Dean Di Laurentis

Dean Di Laurentis | #66 🏒 Briar Hockey’s golden boy • Professional ride operator (Six Flags standards Girls get on once and never forget the drop . Golden retriever energy with a filthy mouth

[hockeymaverick]

𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊𝘿𝙐𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 🏒

Is an introduction really necessary?

I’m the guy who lives and breathes hockey while throwing the parties everyone talks about. Major: Sex Education (hands-on specialist). Professional Ride Operator, girls get on once and never forget the drop.

If you think I'm being arrogant might I suggest checking the girls bathroom stall at Malone's? I hear I've been given glowing recommendations.

Relationship status is surprisingly complicated at the moment and yeah, I'm just as shocked as you are. You know when you have a song stuck in your head and you can't get it out? Yeah, I have a girl stuck in my head.

[hockeymaverick]

How do I find a hockey boyfriend? Specifically nhl

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

The corner of Allie's mouth softens as she catches his phrasing. The hesitation; the pause between I've been… and okay.

Funny. Thirty seconds ago, she'd done the exact same thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he noticed it too. If he heard the way his own voice changes when he's trying to convince someone everything was fine.

She knew that tone all too well. Those little moments where Dean insisted he was good, even when he wasn't. He would joke his way around anything that got too close to the truth, making light of it somehow making it easier to carry.

But, she understood it. She'd spent weeks using that exact same tone herself.

Allie did expect him to leave it there. 'Okay'. An answer that kept everything exactly where it had been for the last few weeks — distant.

Instead, he gave her just enough to loosen the knot in her chest. Enough to remind her what talking to him used to feel like.

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

But as his weighted sigh registers, her teasing expression fades.

Dean has always been the type to act like nothing gets to him. Dean never sighed like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him sound… tired. She almost hates that she notices, because she shouldn't care. Not after all of this silence.

But she does. She always has.

The truth is, Dean never stopped being someone she cared about.

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

Truthfully it's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Too much going on actually but he's still undecided on how much he wants to share with her or if he should share anything at all.

Casual, that's what she had said. What she had wanted from him, and opening up to her now, especially with their arrangement being over, yeah, it doesn't seem like something he should do. The issue is she looks so sincere, like she genuinely wants to know what has him all worked up and stressed the hell out.

Briefly he turns his head, somewhat surprised that his 'friend' hasn't made an appearance. She probably thinks he got lost or maybe someone else has her attention? Not really something he's upset about, he'll regret that later when he's left to watch Allie leave and him be alone, again.

Shifting his eyes back on her he has an inner debate with himself before he decides, screw it. Again he's shifting on his heels awkwardly because this isn't really the kind of conversation he wants to have, especially with her of all people.

"Let's just say after that shit show of a night at Malone's, no one is going easy on me. Logan and I, we aren't in the best of places right now considering the shit he pulled."

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

"Seeing as this was the second outburst from someone on the Hockey team the association is going pretty hard on us. They're no longer tolerating this kind of reckless behavior. Coach went pretty hard on me, and ummm there's a chance that my punishment is going to end up with me doing some type of community service. Not entirely sure what, but I have a meeting with Jensen on Monday."

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's eyes flick briefly towards the living room when his does. The girl he'd mentioned earlier, the one waiting for him.

For a second, that familiar stupid little twist returns — the reminder that Dean walked into this party with a plan. A different version of the night. Yet, if anyone asked her, she technically had no reason to be bothered by it. Being bothered isn't... casual.

But then, his attention is back on her. Somehow, that's the part that feels more confusing.

At the mention of Malone's, Allie can't hide the small wince that crosses her face. Her eyes drift away from his for a moment, landing somewhere on the wall before finding him again.

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

She remembers that night, replaying it in her mind. The yelling, the tension, the way everything shifted in a matter of seconds. She remembers the look on his face when everything boiled over.

A quiet guilt settles in her chest. There was clearly something bigger happening. Something she still didn't understand — something weighing on Dean long before that night.

Then, there was Logan. That wasn't a stupid argument between teammates. She knew that much.

Allie takes a small breath, pulling herself back into the conversation.

"Community service, huh?" she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Definitely… not the glamorous Briar Hawks lifestyle you signed up for."

The smile fades quickly as she looks at him, the joke not sticking. She can see his exhaustion. This isn't just Coach being hard on him. This is Logan, this is the team, this is... whatever happened at Malone's.

She glanced around the kitchen, music bleeding in from the living room. Having a conversation in the middle of a party where they were supposed to be pretending everything was easy.

"Dean..."

Her voice softens. Her eyes flick briefly toward the living room, then back to him. There were a hundred questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. About the association, about Logan, about what actually happened.

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

He watches her attempt at deflection land flat. The dry humor about how life has been shit lately doesn’t coax even a flicker of a smile from him. Instead, it settles heavy in his chest, a reminder of exactly how spectacularly he’d managed to fuck things up between them.

The easy smile she wears fades almost instantly when she catches the seriousness in his eyes. This isn’t light party banter anymore. She glances around the crowded kitchen sticky counters cluttered with half-empty bottles, red cups, and spilled chips then her voice softens, wrapping around his name like it still belongs to her. Fuck, it undoes him.

“Dean…”

Just the sound of it sends a low current through him. Other people can shout it across the locker room, murmur it in passing or whisper it in his ear but hers carries something deeper, something that tugs at every unresolved feeling he’s been trying to bury. She hesitates, shifting her weight, clearly walking on eggshells, unsure if she still has the right to dig deeper. He stays quiet, waiting to see if she’ll be brave enough.

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

His mouth opens, but the roar of the party crashes in loud bursts of laughter from the next room, the heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards, someone shouting a drinking game in the distance. It’s too chaotic for this conversation. He crumples his empty cup and tosses it into the overflowing trash bin. No refill needed anymore. His gaze locks back on hers, steady despite the storm inside him.

“Look, I know you came here with your friends and I don’t want to intrude or anything, but do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?”

Nerves twist tighter in his gut, so he adds a touch of humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar half-grin.

“Swear this isn’t some tactic to get you alone.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie knew this wasn't the place to be having a real conversation. Dean knew it too.

Somewhere down the hall, a chorus of cheers erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone losing at beer pong.

And then...

Do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?

The words settle over her far heavier than they should. This was choosing to stay. To keep talking, to let her back in. After weeks of silence.

Her heart gives one traitorous little flutter. Fuck. Fantastic.

Apparently all it took was Dean asking to have a conversation for every sensible thought she'd spent weeks clinging to, to pack its bags and leave.

For one fleeting moment, she thinks it might have been easier if he'd just kept ignoring her. She knows it wouldn't have been.

Except now she's standing here, realizing how she'd never actually stopped hoping he'd come back.

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

Allie's eyes drop to the sticky floor beneath her sneakers, where a crushed ping-pong ball has somehow found its way underfoot. When she looks back toward the living room, colored lights flash across the walls, with the line for the downstairs bathroom snaking halfway down the hall.

Somewhere in that crowd were the people she'd come with... probably. Truthfully, she hadn't the faintest idea where any of them had disappeared to. In her own defense, she'd been a little... distracted. She doubted they'd even noticed she'd gone missing.

Her eyes find Dean again, catching the familiar half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Swear this isn't some tactic to get you alone.

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

She isn't entirely sure she'd mind if it was.

The thought arrives so quickly that it startles her. She buries it just as quickly.

She presses her lips together, though a teasing smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I don't know... sounds exactly like what someone with a tactic would say."

She turns to place her solo cup on the sticky counter between a bottle of cheap vodka and a bowl of pretzels that look like they'd been picked at.

When she looks back at him, there's no hesitation this time.

"But yeah... of course."

[hockeymaverick]

He stays quiet, heart thudding against his ribs as the nerves kick in full force. His fingers flex at his sides, and he forces himself not to fill the silence. Don’t make a stupid joke. Don’t do anything that will force her into saying yes. He won’t press.

