synopsis: youβre still figuring out how to act normal around people.
Word count: 4.9k
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, bad grammar
Notes: Hey guys! This one is just kind of fleshing out readers character a little more, the next few chapters will be where it gets good π (also ran out of photos in the middle of this so borders got messed up)
you watched as 10 pairs of little ballet slippers crossed the black padded floor, all of them sending shy little thank youβs your way as they made their way over to their parents, who were waiting around the doorway. Thursday afternoons were always reserved for your junior ballet lessons, and it had become so routine, that every week you looked forward to Thursdays.
You came from a wealthy background, your dad was a physiotherapist for the Celtics, and your mother owned her own dental clinic. essentially, youβd been set since birth.
People often used that against you, claiming that anything you did in life was due to your parents pulling some strings, and paying for you to make it in the world. You hated that idea. Your parents had taught you from a very early age, that not everything in life would be handed to you, and hard work would get you very far. They didnβt want you to rely completely on family money, and end up as an uneducated trust fund baby living off her families wealth till the end of time.
Whilst they paid for your tuitionsβ¦ (and your dorming,) You were still expected to make your own money to pay for your college life. It was a good trade off, and you were grateful that you didnβt end up like some of the other girls that youβd met during your two years at college.
Anyway, thatβs besides the point. Your little job as a ballet teacher was everything you wanted. It paid fairly well, and it kept you dancing. Youβd been in ballet since you were three, and youβd fallen in love with it from the moment youβd worn your first tutu.
Although, when you parked your car and started your walk to your residence hall in your light pink ballet attire, you felt almost a little embarrassed. Especially when you realised that a group of boys were walking toward you, those group of boys being terriers players.
Their voices boomed across the sidewalk, where they were still standing atleast 20 feet away.
The past two weeks of managing the social media for the hockey team had been a lot more successful than you had planned. Youβd made more friends during these two weeks than your whole time spent at college, and while it wasnβt your usual crowd, you found you actually enjoyed their company. They treated you as if you were their little sister, and despite your differences, you felt comfortable with them. There was not really much of an awkward stage with any of the boys (besides Mack), and youβd clicked with them almost immediately, that was rare for you. You were ready to latch onto that.
βYo, itβs paps!!β You watched as a rush of 5 guys came jogging up to you, reeking of cheap alcohol and weed. Theyβd started calling you paps within the second week of you working with the team, claiming it to be a βnicheβ spin on the word paparazzi. You didnβt want to hurt their feelings and tell them that you hated it, but nonetheless, you absolutely despised it.
βDrinking on a Thursday?β You replied, standing in place as they piled up next to eachother, clearly excited to see a familiar face.
βDude, what the hell are you wearing?β The group of grown men then started to laugh at you, one of them playfully tugged on your sheer wrap skirt as they all kept up their fits of laughter.
You groaned, swatting Tyβs hand away. You looked over the boys, finally making eye contact with Macklin. The pair of you hadnβt talked since the party, which was horrible considering that youβve had to be in close proximity for the last two weeks. You spent a lot of your time at the rink nowadays, and it had really changed your outlook on hockey players in general.
although the Celebrini issue still stood. You quickly adverted your eyes from his, feeling small under his gaze. You knew he was trying, you could tell by the way heβd stop when the other boys were talking to you, heβd always try to jump into conversation, but as soon as he did, you shut it down and ran off.
Conversations were hard enough for you. Celebrini-gate made it even harder.
You listened as the boys kept prodding fun at you. Almost immediately, you felt your irritation spike. You were on edge from making a second of eye contact with Mack, and all you wanted to do was get out of the cold weather and hop into your nice clean sheets.
Their faces blurred together as they continued their teasing. It was like a wall had immediately been put up, and you totally forgot that these guys were some of the people you called friends.
Your socialisation skills (or lack thereof) had immediately been thrown out the window as your nervous system sent spikes of anger to your first layer of skin. You felt hot with rage, ready to blow as they continued to laugh.
You knew it was their drunken antics, but a little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that they could be genuinely making fun of you.
You felt your heart rate speed up, not knowing what to do in this particular situation. Your mind eased your anger only the tiniest bit, and replaced a little bit of the red-hot rage you felt with little bursts of anxiety.
Did these guys even like you? Why would your friends be making fun of you?
You felt tears beginning to prick in the back of your eyes as you desperately tried blinking them away.
Then, as if the timing couldnβt get worse, Mack finally piped up.
βdo a twirl for us!β
Your eyebrows furrowed as you feigned a laugh.
βYeah, that was a really good one, Mack. You got me there.β
Your voice raised slightly as you sent a sharp look in all the boys direction.
βCan you guys just stop? Youβre being rude.β
You crossed your arms, storming away into the night.
After a semi-fun day turning into a literal nightmare, you flopped onto your bed. Sadie was out, claimed she was staying the night with this guy sheβd been hooking up with for the past two weeks.
You were still reeling from your encounter with those guys. You felt like a fool. It was light-hearted teasing, and then, you went and bit their heads off over a leotard. You didnβt know why you reacted like that in the moment. Your brain started speeding, doing the only thing it knew how to do after conversations you wished you acted differently in, you started to overanalyse.
Did they give each other weird looks after youβd stormed off? Are they making jokes now? Did they think you were dramatic?
You knew it was stupid, and that the boys probably couldnβt care less, they were probably about 11 shots deep and wouldnβt even remember the interaction in the morning, yet the logic didnβt calm your thoughts.
The worst part about it? Macklin was laughing along with them. You promised yourself you didnβt care about the guy. but whenever you were around him, it was like your senses heightened tenfold. You were constantly on edge, doing anything to remain completely silent whenever his presence was around. You didnβt want to embarrass yourself in-front of him. You didnβt want him to see you in a way that would make him look at you any less.
You curled into your sheets, burying your face in the pillow whilst you let out a very needed scream.
You screamed out your frustration, which quickly turned into a guttural groan as you began to sob. You didnβt know what was going on with you, you just knew you wanted to be friends with the team. You thought you were getting there, and this was a step in the wrong direction.
You woke up to a dry mouth and your eyelids still felt heavy after five minutes. You stared up at your ceiling, dreading the day to come. You jumped as you heard your alarm start to blast in your ear, and quickly you turned it off.
You did your routines as you got ready for the day, it was when you were brushing your teeth when it finally clicked.
You were meant to be filming morning practice content in about twenty minutes.
You threw your head back, a throaty whine escaping your mouth as you started to brush your teeth ten times quicker.
When youβd finally made it to the rink, your makeup was only half done, and your outfit was lacking the sparkle it usually possessed. You quickly made work of getting candids of training. You watched as Mack skated past you, sending a nod in your direction. He came back around two minutes later, stopping infront of you. You tilted your head to the side, suddenly feeling very confused on why heβd be near you. You didnβt even talk to the guy.
βYo, you all good after yesterday?β
Your eyes widened as you nodded, letting out a small squeak that counted as a βyes.β So he did rememberβ¦ how embarrassing.
βIf I stepped over the line or anything- Iβm really sorry. I donβt want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.β
you shook your head, lips forming into a tight line before you replied.
βNo, youβre good. Just had a long day.β
He nodded, tapping on the boards before skating off.
During their practice, Ty, Max and Aiden all came over to check up on you, to which you gave them all the same excuse. Ty didnβt believe you all that much.
βYou were tired?β
You nodded, smiling slightly.
βYeah. Right. Anyway, hope youβre not tired tonight cause youβre coming to this party.β
You laughed slightly at the switch-up, believing he was just joking, until you looked him in the eye and realised he was being one hundred percent serious. you let out a deep breath and rolled your eyes.
βBye, Ty!!β
you heard his laugh ringing through the hallway as you walked off.
you didnβt want to party tonight, you told yourself you were having a night in, but as you walked into your dorm after a long day of lectures and saw Sadie sat on her bed with buzzballs accompanying her, you knew you were screwed.
Your head pounded as the world around you swirled, the music a little too loud for your liking. Youβd been at the party for thirty minutes, and youβd regretted going so hard during your pre-game. You figured you needed some fresh air, so with the grace of a toddler, you stumbled out onto the terrace.
You looked around, a small group of guys congregated in the corner, and you giggled as you walked on over to them.
You watched as the group immediately parted, making room for you to join in. You couldnβt recognise some of them. A few youβd seen in passing, and one guy in particular you knew quite well. Mack stared at you, furrowing his brows. He tilted his head in questioning as the conversation continued around the two of you, you shrugged, pretending to give all focus to the conversation happening in-front of you.
ββshe got with someone within a week of us being broken up.β
You made a hiss sound, as if youβd just cut your finger. The men stared at you, waiting for you to go on.
βShe probably didnβt like you all that much then.β
The boy looked dejected, his head dropped as he faced the hard reality. His friends didnβt help him much, all of them laughed at your blunt input.
βI dont know man. Maybe you should just lock in instead of whining.β
βOkay. Come on, weβre going.β Mack quickly interjected before you could say anything more, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group. You giggled as he pulled you away, taking you along the side of the house. It was dark, you could barely see anything. When you finally came to a stop, Mack placed one hand on your waist, grounding you from stumbling over.
βAll good?β
You nodded, moving into him, your head collided with his chest as you leaned on him. You didnβt want any weight on your feet, infact you wished you were just lying down right now.
βYou smell good.β
Macklin hummed in response, letting you lean on him a little more.
βYouβre really hot. Did you know that?β
You moved your head from his chest, your world swirling as you looked up at him. Mack kept his gaze away from you, although you felt the grip on your waist tighten a little more.
βMack, βm sorryyyy. I shouldnβt ran away from you.β Your brain couldnβt keep up with any of the sentences you were saying, everything mumbled into a slur of words whilst you thought you were speaking perfect English. βyouβre a great guy. Andβ I ruined everything. Itβs awkward now.β You whined, smashing your face against his chest yet again.
You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned around, your back now resting comfortably on his chest. βIβm sorry max.β
Mack laughed, βMax?β
βSorry. Jackββ
Mack then laughed again, βMacββ
βYeah. Mack. Thatβs what I meant.β
βWell, y/n. Iβm not accepting this apology when youβreβ¦ like this.β He glanced down, taking in your very drunk state.
βHeyy! Thatβs mean.β
Your protest was quickly cut off by the sound of leaves and twigs crackling under someoneβs steps, as you turned to the side, you saw Sadie. You exhaled a sigh of relief, and ran up to her, ready to be swept away.
βOUR SONG IS ON!β
You squealed, racing Sadie inside.
Sadie had been forcing you to dance for the last thirty minutes. Your feet hurt in your heels and you were thirsty out of your mind. Youβd tripped and fallen just before, laughing it off whilst everyone stared at you like your head just fell off.
Sadie was now dancing on some new guy, you laughed at her, grabbing her shoulder and letting her know you were getting a drink.
You headed toward the kitchen for another drink, and somehow found yourself in a random hallway. You retraced your steps, redirecting yourself back to the kitchen. You didnβt wobble, but for some reason every step felt uneven. It was like the floor couldnβt stay still under you.
As you finally found the kitchen, you heard a few voices booming at you, speaking a little too loud for your liking. It was like theyβd made the music quieter. Someone should probably fix thatβ¦
βPaps!β
βy/n!!β
You glanced around, smiling as Max and Ty made their way over to you. Youβd started the usual small talk.
βHey guys! Howβve you been?β
Ty shook his head, solemnly staring at you.
βWell, I pulled my shoulder today, so Iβm probably not gonna be on the starting line when the season opener comes around.β
You snorted, then realised that was definitely the wrong time to laugh. Everything felt funny right now and you couldnβt hide your very big smile.
βOh! Sorry! Thatβs so bad.β You feigned interest as you tried to dig yourself out of the hole you dug, βoh nooo.β You smiled, tucking your hands behind your back.
Ty furrowed his brows, looking down at you with a quizzical expression.
You leant on the kitchen counter, glad to have something that felt steadier than your legs.
βDo you guys know where I could find the alcohol?β
Max nodded, pointing at the counter. It was about two feet away, but in your mind, two feet felt like 6 miles. You shook your head, pulling yourself up onto the counter.
βMax, can you make me a drink?β You pulled out your best pleading eyes and tilted your head toward him. βPleaseeeeeee??β
Max sighed, walking over to the counter, mixing you some fruity concoction.
When you finally had a drink in your hand, you smiled, letting out an excited squeal.
The next twenty minutes was spent by you rambling on about literally anything that popped into your brain. The boys couldnβt get a single word out with the rate your mouth was going. You jumped from ducks, to the political state of the country, to John Lennonβs murder and eventually you ended up on the topic of what conspiracy theory you resonate the most with.
ββ¦and yeah. I technically donβt think the moon landing was real.β
The two boys looked at eachother, and then looked at you. A supportive smile on their face, yet they looked weirded out. βOkay. Well, weβre gonna go now.β
You nodded, smiling at them. βBye guys! Nice seeing you!β
You watched their retreating figures, smiling to yourself as you swung your legs and took a big sip.
It was only about ten minutes later when a new guy came up to you.
He was blonde, his eyes were a bright blue and he was gorgeous.
βHey. I havenβt seen you before. Iβm Tucker.β
You smiled, extending your hand. You told him your name and quickly slid off the counter.
The blonde smiled at you, and began talking some nonsense about his major, and how well he was doing.
you nodded along, genuinely interested in whatever bullshit he threw at you, finally, he asked you about yourself.
You shrugged. You never really knew what to say when people asked about you. You did the only thing you knew how.
βIβm in marketing. Itβs fun, but Iβm also scared because imagine if AI takes over all marketing offices, because if you really think about itβ¦ I mean, itβs a possibility. If you give it the right prompts and what not, it can come up with good ideas, I think. Waitβ did you know that Iβm scared of ducks?β
The guy stared at you, his eyes widening more with every word that spilled out of your mouth.
βYeah, they donβt blink properly. Did you know that? OH! Actually, I just hate all birds. One time I got chased by a goose.β
You paused, waiting for him to say anything. He didnβt.
βNo need to be so eager! Iβll tell you about it. So technically, Iβm actually not sure it was a gooseβ maybe it was a swanβ¦β you fizzled off, thinking back to that age old memory.
βNope. Definitely a gooseββ
The boy finally spoke up. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.
βI need to go to the bathroom, but weβll continue this later.β
βIβll save my goose story for when you come back! Donβt take too long.β
As soon as he left the kitchen you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, you could barely see the words on your screen. You squinted⦠still nothing. You covered one eye, putting lazer-focus on your right eye, and finally, some of the words seemed readable.
You pulled up google, typing in your very important question. βHaow troo converssation!1β you shrug, believing thatβs close enough. When you hit search, youβre shocked at the words that seem to look like ancient hieroglyphics. You sigh, your whole body slumping as you finally admit defeat.
You attempt once more, moving your screen further from your face, but after no results, you settled for improvisation. you then realised youβd actually had enough of talking. You just craved your bed.
You make your way out of the kitchen, convinced if you donβt leave the party in the next ten minutes, youβll probably end up spending the night. Nobody wants that.
You somehow found yourself at the front door, you couldβve sworn you were going out to the terrace only two minutes ago. You took it as a sign. As you swung the front door open, you stumbled out onto the patio, looking at the few scrabblers who were laying outside on the grass.
You walked past them, having to step over a few people to finally make it to the sidewalk. You looked to your right, seeing the familiar mop of brunette hair.
βOh! Mack!β
Mack looked over to you, nodding in your direction. Whyβd he always do that?
He walked over to you, a smile on his face.
βGoing home?β
You nodded, beginning to walk away. You heard jogging behind you, and as you watched Mack fall into step beside you, you let out a small sigh of relief. Thank god you wouldnβt be walking home alone.
βNeed company?β
βSure.β
β
The walk home was quiet, the only sounds being Mackβs occasional scuff of his shoes on the pavement. You looked over to him, quickly smiling and glancing away.
βWhat?β
βNothing.β
You saw him look over to you before quickly glancing back, his smile mirroring your own.
