"
I hate that part of me knows he's not trying to start a fight, he's just frustrated, confused even.
Dean has never been good at sitting in the middle of something unresolved. He's the kind of person who wants to fix things immediately, usually with a joke, a smile, or some ridiculous comment that makes everything feel okay again. But this wasn't something I could just laugh off.
I shrugged, forcing myself to look away. "So be it."
His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a second, it looked like he wanted to argue, but the stopped himself. His jaw tightened before he looked away, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek like he was trying to figure out what to say without making things worse.
Before he could, the bartender turned towards me with a friendly smile. "And for you?"
I turned back, forcing my expression to soften. "I'll have a vodka lemonade, please."
The words came out normally, even though I could still feel Dean standing beside me. Watching me.
The bartender nodded and typed in the order. "That'll be $5.60."
I reached for my purse immediately, but before I could even unzip it, Dean moved, and he pulled a twenty-dollar note from his wallet and placed it on the bar. "I've got it."
His voice wasn't teasing, nor was it playful. It was quiet. Almost sounding automatic.
I looked over at him, caught off guard. "Dean—"
"I've got it," he repeated, this time, softer, making me swallow as I look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the bar in front of him, avoiding mine as the bartender took the money and handed him the change.
Somehow, that bothered me more than if he had argued. Because this was Dean.
The guy who always made everything a joke. The guy who would normally tell me I owed him a kiss for letting him buy my drink. The guy who would have grinned and called me difficult. But he didn't. He just stood there, quietly paying for my drink.
For a moment, the anger I'd been holding onto loosened slightly. A small part of me felt guilt, because even though I was hurt, I knew Dean wasn't trying to hurt me.
He was trying, maybe not so perfectly, and maybe not in the way I needed yet. But he was trying.
The words I wanted to say sat right on the tip of my tongue. Thank you. I'm sorry. Something. Anything.
Instead, I pressed my lips together and looked away, letting the silence sit between us.
Garrett then appeared beside us carrying the pitcher Hannah and Grace had ordered. "Found a booth," he called over the music. "C'mon before someone steals it."
Dean picked up both our drinks without saying a word and followed Garrett through the crowd.
I followed beside him, watching as he moved through the packed room, occasionally glancing back to make sure I was still there.
It was such a Dean thing to do. Act like everything was fine. Except tonight, we both knew it wasn't.
It felt as though he was trying to acknowledge his mistake, yet he was going about it all wrong.
The booth Garrett had found was tucked into the corner, giving us a good view of the dance floor without being completely surrounded by people.
Logan slid in beside Grace, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he reached for her drink. Before she could react, he took a quick sip, the liquid disappearing down his throat.
"Seriously?" she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.
"You weren't drinking it," he replied with a casual shrug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he savored the taste. "Ooo thats nice..." He trailled off.
"I was going to," she huffed, crossing her arms in mock indignation.
"Future tense doesn't count," he teased, leaning back against the couch, a playful glint in his eyes.
Grace rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, lifting into a smile she couldn't control.
Across from them, Hannah and Garrett were being all cut, talking about their plans for a restaurant he had booked them in for next week, while Sabrina and Tucker were playfully trying each other's drinks.
For a second, things felt normal, except for the fact that Dean and I weren't talking.
Then a girl appeared beside our table. She was holding a tray of brightly coloured shots, a smile already on her face as she looked between everyone. "Anyone feeling brave tonight?"
A few of the guys looked over but shook their heads. "I don't do well with shots," Sabrina mumbled, making Tucker laugh from beside her.
The girl laughed also, but her eyes stayed on Dean a little longer than necessary. "Especially you."
The girl leaned against the edge of the booth, twirling one of the shot glasses between her fingers. "You look like you could handle one."
I shot a look at Grace, who gave me a disapproving frown, while Dean barely even noticed the girl with the shots. Honestly, before last night, I wouldn’t have cared. But now, I was totally watching him, trying to figure out what he was going to do next.
The girl leaned in, a flirty grin on her face. "So?"