This has to be her choice. He prepares himself for the polite no he knows is likely coming because nothing about Allie is ever rude.

It’ll sting, but it’ll serve as the reminder he probably needs, that whatever they had was casual on her end. At least from her side. Definitely not from his. He’d fallen hard, and now here he is, standing in this overcrowded, noisy house party, hoping for even a few private minutes with the girl who broke him.

Watching her set her Solo cup down on the cluttered counter, Dean feels a quiet sense of relief. The urge to chase another drink seems to have vanished for her too. Good. Really good. They’re both choosing to stay sober for this, whatever this turns out to be.

“Okay,” he says.

For a second, he just stands there, suddenly unsure of his next move. The house is packed wall-to-wall with bodies, music thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. They can’t just slip upstairs together, people would notice, whispers would spread. He couldn’t care less about the gossip, but Allie does. She always has.

Then the girl he left in the living room flashes through his mind. Shit. He doesn’t even remember her name. Guilt twists low in his stomach. Ditching her completely would be a dick move, even if his interest in her had evaporated the second he saw Allie.

He clears his throat and rocks back on his heels, nerves making his fingers twitch at his sides.

“I just need to go sort something out,” he says, voice a little rough. He hesitates, searching her face.

“Do you want me to find you upstairs or…” Another pause, his pulse kicking up. “Did you wanna just get out of here and go somewhere else?”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie spins one of the rings around her finger, shifting her weight.

She notices it then, how careful he's being. It causes something in her chest to pull. Not painfully, but just enough to remind her how much she'd missed the little things. Every next step was her choice to make.

Her gaze lingers on him before he mentions needing to sort something out. The girl. Oddly enough, it didn't sting the way it had a few moments ago. Maybe because he was proving, in his own Dean-like way, that he still cared about doing the right thing.

Part of her wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn't be. He's still Dean.

Around them, the party carried on. Someone squeezed behind them to reach the cooler, muttering a distracted apology before disappearing into the crowd.

It all suddenly felt... very far away.

She glanced toward the stairs first, watching a couple disappear upstairs in the middle of a conversation. Then her eyes landed on the front door, summer air slipping in every time another guest wandered inside.

"Yeah..." she says quietly. "Let's get out of here."

The words left her mouth easier than she'd expected. Yet her heart had other plans. The thought of leaving with Dean sends her heart stumbling to another uneven rhythm, one she hopes isn't nearly as obvious as it feels.

The fact he needed to stay behind for a moment was reassuring, giving her time to slip out first. No whispers, no assumptions.

"I'll head out first," she says, offering him a small smile. "I'll wait for you on the porch okay?"

The words left her mouth before she had a chance to overthink them. She gives him one last look before making her way to the door, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm.

It was barely anything, but the familiar warmth of him lingered for a second. Suddenly, she remembers how easy it used to be to stand that close to him. How natural it had felt.

Allie didn't give herself a second to think about it, picking up her pace toward the door.

The cool evening air greets her the moment she steps outside, a welcome contrast to the heat trapped in the house. The music was muffled now beneath the chorus of crickets and the occasional burst of laughter drifting from the backyard.

She lowered herself onto the top porch step, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her forearms rest against her knees as she returns to the one thing keeping her grounded — her rings, twisting them absently around her fingers.

[hockeymaverick]

The puck is in her or well ball, Jesus, he’s got to stop with the hockey references, even the ones currently in his head. Point is, she’s the one who has all the power here. No harm, no, foul, well, shit, he’s doing it again. All he means is if she turns down somewhere more secluded it’s okay, he won’t take offense to it. He’s hoping she says yes because honestly it would be nice to put the distance of crappy music blaring through the speakers and beer pong games out of his ears. Someone squeezes between them, muttering an off handed apology as they reach for something inside of the cooler. It’s a pretty normal thing; they have nothing to say sorry for and yet he’s certain his eyes just narrowed in their direction because how dare they. His eyes follow the movement of Allie’s as she glances towards the stairs.

The upper level where people disappear to do disgusting things in bedrooms or any room for that matter. He’s not judging, because he’s done it but he knows where her mind is wandering. She can’t afford to go up the stairs with him because someone might see and possibly report to Fifth Line. Having his life reported when he’s on the ice is completely fine, but private? That ceases to exist ever since his scuffle with Davenport. His hot head has apparently made him want to be on everyone's radar and he can’t even imagine what would go down if someone found out about him and Allie.

Yeah, let's get out of here for once he’s actually glad, she’s being careful of not wanting to be seen with him because it’s allowing him one on one time with her. When she mentions how she’ll meet him on the porch so he can ‘sort’ things out he needs his head. “Meet you there in a few” because this is not going to take long.

She begins to head towards the porch and it takes every piece of willpower he has inside of himself not to catch her by the hand. He doesn’t do it. He totally does not do that but he’s pretty sure he shivers from the way her shoulder brushes against his arm. It’s nothing, but it’s something because it’s her touch. Simple but enough to send sparks shooting through him. Like the down bad fool that he is his eyes follow her all the way out until he can no longer see her. Finally, he turns and makes his way back to the living room to let the girl he was hanging around with know there has been a change in plans.

A few seconds later and still feeling the stinging sensation of being slapped he’s making his way outside to the porch. The door swings open and his eyes instantly fall on her. For one second, he just watches her, observes her and the way she twiddles with the rings on her fingers.

“You do that when you’re nervous” he speaks from behind her. Joining her as he lowers himself down and takes a seat on the top step, eyes fixing on her with a small smile on display “do I make you nervous?”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's fingers pause against the ring, turning her head to look at him, his face just a little rosy. The cooler air brushes against her skin, but sitting beside Dean makes her feel warmer.

"Nervous?" she repeats, a quiet laugh slipping through her nose. Allie looks back down at her hands, turning the ring around her finger again.

"No."

The answer came a little too quickly, grimacing just a little already knowing she probably made it worse. Dean had always been annoyingly observant when it came to her. He remembered—her favorite shows, the lines she'd been rehearsing, the little habits she'd picked up without realizing it. Allie shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she bumps her shoulder lightly against his, but it doesn't hide the way her pulse has picked up.

Because the truth is, yes. He makes her nervous. Just a little.

Not because he's intimidating. She knows him well enough. Knows the look he gets when he's about to say something stupid. Knows the half-smile that means he's trying to charm his way out of trouble. Knows how his voice changes when something actually matters to him.

Now she's nervous because she doesn't know what to expect from him.

She thought she'd gotten used to not knowing what was going through his head, telling herself she didn't need to know. That whatever had happened between them was better left alone, even if some part of her had never really believed that.

Her gaze lingers on the street for another moment before she finally looks over at him again with a small smile.

"Do I make you nervous?" she teases, bumping him again. He's given her little to no reason to think so, but poking fun at him felt natural.

[hockeymaverick]

She answers quickly almost rushed but the small, genuine smile that curves her lips tells him she’s not brushing the observation aside. Then she leans in just enough to bump her shoulder softly against his. The contact is light, barely more than a brush of fabric and warmth, yet it lands like a spark. A real smile spreads across his face before he can stop it, the tension in his chest loosening for the first time all night.

While Allie’s eyes stay fixed on the quiet stretch of street ahead, his never leave her. Streetlights cast a soft glow across her profile, catching the curve of her cheek and the way a few strands of hair have slipped free. In this simple moment sitting side by side, the distant thump of the party fading behind them he realizes just how much he’s missed being near her.

The easy closeness. The way the air itself feels different when she’s within reach. He’d spent weeks convincing himself he could go without it. He’d been lying.

After a few seconds her gaze cuts away from the road and lands directly on him. The question he asked her is now coming back at him, steady and quiet. He knows he could lie. Say no. Laugh it off like it’s nothing. But he doesn’t want to bullshit her. Not tonight. Not with Allie.

