allie

[itsalliehayes]

allie hayes ☆

in the spotlight: lattes. karaoke nights (especially after a few drinks.) theatre. dancing till her feet hurt. spontaneity. flirting. committing to the bit. girls nights. big hoodies. reality tv binges. messy buns. hot cheetos. fruit cocktails. banter.

more info under the cut

a/n: written by k. this is an rp blog based off of off campus, all answers and posts will be in character unless marked otherwise. 21+ adult themes will take place, MDNI.

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[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

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

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

But she does. She always has.

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

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

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

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

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

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

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

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dean..."

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

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

“Dean…”

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

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

And then...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

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

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

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

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

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

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

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

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

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

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

"But yeah... of course."

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

It all suddenly felt... very far away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

♡′°iiiiss anybody out thereeee

[sugartalkers]

⋆.ೃ NOWHERE TO GO BUT UP

♡ pairing: garrett graham x f! reader ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ summary: when a breakup leaves reader hiding away in her apartment, allie decides enough is enough and drags her to a party off campus. she isn't looking for anything, especially not someone new. then garrett graham finds her hiding in a kitchen.

♡ warnings: relationship fallout, mild language, slow burn, fluff, alcohol/drinking, reader sucks at beer pong.

♡ a/n: sorry this one took me awhile, hope y'all enjoy xoxo. based on this request

"Absolutely not," you declared from your corner of the couch, for what had to be the tenth time.

Allie planted herself in your apartment doorway, arms crossed.

Your gaze drifted from the empty bag of Hot Cheetos on the coffee table, sitting beside an empty tissue box, back to her. She hadn't moved an inch.

"Babe," she started, giving your apartment a once-over. "You have spent three consecutive Saturdays watching Love Island and eating frozen waffles."

You furrow your eyebrows, "don't hate on the waffles, they were home made."

Allie scrunched her nose.

"They came from a box."

"Well. Someone made them..."

Allie rolled her eyes, stepping over a few pairs of socks and an empty candy wrapper to take the spot next to you on the couch.

"Missing the point. Please come."

Allie had spent the past few days strategically dropping seeds for a party happening off campus tonight.

On Wednesday, she spent nearly an hour digging through her own closet and offering you a variety of different tops. You saw right through her, Allie never just got rid of her clothes.

On Thursday, she gave you a well timed pep talk over a pint of Ben & Jerry's about how it was time to 'spread your wings' and 'move onto new horizons.'

On Friday, she let it slip there was a party happening. You were in decent spirits, so you said maybe. To Allie, that meant yes.

Now here she stands, Saturday evening. You can't help but slip out a groan.

"He's going to be there."

A few weeks ago, you broke it off with your boyfriend. Considering it was your decision, you almost felt like it shouldn't be effecting you the way it is.

But, Allie had reminded you more than once, just because it was the right decision doesn't mean it was the easy one. She would know.

In this case, it really wasn't you. It was him. Your now ex had zero initiative. Could not have cared less about the things you had to say or any parts of your life you tried to share with him. Every conversation, every date, every bit of effort fell on you.

If you heard 'whatever you want babe' one more time, you were pretty sure you would've lost your mind. You'd been exhausted long before you finally walked away. It simply wasn't worth it anymore.

However, it was familiar.

Allie's expression softened for a second before pushing herself up off the couch. "Probably," she admitted. "Which exactly why you're going."

You stare up at her. She stares right back.

"Allie..."

"I'm waiting..." she sang, wiggling her fingers expectantly.

With an exaggerated sigh, you finally slipped your hand into hers. She grinned as she pulled you to your feet.

"Perfect!" She beamed. "I'll do your hair, makeup, everything. All the work. Just... find a cute outfit."

○˳○˳○˳○˳

The bass thrummed in your ears before the front door even opened. The house was packed. Voices spilled over the music as people squeezed through the foyer with red cups in hand.

Allie holds your hand, half to be comforting, half to ensure you don't run away. You make it past the threshold before stopping dead in your tracks.

"Aw, fuck," you mutter to yourself.

Across the living room, your ex stood laughing with a group of guys, one hand wrapped carelessly around a bottle as if he hadn't turned your last conversation into an Olympic event of blame-shifting.

Allie glances over her shoulder to look at you.

"You don't have to talk to him," she assures you quietly.

"I shouldn't have come."

"You've been here twelve seconds," she rests a hand on your arm. "Stay for one drink. If you're still miserable, I'll leave with you. Promise."

Allie stares at you with pleading eyes, everything else around you turning into a blur. 

"Fine," you sigh. "One drink."

"Good," she smiles, before she gets pulled away almost immediately after by one of your classmates.

"Allie, we need you to settle something"

She points at you, "don't move" as she disappears into the crowd before you can protest.

You roll your eyes as Allie slips away from you. 