Dean shot back right away, his voice calm but firm. "Nah, I'm good." There was no way she could argue with that.
She tilted her head, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Not even one?"
Dean just shook his head, glancing back at me as he started to turn away. "Nah, I'm all set."
Before I could even think about what he said, I felt his arm wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer. My breath caught in my throat, not because I was uncomfortable, but because his touch felt so warm and unexpected after everything that had gone down earlier.
Dean's hand rested against my side, a familiar weight that was both comforting and exciting. He looked back at the girl, a confident smirk on his lips. "My girlfriend's got me covered already."
She caught my eye for a second, and without thinking, I shot her a look. Nothing dramatic, just a little reminder that I was there.
She nodded slowly, her smile fading a bit. "Right. Have a good night," she said quietly, almost like a whisper. Then she turned slightly and stepped back, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she walked away.
Across the booth, Hannah caught my eye, her expression full of mischief. It was clear what she was thinking.
I widened my eyes a little, silently begging her to keep it to herself. She knew me too well, and I could see her trying not to laugh. Instead of saying anything, she took a sip of her drink, the ice clinking in the glass, a smirk on her lips. Of course she would.
Dean leaned in closer, his mouth right by my ear so I could hear him over the loud music. "You know, for someone who's still mad at me, you looked pretty happy when I shut that down."
I shot him a look, narrowing my eyes like I was annoyed. A small smile almost slipped out, but I quickly pushed it down, trying to keep my face serious. "I'm still mad at you," I said, crossing my arms like I meant it.
Dean's lips twitched, a playful spark in his eyes. "Oh really?" he said, his voice rough but teasing, leaning in a bit more, like he was enjoying this.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice softer than I wanted.
"Yeah?" He repeated, looking down at me, making me inhale.
"Yeah," I mumbled, repeating myself.
He nodded slowly, pretending to be serious as he tilted his head. "Good to know," he said, a smirk almost breaking through.
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my cheeks getting warm.
And no matter how hard I tried, I hated that a part of me wanted to laugh.
The conversation slowly drifted away from us after that. Hannah was already laughing at something Garrett had said, while Logan pulled Grace to her feet the second a song she liked came on.
"C'mon," he said, already tugging her towards the dance floor. "If I have to listen to this, I'm at least making you dance."
Grace laughed, letting him pull her away. "You love Rihanna."
"I tolerate her," he says, cocking his head to the side with a grin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they disappear into the crowd.
Sabrina watched them leave, her eyes following as they blended into the crowd. She turned to Tucker, a fierce look on her face. "I need another drink," she said, her voice strong.
Tucker raised his eyebrows, a playful grin forming. "Nah... You need water," he shot back, crossing his arms and leaning back like he was making a big point.
"I need another drink," she insisted, her tone steady as she leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes at him in a teasing way.
"You really need water," he repeated, his face serious, making her squint at him, a fun challenge in her eyes.
"I'll meet you halfway," she said, sticking out her bottom lip in a fake pout, trying to get him to budge.
Tucker sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes like he already regretted what he was about to say. "I know I'm gonna regret this."
"Vodka and water," she said, a victorious smile lighting up her face.
He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as he got up from the booth, his laughter mixing with the music around us. "You're something else," he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.
"So I've heard," she shot back, her smile growing as they headed toward the bar, leaving the rest of us at the table, the vibe buzzing with excitement.
Garrett scanned the room, his gaze landing on the pool tables before snapping back to Hannah with a cheeky grin. "Wanna get beat?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
Hannah snorted, rolling her eyes. "In your dreams, Graham."
He laughed, leaning in a bit. "Dean."
Dean, who had been sipping his drink, looked up, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"You're with me," Garrett announced, turning to Hannah with a playful smirk. "You can take Y/N."
"Wow," I scoffed, a small laugh escaping as I raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like a punishment." Garrett tilted his head, pretending to be innocent.
Hannah, quick on the uptake, hooked her arm through mine, pulling me closer. "Perfect," she said, her eyes shining with excitement.