βHow much did you drink?β
βUhhhmβ¦β you started to count on your fingers, thinking back to how much youβd drink. Youβd barely even drank at the party, but then again, your time spent there didnβt last very long. You couldnβt come up with a straight answer, so you shrugged, moving onto a different topic.
βI canβt remember. Do you like hockey?β
He laughed at the switch of topics, nodding his head slightly.
βYup. Itβs pretty fun.β
You nodded, looking away again. The conversation fizzled out, and the rest of the walk was accompanied by a comfortable silence. The kind of silence you didnβt feel the need to fill with random topics.
When you finally made it back to your residence, Mack helped you walk up the stairs to your dorm.
βThanks.β
βYeah, no problem. Do you need anything else? Need me to stay for a little?β
You looked at him, giving him a sheepish nod, he moved passed you. Getting comfy on your bed.
ββm gonna have a shower.β
Mack nodded, giving you a thumbs up. You rummaged through your drawers, picking out some comfy pyjamas.
You emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, and surprise, surprise, Mack was still there, laying on your bed. You still felt drunk, but now, it was like you could actually stand up normally, and your words seemed to be somewhat coherent.
He sat up once heβd noticed your presence, βwant me to leave now?β
You shrugged, once again. βYou could stay.β
He snorted, shaking his head. βNope. Not staying. youβd probably hit me if you woke up tomorrow with me in bed next to you.β
You shook your head, crossing your arms across your chest. βI donβt hate you Mack. You know that, right?β
βItβs just so awkward between us. I didnβt realise that us kissing would be such a big deal. If I knew, I wouldnβt have done it.β
You tilted your head, questioning his words slightly.
βNot that I regret it or anything. I just I donβt want to have this weird thing where we donβt talk. You know?β
βYeah, okay. Whatever you say Mack.β
He laughed at that, standing up completely from bed. βNight, y/n.β
His body brushed past yours as he went for the door.
βMack.β
He glanced back, his body turning along with his head.
Your feet padded along the wooden panels, creaking after every few steps. Once you reached him, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
βThank you for walking me home.β
He smiled, nodding at you (once again).
β
when you woke up the next morning, it took a few minutes for you to register what was going on. First, you felt your pounding head. You gagged at the immediate nausea you felt, the room kept a slow pace as you felt your bed spinning.
One thing about you is that majority of the time, you remembered everything that happened on a night out, no matter how much you drank.
As the memories came flooding back to you, you wanted to just keep sinking into your mattress until you bubbled up into nothing.
You remembered your rant about AI takeover, and how you talked to atleast three people about your irrational fear of ducks.
The whole night was spent by you interrupting people, and talking at the wrong time.
Then, just when your mind eased only the slightest, Mackβs face rammed into your head like a freight train. The remembering wasnβt even the worst part for you, it was the stuff that you didnβt remember that made you worry.
You groaned, burying your head into your pillow as you recalled everything you could. You called him the wrong name twice for fucks sake. He mustβve thought you were so annoying. Leaning on him like that.
God, what were you thinking?!
Youβd tried to convince yourself that maybe you were coming out of your βawkward-girlβ shell. You thought youβd convinced everyone that you were normal, but last night truly undid it all for you.
You dreaded seeing anyone. You wanted to stay in your room all day and maybe transfer to a different school.
You heard Sadie start to wake up, the subtle rustling of the sheets a clear indicator that your day was either going to get a lot worse, or maybe a lot better.
Her eyes blinked a couple of times before she smiled. She giggled, sitting up in bed.
βYou were so fucking funny last night.β
You tilted your head, confused on why she wasnβt saying βyou were so embarrassing last night.β
She laughed a little more, telling you about how you barely danced with her, and you literally couldnβt stop talking.
You snorted along with her, seeing some humour in your drunken moment. You ultimately went back to groaning though, covering your face with your hands.
βNever let me out again.β
Sadie continued to laugh at you, you rolled your eyes and glanced down at your phone.
You had 3 notifications. Once you opened up your phone, you read a text. A text that Mack sent.
βHow r u feeling?β
Your eyes went wide, reading the message ten times over. Was he making sure you remembered? Did he think you were pathetic? Was he being polite? Maybeβ
God. You need to calm down.
βYeah fine lolβ
βIβm so sorry about last nightβ
You were surprised to be still breathing. God, you wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Literally die dead. Itβs like every-time you went outside, you somehow found one to four ways to completely embarrass yourself.
Oh well, the hangover will pass. Whatever else youβd done last night might not.
synopsis: youβre still figuring out how to act normal around people.
Word count: 4.9k
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, bad grammar
Notes: Hey guys! This one is just kind of fleshing out readers character a little more, the next few chapters will be where it gets good π (also ran out of photos in the middle of this so borders got messed up)
you watched as 10 pairs of little ballet slippers crossed the black padded floor, all of them sending shy little thank youβs your way as they made their way over to their parents, who were waiting around the doorway. Thursday afternoons were always reserved for your junior ballet lessons, and it had become so routine, that every week you looked forward to Thursdays.
You came from a wealthy background, your dad was a physiotherapist for the Celtics, and your mother owned her own dental clinic. essentially, youβd been set since birth.
People often used that against you, claiming that anything you did in life was due to your parents pulling some strings, and paying for you to make it in the world. You hated that idea. Your parents had taught you from a very early age, that not everything in life would be handed to you, and hard work would get you very far. They didnβt want you to rely completely on family money, and end up as an uneducated trust fund baby living off her families wealth till the end of time.
Whilst they paid for your tuitionsβ¦ (and your dorming,) You were still expected to make your own money to pay for your college life. It was a good trade off, and you were grateful that you didnβt end up like some of the other girls that youβd met during your two years at college.
Anyway, thatβs besides the point. Your little job as a ballet teacher was everything you wanted. It paid fairly well, and it kept you dancing. Youβd been in ballet since you were three, and youβd fallen in love with it from the moment youβd worn your first tutu.
Although, when you parked your car and started your walk to your residence hall in your light pink ballet attire, you felt almost a little embarrassed. Especially when you realised that a group of boys were walking toward you, those group of boys being terriers players.
Their voices boomed across the sidewalk, where they were still standing atleast 20 feet away.
The past two weeks of managing the social media for the hockey team had been a lot more successful than you had planned. Youβd made more friends during these two weeks than your whole time spent at college, and while it wasnβt your usual crowd, you found you actually enjoyed their company. They treated you as if you were their little sister, and despite your differences, you felt comfortable with them. There was not really much of an awkward stage with any of the boys (besides Mack), and youβd clicked with them almost immediately, that was rare for you. You were ready to latch onto that.
βYo, itβs paps!!β You watched as a rush of 5 guys came jogging up to you, reeking of cheap alcohol and weed. Theyβd started calling you paps within the second week of you working with the team, claiming it to be a βnicheβ spin on the word paparazzi. You didnβt want to hurt their feelings and tell them that you hated it, but nonetheless, you absolutely despised it.
βDrinking on a Thursday?β You replied, standing in place as they piled up next to eachother, clearly excited to see a familiar face.
βDude, what the hell are you wearing?β The group of grown men then started to laugh at you, one of them playfully tugged on your sheer wrap skirt as they all kept up their fits of laughter.
You groaned, swatting Tyβs hand away. You looked over the boys, finally making eye contact with Macklin. The pair of you hadnβt talked since the party, which was horrible considering that youβve had to be in close proximity for the last two weeks. You spent a lot of your time at the rink nowadays, and it had really changed your outlook on hockey players in general.
although the Celebrini issue still stood. You quickly adverted your eyes from his, feeling small under his gaze. You knew he was trying, you could tell by the way heβd stop when the other boys were talking to you, heβd always try to jump into conversation, but as soon as he did, you shut it down and ran off.
Conversations were hard enough for you. Celebrini-gate made it even harder.
You listened as the boys kept prodding fun at you. Almost immediately, you felt your irritation spike. You were on edge from making a second of eye contact with Mack, and all you wanted to do was get out of the cold weather and hop into your nice clean sheets.
Their faces blurred together as they continued their teasing. It was like a wall had immediately been put up, and you totally forgot that these guys were some of the people you called friends.
Your socialisation skills (or lack thereof) had immediately been thrown out the window as your nervous system sent spikes of anger to your first layer of skin. You felt hot with rage, ready to blow as they continued to laugh.
You knew it was their drunken antics, but a little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that they could be genuinely making fun of you.
You felt your heart rate speed up, not knowing what to do in this particular situation. Your mind eased your anger only the tiniest bit, and replaced a little bit of the red-hot rage you felt with little bursts of anxiety.
Did these guys even like you? Why would your friends be making fun of you?
You felt tears beginning to prick in the back of your eyes as you desperately tried blinking them away.
Then, as if the timing couldnβt get worse, Mack finally piped up.
βdo a twirl for us!β
Your eyebrows furrowed as you feigned a laugh.
βYeah, that was a really good one, Mack. You got me there.β
Your voice raised slightly as you sent a sharp look in all the boys direction.
βCan you guys just stop? Youβre being rude.β
You crossed your arms, storming away into the night.
After a semi-fun day turning into a literal nightmare, you flopped onto your bed. Sadie was out, claimed she was staying the night with this guy sheβd been hooking up with for the past two weeks.
You were still reeling from your encounter with those guys. You felt like a fool. It was light-hearted teasing, and then, you went and bit their heads off over a leotard. You didnβt know why you reacted like that in the moment. Your brain started speeding, doing the only thing it knew how to do after conversations you wished you acted differently in, you started to overanalyse.
Did they give each other weird looks after youβd stormed off? Are they making jokes now? Did they think you were dramatic?
You knew it was stupid, and that the boys probably couldnβt care less, they were probably about 11 shots deep and wouldnβt even remember the interaction in the morning, yet the logic didnβt calm your thoughts.
The worst part about it? Macklin was laughing along with them. You promised yourself you didnβt care about the guy. but whenever you were around him, it was like your senses heightened tenfold. You were constantly on edge, doing anything to remain completely silent whenever his presence was around. You didnβt want to embarrass yourself in-front of him. You didnβt want him to see you in a way that would make him look at you any less.
You curled into your sheets, burying your face in the pillow whilst you let out a very needed scream.
You screamed out your frustration, which quickly turned into a guttural groan as you began to sob. You didnβt know what was going on with you, you just knew you wanted to be friends with the team. You thought you were getting there, and this was a step in the wrong direction.
You woke up to a dry mouth and your eyelids still felt heavy after five minutes. You stared up at your ceiling, dreading the day to come. You jumped as you heard your alarm start to blast in your ear, and quickly you turned it off.
You did your routines as you got ready for the day, it was when you were brushing your teeth when it finally clicked.
You were meant to be filming morning practice content in about twenty minutes.
You threw your head back, a throaty whine escaping your mouth as you started to brush your teeth ten times quicker.
When youβd finally made it to the rink, your makeup was only half done, and your outfit was lacking the sparkle it usually possessed. You quickly made work of getting candids of training. You watched as Mack skated past you, sending a nod in your direction. He came back around two minutes later, stopping infront of you. You tilted your head to the side, suddenly feeling very confused on why heβd be near you. You didnβt even talk to the guy.
βYo, you all good after yesterday?β
Your eyes widened as you nodded, letting out a small squeak that counted as a βyes.β So he did rememberβ¦ how embarrassing.
βIf I stepped over the line or anything- Iβm really sorry. I donβt want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.β
you shook your head, lips forming into a tight line before you replied.
βNo, youβre good. Just had a long day.β
He nodded, tapping on the boards before skating off.
During their practice, Ty, Max and Aiden all came over to check up on you, to which you gave them all the same excuse. Ty didnβt believe you all that much.
βYou were tired?β
You nodded, smiling slightly.
βYeah. Right. Anyway, hope youβre not tired tonight cause youβre coming to this party.β
You laughed slightly at the switch-up, believing he was just joking, until you looked him in the eye and realised he was being one hundred percent serious. you let out a deep breath and rolled your eyes.
βBye, Ty!!β
you heard his laugh ringing through the hallway as you walked off.
you didnβt want to party tonight, you told yourself you were having a night in, but as you walked into your dorm after a long day of lectures and saw Sadie sat on her bed with buzzballs accompanying her, you knew you were screwed.
Your head pounded as the world around you swirled, the music a little too loud for your liking. Youβd been at the party for thirty minutes, and youβd regretted going so hard during your pre-game. You figured you needed some fresh air, so with the grace of a toddler, you stumbled out onto the terrace.
You looked around, a small group of guys congregated in the corner, and you giggled as you walked on over to them.
You watched as the group immediately parted, making room for you to join in. You couldnβt recognise some of them. A few youβd seen in passing, and one guy in particular you knew quite well. Mack stared at you, furrowing his brows. He tilted his head in questioning as the conversation continued around the two of you, you shrugged, pretending to give all focus to the conversation happening in-front of you.
ββshe got with someone within a week of us being broken up.β
You made a hiss sound, as if youβd just cut your finger. The men stared at you, waiting for you to go on.
βShe probably didnβt like you all that much then.β
The boy looked dejected, his head dropped as he faced the hard reality. His friends didnβt help him much, all of them laughed at your blunt input.
βI dont know man. Maybe you should just lock in instead of whining.β
βOkay. Come on, weβre going.β Mack quickly interjected before you could say anything more, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group. You giggled as he pulled you away, taking you along the side of the house. It was dark, you could barely see anything. When you finally came to a stop, Mack placed one hand on your waist, grounding you from stumbling over.
βAll good?β
You nodded, moving into him, your head collided with his chest as you leaned on him. You didnβt want any weight on your feet, infact you wished you were just lying down right now.
βYou smell good.β
Macklin hummed in response, letting you lean on him a little more.
βYouβre really hot. Did you know that?β
You moved your head from his chest, your world swirling as you looked up at him. Mack kept his gaze away from you, although you felt the grip on your waist tighten a little more.
βMack, βm sorryyyy. I shouldnβt ran away from you.β Your brain couldnβt keep up with any of the sentences you were saying, everything mumbled into a slur of words whilst you thought you were speaking perfect English. βyouβre a great guy. Andβ I ruined everything. Itβs awkward now.β You whined, smashing your face against his chest yet again.
You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned around, your back now resting comfortably on his chest. βIβm sorry max.β
Mack laughed, βMax?β
βSorry. Jackββ
Mack then laughed again, βMacββ
βYeah. Mack. Thatβs what I meant.β
βWell, y/n. Iβm not accepting this apology when youβreβ¦ like this.β He glanced down, taking in your very drunk state.
βHeyy! Thatβs mean.β
Your protest was quickly cut off by the sound of leaves and twigs crackling under someoneβs steps, as you turned to the side, you saw Sadie. You exhaled a sigh of relief, and ran up to her, ready to be swept away.
βOUR SONG IS ON!β
You squealed, racing Sadie inside.
Sadie had been forcing you to dance for the last thirty minutes. Your feet hurt in your heels and you were thirsty out of your mind. Youβd tripped and fallen just before, laughing it off whilst everyone stared at you like your head just fell off.
Sadie was now dancing on some new guy, you laughed at her, grabbing her shoulder and letting her know you were getting a drink.
You headed toward the kitchen for another drink, and somehow found yourself in a random hallway. You retraced your steps, redirecting yourself back to the kitchen. You didnβt wobble, but for some reason every step felt uneven. It was like the floor couldnβt stay still under you.
As you finally found the kitchen, you heard a few voices booming at you, speaking a little too loud for your liking. It was like theyβd made the music quieter. Someone should probably fix thatβ¦
βPaps!β
βy/n!!β
You glanced around, smiling as Max and Ty made their way over to you. Youβd started the usual small talk.
βHey guys! Howβve you been?β
Ty shook his head, solemnly staring at you.
βWell, I pulled my shoulder today, so Iβm probably not gonna be on the starting line when the season opener comes around.β
You snorted, then realised that was definitely the wrong time to laugh. Everything felt funny right now and you couldnβt hide your very big smile.
βOh! Sorry! Thatβs so bad.β You feigned interest as you tried to dig yourself out of the hole you dug, βoh nooo.β You smiled, tucking your hands behind your back.
Ty furrowed his brows, looking down at you with a quizzical expression.
You leant on the kitchen counter, glad to have something that felt steadier than your legs.