“Absolutely,” he answers honestly, a nervous chuckle slipping out with the word. His fingers flex at his sides as he keeps walking. “I’ve been around a lot of people. Coach Jensen always on my ass, my father and his hedge-fund friends, professors who could tank my entire future…” He shakes his head, still watching her, voice lower now. “None of them have ever intimidated me. You, though you do. You kinda terrify me.”

[hockeymaverick]

Are you upset with Allie because she slept with Hunter?

[hockeymaverick]

What consequences

[hockeymaverick]

On a scale of 1-10 how bad do you miss Allie

[hockeymaverick]

ASK DEAN: Send your questions and he’ll answer them. Just click on Shoot, Score, Ask in bio.

I know, I know, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve graced you with my presence. In my defense, a lot has been going on. I mean, when you make a piñata out of Davenports face, consequences follow. I’m here now, ask away…

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

The corner of Allie's mouth softens as she catches his phrasing. The hesitation; the pause between I've been… and okay.

Funny. Thirty seconds ago, she'd done the exact same thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he noticed it too. If he heard the way his own voice changes when he's trying to convince someone everything was fine.

She knew that tone all too well. Those little moments where Dean insisted he was good, even when he wasn't. He would joke his way around anything that got too close to the truth, making light of it somehow making it easier to carry.

But, she understood it. She'd spent weeks using that exact same tone herself.

Allie did expect him to leave it there. 'Okay'. An answer that kept everything exactly where it had been for the last few weeks — distant.

Instead, he gave her just enough to loosen the knot in her chest. Enough to remind her what talking to him used to feel like.

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

But as his weighted sigh registers, her teasing expression fades.

Dean has always been the type to act like nothing gets to him. Dean never sighed like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him sound… tired. She almost hates that she notices, because she shouldn't care. Not after all of this silence.

But she does. She always has.

The truth is, Dean never stopped being someone she cared about.

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

Truthfully it's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Too much going on actually but he's still undecided on how much he wants to share with her or if he should share anything at all.

Casual, that's what she had said. What she had wanted from him, and opening up to her now, especially with their arrangement being over, yeah, it doesn't seem like something he should do. The issue is she looks so sincere, like she genuinely wants to know what has him all worked up and stressed the hell out.

Briefly he turns his head, somewhat surprised that his 'friend' hasn't made an appearance. She probably thinks he got lost or maybe someone else has her attention? Not really something he's upset about, he'll regret that later when he's left to watch Allie leave and him be alone, again.

Shifting his eyes back on her he has an inner debate with himself before he decides, screw it. Again he's shifting on his heels awkwardly because this isn't really the kind of conversation he wants to have, especially with her of all people.

"Let's just say after that shit show of a night at Malone's, no one is going easy on me. Logan and I, we aren't in the best of places right now considering the shit he pulled."

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

"Seeing as this was the second outburst from someone on the Hockey team the association is going pretty hard on us. They're no longer tolerating this kind of reckless behavior. Coach went pretty hard on me, and ummm there's a chance that my punishment is going to end up with me doing some type of community service. Not entirely sure what, but I have a meeting with Jensen on Monday."

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's eyes flick briefly towards the living room when his does. The girl he'd mentioned earlier, the one waiting for him.

For a second, that familiar stupid little twist returns — the reminder that Dean walked into this party with a plan. A different version of the night. Yet, if anyone asked her, she technically had no reason to be bothered by it. Being bothered isn't... casual.

But then, his attention is back on her. Somehow, that's the part that feels more confusing.

At the mention of Malone's, Allie can't hide the small wince that crosses her face. Her eyes drift away from his for a moment, landing somewhere on the wall before finding him again.

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

She remembers that night, replaying it in her mind. The yelling, the tension, the way everything shifted in a matter of seconds. She remembers the look on his face when everything boiled over.

A quiet guilt settles in her chest. There was clearly something bigger happening. Something she still didn't understand — something weighing on Dean long before that night.

Then, there was Logan. That wasn't a stupid argument between teammates. She knew that much.

Allie takes a small breath, pulling herself back into the conversation.

"Community service, huh?" she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Definitely… not the glamorous Briar Hawks lifestyle you signed up for."

The smile fades quickly as she looks at him, the joke not sticking. She can see his exhaustion. This isn't just Coach being hard on him. This is Logan, this is the team, this is... whatever happened at Malone's.

She glanced around the kitchen, music bleeding in from the living room. Having a conversation in the middle of a party where they were supposed to be pretending everything was easy.

"Dean..."

Her voice softens. Her eyes flick briefly toward the living room, then back to him. There were a hundred questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. About the association, about Logan, about what actually happened.

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

He watches her attempt at deflection land flat. The dry humor about how life has been shit lately doesn’t coax even a flicker of a smile from him. Instead, it settles heavy in his chest, a reminder of exactly how spectacularly he’d managed to fuck things up between them.

The easy smile she wears fades almost instantly when she catches the seriousness in his eyes. This isn’t light party banter anymore. She glances around the crowded kitchen sticky counters cluttered with half-empty bottles, red cups, and spilled chips then her voice softens, wrapping around his name like it still belongs to her. Fuck, it undoes him.

“Dean…”

Just the sound of it sends a low current through him. Other people can shout it across the locker room, murmur it in passing or whisper it in his ear but hers carries something deeper, something that tugs at every unresolved feeling he’s been trying to bury. She hesitates, shifting her weight, clearly walking on eggshells, unsure if she still has the right to dig deeper. He stays quiet, waiting to see if she’ll be brave enough.

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

His mouth opens, but the roar of the party crashes in loud bursts of laughter from the next room, the heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards, someone shouting a drinking game in the distance. It’s too chaotic for this conversation. He crumples his empty cup and tosses it into the overflowing trash bin. No refill needed anymore. His gaze locks back on hers, steady despite the storm inside him.

“Look, I know you came here with your friends and I don’t want to intrude or anything, but do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?”

Nerves twist tighter in his gut, so he adds a touch of humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar half-grin.

“Swear this isn’t some tactic to get you alone.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie knew this wasn't the place to be having a real conversation. Dean knew it too.

Somewhere down the hall, a chorus of cheers erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone losing at beer pong.

And then...

Do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?

The words settle over her far heavier than they should. This was choosing to stay. To keep talking, to let her back in. After weeks of silence.

Her heart gives one traitorous little flutter. Fuck. Fantastic.

Apparently all it took was Dean asking to have a conversation for every sensible thought she'd spent weeks clinging to, to pack its bags and leave.

For one fleeting moment, she thinks it might have been easier if he'd just kept ignoring her. She knows it wouldn't have been.

Except now she's standing here, realizing how she'd never actually stopped hoping he'd come back.

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

Allie's eyes drop to the sticky floor beneath her sneakers, where a crushed ping-pong ball has somehow found its way underfoot. When she looks back toward the living room, colored lights flash across the walls, with the line for the downstairs bathroom snaking halfway down the hall.

Somewhere in that crowd were the people she'd come with... probably. Truthfully, she hadn't the faintest idea where any of them had disappeared to. In her own defense, she'd been a little... distracted. She doubted they'd even noticed she'd gone missing.

Her eyes find Dean again, catching the familiar half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Swear this isn't some tactic to get you alone.

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

She isn't entirely sure she'd mind if it was.

The thought arrives so quickly that it startles her. She buries it just as quickly.

She presses her lips together, though a teasing smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I don't know... sounds exactly like what someone with a tactic would say."

She turns to place her solo cup on the sticky counter between a bottle of cheap vodka and a bowl of pretzels that look like they'd been picked at.

When she looks back at him, there's no hesitation this time.

"But yeah... of course."