Dean looked over at me, his expression like he was about to say something, lips parting just a bit. Garrett grinned and nodded, leading us to the nearest open table, his confidence shining as he declared, "Captains always break." He swaggered up to the table, hands on his hips, clearly loving the moment.
"Since when are you the captain?" Hannah shot back, raising an eyebrow as she followed closely behind.
"Since like five seconds ago," Garrett replied, a playful smirk on his face.
"How convenient," she retorted, crossing her arms with a mock-serious look.
"It totally is," he said, chuckling as he set up the cue balls with precision.
Hannah rolled her eyes dramatically, then reached into the rack and handed me a cue, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. "You any good?" she asked, leaning against the table, her eyes sparkling with challenge.
"I've played," I replied, giving the cue a light twirl in my hands.
She laughed, the sound bright and teasing. "That wasn't my question," she said, leaning in closer, her tone playful.
I smiled faintly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "I'm alright," I admitted, shrugging a bit.
"Good enough for me," she said, her grin widening as she stepped back, ready to watch the game unfold.
Garrett walked up to the table, cue-in hand, and smashed the break, the crack of the balls ringing out over the thumping music.
"Lucky shot," Hannah called out, leaning against the table with a cheeky grin.
"I totally potted two," Garrett shot back, a proud smirk on his face as he pointed to the two balls that had dropped into the pockets.
"Lucky two shots," she retorted, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, clearly ready for a challenge.
Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he walked around the table, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He leaned casually against the side, enjoying the friendly competition. "You girls are already acting like sore losers," he teased, a smirk creeping onto his lips.
"We haven't lost yet," Hannah shot back, her competitive spirit fired up as she got ready for her turn.
"You will," Dean replied confidently, leaning in closer to the table, totally focused.
"We'll see," Hannah countered, determination in her voice as she lined up her shot.
Dean was acting like every shot he made was the most epic thing ever, and I couldn't help but laugh, just once.
He glanced my way when he heard me. Our eyes locked for a split second before I looked away. He didn’t say a word; he just kept playing like nothing happened.
A few moments later, Hannah stepped up to the pool table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lined up another shot. With a dramatic groan, she threw her head back, clearly annoyed. "Ugh, I’m definitely getting another drink after this," she shouted, trying to be heard over the music.
Garrett leaned against the table, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. "You’ve said that like three times already," he replied, shaking his head in playful disbelief.
Hannah rolled her eyes, a playful grin breaking through her frustration. "And I actually mean it this time." With a flourish, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and strutted off towards the bar, her hips swaying as she walked.
"Don’t cheat while I’m gone!" Garrett called after her, laughter in his voice.
"As if we’d need to," she shot back over her shoulder, her laughter mixing with the upbeat music as she vanished into the crowd.
I watched her disappear into the crowd, spotting Sabrina and Tucker a few people away, still waiting to be served at the bar.
Across the club, Logan and Grace had completely abandoned everyone else, laughing together in the middle of the dance floor as Logan attempted what could only generously be described as dancing.
Grace doubled over laughing, and Logan looked far too pleased with himself. A smile threatened at the corner of my mouth.
By the time Hannah got back, my drink was pretty much gone. I took the last sip without even thinking and set the glass down on the edge of the table, leaning in to catch Garrett's next shot.
"You’ve got an easy red there," I said, leaning over the table to get a better look.
"I know," he replied, narrowing his eyes in focus.
"Then why are you taking forever?" I teased, crossing my arms and tapping my foot lightly.
"Mind games," he shot back, a smirk creeping onto his face.
"You're just stalling," I insisted, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm strategising," he countered, totally focused.
I chuckled quietly, shaking my head as I watched him.
Next to me, Dean glanced at my empty glass, his brow furrowing a bit. He didn’t say anything. No jokes. Not even a glance my way.
Instead, he reached for his own drink, which he hadn’t touched, and smoothly swapped it with my empty glass before stepping up to take his shot.
It was so natural I almost missed it.
I looked down at the fresh drink now in front of me, condensation dripping down the glass. Then back at Dean.
He was all about the table, cue in one hand, brow furrowed as he lined up the white ball perfectly.