βDo you guys know where I could find the alcohol?β
Max nodded, pointing at the counter. It was about two feet away, but in your mind, two feet felt like 6 miles. You shook your head, pulling yourself up onto the counter.
βMax, can you make me a drink?β You pulled out your best pleading eyes and tilted your head toward him. βPleaseeeeeee??β
Max sighed, walking over to the counter, mixing you some fruity concoction.
When you finally had a drink in your hand, you smiled, letting out an excited squeal.
The next twenty minutes was spent by you rambling on about literally anything that popped into your brain. The boys couldnβt get a single word out with the rate your mouth was going. You jumped from ducks, to the political state of the country, to John Lennonβs murder and eventually you ended up on the topic of what conspiracy theory you resonate the most with.
ββ¦and yeah. I technically donβt think the moon landing was real.β
The two boys looked at eachother, and then looked at you. A supportive smile on their face, yet they looked weirded out. βOkay. Well, weβre gonna go now.β
You nodded, smiling at them. βBye guys! Nice seeing you!β
You watched their retreating figures, smiling to yourself as you swung your legs and took a big sip.
It was only about ten minutes later when a new guy came up to you.
He was blonde, his eyes were a bright blue and he was gorgeous.
βHey. I havenβt seen you before. Iβm Tucker.β
You smiled, extending your hand. You told him your name and quickly slid off the counter.
The blonde smiled at you, and began talking some nonsense about his major, and how well he was doing.
you nodded along, genuinely interested in whatever bullshit he threw at you, finally, he asked you about yourself.
You shrugged. You never really knew what to say when people asked about you. You did the only thing you knew how.
βIβm in marketing. Itβs fun, but Iβm also scared because imagine if AI takes over all marketing offices, because if you really think about itβ¦ I mean, itβs a possibility. If you give it the right prompts and what not, it can come up with good ideas, I think. Waitβ did you know that Iβm scared of ducks?β
The guy stared at you, his eyes widening more with every word that spilled out of your mouth.
βYeah, they donβt blink properly. Did you know that? OH! Actually, I just hate all birds. One time I got chased by a goose.β
You paused, waiting for him to say anything. He didnβt.
βNo need to be so eager! Iβll tell you about it. So technically, Iβm actually not sure it was a gooseβ maybe it was a swanβ¦β you fizzled off, thinking back to that age old memory.
βNope. Definitely a gooseββ
The boy finally spoke up. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.
βI need to go to the bathroom, but weβll continue this later.β
βIβll save my goose story for when you come back! Donβt take too long.β
As soon as he left the kitchen you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, you could barely see the words on your screen. You squinted⦠still nothing. You covered one eye, putting lazer-focus on your right eye, and finally, some of the words seemed readable.
You pulled up google, typing in your very important question. βHaow troo converssation!1β you shrug, believing thatβs close enough. When you hit search, youβre shocked at the words that seem to look like ancient hieroglyphics. You sigh, your whole body slumping as you finally admit defeat.
You attempt once more, moving your screen further from your face, but after no results, you settled for improvisation. you then realised youβd actually had enough of talking. You just craved your bed.
You make your way out of the kitchen, convinced if you donβt leave the party in the next ten minutes, youβll probably end up spending the night. Nobody wants that.
You somehow found yourself at the front door, you couldβve sworn you were going out to the terrace only two minutes ago. You took it as a sign. As you swung the front door open, you stumbled out onto the patio, looking at the few scrabblers who were laying outside on the grass.
You walked past them, having to step over a few people to finally make it to the sidewalk. You looked to your right, seeing the familiar mop of brunette hair.
βOh! Mack!β
Mack looked over to you, nodding in your direction. Whyβd he always do that?
He walked over to you, a smile on his face.
βGoing home?β
You nodded, beginning to walk away. You heard jogging behind you, and as you watched Mack fall into step beside you, you let out a small sigh of relief. Thank god you wouldnβt be walking home alone.
βNeed company?β
βSure.β
β
The walk home was quiet, the only sounds being Mackβs occasional scuff of his shoes on the pavement. You looked over to him, quickly smiling and glancing away.
βWhat?β
βNothing.β
You saw him look over to you before quickly glancing back, his smile mirroring your own.
βHow much did you drink?β
βUhhhmβ¦β you started to count on your fingers, thinking back to how much youβd drink. Youβd barely even drank at the party, but then again, your time spent there didnβt last very long. You couldnβt come up with a straight answer, so you shrugged, moving onto a different topic.
βI canβt remember. Do you like hockey?β
He laughed at the switch of topics, nodding his head slightly.
βYup. Itβs pretty fun.β
You nodded, looking away again. The conversation fizzled out, and the rest of the walk was accompanied by a comfortable silence. The kind of silence you didnβt feel the need to fill with random topics.
When you finally made it back to your residence, Mack helped you walk up the stairs to your dorm.
βThanks.β
βYeah, no problem. Do you need anything else? Need me to stay for a little?β
You looked at him, giving him a sheepish nod, he moved passed you. Getting comfy on your bed.
ββm gonna have a shower.β
Mack nodded, giving you a thumbs up. You rummaged through your drawers, picking out some comfy pyjamas.
You emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, and surprise, surprise, Mack was still there, laying on your bed. You still felt drunk, but now, it was like you could actually stand up normally, and your words seemed to be somewhat coherent.
He sat up once heβd noticed your presence, βwant me to leave now?β
You shrugged, once again. βYou could stay.β
He snorted, shaking his head. βNope. Not staying. youβd probably hit me if you woke up tomorrow with me in bed next to you.β
You shook your head, crossing your arms across your chest. βI donβt hate you Mack. You know that, right?β
βItβs just so awkward between us. I didnβt realise that us kissing would be such a big deal. If I knew, I wouldnβt have done it.β
You tilted your head, questioning his words slightly.
βNot that I regret it or anything. I just I donβt want to have this weird thing where we donβt talk. You know?β
βYeah, okay. Whatever you say Mack.β
He laughed at that, standing up completely from bed. βNight, y/n.β
His body brushed past yours as he went for the door.
βMack.β
He glanced back, his body turning along with his head.
Your feet padded along the wooden panels, creaking after every few steps. Once you reached him, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
βThank you for walking me home.β
He smiled, nodding at you (once again).
β
when you woke up the next morning, it took a few minutes for you to register what was going on. First, you felt your pounding head. You gagged at the immediate nausea you felt, the room kept a slow pace as you felt your bed spinning.
One thing about you is that majority of the time, you remembered everything that happened on a night out, no matter how much you drank.
As the memories came flooding back to you, you wanted to just keep sinking into your mattress until you bubbled up into nothing.
You remembered your rant about AI takeover, and how you talked to atleast three people about your irrational fear of ducks.
The whole night was spent by you interrupting people, and talking at the wrong time.
Then, just when your mind eased only the slightest, Mackβs face rammed into your head like a freight train. The remembering wasnβt even the worst part for you, it was the stuff that you didnβt remember that made you worry.
You groaned, burying your head into your pillow as you recalled everything you could. You called him the wrong name twice for fucks sake. He mustβve thought you were so annoying. Leaning on him like that.
God, what were you thinking?!
Youβd tried to convince yourself that maybe you were coming out of your βawkward-girlβ shell. You thought youβd convinced everyone that you were normal, but last night truly undid it all for you.
You dreaded seeing anyone. You wanted to stay in your room all day and maybe transfer to a different school.
You heard Sadie start to wake up, the subtle rustling of the sheets a clear indicator that your day was either going to get a lot worse, or maybe a lot better.
Her eyes blinked a couple of times before she smiled. She giggled, sitting up in bed.
βYou were so fucking funny last night.β
You tilted your head, confused on why she wasnβt saying βyou were so embarrassing last night.β
She laughed a little more, telling you about how you barely danced with her, and you literally couldnβt stop talking.
You snorted along with her, seeing some humour in your drunken moment. You ultimately went back to groaning though, covering your face with your hands.
βNever let me out again.β
Sadie continued to laugh at you, you rolled your eyes and glanced down at your phone.
You had 3 notifications. Once you opened up your phone, you read a text. A text that Mack sent.
βHow r u feeling?β
Your eyes went wide, reading the message ten times over. Was he making sure you remembered? Did he think you were pathetic? Was he being polite? Maybeβ
God. You need to calm down.
βYeah fine lolβ
βIβm so sorry about last nightβ
You were surprised to be still breathing. God, you wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Literally die dead. Itβs like every-time you went outside, you somehow found one to four ways to completely embarrass yourself.
Oh well, the hangover will pass. Whatever else youβd done last night might not.
Mack fic will be out soon!! This chapter is kind of more focused on reader, so itβs just kind of establishing more of who she is before things get goodβ¦ planning on still having a few cute moments though! (Also the fic is loosely based off βballad of a homeschooled girlβ so expect some more fleshing out on readers social anxiety!)
Also if anyone has any ideas or suggestions on things I could add into the story, feel free to share them! Iβm literally trying to plot out more chapters here and Iβm a little slumped on ideas
Synopsis: In which itβs your first day as the BU terrierβs media girlβ¦
Notes: I barely proofread this one guys! Planning on turning this into a series if the girls are interested!
Pt. 1, pt. 2
ｑπ¦ΉΒ°β§β.α
It started with an email, which had arrived at 8:03 am a few days prior.
Hello!
I hope this email finds you well, however, I am coming to you with this as I feel you would be the best fit for the job.
Which really meant, βIβm about to ask you to do something that you cannot say no to.β
Now, you found yourself trekking across campus to the ice rink, trying to hype yourself up to ask the entire BU lineup about what their favourite cereal was. Real hard hitting media.
Youβd found out that the previous marketing student whoβd been βperfect for the jobβ had dropped the position last semester, and whilst summer break was in full swing, your professor, Mr. Davenport, had been scouting through a handful of kids to fill the role.
Youβd spent the past year learning about branding, strategy and other consumer behaviour, only to be tossed to the dogsβ¦ well, the terriers.
You figured that itβd be better to take the experience and do the best you can rather than turning it down and complaining about having no experience in the industry. But your logic quickly seemed a lot less convincing as you stepped up to the arenas towering glass doors.
The cold air that hit you as you stepped out near the rink made your skin prickle almost immediately. your hand slacked under the shocking cold, your tripod almost toppling to the ground before you quickly gripped it tighter.
You walked down the steps, watching as the Zamboni whirred slowly around the ice, getting it fresh for the 25 or so players who were about to undergo practice. You quietly set up your tripod, dreading the next hour you would have to endure. You quickly locked eyes with your professer, who smiled at you before making his way over.
He greeted you politely, shaking your hand before running through the basics.
βIβm so glad you are able to take over y/n. Youβre gonna do great.β
βThank you, Mr. Davenport. Iβm glad you considered me.β Your mouth drew into a tight lipped smile, already regretting your decision.
βAll it is, is essentially just getting a few funny clips for instagram, and a few shots of them at practice. Then you just need to edit them on your own time and upload them accordingly.β
You nodded, it seemed straight forward enough. βYeah, I was just wondering if Iβll need to do game day graphics and stuff like that?β
βYeah, but donβt worry about that just yet, itβs a little while away for the season opener. Iβll talk to you more about deadlines for those posts when the season starts.β
you nodded yet again, looking down at your feet as your professor continued.
βOh, and donβt forget to get a lot content of that freshman.β
you felt your face twist into one of confusion, you had no idea what freshman he could be talking about.
βfreshman?β
βYup. Heβs like the top prospect for the NHL draft or something. I believe itsβ¦β Mr. Davenport sighed for a second, clicking his fingers as if it would bring him closer to the answer. ββ¦Celebrini. Macklin.β
βMacklin Celebrini?β
You watched as a group of three boys trickled out of the locker room. You gave them a quick smile, introducing yourself as the new media girl.
A tall boy with brunette hair quickly piped up. βOh shit. What happened to Em?β
You stared blankly at the man as thought of who βEmβ could be, until you mentally facepalmed and realised she was most likely their last media girl.
βUhh.. I believe she quit.β
One of the boys nodded, before turning to you. βDo you need us to do anything?β
Your eyes widened, surprised at how easy it was for them to comply. βYeah. Just answer that question.β You looked down at the piece of paper youβd lazily taped to your tripod, the question reading βhow many toddlers do you think you could take in a fight.β Your face scrunched, inwardly cringing as you looked over the question once more. you handed one of them the mic, and they quickly got to work, joking around and answering the question.
it didnβt take long until the last few players made their way from the locker room, and you just so happened to be in a good mood due to the ease at which the boys answered your question.
You watched as the last pair stopped infront of your tripod. You look at the two boys who were both giggling quietly to eachother. The boys looked back at you, and you locked eyes with the one on the left.
His cheeks were painted in reddish hues that splotched unevenly, which made his face appear boyish yet also grown. Dark brown hair fell across his face and his thick brows framed his hazel-green eyes. His features were soft, yet masculine. His nose was perfectly straight, his lips were full and matched the hues of his cheeks. The moment he grinned, his eyes crinkled in the corners, making him seem a lot less intimidating than what you had thought.
You were snapped out of your trance by the extension of the boys hand.
βMack, nice to meet you.β
You looked down, wrapping your hand in his. They were big, they engulfed your slender fingers completely, and his firm grip startled you. He was a big boy, you could tell, even under all that hockey gear.
βOh yeah- hi,β you told him your name, smiling back at him.
the other boy piped up, introducing himself as Jack.
βMedia girl, you should come to this thing tonight. You could get to know the boys a little more!β his accent reminded you of every other hockey player youβd encountered in your life, and it took everything in you to not laugh at the excitement he showed about his little party.
You nodded along, acting as interested as you could front. You glanced over to Mack, noticing he looked just as excited as Jack did. βYeah, sounds fun. Iβll see.β
Jack pumped the air with his fist before the coach yelled something in your general direction. The two boys scurried off, sending you a little wave as they left.
βSee you there, media girl!β
You slumped onto your bed, laying out with your laptop seated comfortably in your lap. You skimmed through the footage that you had gotten from today and got stuck into editing.
You werenβt sure you were even going to go to the party, infact it was the last thing on your mind, wellβ¦ that was until your roommate and best friend, Sadie, walked in.
She took in your unimpressed expression as she flicked her shoes off at the door. She knew you were about to be in a bad mood, and immediately guessed that you didnβt enjoy your time spent at the rink.
βHowβd the hockey thing go? Wait. Let me guess. Not good!β
You stared back at her, an irritated look on your face before you quickly lobbed one of your many decorative pillows at her.
βHey!β
Youβd known Sadie since your junior year in high-school. She was your best friend, the kind of girl who would have your back through anything. You grew together like sisters, and the two of you only want what is best for one and other.
Sadie is an extroverted girl. Sheβd always been the popular one. Not that you werenβt popular, but you just didnβt have the patience for people like she did. She could spend a whole year talking to strangers, and never run out of things to say, it was a quality you truly admired of hers.
you were only on your second year in BU, and you found that any social event that you could go to was only really an option if Sadie was there. She complained that you didnβt get out enough, and that you wasted your freshman year away by dwelling in your dorm and completely ignoring any chance to get to know new people. She wasnβt completely wrong - but you knew it was an exaggeration.
It still upset her, so you made a sacred promise that you would go to any party or event Sadie wanted to drag you along to, as long as you stayed on top of your work.
Sheβs currently taken advantage of that oath, as youβd been back on campus for a month, and youβd attended at least two parties for every week that you had been back.
βI donβt get why youβre complaining. You get to film hot hockey players.β
βDude, i actually canβt stand hockey boys.β
She laughed at you, walking over to her wardrobe.
βWell thatβs a shame cause weβre going to a hockey party tonight.β
You groaned, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.
βPlease no.β
βHurry up and finish editing because weβve got some drinking to catch up on.β She grinned at you, pulling out a handful of shooters from her tote bag.
You turned onto your stomach, burying your face in the pillow. You took a few deep breaths, preparing for the night ahead of you. You knew you were going.
You were in the middle of your makeup, pop music blasting in the background as Sadie scavenged through your wardrobe.