[hockeymaverick]

He stays quiet, heart thudding against his ribs as the nerves kick in full force. His fingers flex at his sides, and he forces himself not to fill the silence. Don’t make a stupid joke. Don’t do anything that will force her into saying yes. He won’t press.

This has to be her choice. He prepares himself for the polite no he knows is likely coming because nothing about Allie is ever rude.

It’ll sting, but it’ll serve as the reminder he probably needs, that whatever they had was casual on her end. At least from her side. Definitely not from his. He’d fallen hard, and now here he is, standing in this overcrowded, noisy house party, hoping for even a few private minutes with the girl who broke him.

Watching her set her Solo cup down on the cluttered counter, Dean feels a quiet sense of relief. The urge to chase another drink seems to have vanished for her too. Good. Really good. They’re both choosing to stay sober for this, whatever this turns out to be.

“Okay,” he says.

For a second, he just stands there, suddenly unsure of his next move. The house is packed wall-to-wall with bodies, music thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. They can’t just slip upstairs together, people would notice, whispers would spread. He couldn’t care less about the gossip, but Allie does. She always has.

Then the girl he left in the living room flashes through his mind. Shit. He doesn’t even remember her name. Guilt twists low in his stomach. Ditching her completely would be a dick move, even if his interest in her had evaporated the second he saw Allie.

He clears his throat and rocks back on his heels, nerves making his fingers twitch at his sides.

“I just need to go sort something out,” he says, voice a little rough. He hesitates, searching her face.

“Do you want me to find you upstairs or…” Another pause, his pulse kicking up. “Did you wanna just get out of here and go somewhere else?”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie spins one of the rings around her finger, shifting her weight.

She notices it then, how careful he's being. It causes something in her chest to pull. Not painfully, but just enough to remind her how much she'd missed the little things. Every next step was her choice to make.

Her gaze lingers on him before he mentions needing to sort something out. The girl. Oddly enough, it didn't sting the way it had a few moments ago. Maybe because he was proving, in his own Dean-like way, that he still cared about doing the right thing.

Part of her wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn't be. He's still Dean.

Around them, the party carried on. Someone squeezed behind them to reach the cooler, muttering a distracted apology before disappearing into the crowd.

It all suddenly felt... very far away.

She glanced toward the stairs first, watching a couple disappear upstairs in the middle of a conversation. Then her eyes landed on the front door, summer air slipping in every time another guest wandered inside.

"Yeah..." she says quietly. "Let's get out of here."

The words left her mouth easier than she'd expected. Yet her heart had other plans. The thought of leaving with Dean sends her heart stumbling to another uneven rhythm, one she hopes isn't nearly as obvious as it feels.

The fact he needed to stay behind for a moment was reassuring, giving her time to slip out first. No whispers, no assumptions.

"I'll head out first," she says, offering him a small smile. "I'll wait for you on the porch okay?"

The words left her mouth before she had a chance to overthink them. She gives him one last look before making her way to the door, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm.

It was barely anything, but the familiar warmth of him lingered for a second. Suddenly, she remembers how easy it used to be to stand that close to him. How natural it had felt.

Allie didn't give herself a second to think about it, picking up her pace toward the door.

The cool evening air greets her the moment she steps outside, a welcome contrast to the heat trapped in the house. The music was muffled now beneath the chorus of crickets and the occasional burst of laughter drifting from the backyard.

She lowered herself onto the top porch step, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her forearms rest against her knees as she returns to the one thing keeping her grounded — her rings, twisting them absently around her fingers.

[hockeymaverick]

The puck is in her or well ball, Jesus, he’s got to stop with the hockey references, even the ones currently in his head. Point is, she’s the one who has all the power here. No harm, no, foul, well, shit, he’s doing it again. All he means is if she turns down somewhere more secluded it’s okay, he won’t take offense to it. He’s hoping she says yes because honestly it would be nice to put the distance of crappy music blaring through the speakers and beer pong games out of his ears. Someone squeezes between them, muttering an off handed apology as they reach for something inside of the cooler. It’s a pretty normal thing; they have nothing to say sorry for and yet he’s certain his eyes just narrowed in their direction because how dare they. His eyes follow the movement of Allie’s as she glances towards the stairs.

The upper level where people disappear to do disgusting things in bedrooms or any room for that matter. He’s not judging, because he’s done it but he knows where her mind is wandering. She can’t afford to go up the stairs with him because someone might see and possibly report to Fifth Line. Having his life reported when he’s on the ice is completely fine, but private? That ceases to exist ever since his scuffle with Davenport. His hot head has apparently made him want to be on everyone's radar and he can’t even imagine what would go down if someone found out about him and Allie.

Yeah, let's get out of here for once he’s actually glad, she’s being careful of not wanting to be seen with him because it’s allowing him one on one time with her. When she mentions how she’ll meet him on the porch so he can ‘sort’ things out he needs his head. “Meet you there in a few” because this is not going to take long.

She begins to head towards the porch and it takes every piece of willpower he has inside of himself not to catch her by the hand. He doesn’t do it. He totally does not do that but he’s pretty sure he shivers from the way her shoulder brushes against his arm. It’s nothing, but it’s something because it’s her touch. Simple but enough to send sparks shooting through him. Like the down bad fool that he is his eyes follow her all the way out until he can no longer see her. Finally, he turns and makes his way back to the living room to let the girl he was hanging around with know there has been a change in plans.

A few seconds later and still feeling the stinging sensation of being slapped he’s making his way outside to the porch. The door swings open and his eyes instantly fall on her. For one second, he just watches her, observes her and the way she twiddles with the rings on her fingers.

“You do that when you’re nervous” he speaks from behind her. Joining her as he lowers himself down and takes a seat on the top step, eyes fixing on her with a small smile on display “do I make you nervous?”

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

The corner of Allie's mouth softens as she catches his phrasing. The hesitation; the pause between I've been… and okay.

Funny. Thirty seconds ago, she'd done the exact same thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he noticed it too. If he heard the way his own voice changes when he's trying to convince someone everything was fine.

She knew that tone all too well. Those little moments where Dean insisted he was good, even when he wasn't. He would joke his way around anything that got too close to the truth, making light of it somehow making it easier to carry.

But, she understood it. She'd spent weeks using that exact same tone herself.

Allie did expect him to leave it there. 'Okay'. An answer that kept everything exactly where it had been for the last few weeks — distant.

Instead, he gave her just enough to loosen the knot in her chest. Enough to remind her what talking to him used to feel like.

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

But as his weighted sigh registers, her teasing expression fades.

Dean has always been the type to act like nothing gets to him. Dean never sighed like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him sound… tired. She almost hates that she notices, because she shouldn't care. Not after all of this silence.

But she does. She always has.

The truth is, Dean never stopped being someone she cared about.

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

Truthfully it's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Too much going on actually but he's still undecided on how much he wants to share with her or if he should share anything at all.

Casual, that's what she had said. What she had wanted from him, and opening up to her now, especially with their arrangement being over, yeah, it doesn't seem like something he should do. The issue is she looks so sincere, like she genuinely wants to know what has him all worked up and stressed the hell out.

Briefly he turns his head, somewhat surprised that his 'friend' hasn't made an appearance. She probably thinks he got lost or maybe someone else has her attention? Not really something he's upset about, he'll regret that later when he's left to watch Allie leave and him be alone, again.

Shifting his eyes back on her he has an inner debate with himself before he decides, screw it. Again he's shifting on his heels awkwardly because this isn't really the kind of conversation he wants to have, especially with her of all people.

"Let's just say after that shit show of a night at Malone's, no one is going easy on me. Logan and I, we aren't in the best of places right now considering the shit he pulled."

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

"Seeing as this was the second outburst from someone on the Hockey team the association is going pretty hard on us. They're no longer tolerating this kind of reckless behavior. Coach went pretty hard on me, and ummm there's a chance that my punishment is going to end up with me doing some type of community service. Not entirely sure what, but I have a meeting with Jensen on Monday."