You suck in a deep breath and exhale slowly before trudging off to the kitchen in search for a bowl of punch. Instead, you find bowls of snacks on a sticky counter, already covered in abandoned drinks. Your eyes land on a bowl of pretzels.

At this moment, a small voice in your head begins urging you to turn around and walk out that door; however, the other voice in your head is telling you to stay. You promised Allie. Plus, the bigger part of you knows you can't let this shell of a man control your social life.

You squeeze your eyes shut to kick yourself out of your own head, before a voice snaps you out of it instead.

"You know, the snacks don't bite."

You look over to see a tall guy reaching into the same bowl of pretzels you've been staring at for who knows how long.

You blink. 

Beside you is none other than Garrett Graham. Of course. Six-foot-whatever, easy grin - the face plastered across half of the athletic department's social media every season.

"What?"

"The pretzels you're trying to pick a fight with," he reaches into the bowl without a second thought, taking a handful before tossing them into his mouth.

"Oh. No just... planning my escape route," you mumble, pinching a few pretzels between your fingers. Your eyes betray you as your gaze naturally slides to where your ex is standing.

Garrett watches you for a beat, catching the way your shoulders tighten before his gaze follows yours across the room. 

"Which one?" 

You let out a small sigh, nodding your head towards your ex.

"That guy?" 

"Er... yeah."

He hums quietly, his eyes still on him for a moment before looking back at you. "Does he order his chicken plain?"

You blink. "Um, what?"

One corner of Garrett's mouth quirks upward. 

"I'm just saying..." he steals another pretzel from the bowl, "bet he 'doesn't really listen to music' either." 

A giggle slips out before you can stop it. An accurate assessment. 

The corner of his mouth lifts a little higher, like he'd been hoping for exactly that reaction. "Much better."

"What's better?" 

He shrugs, popping another pretzel into his mouth as Allie returns, expertly weaving around a group of people with two red solo cups full of punch balanced in her hands. 

"Okay, crisis averted. Apparently..." 

She stops short as her eyes land on you, before drifting to the tall boy leaning against the kitchen island beside you.

"Allie."

"Graham."

His chin dips in greeting before he pops another pretzel in his mouth, entirely unfazed. 

"I leave you alone for ten minutes..." Allie looks at you, handing you a cup before turning to Garrett. "You found my friend."

"Seems I did," he responds, shoving his hand in his pocket. 

Her eyebrows furrow as she squints at him. "Okay."

You take a slow sip from your cup, hiding from this interaction best you can. Garrett shifts his weight off the counter, as if he might say something else but doesn't. His gaze flicks to you again.

"Graham!" 

As if right on cue, Dean Di Laurentis pops from around the corner and slides his arm around Garrett's shoulders, steering him away from the kitchen.

"Beer pong. You're up."

Garrett barely moves at first, still half-turned. "Hey in a sec-"

"Nope."

Dean yanks him a step backward as Garrett lets out a short laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he finally gives in. 

As he's being pulled away, his eyes cut back to you once more. "Save some of those pretzels for me," he calls over his shoulder.

You can't help but smile to yourself and shake your head, reaching into the pretzel bowl once more. Allie's eyes are on you immediately.

"Garrett Graham," she says flatly.

"...Yeah?" 

"Was talking to you."

You nod in response, Allie's eyes narrow at you.

"We were just talking, Allie."

"Uh-huh..." 

Allie's hand falls to her hip as she pops it out, her eyes don't break contact with yours as she pulls the solo cup to her mouth.

"Allie," you repeat yourself sternly.

"Mmhm," she mumbles, sipping from her cup. 

You pop another pretzel into your mouth with your free hand, washing it down with a sip of punch that was a little stronger than you'd hoped.

"Come," Allie grabs your wrist lightly, tugging you away from the kitchen island.

Allie pulls you over to the beer pong table, already surrounded in chaos. Cups are being lined up unevenly, someone on the sidelines arguing over "house rules" that clearly change every five minutes depending on who's winning.

"Alright who needs a fourth" she states as she begins reorganizing the cups.

"Perfect timing," Dean says, "Logan bailed on Graham. Puck bunny."

Garrett snorts, shaking his head.

Before you can take a step back, Allie nudges your elbow with a smile. "Perfect! She's in."

You whip your head toward her, "Allie I never-"

"Too late."

Another guy across the table counts heads, "so, Dean and me with..."

Garrett glances around the group and his eyes settle on you, giving a small nod to the empty spot beside him.

"She'll do."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "I'll do?"

He smiles, just enough to show he's teasing. "Can tell you've got potential."

"I've thrown one ping pong ball in my life."

He shrugs one shoulder as he organizes the cups into a triangle. "Then there's nowhere to go but up."

You fight a smile as you take the spot next to Garrett, accidentally bumping the table with your hip. Before you can react, Garrett is already steadying the edge of the table, "careful."

"Sorry..." you smile sheepishly as he lightly tips a cup away from your elbow so you don't knock it.  

Allie spectates from the side of the table, watching your interaction over the rim of her cup.