You were 2 shots deep, and despite using cranberry juice as a chaser, the burn still stuck in your throat. Despite your earlier refusal, you were actually quite happy to be rushing off. The only thing that worried you was the idea of making a good impression on the team youβd be hanging around during their whole season.
You were prone to oversharing when things got awkward. You hated silence, you always felt as if you had to fill it. Whenever your conversations meet uncomfortable silence, itβs like your brain malfunctions; your filters shut off and suddenly youβre talking about the time you peed your pants whilst watching a horror movie on your first ever date, or the fact that your scared of clowns, or even that sometimes you get into depressive states and canβt leave bed for four days. You find it easier to stand on the sidelines and watch Sadie do all the talking, that way, the only thing you have to do is sit pretty and nod along.
So when you finally pulled up to the frat house that was hosting the party, you felt just as nervous as you did all the other times.
You quickly got to work in pouring yourself a drink, you watched as Sadie concocted her own, which consisted on any liquor she could find. You visibly recoiled as you watched her pour around five shots of tequila into her red solo cup. She looked back at you, shrugged, and then quickly added a splash more.
You sat in the kitchen as the party beamed around you. Your friend had made quick work of chatting up some frat boy, you sighed as you watched the two getting handsy and you soon realised that you would have to break off from them and find your own people to chat to.
You took off, wandering aimlessly around the party. Your walk was cut very short as you heard a male voice booming behind you.
βHey! Media girl!β
You turned to see a group of three coming toward you, and you waved back to them, realising that you had forgotten each of their names.
The next thing you know, you had joined their beer pong game, watching from the sidelines as they failed to sink any. Theyβd included you for the first thirty minutes, one guy tried to teach you how to play beer pong, one player sat down and started dropping all the embarrassing stories from Roadies and random practices, and others told stupid jokes while downing beer. You kept to yourself, you laughed at the right times and added βoh really?β Every few minutes when one of them struck a conversation with you.
You knew people loved to talk about themselves, and you knew you could avoid making a complete fool of yourself as long as no one asked about you.
It had been an hour, and already, the party excitement had faded. All you wanted to do was to walk home in the cool air and bundle up under your sheets. Youβd already heard three guys tell you the exact same story, five arguments about who the best player in the NHL was and seven guys had cracked the same joke about maxβs terrible aim. You listened as the music started to feel louder, and the air seemed stuffy as you tried to regulate with deep breaths. Nobody was exactly doing anything wrong, but it was all becoming a little too much.
You slipped away from the beer pong table, making a bee-line for the bathroom. You pushed through the sweaty bodies, muttering apologies as you shoved through the crowds of people.
You breathed a sigh of relief once you made it to the bathroom door. you knocked once, hearing a muffled voice behind the walls. You leant back, occupying yourself with your phone as you waited.
It was a minute later when Mack emerged from the bathroom. He flashed you his gummy-grin, clearly happy to see you.
βYou made it.β
βYup.β
βThatβs great. Are you enjoying the party?β
βEh. Not a big fan of frats.β
Mack sucked in a breath, a cheesed expression painted over his face.
βThatβs a shame, cause I live here.β
Your eyes widened, suddenly wanting to take back every word you said. Fuck.
βOh.β
He laughed, waving his hand around. He quickly adjusted himself, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.
βNah, donβt worry about it.β
You sighed, covering your face with your hands.
βItβs not that-β
βChill. Itβs all good. I get it.β
You uncovered your face, you flashed him a small smile like a peace offering, and he returned a smile himself. You looked over him, noticing that your previous judgment about him being a big boy, was infact true. His white t-shirt strained a little against his chest. His forearms were thick and his muscles flexed with every slight movement. You noticed that he made the cramped hallway feel a lot smaller.
βYouβre staring.β
You snapped back up to him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. These were exactly the type of conversations you loved to dodge, youβd already embarrassed yourself enough.
You watched as Macks eyes flitted across your face before they landed directly on your lips. He quickly redirected his attention back to your eyes, and subconsciously, you inched forward.
He grabbed your forearm, tugging you into the bathroom along with him. as he shut the door behind the two of you, he pulled you back towards him. You lost your footing and went toppling into his chest.
Your hands moved to his shoulders, as he wrapped his hands around your waist, helping you into an upright position. Once you were stood in-front of him, his hands wandered lower, tracing your hipbones.
Mack uttered your name, staring down intently into your eyes. You nodded your head closer, giggling at your clumsiness.
It was then when you noticed your proximity. You felt your face heat up under his unflinching gaze. He kept his eyes on you, you watched as his neck pulsed with every inch he moved.
You cut him off short, sucking in a deep breath, βMack.β
βIs this okay?β
You stared into his eyes, watching as his pupils blew bigger. The hazel colour of his iris was barely visible. You bit your lip slightly, looking down at his own before nodding.
you watched his lips pull into a grin as he finally closed the gap between the two of you. He wasnβt hesitant, he went straight in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands werenβt gentle; they were greedy, they gripped your waist before dipping lower, just below the waistline of your pants. His mouth devoured yours in a way that made your head spin before he began backing you into the sink. He tasted like shitty beer, but for some reason, you only wanted more.
You smiled against his lips, pulling away slightly. And then, as if you registered it in the moment, you realised that you were in-fact kissing one of the players. One of the players that youβd be around for the rest of the hockey season.
Mack leant in again, but you inched away, cutting him off before he could start again.
βMack.β
His eyes widened at your tone. He pulled away then, his head now back against the door.
βSorry.β He shook his head, bringing his hands to his sides.
βNo, Iβm sorry. We shouldnβt be doing this. Itβll just make things awkward.β
Mack nodded, as if he totally understood what you were saying. But in all honesty? Macklin couldnβt give a fuck less about what was professional and what was not. He wanted you. Heβd known that since the moment heβd seen you with your little tripod.
You stepped beside him, walking straight out the bathroom. You didnβt bother to text Sadie about your departure, you didnβt bother to say goodbye to any of the hockey boys. You just needed to leave.
The walk home was cold. The fall leaves blew around you as you walked into the night. You wrapped your coat tighter around you, still embarrassed about the whole ordeal with Mack.
You didnβt know why you ran off. I mean, when you really thought about it, hooking up with one of the players really meant nothing. You were all grown, you were mature enough to move on and forget about it. Now that you really had time to think about it, you kind of regretted not just going for it. Heβs a cute guy. Heβs respectful, and he immediately understood when you cut him off.
Damn. You really shouldβve just gone for it.
You felt your phone chime, expecting a text from Sadie asking about where you were. You looked down, opening up the notification.
Fraser seemed like the kind of guy who could flirt. He was 6β2β and made of muscle, and had the kind of βhot nerdβ look that girls went feral for.
And yetβ
βIβm so sorry, Iββ he bent down to pick up the stacks of books that had went flying 5 seconds prior which promptly knocked his head into yours as he came down.
He stumbled back as he grasped his head, rubbing ever so slightly to calm the pain from the collision. He reached one hand out, squeezing his eyes shut as he spilled out about one hundred more apologies.
You grasped your own head, looking at the mess of books covering a small section of the bookstore you worked at. Fraser was a regular. He came in and bought a random sci-fi book at least once or twice a month, and every single time, heβd managed to either make a mess of the store, or a fool of himself. In this occasion, he chose the both options.
You watched as he scrambled to help clean up, and you couldnβt help but giggle. He glanced up in that moment, looking like a lost puppy.
βWhat?β
βNo nothing,β you said, covering your mouth as you continued to laugh.
He immediately looked worried, his brown hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head.
βIβ Iβm so sorry, seriously it wonβt happenββ
βItβs all good Fraser. I donβt mind.β
You stood up from your position on the floor, you quickly tightened your ponytail from where it had loosened and offered your hand to help Fraser up.
He continued to stare up at you, pausing for a few seconds. He stared at your freshly manicured fingers as if the wind was knocked out of him.
Itβs nothing, itβs a simple gesture, the polite thing to do in a situation like this.
But yet he still found himself keeping quiet and unmoving, afraid that if he does anything more, heβll somehow knock over a whole shelf full of books.
You withdrew your hand after a few seconds, your brows furrowing in the middle as you stared at him.
βOooookay.β
He shook his head some more, his face turning bright red as he continued to stack the books that had gone toppling.
You quietly thanked him, placing them back in their respective places, youβd figured Fraser would have made his way to the sci-fi section like he always did after embarrassing himself. This time, he stayed rooted in place, watching as you sorted the books out.
You shifted to face him, a quizzical look on your face as you took in his stance. You couldnβt help but giggle at him, which made his face burn brighter.
You hid your face behind a book, smiling as he shook his head. He seemed to be working up the courage to say something anything to you.
He bowed his head, scratching at a spot on his neck.
βWhenever I come in here, I feel like I vandalise your store everytime.β He shook his head once again, finally mustering up the courage to look you in your eyes. βIβm so sorry, I can make it up to you.β
You smirked, staring back at him. You leant back against the shelving, crossing your arms across your chest. βHow so?β
βDo youβ¦ errββ he looked back at his feet before blurting out, βcoffee? Tomorrow?β
You stared at his bashful appearance, letting out another small giggle. βSure.β
He smiled, then finally looked back up at you, a fresh wave of confidence washing over him.
Notes: Iβm getting back into writing guys!! Any tips or feedback really helps! (Also thank you for the love on already over πππ I was so scared to post it)
FRIDAY NIGHT finds you in the laundry room, shoving a weekβs worth of clothes into a washing machine while half the campus gets ready for another party. you always do your laundry when thereβs a party, because while everyone else is busy drinking, the laundry room is empty.
peaceful, predictable, no waiting around for 5000 years.
you toss a detergent pod into the drum and slam the door. your basket sits at the side while you take a seat on top of the spinning machine, untangling your earphones while the door opens. you donβt look up.
βhuh,β they speak, βwas starting to think youβd transferred.β
you freeze.
god, please no.
you look up.
willβs standing in the doorway with an overflowing laundry basket in his hands, looking almost surprised by your existence. the second your eyes meet, he grins.
you tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear, lowering your hands as you try to fight the blush. βi . . what? what are you talking about?β you play dumb, forcing a laugh.
ok, so what if youβve subconsciously been going out of your way to avoid will after you kissed him? only by a little bit - itβs not like youβre taking massive repercussions just to avoid him.
did you cross the soaking, soggy, muddy grass in the middle of campus and ruin your sneakers because he was walking in your direction? maybe, but you were running late for practice anyway.
did you completely by coincidence, start switching up seats from your usual spot just for a change? yeah, βcause it seemed . . fun to do?
did you duck underneath the cheerleading table during the student involvement fair because you spotted his baseball cap weaving through the crowd? yeah, but you thought your earring had fell out at the same moment.
will has actually been . . an angel. heβs left you alone. he hasnβt pried. hasnβt seeked you out to hound you. itβs you β you think about him for even a second and youβre riddled with guilt, you hear him and your face flushes with embarrassment, you see him and your chest starts beating too fast and your stomach gets that weird tingly sensation like it did when his tongβ
βyouβre getting creative.β
he snaps you out of your daze. you blink, lost. βwhat . . what do you mean?β
βyouβre avoiding me.β
his voice makes you straighten, although heβs smiling, gum smacking in his mouth. he has a navy hat on, some baseball team on it, matching his navy t-shirt. βiβm . . iβm not,β you try to play off. βiβve been busy.β
βdoing what?β
βjust with classes and stuff . . cheerleading . . usual.β
βi havenβt seen you in class. i was looking for you.β
that makes your heart squeeze with guilt. youβre unfazed when he doesnβt show up to class, heβs missed a dozen classes due to hockey, whether college-related or some variant of international play - you get on with your day.
when you donβt show up one day, willβs brain is wracked wondering if everythingβs ok.
βiβve been every day,β you answer, and you have, youβre not lying . . . youβve just been on the complete opposite side you usually sit on. βdid you need something . . ? my fileββ
he shakes his head while lowering his basket, placing it on the floor to opening a machine door. βi just . . wanted to make sure i hadnβt done something.β
you frown. βwhat?β
he shrugs one shoulder, slightly turning his back to you while he loads up his machine. βjust figured i made you uncomfortable or somethin.β
the joking tone is gone.
itβs so matter-of-fact that it makes your chest tighten. βno,β the answer comes instantly as you shake your head. βno will, thatβs not . . . no. you didnβt make me uncomfortable.β
he watches you closely, turning around to you. βyou promise?β
βi promise,β you hold up your hands as if to prove youβve got nothing crossed. you even uncross your legs. βyou didnβt make me uncomfortable. i . . itβs me.β you confess.
you slump in your spot, like you can no longer carry the weight. βitβs just β every time i see you, i β i get embarrassed. i canβt believe i tried to kiss you and iβm so sorry for it. βn then i was scared in case you started telling people and if brad found out so iβve had this god-awful anxiety all week, it makes me sickββ
willβs standing in front of you now, his brows furrowed as he moves his hands across like as if to cut you off. you do. βyouβd think iβd tell people?β
you raise a shoulder. β. . well yeah, like i thought . . maybe youβd tell your friends.β
ββnot in a cruel way,β you say quickly. βjust . . because you two donβt like each other and . . i thought maybe youβd . . . rub it in or something?β
a long silence settles between you. will steps closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that youβre no longer talking across the room. you can smell his signature scent better, cleanliness and something masculine. βi donβt really like brad.β
βi know.β
βbut i like you a lot more than i donβt like him.β
you close your eyes and that, feeling like your heart could melt through your fingers.
he says it so casually, with no shame or embarrassment.
βwhy would i do something like that? at your cost?β
your throat tightens as he keeps going, and you have to lift your hand to get him to stop taking. βwillββ
ββyou really thought iβd use you to get at him?β
βnβno.β the word comes out small. βi donβt know what i thought i just . . was overthinking it every possibility,β you lower your head. β. hiding just makes the most sense.β
he smiles, but itβs smaller this time - softer. the one that kind of pulls at your heartstrings. βhey,β he says quietly, waiting until you meet his eyes. βyou really donβt have to do all that.β
βwhat?β
βhide from me.β
the words arenβt teasing anymore, and his gaze holds yours in a comforting reassurance. βi hate to think youβve spent a week changing where you sit or taking different routes, worrying every time you see me because you think iβm gonna make things weird.β he gives a tiny shake of his head. βiβm not.β
you look down at your hands.
βi havenβt told anybody,β he continues. βand iβm not going to. not my teammates. not my friends. definitely not brad. itβs nobody elseβs business but ours, and if you donβt want anyone knowing, then thatβs where it stays.β
ours.
it sounds weird coming from him and doesnβt something weird to your limbs.
βyou donβt have to explain yourself to me, and you donβt have to spend every day trying to make sure we never end up in the same room,β his voice is warm now, almost comforting. βiβd rather you just be yourself . . β heβs closer now, standing directly in front of you, your knees almost touch him. βiβd much rather get the version of you that argues with me that iβm not 6β1 in skates and tells me iβm annoying.β
you laugh a little, looking away from his blue eyes. βyou are not 6β1 in skates.β
ββcourse i am,β he inches closer, face full of fake arrogance although his voice is soft and teasing. it eases your nerves, loosens you a little.
βi . .β you laugh at yourself without any humour in it. βyouβre right. iβm sorry, iβm just . . iβm a mess at the minute.β you place your head in your hands.
you donβt know why you assume will to be cruel like that. you know heβs not. maybe itβs a you thing: you have a hard time learning not every guy is brad. itβs instinct to assume theyβre all the same.
will doesnβt hesitate to peel your hands from your face, standing almost between your legs if they had been spread apart a little more. βyouβre not a mess, y/n.β his handβs nonchalantly relax on your thighs, your bare thighs because itβs approaching 10PM and youβre dressed for bed in a plain oversized t-shirt while 90% of campus is at that 80s themed party tonight.
your gaze drops to his hands, how they blanket your thighs, the way fingers stretch farther than they seemed capable of around them. when you finally drag your eyes back to his face, heβs already looking at you.