He didn’t even check if I noticed. Never asked for a thank you. Never joked about getting me another. He just... did it.
Something tightened in my chest, warmth spreading through me.
I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass, feeling the chill seep into my skin, turning it slowly against the wood of the table before taking a small sip.
Dean still didn’t look at me, his focus completely on the game.
And somehow, that made the gesture mean even more, a silent understanding passing between us amidst the noise of the bar.
I'd gone to the bathroom for literally two minutes, and when I walked back over to the booth, I realised every single glass on the table was empty.
Garrett noticed me looking. "We're all out," he said, lifting his beer bottle before turning it upside down. Not a drop came out. "Think that's our sign."
"I'll go," I offered, reaching for the empty glasses.
"You sure?" Hannah asked.
Before I could gather them all together, Dean was already on his feet. "I'll give you a hand."
For a second, I considered telling him not to bother, but instead, I simply nodded. "Okay."
Garrett caught Dean's eye as we stepped away from the booth; it wasn't too obvious, just the smallest nod, and Dean returned it without a word.
I swear the club had gotten even busier than before. People squeezed past us from every direction, the music somehow louder than it had been twenty minutes ago.
Dean walked beside me, matching my pace without saying much. Normally, this would've been effortless. He would've reached for my hand the second someone bumped into me. Or rested his hand against the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. I knew that because that's what he always did.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers twitch, just slightly... Like instinct had taken over before his brain caught up.
His hand lifted barely an inch before it stopped, and almost immediately, he shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.
We reached the bar and squeezed into the small gap that had opened up, neither of us spoke while we waited.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just felt... careful. Like we were both choosing every movement before we made it.
My hair slipped over my shoulder as I leaned against the bar. Again, I caught Dean looking. Normally he'd have brushed it back behind my ear. Or smiled and kissed my temple when he thought nobody was watching. Instead, he looked away almost as quickly as I'd caught him.
He was stopping himself. I knew he was. For some reason, that made the ache in my chest even worse.
The bartender eventually made his way over. "What can I get you?"
I started listing everyone's drinks, mentally checking them off one by one. "A lager... vodka lemonade... two rum and cokes..."
"A Malibu and coke too, please," Dean quietly added Tucker's order when I forgot it. "Double."
The bartender nodded and disappeared, and I rested my forearms against the bar while we waited.
"So..." Dean began quietly, making me glance at him.
He smiled a little. "...You beating us at pool was pure luck."
I couldn't help the tiny huff of laughter that escaped me. "It wasn't luck."
"It definitely was." He scoffed with laughter, and before either of us could say anything else, someone slid into the empty space beside me.
"Hi." I turned to find a guy about our age leaning casually against the bar. He smiled. "I've been trying to get the bartender's attention for about ten minutes."
I smiled politely. "Good luck."
He laughed. "So... you here with friends?"
Dean went completely still beside me.
"I am," I said, sending him a polite smile.
"Are you all celebrating something?" He spoke with a small laugh.
I shrug. "Just a night out."
The guy nodded. "I'm Ethan."
Dean's jaw tightened almost immediately. He didn't interrupt. Didn't move closer. Didn't drape an arm around me. He just stood there, hands still buried in his pockets.
The guy smiled again. "You want to dance later?"
I blinked. "Oh. " Before I could even think about how to answer, I shook my head with a polite smile. "Sorry."
I tilted my head slightly towards Dean. "I'm here with my boyfriend."
The guy followed my gaze for the first time. His smile faltered. "Oh... man, I'm sorry."
Dean met his eyes and offered a small nod. "No worries."
"You too," I said, with a slight smile, and the guy disappeared back into the crowd.
Neither Dean nor I spoke. The bartender returned, lining up the drinks across the bar. Dean silently picked up half of them while I grabbed the rest.
We started walking back towards the booth. The music swallowed the silence between us. After a few steps, Dean spoke so quietly I almost missed it. "Fucking dick," he mumbled as we passed the same guy.
I smiled slightly but wouldn't let him see it.