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's eyes flick briefly towards the living room when his does. The girl he'd mentioned earlier, the one waiting for him.

For a second, that familiar stupid little twist returns — the reminder that Dean walked into this party with a plan. A different version of the night. Yet, if anyone asked her, she technically had no reason to be bothered by it. Being bothered isn't... casual.

But then, his attention is back on her. Somehow, that's the part that feels more confusing.

At the mention of Malone's, Allie can't hide the small wince that crosses her face. Her eyes drift away from his for a moment, landing somewhere on the wall before finding him again.

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

She remembers that night, replaying it in her mind. The yelling, the tension, the way everything shifted in a matter of seconds. She remembers the look on his face when everything boiled over.

A quiet guilt settles in her chest. There was clearly something bigger happening. Something she still didn't understand — something weighing on Dean long before that night.

Then, there was Logan. That wasn't a stupid argument between teammates. She knew that much.

Allie takes a small breath, pulling herself back into the conversation.

"Community service, huh?" she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Definitely… not the glamorous Briar Hawks lifestyle you signed up for."

The smile fades quickly as she looks at him, the joke not sticking. She can see his exhaustion. This isn't just Coach being hard on him. This is Logan, this is the team, this is... whatever happened at Malone's.

She glanced around the kitchen, music bleeding in from the living room. Having a conversation in the middle of a party where they were supposed to be pretending everything was easy.

"Dean..."

Her voice softens. Her eyes flick briefly toward the living room, then back to him. There were a hundred questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. About the association, about Logan, about what actually happened.

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

He watches her attempt at deflection land flat. The dry humor about how life has been shit lately doesn’t coax even a flicker of a smile from him. Instead, it settles heavy in his chest, a reminder of exactly how spectacularly he’d managed to fuck things up between them.

The easy smile she wears fades almost instantly when she catches the seriousness in his eyes. This isn’t light party banter anymore. She glances around the crowded kitchen sticky counters cluttered with half-empty bottles, red cups, and spilled chips then her voice softens, wrapping around his name like it still belongs to her. Fuck, it undoes him.

“Dean…”

Just the sound of it sends a low current through him. Other people can shout it across the locker room, murmur it in passing or whisper it in his ear but hers carries something deeper, something that tugs at every unresolved feeling he’s been trying to bury. She hesitates, shifting her weight, clearly walking on eggshells, unsure if she still has the right to dig deeper. He stays quiet, waiting to see if she’ll be brave enough.

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

His mouth opens, but the roar of the party crashes in loud bursts of laughter from the next room, the heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards, someone shouting a drinking game in the distance. It’s too chaotic for this conversation. He crumples his empty cup and tosses it into the overflowing trash bin. No refill needed anymore. His gaze locks back on hers, steady despite the storm inside him.

“Look, I know you came here with your friends and I don’t want to intrude or anything, but do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?”

Nerves twist tighter in his gut, so he adds a touch of humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar half-grin.

“Swear this isn’t some tactic to get you alone.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie knew this wasn't the place to be having a real conversation. Dean knew it too.

Somewhere down the hall, a chorus of cheers erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone losing at beer pong.

And then...

Do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?

The words settle over her far heavier than they should. This was choosing to stay. To keep talking, to let her back in. After weeks of silence.

Her heart gives one traitorous little flutter. Fuck. Fantastic.

Apparently all it took was Dean asking to have a conversation for every sensible thought she'd spent weeks clinging to, to pack its bags and leave.

For one fleeting moment, she thinks it might have been easier if he'd just kept ignoring her. She knows it wouldn't have been.

Except now she's standing here, realizing how she'd never actually stopped hoping he'd come back.

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

Allie's eyes drop to the sticky floor beneath her sneakers, where a crushed ping-pong ball has somehow found its way underfoot. When she looks back toward the living room, colored lights flash across the walls, with the line for the downstairs bathroom snaking halfway down the hall.

Somewhere in that crowd were the people she'd come with... probably. Truthfully, she hadn't the faintest idea where any of them had disappeared to. In her own defense, she'd been a little... distracted. She doubted they'd even noticed she'd gone missing.

Her eyes find Dean again, catching the familiar half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Swear this isn't some tactic to get you alone.

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

She isn't entirely sure she'd mind if it was.

The thought arrives so quickly that it startles her. She buries it just as quickly.

She presses her lips together, though a teasing smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I don't know... sounds exactly like what someone with a tactic would say."

She turns to place her solo cup on the sticky counter between a bottle of cheap vodka and a bowl of pretzels that look like they'd been picked at.

When she looks back at him, there's no hesitation this time.

"But yeah... of course."

[hockeymaverick]

He stays quiet, heart thudding against his ribs as the nerves kick in full force. His fingers flex at his sides, and he forces himself not to fill the silence. Don’t make a stupid joke. Don’t do anything that will force her into saying yes. He won’t press.

This has to be her choice. He prepares himself for the polite no he knows is likely coming because nothing about Allie is ever rude.

It’ll sting, but it’ll serve as the reminder he probably needs, that whatever they had was casual on her end. At least from her side. Definitely not from his. He’d fallen hard, and now here he is, standing in this overcrowded, noisy house party, hoping for even a few private minutes with the girl who broke him.

Watching her set her Solo cup down on the cluttered counter, Dean feels a quiet sense of relief. The urge to chase another drink seems to have vanished for her too. Good. Really good. They’re both choosing to stay sober for this, whatever this turns out to be.

“Okay,” he says.

For a second, he just stands there, suddenly unsure of his next move. The house is packed wall-to-wall with bodies, music thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. They can’t just slip upstairs together, people would notice, whispers would spread. He couldn’t care less about the gossip, but Allie does. She always has.

Then the girl he left in the living room flashes through his mind. Shit. He doesn’t even remember her name. Guilt twists low in his stomach. Ditching her completely would be a dick move, even if his interest in her had evaporated the second he saw Allie.

He clears his throat and rocks back on his heels, nerves making his fingers twitch at his sides.

“I just need to go sort something out,” he says, voice a little rough. He hesitates, searching her face.

“Do you want me to find you upstairs or…” Another pause, his pulse kicking up. “Did you wanna just get out of here and go somewhere else?”

[hockeymaverick]

FIRESIDE CONVERSATIONS with @allie-jane-hayes

Sprawling deeper into the worn lawn chair, the joint pinched between his fingers as thin trails of smoke drift lazily toward the starlit sky. The fire pops and crackles in front of him, casting shifting orange light across the backyard of the hockey house. He should be relaxed, should be riding the familiar post-hookup buzz but his mind keeps circling back to the eventful and unexpected night.

This night started like any other. Find a pretty girl, lose himself in heat and skin for a while, then walk away with that satisfied, easy grin. He’s built a reputation on it. The infamous bathroom stall at Malone’s that the puck bunnies joke is basically dedicated to him. Stupid Dean and his stupid awesome dick. Their words, not his, though he can’t say he hates the ego boost. He’s entertained plenty of fans and willing girls, offering them one unforgettable ride on the Di Laurentis coaster before moving on to the next. One-time only. No strings, no expectations. That’s his rhythm: after games, after parties, sometimes not even making it back to the hockey house. A dark corner, her place, wherever the hunger takes them. When you’re horny, you don’t tame it, you chase it.

Tonight he followed the script perfectly at first. He’d pulled a willing girl into the women’s bathroom at Malone’s, lips crashing, hands roaming, the familiar thrill kicking in. But then the girl in the next stall started talking loud, unfiltered, like she was alone in her bedroom instead of a public restroom. Her voice cut through the haze, rambling through her entire autobiography and spilling her whole life story like she was auditioning for a one-woman show. Acting dreams that lit her up with passion. An on-again, off-again boyfriend who sounded painfully vanilla and safe. In those heated moments, he found himself struggling to stay focused, oddly invested in the stranger’s story. Part of him wanted to pull away from the girl on her knees and tell the mystery voice that her ex wasn’t worth it that he sounded too tame for someone with that much fire and spirit. That she shouldn’t let some boring dick dim her shine. Of course, he didn’t. He stayed the course, finished with a low groan, and stepped out of the stall to wash up.