βnobody knows. nobody will know,β his voice is low, like itβs meant only for you.
his hands shift again, slower this time, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against your skin like he doesnβt even realize heβs doing it. βjust you and me . . .β
you donβt mean to do it, you try to fight it - but you look anyway - you look at his mouth while heβs talking. pink lips moving, voice smooth like honey, soft in a way that doesnβt match how close he is standing. the sound settles under your skin, soft and slow, it warms every part of you until it feels like youβre physically melting.
your shoulders drop first, tension bleeding out of you in a way that makes you blink like youβve just woken up.
itβs like the space between you starts shrinking on its own. βwill,β you mutter, eyes dropping. βweβyouβre too close.β
he huffs a quiet laugh at that. βtoo close?β his brow twitches, βafter a week of not seeing me?β
you give him a look despite his teasing, but you still donβt move.
his lips tug in response, fingers sliding to the crease between your legs and torso, fingers curling around the back until heβs pulling you towards him. your breath catches before you can stop it, your eyes dropping eye-level with his neck. the smell of his aftershave hits you next, clean and sharp, drawing you closer to him.
βyouβre telling me to move . . β he murmurs, βbut you keep coming closer.β
ββm not.β
βno?β his nose brushes yours, feather-light, enough to make your heart jump; your eyes close.
you donβt know what heβs saying anymore, your thoughts feel like theyβve been wrapped in cotton and youβre waiting for him to kiss you.
his nose grazes yours again as he leans in, slow enough to give you every chance to pull away, and when you donβt β he finally kisses you.
again.
the kiss is slow. unhurried, like neither of you has anywhere else to be.
somewhere between his hand finding your waist and your fingers curling instinctively into the front of his t-shirt, the noise youβve been carrying around all week melts into silence, every anxious thought that had been ricocheting around moments ago simply fades.
willβs lips are soft. theyβre gentle on yours. itβs so sweet it makes your ears ring.
when he pulls away, your eyes stay closed and you donβt dare move.
he kisses you again.
it deepens this time, his lips parting more gradually until his tongue slides against yours, warm and wet and tasting faintly of something minty. your arms come up to his neck in a mind of their own, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. you can feel the smirk in his kiss.
he doesnβt let you breathe. itβs a kiss youβve never experienced before; it sends tingles down your spine and makes your toes curl. you chase more.
will makes a breathy sound, lips pushing harder against yours as his hands tighten around your waist. he pulls your lower half closer to the edge of the machine until your knees bracket his hips and you grab his arm consciously. βwill,β you hum breathlessly, his lips brushing yours. βwe canβtββ
he cuts you off again, messily slotting his lips against yours.
the alarm bells in your mind silence with the the feel of his hands travelling back to your legs, caressing the top of your thighs, his thumb smoothing the inside of it. it makes your breath stutter; your brain short-circuit and thoughts turn to mush.
βwill,β you say again between kisses, eyes closing with every stroke of his tongue massaging yours. it distracts you from the hand slowly making its way between your legs. βmmphββ
the sudden contact of willβs middle finger pressing against your clothed slit sends a jolt through your body; a high-pitched gasp past your lips. he continues to kiss you as you pull away, barely regaining consciousness as your hand snatches a hold of his wrist, stopping his hand from moving another inch. βwill, will, willββ you whisper, trying to get him to stop.
he does. the second you whisper, he eases back, breaking the kiss gently between you. his eyes stay closed for a moment longer, forehead hovering yours, his lips glisten with saliva. his breathing is still uneven, his shoulders moving with each intake.
he doesnβt rush. he just lets you go, his nose brushing your cheek as if heβs giving himself a second before reality catches up.
βwill . . .β your voice comes out embarrassingly small. you swallow. βi-i canβt.β
this time, he nods. slowly. like heβd already known that was coming.
it makes your chest hurt.
your eyes dart to the door, your heartbeat suddenly loud again.
you look back at him, eyes softening at the devastating sight: blond curls messily spread across his forehead, cheeks flushed pink from your intense makeout. βiβm sorry,β you blurt, gently easing his hand from your waist. he lets you. βi justβwe shouldnβtβve . . i shouldnβt haveββ
he gives another small nod and takes half a step back. βi get it,β he says like heβs trying to spare you the conversation. βitβs cool.β
βnoββ you trap him between your legs before he can step away anymore. βplease wait.β
βitβs fine, y/n.β he unhooks your ankles over him.
βno will, wait, please,β you hop off the washing machine, ignoring the terrible ache down below as you try to get him to look at you. βitβs not youββ
βi know.β
βno butββ
he tries not to sigh. βy/nββ
βplease donβt be weird with me.β
he pauses. he looks at you properly, confusion swirling in his eyes. βi wonβt . . ?β
βdonβt be mad.β
he looks back at you, brows knitting together. βiβm not.β
dismissive. matter-of-fact.
your chest only tightens. βno, but you are,β you insist quietly. βi can tell.β
βiβm not mad at you,β he establishes, furrowing his brows at the accusation.
βpromise?β
he lets out a quiet breath through his nose, keeping his gaze on you. βyeah.β
you search his face for something, anything, that tells you heβs telling the truth. βiβm not going to avoid you,β the words spill out too fast, βnot this time. i swear.β
his expression softens, eyes drifting to the floor, βyou donβt have to promise me anything.β
βno but i do, iββ you donβt even know what to say. βcan we just be the same? like, before?β your eyes are pleading as you look up to him. βi donβt want you toββ ditch me? leave me alone? ignore me? βi dunno, iβm β justβdonβt change anything. weβre good.β you nod, smoothing the bottom of your shirt. βweβre good. you donβt need toβto disappear on me orββ
βdisappear on you?β will perks an eyebrow at that, offended. βthatβs you who does that.β
βi know, i know, iβm sorry. i wonβt this time, i promise.β you cringe, cheeks flaming. βiβll literally save you a seat on monday, iβ weβre cool. weβre cool. this never happened.β
will raises his head in acknowledgment.
alright.
cool.
he nods. βyeah.β
it isnβt cold. it isnβt angry. if anything, thatβs what makes your heart clench. he isnβt going to fight you on it or ask why, he isnβt going to make you feel worse than you already do.
he just accepts your response. βsee you around.β
you take a step closer as he makes it to the door, basket scooped in his hand. βwillββ you open your mouth, but nothing comes - because what are you even supposed to say?
you settle with a weak βiβm sorryβ and he gives another nod. βi know.β
and then heβs gone.
the second the door shuts, your chest caves. you drag a hand over your face.
idiot.
this never happened? why would you say that? that wasnβt what you meant. you feel even worse as you did before, and this time, you promised you wouldnβt avoid him.
-
the party buzzes around you.
people shout over the music, bottles clink somewhere in the kitchen, someone youβve never met is laughing hard enough to fold in half. itβs chill for a saturday night. you stay tucked into bradβs side most of the night, fingers hooked loosely through his arm. you laugh when everyone else laughs, nod along to conversations you havenβt really heard.
youβre already moving when brad asks for you to get something for him.
you try to have a good time, youβve had two seltzers to help you, but thereβs a strange emptiness following you around all evening.
like somethingβs missing.
you donβt realize how often your eyes drift across the room until you catch yourself doing it again.
βbabe, can you grab me another beer?β
ββcourse.β you grin, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.
itβs automatic, all of it - the way you lean against him when he pulls you in, play with the hair at the back of his neck while heβs talking to his friends - youβre attentive. sweet.
maybe a little too hard.
you weave through the crowd, muttering quiet apologies as shoulders knock yours from every direction. βsorry.β
βitβs fine.β
you step aside to let them through.
thatβs when you see him.
will.
your heart stumbles so hard it almost feels painful.
heβs sunk into the corner of the sofa, one arm stretched lazily along the back of it. a girl sits tucked into his side, laughing at something heβs just said. another sits to his left, their knees touching.
your eyes stay fixed on them, unable to look away despite every part of you screaming to.
he says something that makes the one of the right laugh, and her fingers curl around the front of his t-shirt, collecting a firm grip β and your feet stop.
you watch him nod, lips pulled to the side in that smirk he does and you catch the way his eyes dip to her mouth.
your eyes could slice him.
donβt.
before your brain can make sense of what youβre looking at, will leans in, all confidence. she meets him halfway.
then it happens.
they kiss.
your brows raise and your mouth falls open before your brain has fully registered whatβs going on.
he kisses her.
not accidentally.
not drunkenly.
deliberately.
for a second, all you can hear is the rush of blood flooding your head.
your entire body goes hot.
you watch like a complete weirdo, watching the way he slips his tongue in, the way his head moves to meets hers, the way his eyes remain closed and his hand rests on her leg.
something ugly flares inside you violently.
your whole body racks.
βbabe?β
bradβs voice reaches you from somewhere behind.
you donβt answer.
youβre still staring.
still hoping, stupidly, that heβll pull away.
βbabe?β
you flinch at a hand brushing your elbow, so hard it almost startles you.
βwhat?β you bite.
brad blinks. βi just asked if you got my drink . .β
βwell, iβm getting it, arenβt i?!β
his eyebrows raise, taken back by the tone. βalright . . .β
honestly, brad is at a loss these days. when heβs being an ass, you act a psycho, when heβs on his best behaviour and treating you good, you act a psycho.
βgod!β you scoff, wrenching open the fridge harder than necessary.
βwhatβs wrong with you?β
βnothing.β
βdoesnβt seem like nothing.β
βBRAD!β you shout this time, slamming the door closed with a flare in your eyes. βSTOP talking to me.β
a couple of heads turn and brad raises his hands immediately. the look in your eyes is new.
βokay.β
guilt pricks at you for all of half a second when you hand him the can, because when you look up againβtheyβre still there.
heat surges through you all over again. you donβt even recognize the feeling.
βbabe, chill out, alright? what happened?β bradβs voice is soft for once as he stands in front of you, blocking the view. he tries to be gentle. he says heβs been working on himself and youβve noticed it.
you rip his hand from your side and storm off back to your spot, your whole body almost shaking with emotions you didnβt even know you possessed.
-
monday comes around when youβve still got that furrow in your brow. the lecture theatre is already half full by the time you arrive, coffee in one hand, headphones still around your neck.
you scan the rows automatically whilst walking up the steps β and there he is.
will.
in your seat.
well, not your seat. your row.
heβs saved the chair beside him with his backpack, spotting you almost immediately. he lifts it onto his lap without a second thought.
βmorning sunshine.β he says.
like friday never happened.
like saturday didnβt exist.
like two girls hadnβt practically climbed into his lap before midnight.
your jaw tightens.
β. . hi.β
you slide into the chair without looking at him.
the silence stretches. he doesnβt seem bothered by it.
βgood weekend?β
is that a joke?
you just nod, keeping your head to the front. will lifts his in acknowledgment, sensing youβre not in a chatty mood.
βbrad got asked to skate with us tomorrow,β he says after a while, looking over at you after he finishes taking notes off the slide.
that grabs your attention. you look up, barely meeting his eyes for a second, trying to sound interested. βhe did?β
βyeah. jakeβs got mono, lenoβs concussed . . asked if heβd come by the rink tomorrow afternoon.β
you hum, typing on your laptop.
conversation = over.
he studies you for a second as you avoid his gaze, then shakes his head so subtly, you donβt see it.
somethingβs up.
you type while will scribbles notes. every now and then he fidgets in his seat, his elbow brushes yours, he stretches dramatically or readjusts his hat on his head and it slowly chips at your patience.
βwill, quit smacking your gum.β
βwill, your volume.β
βwill,β you nudge his arm off your side of the desk. βyour elbow.β
you try not to sound so quick with it, but you swear, he must be doing it on purpose. youβre laser-focused on the screen at the front of the room while he texts from next to you, and you canβt take it.
βoh my god, smitty! can you breathe through your nose?β your head cranks to him, unable to concentrate on anything other than the sound of his breathing next to you.
will pauses, mouth still open, glancing at you.
he shuts his mouth, not tearing his eyes from you.
ok.
five minutes later, after trying to be as mute as possible, he yawns.
you donβt even look up. βwill.β
βhuh?β
βwhy are you being so loud.β
he freezes. β . . what?β
βseriously.β you grit your teeth.
willβs brows furrow. your attitude is clear as day to him now. βi . . yawned.β
βyeah. out loud. for everyone to hear.β
βi wasnβt aware there was another method?β he responds sarcastically, squinting his eyes at you.
βcome up with one.β
his brow twitches. so thatβs the mood youβre in today? he looks around theatrically. βanybody know how to yawn quietly?β
a couple of students glance over before returning to their conversations. will looks back at you. βyou are in a mood.β
βiβm not.β
βcouldβve fooled me,β he tilts his head, making your stomach flip. βseriously . .β he turns back to fix his notes, βtell brad to step his game up or something.β
you shoot him a look. βwhatβs that supposed to mean?β
he shrugs. βi donβt know. dudeβs clearly slacking if this is what iβm dealing with on a monday morning.β
your jaw falls. βheβs not slacking in anything.β
βpfft. ok.β
βhey!β you snap, βwhat are you getting at?β
βnothing.β
βno say it.β
βi said nothing.β
βyouβre implying something.β
βyouβre hearing things,β he smiles at himself, tongue poking his cheek. itβs cute seeing you mad. itβs actually cute seeing you mad at him.
you donβt find it funny.
instead, you thump his arm with your fist.
βOW!β
βyouβre an asshole.β
βthatβs assault.β
βgood.β
he rubs his bicep dramatically but smiles. βjesus.β
the professor begins wrapping up the lecture, peers already exiting the room while others are still packing their bag. youβre halfway through closing a document to get out of here whenβ
clap!
your laptop snaps shut, and you jump.
willβs already standing, one hand still resting on the top of it. βtell your boyfriend he owes the rest of us an apology,β he says, swinging his bag over his shoulder, and your brows furrow. β . . heβs gotta be doing something wrong if this is the mood heβs sending you into class with.β
there he is again. picking at your relationship. acting like he knows everything.
you snatch your laptop back. βget off his back.β
willβs lets out a quiet breath through his nose. βyou should try getting off mine.β he bargains, inching close to your face.
you open your mouth, but end up looking like a goldfish because you open and close your mouth βcause nothing comes out. too distracted by him getting too close in your face, the dimple on his cheek, how pink his lips are. he walks off, unbeknownst to the heat clawing at your body.
-
you spend the rest of the week going about your day as normal. you go to class, you go to practice, youβve even been to the rink, watching brad whoβs been filling in for defence. itβs surprisingly easy tuning out the annoying sound that is will.
or at least you pretend it is.
in group discussions, you pretend to write something super important in your notebook when he gives his input. you donβt look at him when he talks. if someone asks the group a question, you answer them all but him. you leave your earphones in through every lecture you share, even when nothingβs playing anymore. at the rink, you donβt even turn your head when he flies past on the ice a dozen times, barely allowing yourself to clap twice when he makes a good play because everyone around you does.
the anger starts to dull around the edges by midweek, as if being away from him has allowed you to cool down and realize itβs not that deep. that youβre overreacting and his little remarks are nothing out the ordinary from him. you almost ask him for his notes on a slide that went by too fast β almost.
until a girl in the row in front turns around and asks for a pencil.
will passes her one before you even comprehend what she says, and you watch the way they interact: the way she smiles up at him, how she says his name when she thanks him, the way he winks back in response.
suddenly, youβre staring at his side profile and youβre replaying the image of him slipping his tongue in some girlβs mouth.
βFUCK!β you unexpectedly say out loud, palms smacking your forehead.
people turn and look at you concerned, including will, whoβs is more confused, but assumes, like everyone else, that itβs an answer youβve answered incorrectly on your sheet as you look down at it.
itβs not. youβre just going insane. you swear. you swear, youβre going insane.
friday rolls around when you find yourself at the rink, running a little behind to meet brad after he pitched dinner and a movie at his place after you were both finished with practice. you texted him youβd be there in ten and he never answered, so made your way in to the arena anyway, only to be met with the sound of a single set of skates still cutting through the ice.
i already know who this is, you think to yourself, strutting over to the ledge.
will sees you when you come in, still shooting pucks in the net despite practice ending 10 minutes ago. heβs always the last off the ice. always putting in an extra shift.
he goes back to firing shot after shot, aiming for a different angle in the net until the person on the zamboni will have to force him off the ice. he doesnβt acknowledge you. you donβt acknowledge him.
you set your bag up on the ledge to dig through the clutter for your phone; a mess of makeup products, your sweaty uniform, a bra, loose change, hair clips, pom-pom strands and water bottles - it makes it harder then necessary.
by the time you pull it out, you donβt waste time in checking if brad got your message and call him instead - trying to block out the crack of each shot that echoes around the rink. βhello?β
βhey. whatβs up?β
βwhere are you, i just got here. iβm standing in the box?β you glance around, trying to see if you can catch sight of him lingering in the tunnel.