Neither of us said anything more, Dean carried half the drinks, I carried the other half, and when we reached the booth everyone immediately reached over to claim theirs.
Tucker finally grabbed his beer from Dean, a huge grin spreading across his face as he shouted, "Finally! I was dying over here!" He took a long swig, really enjoying the cold drink.
Sabrina laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased him, "Dude, you’ve only been without alcohol for like five minutes." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a playful smirk.
"It was a tough five minutes," he shot back, putting a hand over his heart like it was a big deal.
Garrett snorted, raising his drink in a toast towards Dean. "Cheers, bro!" he called out, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd.
Dean just nodded, kinda distracted, his eyes flicking between the group and the dance floor as he plopped down next to me.
Not too close, but not too far away. Just enough space to remind me that things were still kinda off. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and awkward, and I hated how obvious that little gap felt.
Hannah looked over at the dance floor, her eyes lighting up with excitement before she turned back to me with a big grin, her hair bouncing as she moved. "Hey, Y/N," she said, nudging my shoulder. "Wanna dance?"
I glanced around the table. Logan and Grace had already slipped out and were already out there again, Grace laughing as Logan dramatically pretended to hate every second of it.
"Yeah. "Why not?" I say with a small laugh, and Hannah grabs my hand and pulls me up before I can change my mind.
The dance floor was packed, everyone singing along to whatever remix the DJ had decided to play. For the first few songs, we just danced. Just laughing, singing the words we actually knew, making fun of the weird remixes the dj made.
For the first time all night, I wasn't thinking about Dean every five seconds.
Garrett finally made his way over, drink in hand and that goofy grin plastered on his face. "You two looked like you needed saving," he shouted over the thumping music.
Hannah laughed, her eyes glinting with mischief. "From what?" she shot back, tilting her head with a playful smirk.
"Honestly, no clue." Garrett shrugged dramatically, pretending to be confused. "Figured I'd figure it out when I got here." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like it was a secret.
"You just wanted a reason to dance with your girl," I chimed in, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.
Garrett acted all innocent, eyes wide. "I have no idea what you mean."
Hannah rolled her eyes, a smile breaking through as Garrett wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. She leaned into him, their laughter mixing with the music.
We stayed there, swaying to the beat, the music changing every few minutes, and then, the opening notes of The Hills blasted through the club, the familiar tune sparking some excitement.
"Oh my God," I laughed, turning to Hannah, my eyes lighting up. "I love this song!"
"I knew you would!" She grinned, her excitement contagious. Without missing a beat, she grabbed my hands and spun me around in a joyful twirl, the world around us fading away as we danced together, completely lost in the moment.
I laughed, shaking my head as we danced together, and Halfway through the chorus, I felt someone step in behind me.
Not close enough to crowd me. Just close enough that I knew exactly who it was without turning around. Dean. I could feel his presence before I even looked.
He leaned down slightly so I could hear him over the music. "So..." His voice was low, carrying that familiar teasing edge that somehow always made my stomach flip. "You do still know how to smile."
I rolled my eyes before looking back at him over my shoulder. "Barely."
He smiled. "I'll take barely."
I turned back towards Hannah, determined not to give him the satisfaction.
A second later, his voice came again, quieter this time. "...I'm sorry."
The teasing had disappeared, just for those two words.
I froze for a fraction of a second, and Dean noticed.
"I know," he said softly. "I'm late."
I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the dance floor. "You are."
"I was an idiot." He admitted, running a hand through his hair, and a small laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
He caught it immediately, his eyes lighting up. "There it is."
I looked back at him, crossing my arms. "Don't."
"What?" He laughed, leaning slightly closer.
"You don't get to make me laugh just because you're apologising."
Dean's mouth curved into that familiar crooked grin as he leaned back against the bar. "I wasn't trying to."
For a moment, neither of us said anything, the noise of the club surrounding us.
Dean then leaned in one last time, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You know..." he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, "you're still the prettiest girl in this club."
I met his eyes. "...I'm still mad at you."
His grin softened. "I know, baby."
And this time, he didn't try to say anything else.