And there she was.

The body behind the voice. The face that made his pulse stutter. Allie Hayes. The mystery woman whose hips had swayed so deliciously against his at Beau and his birthday. Their eyes locked in the mirror, and the memory slammed into both of them, the heat of that dance, the electric tension, the way their bodies had moved like they already knew each other. Shock flashed across her expression, quickly followed by recognition. He felt it too, visceral and immediate.

“J.Lo,” he’d greeted her cheekily, because until tonight he hadn’t known her real name only the sexy Jennifer Lopez costume she’d worn that night. He’d learned her name earlier when she was invited up on stage for karaoke. The second Allie Hayes stepped into the spotlight and started belting out her song from Rent, blame Beau for him know that, he had been transfixed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, just like he couldn’t during their dance. It wasn’t only her voice or the way she moved it was her. Even when she’d cornered him in the bathroom earlier that night to lecture him about his disgusting behavior, his gaze had stayed glued to her. Then she walked away, and he’d let a whispered invitation for a threesome pull him back into the night because he knew better to say no to a party.

Back at the hockey house, he’d fully intended to follow through on that plan. Lips pressed together. Hands groping. Saliva and heat and the promise of a wild release. He’d been pushed back onto the couch, ready for the usual chaos, when his back hit something solid. A second later, a startled female voice cut through the room with a what the fuck?!

Because, what the fuck indeed, why was Allie asleep on their couch? The threesome evaporated. After some sharp back-and-forth banter that left him both amused and oddly off-balance, he had licked his wounds and slipped outside to light up alone. He hadn’t expected her to follow him out to the fire. But she had. And now, sitting here with her, he still can’t wrap his head around how easily she called bullshit on his whole “I’m perfectly content with girls wanting a ride, not a long time” speech.

“Is it?” she’d asked, those doe eyes pinning him in place.

A flicker of genuine surprise has hit him. No girl has ever challenged him like that so directly, so unafraid. No one has ever made him second-guess the easy script he lives by. Maybe, buried deep, he wants more than casual rides and quick exits. The way she looks at him leaves him defenseless, caught in her spell. He almost cracked open, lips parting to admit the things he’s never voiced, but then it’s saved by the bell because her phone goes off. Her attention shifted to the background photo of her ex, Sean. He had offered slick and half-serious to help her change it. She rejected him outright, deleting his freshly added contact and renaming it DO NOT CALL.

“Sorry, dude. I don’t do roller coasters.”

He watches her now across the low flames, disappointment twisting low in his chest. She’s just a girl. He shouldn’t care this much. Yet in the span of one night she’s peeled back layers he didn’t even know were there. All signs scream danger, but instead of finishing his joint, standing up, and going to bed, he stays rooted in the chair. His eyes keep drifting back to her. The firelight catches her face beautifully, bathing her skin in a warm, ethereal glow that makes his throat tighten. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The thought feels too soft, too poetic for him, and he forces his gaze back to the flames. It doesn’t help. The fire is nice, but it’s nowhere near as captivating as she is.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, he shifts in his seat and turns toward her completely, studying the way the light plays across her features like he’s trying to memorize them. His voice comes out low, curious, almost hesitant.

“Can I ask you something?” He leans forward slightly, fully facing her now. “How did you and your ex get together? I mean you two sound like polar opposites. He doesn’t seem like the type who can match your pace. More like the kind of guy who holds you back and wants you to go at his speed.”

[allie-jane-hayes]

𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝟏:

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝟏: ✩ 𝓐𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 - 𝓒𝚊𝚝 ✩

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ 𐙚 ♬ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

an independent, original adaptation of the character 𝗔𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗲𝘀, based on the tv and book series 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬. heavy au’s — mature content. writer is over 21 and goes by the tag 𝙫𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙣.

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

The corner of Allie's mouth softens as she catches his phrasing. The hesitation; the pause between I've been… and okay.

Funny. Thirty seconds ago, she'd done the exact same thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he noticed it too. If he heard the way his own voice changes when he's trying to convince someone everything was fine.

She knew that tone all too well. Those little moments where Dean insisted he was good, even when he wasn't. He would joke his way around anything that got too close to the truth, making light of it somehow making it easier to carry.

But, she understood it. She'd spent weeks using that exact same tone herself.

Allie did expect him to leave it there. 'Okay'. An answer that kept everything exactly where it had been for the last few weeks — distant.

Instead, he gave her just enough to loosen the knot in her chest. Enough to remind her what talking to him used to feel like.

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

But as his weighted sigh registers, her teasing expression fades.

Dean has always been the type to act like nothing gets to him. Dean never sighed like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him sound… tired. She almost hates that she notices, because she shouldn't care. Not after all of this silence.

But she does. She always has.

The truth is, Dean never stopped being someone she cared about.

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

Truthfully it's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Too much going on actually but he's still undecided on how much he wants to share with her or if he should share anything at all.

Casual, that's what she had said. What she had wanted from him, and opening up to her now, especially with their arrangement being over, yeah, it doesn't seem like something he should do. The issue is she looks so sincere, like she genuinely wants to know what has him all worked up and stressed the hell out.

Briefly he turns his head, somewhat surprised that his 'friend' hasn't made an appearance. She probably thinks he got lost or maybe someone else has her attention? Not really something he's upset about, he'll regret that later when he's left to watch Allie leave and him be alone, again.

Shifting his eyes back on her he has an inner debate with himself before he decides, screw it. Again he's shifting on his heels awkwardly because this isn't really the kind of conversation he wants to have, especially with her of all people.

"Let's just say after that shit show of a night at Malone's, no one is going easy on me. Logan and I, we aren't in the best of places right now considering the shit he pulled."

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

"Seeing as this was the second outburst from someone on the Hockey team the association is going pretty hard on us. They're no longer tolerating this kind of reckless behavior. Coach went pretty hard on me, and ummm there's a chance that my punishment is going to end up with me doing some type of community service. Not entirely sure what, but I have a meeting with Jensen on Monday."

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's eyes flick briefly towards the living room when his does. The girl he'd mentioned earlier, the one waiting for him.

For a second, that familiar stupid little twist returns — the reminder that Dean walked into this party with a plan. A different version of the night. Yet, if anyone asked her, she technically had no reason to be bothered by it. Being bothered isn't... casual.

But then, his attention is back on her. Somehow, that's the part that feels more confusing.

At the mention of Malone's, Allie can't hide the small wince that crosses her face. Her eyes drift away from his for a moment, landing somewhere on the wall before finding him again.

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

She remembers that night, replaying it in her mind. The yelling, the tension, the way everything shifted in a matter of seconds. She remembers the look on his face when everything boiled over.

A quiet guilt settles in her chest. There was clearly something bigger happening. Something she still didn't understand — something weighing on Dean long before that night.

Then, there was Logan. That wasn't a stupid argument between teammates. She knew that much.

Allie takes a small breath, pulling herself back into the conversation.

"Community service, huh?" she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Definitely… not the glamorous Briar Hawks lifestyle you signed up for."

The smile fades quickly as she looks at him, the joke not sticking. She can see his exhaustion. This isn't just Coach being hard on him. This is Logan, this is the team, this is... whatever happened at Malone's.

She glanced around the kitchen, music bleeding in from the living room. Having a conversation in the middle of a party where they were supposed to be pretending everything was easy.

"Dean..."

Her voice softens. Her eyes flick briefly toward the living room, then back to him. There were a hundred questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. About the association, about Logan, about what actually happened.