βbabe, i left like 5 minutes ago. i was gonna hang at jordanβs βtil you were done practice?β
βi told you i finished the same time as you?β
crack.
your eyes follow the trail of the puck hitting the boards.
βi though you finished at 5:30? and by the time you get showered βn shit i was just gonna wait for you to call me . .β
βi finish at 5:00 and thatβs including getting showered βn stuff.β you glance to the side in disbelief.
βoh.β
βoh?β you repeat. βwill i meet you at your place or not?β
βlook, just come to jordanβs. iβll text you the address. iβve already had a beer so youβll have to come grab me anyway.β
βokay,β you huff, lowering your phone. βbye.β
βbye.β
you throw your phone in your bag, shoving the other things you had to take out back in when your favourite lipstick hits the ice with a βclackβ as it falls from the ledge and begins rolling further out.
past the blue line, past the face-off dot, until it finally comes to a stop almost dead centre of the rink.
you eyes immediately jump to will, the only one on the ice, who was watching it as well.
heβs smacking his gum (as always), and shrugs a shoulder while looking at you. βiβm not getting it.β
the bluntness makes you straighten.
you blink.
βyou act like i donβt exist so,β he pulls a face like itβs something out of his control, turning back to his setup. βcome get it yourself.β another crack of the boards deafens your ears.
you look back to the lipstick in the middle of the rink, then to the type of shoes on your feet.
ordinary sneakers. barely a grip on them with how long youβve had them.
can you even walk on ice with regular shoes on?
you look at will to see if heβs being serious, but heβs too busy on stick work, not even sparing you a second glance.
you swallow nervously.
is he really gonna make you grab it yourself?
you contemplate how badly you really need it, considering you havenβt skated on the ice since you were 10 and at that, had a penguin skating aid to lean on.
you then consider the fact the zamboni will probably crush a perfectly good $25 lipstick into little tiny pieces if you do.
you also then consider the worst case scenario: what if it shoots out a tiny piece at somebody? and causes a total freak accident where blood is on your hands because you couldnβt be bothered to pick up after yourself? that gets you moving.
you set your bag down and tuck your hair back so it doesnβt block your view. you mutter something under your breath and step carefully through the open gate, goosebumps running along your legs.
the second the rubber mat disappears beneath your white nikes, your confidence goes with it.
your foot slides at least a foot.
you immediately grab the boards.
you hear him snort.
you ignore it.
with one hand clamped to the top of the boards, you shuffle forward awkwardly, feet barely leaving the ice.
god, how are you making it to the centre?
you make it a whole three steps before one foot shoots slightly ahead of the other when will sends another puck against the boards, making you jump and lose footing. βwhoa!ββ you catch yourself at the last second.
you quickly realize how terrifying and dangerous it is be on the ice during a game.
the boards rattle with you.
you continue inching forward, tiny steps at a time, looking no-where but the golden-like rectangle. itβs so slippy. the shooting has stopped so you assume will is watching you. you donβt wanna know how stupid you must look tight now.
stiff. jumpy. covered in goosebumps.
itβs so cold, your arms and legs suffering the most as they remain bare from the worn BC t-shirt and shorts you first got years ago. youβre convinced the shivering isnβt helping with your balance.
will watches, leaning lazily on his stick before setting it against the boards beside his helmet. then, with a couple of effortless strides, heβs gliding towards you, almost racing you without looking like heβs trying.
you refuse to look at him.
your eyes stay fixed on the lipstick.
just a little bit more . . .
you crouch carefully, every muscle in your body tensing as your fingertips hover inches away β when a pair of skates come into view and give a soft tap of the golden case, sending the thing gliding further on down to the right, a few more feet across the ice.
you freeze, mouth dropping as you look up to see will already drifting backwards.
β . . . ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!β
βoh.β he looks theatrically around the empty rink. βyou can see me?β
you stand in such a rush, stumbling, forgetting where you when his arm out stretches to catch you - and you hold on, closing the distance between you in two careful, clumsy steps, grabbing a fistful of the arms of his jersey. βyouβre an asshole!β
βdamn, i didnβt think youβd know it was me,β he continues with the joke, staring down at your face, βforgot my invisible cloak.β
βiβve seen you all week, iβve just been purposely ignoring you!β you snap, feeling smaller than usual as he towers inches above you in his skates.
βfor no other reason than . . ?β
βfor no other reason being youβre insufferable company and nothing but a pain in my ass.β
he rocks gently on his skates, taken aback but still finding it amusing. he loves when you swear. itβs surprisingly out of character. βgee . .β he tilts his head slightly, eyebrow twitching up, βguess bradβs still being a pussy and not eating yours.β
your face falls.
almost horror-like, as if you canβt believe he just said that.
you canβt believe he just said that.
your mouth hangs open.
nothing.
not a single comeback.
you just stare at him, heat rushing up your neck so fast it burns your cheeks. for once, your brain doesnβt have anything clever to throw back. just stunned, offended silence.
βyouββ is all you manage, breathless with disbelief.
it isnβt even anger at first, itβs pure, stunned embarrassment.
you shove against his chest on instinct, creating space between you like distance might somehow undo what heβd just said. you canβt even bring yourself to meet his eyes. you just push him away, allowing him grin to himself while you twist on your heel to fetch your lipstick and go.
you make it just three steps in when your foot slips sideways and a squeak leaves you. βWHEUP!ββ
your knees slam into the ice.
hard.
a cold thump echoes across the rink before your palms slap down after them, and the pain is immediate.
hot.
your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. you stay frozen on all fours, forehead bowed, your palms stinging against the freezing ice as your knees throb beneath you.
it hurts so bad.
the scrape of skate blades reaches you seconds later. βshit, heyββ a gloved hand appears in front of you. you bat it away without thinking. you canβt even tell him to leave you alone, a lump lodged too tightly in your throat.
heβs surprised. βy/n,β he says, his voice different. the teasing is totally gone.
instead, you turn your face away from him, swallowing hard, refusing to let him see the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes - whether from the pain or the embarrassment, you donβt know. you force yourself forward, practically crawling the first couple of feet before grabbing onto the boards with both hands. every movement sends another throb to your knees.
will watches, heart racing, the guilt pulling him down. he wants to throw himself down on the ice and break every one of his teeth if it would make you feel any better.
he stays where he is when you push through the gate without another glance, limping while picking up your bag.
he stands in the silence on his own, his eyes drifting to the abandoned gold tube sitting alone in the middle of the ice. he spots the little dots of blood from where youβve cut your hands.
he throws his head back, sighing loudly.
why did he do that?
-
by saturday night, youβre exhausted. itβs ridiculous: the weekendβs barely started. your knees are still bruised, ugly shades of purple blooming beneath the skin. every time you kneel or bend them too far, they remind you exactly how hard you hit the ice.
you cried in the car. not because of will, because they hurt fucking bad β because the second the adrenaline wore off, every movement stung like a motherfucker. only for 2 minutes, because you had to go collect brad, and brad hated crying, or he hated dealing with it, rather.
date night hadnβt lasted long anyway. the first time youβd shifted in your place, youβd sucked in a sharp breath.
βwhatβs wrong?β heβd asked, giving you a weird look.
βitβs nothing, just . . my kneesβ you rolled your pyjamas up to show the violent bruising already coating them. bradβs brows furrowed. βwhatβd you do?β
that made you pause, because you didnβt know what to say. the instant will comes to mind, your immediate reaction is to deflect and deny when brad brings him up. βi donβt know.β
you knew it was the wrong answer the second youβd said it.
βyou donβt know?β he repeated, staring at you.
βwell i . . i fell, whatβd you think i did?β you chuckled nervously, settling on the lie you did it at practice. however, bradβs face hardens at your remark, and you donβt realize the damage youβre doing right now.
he squints his eyes. βyou tell me β what were you doing?β
you can guess how it ended.
now, youβre catching up on laundry, again, because thereβs a party and you offered to do katieβs now that sheβs back at her boyfriendβs place. as always, itβs empty. chill vibes. you have one earphone in, listening to your 80s playlist you always play, thinking about the little bit of work you could catch up on when you get back.
you finish sorting another pile before setting your next basket down next you, opening the door to switch them out.
when you finish emptying the machine, you reach for the next basket - only to find the little glimmer of gold sitting on top.
your hand pauses.
your lipstick.
from the rink.
you stare at it for a second before turning around, met with will standing opposite side of the room at a machine.
he stands with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, his laundry basket next to him.
and all you can think is why β why does the sight of him tug at your heart?
you look back down at the lipstick.
itβs spotless, the scuffs are gone, thereβs not a fingerprint on the metallic surface. heβs taken the time to make sure it wasnβt ruined before giving it back.
willβs loading up a machine when you look back at him, pressing buttons effortlessly before he turns around to lean against it, crossing his legs, his eyes focused on his phone.
you let out a quiet breath, turning back to your laundry.
you canβt seem to stay mad at him. youβre not mad at all when you block out saturday altogether, not when you know will is completely clueless to the situation - rightfully confused because he did, in fact, do nothing wrong.
you donβt even know what he did wrong. you just didnβt like seeing him with another girl, which is so strange to admit to yourself because you have a boyfriend . . . you like to think itβs because by seeing someone else look that excited to kiss someone made something uncomfortable shift in your own chest.
maybe it forced you to notice something your relationship had been missing for a while. that easy pull towards someone, that excitement, that thrill.
god, you donβt know. you still donβt know. it makes your head hurt when you think about it for too long. you just know it made you uncomfortable and you have to assume itβs somewhat an indication that your relationship is lacking in something. you want to feel what that girl felt. experience what she felt.
but you do know how she felt, you just donβt know what to do with the fact that it wasnβt with brad.
one thing is for certain is that itβs something for you to work on, not will. youβre mature enough to accept he did nothing wrong and he doesnβt deserve your cold shoulder while you try to figure out how to fix yourself.
youβre the fucked up one, not him.
willβs been nothing but sweet to you.
respectful.
familiar.
even though he had his tongue in another girlβs mouth.
FUCK!
why the fuck are you keep coming back to that, y/n?!
will glances up as you close your eyes and clench your jaw - and he immediately feels like heβs right back to square one.
stop thinking about it y/n. stop it. just focus on . . . laundry. you were doing laundry.
you steal a glance at him while picking up a shirt to fold, scanning him head to toe as if heβs gonna look any different from yesterday. he stays distracted on his phone, head dipped down. the only thing moving is his thumb, his fingers adjusting their grip every now and then around the phone. you swallow.
heβs so big.
tall! you mean tall. heβs still so tall even without skates.
he shifts, one leg holding most of him while the other relaxes, and you quickly look down, hoping you havenβt been caught studying him after ignoring him a whole week. he keeps one hand tucked under his armpit, the sleeves of his hoodie contracting against his forarms.
you divert your focus back to your dirty and clean clothes, the hum of the dryers being the only sound in the room. your music isnβt playing anymore, your earphones abandoned at the side.
he still hasnβt said anything.
ignore him. just ignore him, y/n, he literally canβt say anything without offending yβ
βare you ignoring me now?β
the words leave before you can stop them . . and you can only own them once they leave, standing with a hand on your hip as your face frowns.
why did you just do that??
will looks at you confused, even glances around to see if youβre talking to anybody else.
βββcause iβm supposed to be ignoring you,β you continue, not knowing what youβre doing.
the fuck?
βi . . isnβt that what you want . . ?β will looks at you confused, tilting his head.
βi never said that?β you look at him like heβs not making any sense.
βoh, no i just . . assumed when you said . . i was insufferable company and youβd been purposefully ignoring me all week, that . . you wanted me to fuck off.β
oh yeah, you did say that.
still, itβs too late to back down now. βno . . ?β
will stares at you, mouth open, breathing without another thought in his head before shaking it off and turning his attention back to his phone.
you slouch, dropping your stance and backtrack. βok ok, iβm sorry. iβm sorry, just β forget that. iβm sorry. iβm being annoying and . . gaslighting you to be honest. i donβt know what iβm saying.β
will slides his phone into his pocket then, giving you his full attention. βthatβs the problem. if you donβt know, how am i supposed to know?β his tone pinches at your heart, because itβs gentle as always, despite your sense of frustration. βiβm doing what you asked, i gave you space and tried to keep things normal, and you . . wanted to rip my head off βcause i breathed too loud?β
βoh but will you always breathe loud! youβre a mouth breather,β your palm hits the washing machine like thatβs an unfair reason to be mad.
he gives you a flat look.
you slump. βsorry.β
you do feel guilty, because heβs so right. the whole week, every stupid joke, every sarcastic comment, heβd been trying to get you back to normal β and youβd punished him for it.
βthe rink yesterday, it was just me and you - i was messing with you βcause,β he shrugs awkwardly, βi donβt know. i thought itβd get you talking to me again.β then he pulls a face. βclearly misjudged that one.β
your eyes fall to the floor. βno, willββ
ββthen you hit the ice and i canβt stop thinking about it. i felt like it was my fault. i shouldnβt have kicked it away again, i was just playing around, but . . i felt like an asshole after. it looked real sore. it looks real soreβ his eyes dart to your purple knees.
βit is, but it wasnβt your fault,β you shake your head, βi probably would have fell anyway. i was storming off and forgot i wasnβt on normal ground.β
βdid you cry?β
the equation surprised you. you debate telling him, your face straight. βyes . . . but because it hurt, not βcause of you . . β
that still makes willβs stomach sick with guilt. he lets out a soft sigh. βlook y/nββ
no, no what happened to gorgeous?
ββi donβt know what i did to make you mad, if i crossed a line, just tell meββ
ββyou didnβt.β
ββok but are you saying that because itβs true?β he looks back up at you. βor are you just saying it because you donβt want me to feel bad?β
βno! no i promise.β
βso why? why the bad attitude? why have you spent the whole week mad at me? are you mad at everybody?β
to be honest, yeah β you have been mad at everybody, and itβs all because of him.
but thereβs no way in hell youβre telling him that.
βi saw you kissing another girl and it ruined my weekend. more than it did when i caught my boyfriend staring at our waitresses ass on my birthday.β
youβd rather launch yourself into traffic.
βi . . i donβt know,β you rub your arm. youβre not used to this amount of communication. youβre also not used to having to think like this. usually sorryβs enough and you deal with whatever consequences that follow after.
will deserves more than that. βi guess iβm mad . . at myself. maybe. i donβt know. i just donβt like . . how i canβt think straight anymore. my head is so messed up. i donβt even know anymore. i donβt know. i donβt know what iβm doing.β your head falls into your hands with stress.
willβs expression softens almost immediately. he lets out a slow breath through his nose. βhey.β
you look up.
βi donβt want that.β
you frown.
βwhateverβs going on in your head,β he gestures vaguely towards you. βi donβt want you feeling like youβve got to force yourself into anything because of me.β
your chest tightens.
βif youβre fighting yourself over this . . . thatβs not something i want to add to.β
βiβm notββ
he sighs, eyes stuck on you. βy/n, listen - thereβs no hard feelings. if things were simple . . youβd probably know what you wanted. iβm not saying that to make you choose, donβt take it that way,β he holds his hands up, βi just . . i think you are happy in youβre relationship and i need to stop trying to get your attention, because itβs my interference thatβs messing with your head.β
your heart sinks.
what?
βif me doing that means you spend the next week feeling guilty . . or confused . . or taking it out on yourself . . β he shakes his head, β. . i donβt want that.β
your face falls.
oh no.
he notices your expression and immediately backtracks. βthatβs not me trying to make this a thing,β he says quickly. βhonestly. iβm just saying . . . maybe the best thing i can do is stop,β he gives another small shrug, his face offering a small, playful smile. βiβll cool it with the jokes. stop trying to steal your attention. give you space, divert my attention on someone else.β
βno,β it comes out far too quickly, your face falling completely as you shake your head. βno, no, no,β you slip off the machine.
will watches you, face pulling in confusion as you approach him. βi have toββ
βno! no iββ you rush to him, hands instinctively grabbing his forearms as you almost collide. βi want your attention. i want you to annoy me, iββ your hands are on his face before you can even think, pulling him down to you. the kiss cuts him off completely.
you donβt even know what youβre doing.
all you know is that heβs saying the complete wrong thing and you donβt even want him to leave you be.
you donβt want that.
your lips collide forcefully, enough that will can sense your desperation.
you kiss him slow, lips lingering before taking a short second to part, just to breathe, before kissing him again.
hungrier.
will reciprocates this time, kissing you back. he takes a second to switch his hat backward, before his hands carefully place themselves on your waist and dips his head to meet you. you hum, melting against him.
heβs warm and soft and just as you remember him.
you kiss him harder, longer, like you canβt get enough, and quickly quicken the pace. you open your mouth, missing his tongue, missing him being up all close on you. tingles dance down your spine when you feel it, butterflies shooting around your stomach. βdonβt ignore me,β you plea breathlessly, speaking between kisses, βdonβt stop with your jokes . . and your teasing . . andββ kiss ββyour annoying breathing.β
a laugh escapes him, swallowed immediately by another kiss. βno?β -kiss- βyou donβt want that?β
βno,β you kiss him back, needing him to stop talking.
βwhyβs that?β he pulls away to look at you, smirk taking up his whole face. when you try to kiss him again, he pulls back
βbecause mββ you inch closer again, watching him look at you with amusemen, βmy days would be boring without you,β you confess, trying to pull his neck back down to you.
willβs brow twitches cockily.
not that you can see, youβre too busy focused on his lips.
your whole body feels electric. that weird, foreign feeling back in your belly as you hands gravitate shyly down his torso, resting there, unable to look him in the eye.
βyβwant me to keep annoying you?β
you nod.
βwant me to keep calling you gorgeous?β
you look up at him at that, and nod again.
he perks a brow. βyou think youβre gorgeous?β
you tighten your grip on the back of his neck and pull him back into another kiss before he can tease you again. βshut up will.β
will smiles, satisfied, and gives you what you want. he kisses you good, real good, so good you forget all about that disgusting, green jealousy thatβs been following you about you all week.
his lips are soft but his hands are rough - dropping to your hips with a firm grip, he pulls you against him in a way that makes your nerves explode and brain short circuit.
βwill,β you half-gasp when he instinctively picks you up, setting you down on a different machine. he steps in between your legs, your hands on his shoulders as your eyes widen as he settles in front of you. the pulse in your neck sky-rockets from the closeness, from the familiarity or his hands.
his eyes look dark, pupils blew out, but the familiar softness of blue still remains there comfortingly.
you smile into another kiss, melting against him as his tongue slowly crashing against yours. you donβt realize his hands brushing your legs, your knees that are battered - you donβt even flinch, thatβs how gentle he is.
he places them flat on your thighs, large, paw-like palms soothing you with warmth and familiarity as they move up and down. your mind is already hazy when you move closer to him, inching forward in a rocking-like motion which brings will to a pause. his eyes look up from you legs, blue orbs boring into yours as his voices lowers.
βi need you to make a deal with me.β
βwhat is it?β you hook your arms around his neck, keeping him close.
βi need you to promise me youβre not going to go weird on me again,β his eyes scan your face, distracting you from his fingers slipping between your thighs.
βiβi wonβt,β you stutter.
βyβpromise?β his finger brushes your front again, making you jolt. βyou promise me this is what you want?β
your mouth slowly falls open as will slowly begins to stroke you through your panties, his gaze locked on you.
you forget what heβs asking. βmβwill.β
βtell me,β he looks down at you, standing tall and full of confidence. entire frame blocking you from anyone who could walk in.
ββi promise . . i promise this is what i want,β you moan embarrassingly, head dropping in shame.
fuck! what are you doing right now?
his fingers move slowly, feeling your hot slick begin to pool through the material, βwant me to keep goinβ?β
you bite your lip to conceal your noises, nodding frantically. βmhm.β
he pushes your knees further apart, spreading them while slowly lifting his hand to slide under the waistband on your underwear. when his hand comes into contact with your bare cunt, you flinch, legs closing from the touch, your eyes shooting to him for comfort.
heβs not looking at you though, soley focused on his hand buried in your shorts.
his middle finger slides through your folds, soaked immediately, your arousal no longer a secret. a sharp gasp escapes you, your mouth hanging open. he watches your face carefully while sliding his finger in, watching the way your lips part and your eyes blink in poor consciousness as you stretch around his finger.
fuck, feels so good already.
βoh my god,β you whine, legs trying to close. βwillββ
ββshh,β he leans in and kisses you again, wasting no time in sliding a second finger, using his other hand to keep your legs open.
you moan loudly against his mouth, brows pinched together with unfamiliar pleasure while your focus slips. βhmmmβfuck.β
βthis what you wanted?β he grins, pumping his digits into you at a steady pace. βthis what you needed all week, gorgeous?β
youβre already clenching your thighs, trying to push them together again. βuh-uhβhuh.β
he grins at your lack of speech, kissing your lips, endeared. ββand youβre not gonna ignore me after this, right?β his fingers work faster in you, moving them in coordination with how your body responds.
the moans and whimpers donβt stop flying from your lips.
βmβmhm!β
βtell me. tell me youβre not gonna ignore me.β he tries to hold your eyes.
βiβiβwill!β
βyou will?β he fakes concern, stopping his movements.
βNO! no i wonβt! iβm not! please! please iβm not going to!β you cry, grabbing his wrist. βplease! donβt stop.β
willβs smirk grows as he continues.
he watches you, the way your head tips back on the machine, the way your mouth hangs open the majority of the time. itβs like you donβt even know where you are right now, the idea of someone being able to walk in not even a concept in your mind.
youβre completely surrendered to him.
just him and his fingers shoved knuckle deep in you. βFUCK!β
you cry out, ears burning with the noise of your juices slicking.
your stomach clenches, your legs flinching as you feel an unfamiliar build grow more and more by the second. it scares you. βwill, will, willββ you squeak, feeling his fingers curl at a particular spot that makes you feel like you need to pee. βwill stop, stopββ
βwhatβs wrong, baby?β he breathes, trying to hide his confusion, the nickname going straight to your core. he knows your close - he can feel you clenching around him, it almost hurts. βyou gonna cum for me?β
your eyes practically roll to the back of your head at his words, struggling to stay open with each dazed blink. βiβi-β
βitβs ok babe, just let go. thatβs what i want you to do,β his voice is soft and gentle, contradicting the violation his hand is doing to your pussy.
he has you melted down to nothing.
your face pulls together as your whole body racks, your hand clutching his wrist for stability as you breathe frantically. βcanβt iβi need, you needββ
ββyou can, gorgeous. cum for me. cum right now,β his fingers speed up inside you, pumping frantically, squelching deafeningly. little weird stars dot your vision as your eyes lock on each otherβs. those sweet, dark and dangerous baby blues.
the moment willβs thumb presses against your nerves, youβre a goner. your jaw goes slack, your eyes flutter and your legs thrash trying to pull away. a wet, gushing, drip-like sound rings in your ears as you cum. βWILL!β you sob, nails digging into his skin. willβs fingers donβt falter, not even as he drops his gaze to see the water-like liquid squirt out of you, dripping onto washing machine, splashing onto the floor.
βholy fuck.β he breathes, neck craning to the ground as you cry out. you try to cover your mouth with your arm, embarrassed by the noise leaving you.
your eyes find his, immediately giving you away.
he sees it - the surprise. the nerves.
the quiet panic of not understanding your own body. your own heart.
but he doesnβt laugh. doesnβt point it out.
doesnβt make you feel exposed.
instead, a gentle smile tugs at his lips, so warm it quiets every anxious thought in your head.
he grins at you like you just hung a medal around his neck. βgood job, gorgeous.β he praises.
you can only look at him, face blooming, contorted as your body slowly finishes riding out itβs orgasm on his hand.
willβs fingers slow, remaining inside you.
your chest rises and falls as you look at will with an intensity heβs never seen before.
you refuse to look anywhere else but him.
for a moment, neither of you say anything.
itβs fine.
youβre just staring at each other, heavy breathing filling the silence.
partly because both of you canβt believe what just happened.
βi didnβt β done that before.β
willβs face falls into a soft amusement, his lips tugging at the sides. βyou what?β
βi mean!ββ you facepalm a second, eyes closing as you try to think of what youβre trying to say. β. . iβve never done that before. i donβt evenβwasβwas βat supposed to happen?β you gulp.
anxiety immediately begins to set in.
oh god, did you just pee?!
willβs chuckle drowns out any second-guessing as he inches close enough that your noses touch, his voice smooth like honey. βthatβs the hottest thing that could have happened . . .β his hair tickles you, βcanβt teach that.β
your face burns, chest still rising as you refuse to meet his gaze.
will slowly retreats his hand, apologising when he notices the furrow in your brows at the discomfort and emptiness. βsorry gorgeous.β
you wipe your sweaty palms on your thighs that even feel sensitive while your eyes find the door, a weird sinking filling your chest.
that was a really stupid thing to do.
you donβt regret it.
you look back to will, waiting for him to make a move while you wait for the embarrassment to rush in any second now. it always does.
instead, he holds out both his hands for you to take.
still catching your breath, you take them.
he smiles, steadying you as you slide carefully off the washing machine. your legs wobble, but his grip tightens instinctively around your hands.
your legs are like jelly.
once youβre steady, he lets go, but he stays where he is, in front of you, watching you tuck your hair behind your ear.
his eyes dart across your face, the soft glow to it whether from him or the heat of the small room. βyou okay?β he tucks a strand you missed.
you nod, too embarrassed to speak. hardly able to look at him.
he senses it. βi hope you meant what you said.β
you freeze, head snapping to him. βwhat did i say?β
will lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his had with a little smile. βabout you wanting me to keep annoying you . . paying you attention . .β he teases.
you give his shoulder a playful shove. he barely moves. βok.β
βyour days would be boring without meββ
ββok will!β another pathetic shove, still feeling loose on your feet.
βalright, alright.β heβs laughing now, catching your wrist before you can push him again. βjust making sure you remembered.β
βi do,β you say, pulling away. βand . . i meant it.β
he smiles. βgood. i meant what i said too.β
βabout what?β
βabout how you better not be a weirdo and start hiding on me again,β he sways on his feet, hands shoved in his pockets. βi donβt want you feeling like you ever need to avoid me . .β your eyes soften, β. . or worry iβm gonna tell anyone. this stays between us. whatever it is we do . .β
your shoulders loosen without meaning to.
the knot thatβs been sitting in your chest since the kiss finally begins to ease.
he notices the perk up. you smile. βokay . . cool.β
βcool.β he smiles back.
before either of you can say anything else, before you can stand any longer just looking at each other, the laundry room door swings open. βYO! will!β
itβs one of the guys from the hockey team.
he walks in carrying an overflowing basket, not a shirt on, a towel around his neck.
will steps back so naturally youβd almost think nothing had happened. βwhatβs up?β
βyou here?β he nods towards the empty machine.
βnah, all yours.β
βsweet.β the guy glances between the two of you. βhey.β
βhey,β you answer, hoping your face isnβt still flaming. he bends down, beginning to sort his washing without another thought.
will reaches for his own basket, then looks at yours. βyou heading back to your dorm?β
you nod.
βiβll carry that for you.β
he says it as casually as asking what time it is, already lifting it before youβve answered.
you canβt help the small smile that escapes. βthanks smitty . . β
βdonβt mention it,β he shoots you a wink. βjust focus on getting up those stairs on your own.β
you give him a look, and somehow, with him carrying your laundry and teasing you exactly like before β it feels like nothing has changed.
In which you canβt let go of a situationship gone bad with a your colleges star hockey player
Notes: Babyβs first fic!! Iβm actually unsure if this is any good, I havenβt written in the longest time! Very poorly proofread too, sorry xxxxxxx
You laid spread out in your bed, your tank top twisted around your body as you contorted yourself to find any sense of comfort. You let out a whine of protest and hoisted yourself up onto your forearms, the plush sheets formed around you, which finally gave you just an inch of comfort. It lasted all of two seconds until you stared at the familiar indent of wills body on the right side of your bed.
You reached your hand out, smoothing over the sheets that were still warm despite his absence. You grabbed your phone from beside you typing a few measly words.
βMaybe we would be better off as friends?β
Those few measly words took a lot more courage to type out than you thought. Just ten minutes ago, you were making out on the very bed you were laid across, and now, youβd never be able to feel his lips on yours again. You chewed on your nail, analysing the text. Quickly, you hit the send button and threw your phone across your bed.
You and will had been doing this casual thing for four months now, and it was almost laughable how serious you were about the whole arrangement. Youβd started off as mutual friends, but you knew you were gone from the moment heβd said βIβm not looking for anything right now.β It was fun for the first two months, there were movie nights, and late night drives. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, and for a short lived moment of hope, youβd thought that maybe this could go somewhere. Until the three month mark broke and will began to shut down, he left your βmovie night?β texts unanswered, and he arranged Ubers just minutes after heβd finished up with you.
You clung to will on the off chance that maybe one night, heβd look down at you and realise that casual might not be enough for him. Youβd given away your dignity for a moment of love to a boy who wouldnβt even look your way twice. You needed him like a smoker needed cigarettes, you knew he couldnβt fix anything, but you craved him anyway.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a soft tapping at your door. You rubbed your hands over your eyes and slowly slid off your bed and padded over to the front door of your dorm.
You were surprised to see will standing on the other-side. Your brows raised at his winded state, he was breathing heavy and his hair looked like it had been blown into a messy shag resting on the top of his head. Had he ran here on the way back to his dorm? He wouldnβt have been far off to begin with.
βY/n.β
βWhy are you back?β
βYou just sent me that text? You didnβt think Iβd want to talk about it?β His tone was low and raspy, ready to snap at you if you slipped up.
βI didnβt realise itβd be that big of a deal.β You crossed your arms over your chest, staying wedged in your doorway. You didnβt want to let him in, because if you did, you knew that he wouldnβt come back out.
βWell it is a big deal. Why?β
You shook your head, not knowing what to say to that. How can you tell him that you canβt continue to be his booty call because you crave his attention like an addict? βIβ I donβt know. I justβ I donβtβ¦β
βY/n. Cut the bullshit, justβ fuck.β
He leant in, his movements sharp as he pulled you in close to his face. βYou donβt want this anymore?β His voice was low, eyes flickering wildly between your lips and eyes.
Your voice turned quiet, the type of tone that heβd really have to strain to hear. βWill. What is thisββ
You were cut off by his lips on yours. It wasnβt the kind of kisses he usually treated you to. It was sweet, slow and he moved his other hand up to cup both of your cheeks. He pulled back after a couple of seconds, staring at you with a small smile on his face. Your heart immediately sped up, and you glanced away from him to try and hide your very obvious blushing cheeks.
You woke up the next morning with wills arm lazily draped over your waist. Somehow, heβd coaxed his way back to you. Just last night, you were ending it for good, and will broke through your weak demeanour by rationing a little bit of his attention to you.
Your chest ached with guilt as you turned your head to face wills sleeping form. You knew this wasnβt good for you, you hated how easily he could get you crawling right back to him. You felt ridiculous, carrying around these feelings that had nowhere to go. Sending the text was hard enough in the first place, how are you supposed to leave him now that heβs already over?
You watched as the blonde boy stirred, he blinked a few times before staring back at your sitting form. He didnβt have the same love-struck expression from last night. You knew he was checked out again, because he immediately got up from bed, searching for his discarded shirt on the floor whilst mumbling a lousy βmorningβ with his back turned to you. He quickly rattled off excuses about an early practice and scrambled out of your door without sparing a glance your way. The last words he uttered to you was something along the lines of:
βMaybe the friendβs thing is a good idea.β
You stared at the closed door ahead of you, your eyes wide and wanting. You felt pathetic.