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

He watches her attempt at deflection land flat. The dry humor about how life has been shit lately doesn’t coax even a flicker of a smile from him. Instead, it settles heavy in his chest, a reminder of exactly how spectacularly he’d managed to fuck things up between them.

The easy smile she wears fades almost instantly when she catches the seriousness in his eyes. This isn’t light party banter anymore. She glances around the crowded kitchen sticky counters cluttered with half-empty bottles, red cups, and spilled chips then her voice softens, wrapping around his name like it still belongs to her. Fuck, it undoes him.

“Dean…”

Just the sound of it sends a low current through him. Other people can shout it across the locker room, murmur it in passing or whisper it in his ear but hers carries something deeper, something that tugs at every unresolved feeling he’s been trying to bury. She hesitates, shifting her weight, clearly walking on eggshells, unsure if she still has the right to dig deeper. He stays quiet, waiting to see if she’ll be brave enough.

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

His mouth opens, but the roar of the party crashes in loud bursts of laughter from the next room, the heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards, someone shouting a drinking game in the distance. It’s too chaotic for this conversation. He crumples his empty cup and tosses it into the overflowing trash bin. No refill needed anymore. His gaze locks back on hers, steady despite the storm inside him.

“Look, I know you came here with your friends and I don’t want to intrude or anything, but do you want to find somewhere more private where we could talk?”

Nerves twist tighter in his gut, so he adds a touch of humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar half-grin.

“Swear this isn’t some tactic to get you alone.”

[allieacts]

considerrr a tiny starter call (light plotting trap incorporated)

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

The corner of Allie's mouth softens as she catches his phrasing. The hesitation; the pause between I've been… and okay.

Funny. Thirty seconds ago, she'd done the exact same thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he noticed it too. If he heard the way his own voice changes when he's trying to convince someone everything was fine.

She knew that tone all too well. Those little moments where Dean insisted he was good, even when he wasn't. He would joke his way around anything that got too close to the truth, making light of it somehow making it easier to carry.

But, she understood it. She'd spent weeks using that exact same tone herself.

Allie did expect him to leave it there. 'Okay'. An answer that kept everything exactly where it had been for the last few weeks — distant.

Instead, he gave her just enough to loosen the knot in her chest. Enough to remind her what talking to him used to feel like.

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

But as his weighted sigh registers, her teasing expression fades.

Dean has always been the type to act like nothing gets to him. Dean never sighed like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him sound… tired. She almost hates that she notices, because she shouldn't care. Not after all of this silence.

But she does. She always has.

The truth is, Dean never stopped being someone she cared about.

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

Truthfully it's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Too much going on actually but he's still undecided on how much he wants to share with her or if he should share anything at all.

Casual, that's what she had said. What she had wanted from him, and opening up to her now, especially with their arrangement being over, yeah, it doesn't seem like something he should do. The issue is she looks so sincere, like she genuinely wants to know what has him all worked up and stressed the hell out.

Briefly he turns his head, somewhat surprised that his 'friend' hasn't made an appearance. She probably thinks he got lost or maybe someone else has her attention? Not really something he's upset about, he'll regret that later when he's left to watch Allie leave and him be alone, again.

Shifting his eyes back on her he has an inner debate with himself before he decides, screw it. Again he's shifting on his heels awkwardly because this isn't really the kind of conversation he wants to have, especially with her of all people.

"Let's just say after that shit show of a night at Malone's, no one is going easy on me. Logan and I, we aren't in the best of places right now considering the shit he pulled."

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

"Seeing as this was the second outburst from someone on the Hockey team the association is going pretty hard on us. They're no longer tolerating this kind of reckless behavior. Coach went pretty hard on me, and ummm there's a chance that my punishment is going to end up with me doing some type of community service. Not entirely sure what, but I have a meeting with Jensen on Monday."

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

For a second, Allie just looks at him. That wasn't the answer she expected. Make sure you get home safe.

She expected some joke, some cocky remark about how he always has everything under control, to brush it off the same way he'd brushed off everything else lately. She didn't expect concern, and that was somehow worse.

Allie had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn't miss Dean. Except she did. She missed the stupid jokes, effortless conversations, the way he could make an entire room feel smaller when he was focused on her — the way he cared. She didn't let herself linger on that thought for too long.

Especially not when, within seconds, he was back to flipping this conversation into one about a train. She shouldn't laugh. Not after everything, but then again, that had always been the problem with Dean. He made it too easy to forget why she was supposed to be mad.

She stares at him for half a second before letting a laugh slip out. A real one.

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

There he was. The ridiculous, overly confident, occasionally unbearable Dean who could make her laugh even when she was trying her hardest not to.

"Come on," she adds, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's what you went with?"

At his question, she tilted her head. What is going on in the world of Allie Hayes?

She pretends to think. The easy answer would be nothing. Nothing was easier than admitting things had felt a little off without him.

"Well, I've been drinking questionable party beverages..." she gestures to the table behind her, "...and apparently being interrogated in kitchens."

She offers him a small smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulder, "pretty exciting stuff."

The truth sat on her tongue. I missed you. The words she would never admit to herself unless it was 3am, staring at the string of unanswered messages. So she doesn't say it.

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

Regardless of the fact that she crushed him, he still cares. Deeply. So he’s a little surprised by the flash of shock in her eyes when he mentions wanting to make sure she gets home safe. They might not be on speaking terms, but she should know him better than that.

Weeks had been spent convincing himself he didn’t miss her. That he could live without the sound of her laugh. But then she tips her head back and lets out that bright, genuine sound, and it hits him straight in the chest. God, he had missed it. He remembers how it used to spill out when he’d tickle her senseless on his bed, or the way she’d giggle nonstop whenever he broke out the overly exaggerated accents while helping her run lines. He’d done anything to coax that laugh from her, and hearing it now reminds him exactly how much he’d been lying to himself.

“Well, I could have gone with the obvious,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but the creativity would have been lacking.” He’d picked up that much from her—she appreciates the arts, after all.

The smile on her face slowly fades as she gives him a generic answer. He’d wanted the real version—what she’d actually been up to these past weeks, not just surface-level small talk. But that’s on him. He’s the one who put the distance there. He’s the one who raised every shield he had.

“Incredibly exciting,” he agrees dryly, playing along. Even though her voice is soft, he catches the way she says I’ve been okay. He knows that tone. It’s the one that really means anything but.

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

“…okay,” he finishes, because he’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud. Unlike her, though, he decides to give her something real. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dealing with a lot of shit. Coach Jensen is really putting me through the wringer.”

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's smile doesn't falter. She's proud of that.

Because the second he confirms her suspicion of another girl waiting for him in the other room, something small and stupid twists in her chest. Of course there was another girl.

Dean could walk into a room and have three phone numbers before he finished his first beer. She knew that. Hell, she'd known it before they ever slept together.

It shouldn't bother her — especially after everything she'd said about keeping things casual. But, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted her to picture it, to know someone else had his attention. She hated that it worked, but only for a second.

At Dean's question, her lips twitched despite herself.

"Seem awfully interested in who I came with for a guy who's got someone waiting," she muses. "Taking attendance?"

She thought it was interesting how Dean went out of his way to ensure she knew about the other girl waiting for him, following it up by asking if she'd come with someone else.

Allie lets him squirm for a moment, her eyes scanning the busy room behind him before returning to the conversation at hand.

"I came with friends," she answers. "Which, isn't nearly as exciting as whatever scenario you may be building in that head of yours."

Allie takes a small step closer, it wasn't close enough for anyone else to notice, just close enough to not compete with the music.

"So," a teasing smile tugs at her lips. "What about you?"

Her eyes flick knowingly toward the living room. "Should I be worried? I would hate to be the reason your big night gets derailed."