It had been a week since youβd last spoken to will. Since then, youβd drowned yourself in assignments and studying. You barely left your dorm in the daylight except for your lectures and extracurriculars, and you jumped at the chance of any of your friends who invited you for a night out.
On this particular morning, the crisp Boston air blew the leaves around and caused goosebumps to form under your sweater. You were clad in many layers as you warmed your hands up on your fresh takeaway coffee. You walked across campus, just trying to make it to your lecture block. You were about five minutes away as you noticed the familiar locks of blonde hair coming straight in your direction.
You lifted your head, placing a small smile on your face. You swayed your hips with every step and you adjusted your posture as will neared. You walked past him, flashing him a smile and getting ready to stop, but as you paused your walking, he pushed straight past you. He didnβt look at you, he didnβt even bear to take a breath as he walked past. You stood staring at his retreating form, your shoulders now lacking the perfect posture youβd aligned them to. You gulped down the lump in your throat and shook your head, refusing to stare at the back of his head for any longer.
The rest of the walk to class consisted of you with a very obvious frown on your face and dragging your heels along the leaf-covered pavement. You tried to muster up any explanation on why heβd done what he did. Was he giving you the silent treatment? Was he really mad at the suggestion of the two of you being purely platonic? You decided to not overthink it, and you were certain to win him back.
The whole week of you being away from him was agonising. Heβd become such a regular part of your routine and the withdrawal of his random texts and lingering cologne drove you insane. You needed him. Youβd decided that you would prefer to have three short hours of fleeting happiness instead of three long months pretending like he doesnβt exist.
The bass rattled around you as the house vibrated with the lively world of the ongoing party. You were stood in the corner, a half full red solo cup clad in your hand as you readjusted your dress for the forty third time in the two hours you had been here. You watched from the sidelines as people moved around on the dance floor. Shitty strobe lights shon onto the partygoers as they grinded and sweat together. You sighed, trying to find your friends in the sea of people. You spotted a head of blonde hair, but quickly realised it was will. You sighed, watching him as he guided a brunette through the shimmying bodies.
Your gut twisted with a pang of jealousy. The girl looked nothing like you. Your features could not be any more different. God, when he called you pretty did he even mean it?
You quickly gave yourself a mental slap. You were the one who wanted to end things. You need to stopβ
You watched as he pulled her closer, protecting her from any unknown dangers from the drunks surrounding them. You watched the way that he looked at her, or rather, the way he had never looked at you. Youβd left the situationship that made you feel crazy, and you were moping while he was very quickly moving on without a thought about you to spare.
Your time at the party quickly came to an end after seeing him. Youβd shoved your cup into some random guys hand and stormed out of the dumb party as fast as you could.
It had only been a day since youβd watched Will getting comfy with another girl, and now, you found yourself on his doormat, knocking very loudly on his apartment door.
The door quickly swung open, and wills eyes widened at the sight of you standing infront of him.
βOhββ
βThe fucks your problem?β
He stared at you blankly, clearly unknowing to why you were stood infront of him and cussing him out.
βI send that text, you makeout with me and then stay over and then say βoh yeah we should be friends,ββ you put a high pitched voice on to try and mock him, which gets you an amused look in return. βThen you just completely ghost meββ his smirk is now unashamedly smeared on his face, βthis isnβt fucking funny.β
He barked out a laugh he seemed to be holding in for your whole monologue. βY/n, go home.β
βNo. Iβm not gonna go home. Will, I canβt do this. I donβt like not being around you. I canβt stand watching your life from the sidelines without being apart of it.β You shake your head, running your hands through your hair. βI donβt even need to be your fucking sneaky link, I just like being friends.β
He stared at you, his smile now disappearing from his face. Youβd laid it out for him, you told him that you needed him, and it had left the boy speechless. Will opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. Then, after a few seconds of silence he finally answered you. βWe canβt just be friends, y/n. Thatβs the problem. You get too attached.β
You sigh, staring back at him. Your eyes pricked with teardrops as you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. You said you were done, just a week ago, you were ready to end this all. Now youβre just confused, how are you supposed to leave him now when you still need the closure? βFine.β You said, your voice bordering on a sharp tone as you stormed away. You heard the door slam shut behind you, and finally you let the tears fall.
You jolted from your idle position at the sound of a text notification that filled your once silent room. You stared at the ceiling for a little longer before leaning on your side, curious to see who was texting you at this hour of the night.
βr u awake ??β
You stared at his contact name, debating whether this was a good idea or not. Itβd been a month. A long, excruciating month of pretending that Will never mattered to you, as if you didnβt think about him every night. You knew it was a bad idea to go back, youβd dig yourself into a deeper hole and from then on, youβd be tied to a friends with benefits situation for the rest of your life.
There was no leaving will smith, which was quickly proven by your reply back.
βYup come overβ
You stare at the door, waiting for his arrival. You like your bed, but it likes him too. You watch as the hinges squeak open, and see the familar boy standing in the middle of your room.
How are you supposed to leave him now that heβs already over?
the one where y/n laurier and will smith spoke back in college. it was a constant on and off, a constant back and fourth of feelings neither wanted to admit out of pure fear. eventually, the two couldnβt handle their feelings, and will said he was too focused on hockey to be with her. y/n blew up as pop musics new it girl, and will is the san jose sharks golden boy. and now? now she has a way of subtweeting the shark through her music.
β an / little surprise drop cause i havent given u guys an update in like 2 months im actually so sorry!!! but guysβ¦ sheβs here, the last chapter π i just wanna get sappy for a second!! when i first came up with the idea for hurt my feelings, never in a million years did i expect this amount of support. every person thatβs read, reblogged, liked, taken the time out of their day to show their support and love, you all mean the world to me. iβm all sappy that hurt my feelings is over, but itβs also just the beginning! thereβs so much more i want to write about with these two, and this isnβt the last time weβll see them!! once again, thank you guys so so much, i love uuu (also someone pls notice the 'kiss ya in 6' parallel from part one)
twitter. january 1st, 2026.
january 10th, 2026.
ynlaurier
liked by _willsmith2, lexiwhite and 1m others
ynlaurier in the wise words of ella langley im back to loving life again
view all 300k comments
fan1 IS THAT A FUCKING WILL SNEAK????
fan2 UM SOFT LAUNCH HELP?? HELP ME?????
fan3 she may be getting better at these insta dump captions
fan4 CAN SOMEONE PLS TELL ME IF THIS IS A JOKE
fan5 and its will making her love life again THANKYEWWW
_willsmith2 Who's that cutie w the pancakes?
-> ynlaurier @_willsmith2 idk i found him on the street he's kinda cute tho
twitter. january 27th, 2026.
january 29th, 2026.
_willsmith2
liked by ynlaurier, mackcelebrini and 704k others
_willsmith2 So far
view all 20k comments
fan1 is anybody going to address the elephant in the room...
fan2 we all saw the pics u aint slick
fan3 DROP THE HARD LAUNCH
fan4 will can u pls give us y/n crumbs we know u have them
fan5 DROP THE DATE DETAILS
fan6 can we have a storytime pls will
mackcelebrini Papa
-> fan7 @mackcelebrini pls not again
ynlaurier can u score a hat trick for me pls i asked nicely
twitter. february 1st, 2026.
y/n and will. february 12th.
february 14th, 2026.
ynlaurier
liked by _willsmith2, mackcelebrini and 4.2m others
ynlaurier i heard they're calling this the best hard launch of all time?
firefly ft my sunshine out now, happy valentines day! ππβ
view all 999k comments
fan1 ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING
fan2 IM GONNA DIE OH MY GOD
fan3 MOMMY AND DADDY ARE BACK
fan4 include me saying they'd get back together like two years ago
fan5 DO U GUYS UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME IM DEAD
fan6 someone hold my hand rn
lexiwhite will smith music video
_willsmith2 My gorgeous girl
-> ynlaurier @_willsmith2 i lob u so much sunshine
-> _willsmith2 @ynlaurier I lob u more pretty
_willsmith2
liked by ynlaurier, mackcelebrini and 1m others
_willsmith2 Life's good
view all 100k comments
fan1 WILL FINALLY GETS HIS HARD LAUNCH AWW
fan2 im actually so happy i could cry
fan3 will is proof that never giving up on ur girl works
mackcelebrini Number one yearner got his girl Im so proud
fan5 MAMA E PAPA
fan6 i feel like i proud mother
ynlaurier my cutie patootie i love u so bad
-> _willsmith2 @ynlaurier My pretty girl I love u
ynlaurier ill be home in 5 get ready to get touched
ββ .β¦: ben kindel breaks his nose, and cannot stop thinking about you, the nurse he pathetically fumbled.
1.3k words
hiii!! this was way longer than I meant it to be lmao. I've been working on it for a bit!! I've got a sid ask I wanna work on, but omg feel free to send me more reqs. or just asks!! I love talking about these freaks
Slamming your face into the boards in the middle of a game is already embarrassing as a hockey player.
Slamming your face into the boards in front of your teammates Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin is humiliating.
He shakes his gloves off, desperately trying to stop the bleeding with his hands, but Sid is already guiding him out. He removes his hands from his face and sees both palms covered in bright red blood. Sid gives him up to the trainers at the tunnel.Β
"I feel like I'm gonna throw up," he mumbles to no one in particular, but one trainer looks at him with an embarrassing amount of pity.
When he's bursting through the door of the medical room, he's got his jersey pulled up over his face, trying to stop the constant flow of blood that's starting to make him dizzy. The penguin logo on his jersey looks quite graphic, displaying a giant red blotch on his belly.
"Kindel slammed into the boards, fucked up his nose," the trainer says, rushed. He turns his attention to the nearly unconscious boy next to him. "Different girl today, but she'll fix you up. Sit down," he urges, before disappearing outside the room.
Ben turns around and suddenly is met with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life.
"Sit down," you echo, and he quickly does. He watches you walk around the room as he sits on the examination table. You walk up to him and bump into his knees, which are knit together in nerves. He quickly spreads his legs for you to stand between them.Β
You're just too beautiful. He stares at you like he's just seen an angel, and he's not sure he hasn't. He has to look a little dumb, he's sure, but you're grabbing his face with the world's softest and gentlest hands, he can't handle it.
"Tilt your head up, honey. Don't swallow the blood. You're gonna make yourself sick."
"Okay," he says, so shaky and so quiet he's sure if you weren't so close you wouldn't have heard it.
Slowly, as to not shock him, you pinch the bridge of his nose, and he winces.
βSorry. I have to stop the bleeding.β
Ben blinks at you, eyes huge. βIss okay.β
Eventually, you guide his face back down to look at you. βDid you hit your head at all?β
He shakes his head, but it kind of hurts. βNoβ¦ jusβ my nose.β
You nod, examining his face briefly. βLook at me.β
He does, and you step closer. His eyes are so big, he knows it, and he can feel blood rushing to his face.Β A little lower, too, but he quickly suffocates that thought.
Blood trickles onto his lip again.Β
While heβs trying to make peace with the fact that heβs just blushed so hard his nose started bleeding like a fucking anime character, you huff in frustration, trying to figure out what you did wrong.Β
βIβm sorry. I thought I had you clogged up. Justβ¦ stay still a second longer.β you start, reaching for clean gauze.
You lean in even closer, completely focused on the bright red all over his face. Benβs pretty much convinced that thereβs no different between the color of his blood and his flushed cheeks.Β
Vaguely, he remembers something about the medics at the rink being understaffed, which means youβre probably from a hospital nearby.Β
Which means he most likely won't see you back here again for a while. Which means he needs to talk to you.
Instead, he just stares at you dumbly, while you stuff a final gauze pad up his nose.Β
βThere you go. The team doctor will want to see if you need it reset after the game. But youβre free to head to the locker room now.β
You back away, giving him the room to do just that. He stares at you.
βOh. Okay.β
Say something. Literally anything. Ask for her name. Ask for her number.
βThank you forβ¦β he starts, struggling with his nasally voice. Itβs nearly giving him a fucking lisp.
βThank you for cleaninβ... mehh.. up. Sorry, itβs hard taβ talk right now.β
Yeah. Itβs confirmed: Ben Kindel is just gonna call it quits his rookie season. He doesnβt have much to live for after heβs mumbled like a three-year-old to the most beautiful person heβs ever seen. His βnuhsβ keep turning into these pathetic βbuhsβ, and youβre just watching like youβre totally fascinated.Β
Eventually, you just tilt your head, smiling. β...What?β
He huffs, which makes him feel the congestion in his nose, and pathetically gets off the table.
βJust thank you.β
You smile and nod. βOf course. Be sure to protect your nose for the rest of the night.β
βYeah, okay. Thanks.β he says again, lamely waddling towards the door. You donβt even know his first name, let alone his number. But the interaction is over, and slowly, he can start to see fans peeking down the tunnels from the stands for him.
Heβs such a fucking loser, Jesus Christ.
Throughout the rest of the week, his nose would not stop bleeding. Heβd wipe it too hard, and look down at his hand to see blood. Two thick, black eyes came and went. It was awful, but it was worse to miss you. He has caught himself imagining being fucking hospitalized multiple times just to redeem himself. Itβs all so dumb, and heβs tired.
As the stadium fills with the expected crowd for their pre-game practice, heβs pretty much ready to go home.
Tonight, he doesnβt bother the awkward lap heβs started to take around the trainer area of the tunnel to see if youβre there. Itβs a Flyers game, he figures he should probably focus on psyching himself up to be verbally berated by players hopped up on a decades-old rivalry. And youβre never there, anyway. He wonders if heβs completely ruined his chance.Β
His nose is behaving pretty well tonight. He hit it with his hand a bit too hard while adjusting his helmet and winced, expected blood, but it ended up fine.Β
Heβs panting, finishing off a shift, when he sees you.Β
Just a glimpse. He has to strain his neck, turning completely away from the bench. You disappeared back into the medical room as soon as he noticed you.
Catching his breath, he turns towards Geno, whoβs sitting next to him.
βAre the extra nurses here tonight?β
He looks at him like a stupid question, which it is. The medical staff is not the thing to think about when youβre down one in the third.
βYes, focus,β he says, barely looking at Ben.
He does not focus. A very stupid, very dumb idea plants itself in his head.Β
Itβs easy to egg on Philly. You say one wrong thing to the wrong player, and youβre in the box watching a power play before you know it.Β
Getting off the bench, he looks towards the tunnel contemplatively, before mentally confirming heβs gonna do something decidedly stupid.
βJesus, Ben, I told you to be careful with your nose. This is rough.β You smile, pity in your eyes as you put on your gloves.
Heβs back where he was last weekβa little dazed, blood all over his hands, and his eyes shot out with adrenaline and infatuation.Β
He laughs, slightly disoriented, watching you grab supplies. βYeah, well. How else was I supposed to see you?β
You look at him incredulously. βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β
He decides this is his last chance. So, he shrugs, smiling like a total dork. βI dunno. I mean, I really did want to see you. And, yβknow, the Flyers guys are, likeβ¦ really easy to piss off.β
In total disbelief, you let out a little laugh.
βIβ¦ wow. Youβre ridiculous,β you finally say, approaching him to shove yet another cotton swab up his nose. He offers a dopey smile back.
βI know. Ridiculous enough to get your numberβ¦?β he tries, looking up at you, whoβs eyeing him suspiciously.Β
βYou know. In case I mess my nose up again.β Heβs trying so damn hard, he knows it, but he doesnβt know what heβd do if he let yet another conversation with you go absolutely nowhere.Β
After a long stretch of silence, you grab his face with your hands dramatically.Β
βIf I give you my number, will you stop ramming your face into random players?β
He nods enthusiastically. You smile.
βOkay. Give me your phone.β
hey guys hope u like this ! kindy is so freaking cute. goshhh. pls feel free to give me any critique ! I an so overwhelmed by my options of who to write for tbh. like I still haven't written for Connor bedard bro
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