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

He had hoped the mention of another girl would crack her composure, even a little. Get some kind of reaction. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anything. But Allie doesn’t break. Not a flicker. He blames her acting skills. She’s probably just playing the role of unbothered ex-whatever-they-were. He knows he could never pull that off. If she told him she was seeing someone new, the disappointment would be written all over his face.

“I’m just a guy who wants to make sure you get home safe,” he says, the words slipping out before pride can stop them. “This isn’t on campus. You can’t just walk back to your place.”

Glancing towards the drinks scattered on the counter, and the thought of her heading out alone later sends a sharp twist through his stomach. Screw his pride he’d walk her home himself if he had to. He still doesn’t know the full story behind why Garrett went ballistic on Delaney, but the fragments he’d heard weren’t his to pry into. Not my story to tell, they’d said. Still, he’d connected enough dots to know it somehow looped back to Wellsy, and the idea of anyone putting Allie in danger makes his jaw clench.

Mission success on her end. If she wanted him squirming, he’s definitely squirming. Then she answers. She’s here with friends. Good. Great, even. No need for him to play knight in shining armor. He holds his breath as she inches a step closer, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for his pulse to kick up.

“What about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His gaze drifts toward the living room where the other girl is still waiting.

He almost says something crude like I’ll rail her just fine but he reins it in at the last second.

“Pretty sure the train will leave the station and reach its destination,” he says instead, trying for smooth and failing miserably.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “So… what’s going on in the world of Allie Hayes?”

[itsalliehayes]

open

Music rattles through the walls, bass heavy enough to make the floor feel like it’s breathing. People spill through every doorway, laughing too loudly, shouting over each other like volume is a competition no one explicitly agreed to but everyone is still losing.

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

She’s in the kitchen, technically — though calling it a kitchen feels generous. It’s more like a battlefield of red cups, half-empty bottles, and someone’s abandoned hoodie on the counter that definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She leans against the counter, scanning the room with a look that sits somewhere between amused and done with everything.

The cup she recently filled with punch is in her hand. She takes a cautious sip, pauses, then makes a face. “…Okay, nope,” she says, quietly, pushing the cup slightly away from herself, setting it on the counter.

Someone laughs nearby. A group squeezes past her to get to the fridge, bumping shoulders, shouting over each other. One of them apologizes without stopping. Allie adjusts her grip on the counter and glances toward the hallway. Then she exhales through her nose, straightens slightly, and turns back toward the chaos instead.

She reaches for a different cup out of habit, then stops halfway, reconsidering.

A beat passes.

Her eyes flick up as someone moves into the space nearby. Her expression shifts just slightly — polite, guarded, open enough not to shut anything down, but not giving anything away either.

“…Hi,” she says, like she’s waiting to see what this moment is going to turn into.

[hockeymaverick]

Socializing, being the life of the party, things that came as naturally to him as breathing. Efforts rarely ever needing to be made. All he had to do was walk inside and he’d have everyone’s attention. His towering frame, rugged looks and the fact that he was part of the Briar Hawks definitely helped. Not to mention the women’s bathroom stall at Malone’s gave him a glowing recommendation. Pass him something in a red solo cup and he’d be hooting and hollering. Not to mention, conversation comes easy to him. Even though he’s grouped into being your typical jock, he’s friendly, he’ll talk with anyone.

Lately, though, pulling a decent conversation out of him feels like yanking teeth. He’s turned down parties, dodged invites, and subtly brushed off Puck Bunnies draping themselves over him. He’s tried—kissed a few back, let his hands wander, groped an ass or two—but nothing. No spark. No desire. His dick might as well have gone on strike. In fact, it probably is.

Allie Hayes is to blame. She broke him. Ruined him for anyone else. The only girl he wants is the one he can’t have because she doesn’t want him. No, she wants casual and easy, something he once believed he wanted too.

It’s been a couple of weeks since everything exploded at Malone’s. His friendship with Logan and the rest of the team is still fractured. Whatever he had with Allie has gone cold, mostly because he iced her out. She called. She texted. He ignored every one, convinced cold turkey was the only way to get over her. All it did was leave him miserable

Tonight he’s forcing the switch. Trying to return back to Default mode. He accepted an invite to this off-campus house party and actually showed up. It took effort, but he’s been working the room, sweet-talking a cute girl in the living room. If he plays his cards right, they’ll slip into some shadowed corner in the next twenty minutes or so and she’ll be screaming his name shortly after. He leaves her with a grin and a promise to grab fresh drinks, weaving through the packed bodies toward the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, the knot in his chest loosens. Maybe things can go back to normal.

Then he steps into the kitchen, and the world tilts.

Speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul to the devil for her. It’s too late to turn around. Caramel eyes lock onto his across the crowded space, and just like that, he’s lost. Everything else fades: the thumping bass, the chatter, the girl waiting in the other room. Allie is the first to speak, because of course she is. Dean stands frozen, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Hey,” he manages, voice rough. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

[itsalliehayes]

Allie's heart skips a beat at hearing his voice.

She'd spent the last couple of weeks convincing herself she was over the sting of unanswered texts. That she was done wondering if she'd somehow imagined everything between them. That if she ran into Dean Di Laurentis again, she'd be perfectly capable of acting like it didn't bother her.

She was a terrible liar.

Seeing him stand there, looking as surprised as she felt and as good as he did, made it all disappear. So, she does what she always does. Deflects.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

She gives a small gesture to the room behind him, where the music is loud enough to make the ground hum. "I figured you'd be... you know," her hand circles vaguely. "Holding court somewhere. Beer in one hand, girl in the other."

She knew it was true, yet saying it out loud still pinched. She thought about asking how he'd been, but that's not a casual question anymore. Unread. Ignored. She'd spent longer than she would ever admit staring at messages that never turned into replies.

Allie offers him an easy smile anyway, looking him over for a second longer than she probably should have. "Didn't expect me here," her brow arches. "That your way of saying you hoped I wouldn't be?

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

"I almost didn't come," she admits with an easy shrug. "But figured someone here had to know how to make a decent drink..." her gaze drops briefly to the cup in his hand, before finding his eyes again. Blue.

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

Dammit he had hoped that by avoiding her, the next time he inevitably ran into her, the effect of her presence wouldn’t hit him so hard. He’d convinced himself the sex had inflated her appeal, that she wasn’t actually that attractive.

Lie number one.

He might have stalked her Instagram. Never her stories, he couldn’t risk the view notification but her profile? He’d scrolled through years of Allie. When he reached the Sean Era, a bitter knot twisted in his gut. What the hell had that guy done to earn a real shot with her when Dean had only been offered casual?

He shakes the thought away. Pictures don’t do her justice anyway. Jesus, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that steals the breath straight from his lungs the second she walks into a room. Part of him, a petty, ugly part had hoped she’d look miserable. Suffering the same way he has. But she doesn’t.

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

When she mentions thinking he’d be holding court somewhere with a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, something sharp and defensive rises in his chest. He doesn’t know why he needs to twist the knife, but he does.

“Well, beer’s about to be in hand,” he says, gesturing toward the counter lined with bottles and questionable punch. “As for the girl… she’s in the other room.”

The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. Why the fuck did he say that? He blames it on pride. He already laid his heart out for her once only to have it crushed. He refuses to give her anything else to gloat over.

Allie’s smile hits him like a hook to the ribs, and for a second he loses his train of thought.

“No, just…” he clears his throat. “This party’s off campus.” His mind immediately jumps to Hannah. Allie wouldn’t come alone, would she? For a split second he pictures Davenport lurking somewhere in the crowd, and his jaw ticks. She says she almost didn’t come. Does that mean someone convinced her? He offers a weak smile, eyes flicking to the lineup of drinks before he forces the question out.

“Decent?” he asks, thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “I’d go with tolerable.” He pauses, then adds, voice low, “You come solo or…?