Garrett grabs the ping pong ball and holds it out to you. 

"You get first throw."

You hesitantly take the ball from him, tossing the ball across the table. Then, as you expected, the ball bounces off the edge of the rim of the cup. Miss.

"Alright, I'm retiring."

He grabs your hand and places the second ball in the palm of your hand.

"Nope. Again."

"It's your throw," you sigh. "I've already embarrassed myself."

"You've got at least three more tosses before it becomes embarrassing"

You turn your body to face him, narrowing your eyes. "That's your big pep talk, Captain?"

Garrett's mouth upturns slightly, "it's the best you're getting."

You turn back towards the table and take a deep breath, squinting at the cup in front of Dean. You figure trying to throw further might be the answer.

Wrong.

The ping pong ball sails clean over every cup, Dean plucks it out of the air.

"Too much juice," Garrett mumbles, looking over at you. 

"I panicked!"

Dean spins the ball between his fingers, "you trying to hit the DJ?"

A reluctant laugh escapes you before Dean takes his shot, sinking one of the cups immediately. His partner follows it up with another sink.

"Drink up," he shouts from the other end of the table.

You automatically reach for one of the cups with a sigh. Before you can bring it to your lips, Garrett gently taps the rim of your cup with the back of his fingers.

"Pause." 

He reaches down to grab his own cup, lightly tapping it against yours.

"To a  comeback?"

You smile, "sure." 

You both knock back the drink.

"Oh, that's adorable," Dean mumbles to himself, not bothering to hide the smirk that spreads across his face.

Garrett places his empty cup down on the table before reaching for yours.

"Hold still," he murmurs. "Got a little..." his thumb brushes over your nose, wiping away the beer foam. "There."

You didn't have time to react before his hand was gone. He stacks your cup inside his own, then gathers both ping pong balls into one hand. With an absent flick of his wrist, he rolls one between his fingers before offering it to you.

"Garrett," you say firmly.

He smiles, "again. I'll throw the next one, swear."

You let out an exaggerated sigh, taking the ball between your fingers and lining it up.

Garrett shifts beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly brush. The scent of warm vanilla and dark rum floods your lungs. He dips his head lightly, following your line of sight toward the cups.

"Don't overthink it," he says quietly.

You lock in on the cup at the top of their triangle, gently tossing it forward.

Garrett's arm is lightly slung around your shoulders before you can even realize what happened.

You sunk it. 

"Yeahhh there she is!" he laughs, and you can't help laughing with him.

Almost as quickly as it happened, he drops his arm again, reaching for his own ball. 

"Alright," he says, rolling his shoulders like nothing unusual had happened. It's so effortless, you're not entirely convinced he even realizes he'd done it. 

However, someone else does.

Your eyes land on your exes from across the room, the bottle he's holding hangs loosely from his hand as his eyes flick to Garrett, then settle on you.

Garrett rolls the second ping pong ball between his fingers before letting it fly. It drops cleanly into the center cup.

You're pulled back to the game in front of you as a chorus of groans erupt from the other side of the table.

"Fuck, about time!" Dean points across the table.

"I was lulling you into a false sense of security," Garrett replies easily, taking a sip of his drink.

The game dissolves into the typical chaos you'd expect from a Briar party. As you climb up the scoreboard, Dean starts to insist the table shifted, reaching for more beer to top up the cups before the debate is even settled.

Garrett bumps your shoulder lightly with his own.

"I told you there was nowhere to go but up," he flashes you an easy grin before turning back toward the table.

You can't help but drift your attention back to the corner where your ex is standing with his friends. One of his friends leans over to say something unintelligible, as a few smirks are exchanged. You notice him force a laugh, shaking his head like whatever had been said wasn't worth entertaining.

But yet, his gaze doesn't leave your side of the room.

The game of beer pong stretches on for a few more rounds. You miss, Garrett sinks two, while Dean celebrates like he'd one the Stanley Cup after finally making a redemption shot. You stopped wondering whether leaving early would be less awkward than staying, despite the eyes burning a hole into you.

"Hey."

Garrett's voice cut gently through your thoughts as you turn to look at him. You hadn't realized how your fingers tightened around the red solo cup in your hands.

He tilts his head ever so slightly, his eyes flicking to your cup and then to your face. "You good?"

For half a second, you consider telling him the truth. You pull the cup to your lips to wash that thought away, forcing a small smile. "Yeah."

He studies your face for a quiet beat, "...okay."

Just like that, Garrett lets it go. No questions, no digging. He reaches for another ping pong ball, bouncing it once against the table.

"Ready for redemption?

"Probably not," you smile, reluctantly taking the ball from his hands.

"I admire your honesty, rook."

-

The game eventually breaks apart as people drift toward the living room in search of louder music and fuller drinks. 

Dean walks away from the table, biceps flexing as he celebrates his win.

 "Alright, I know losing is hard but you gotta pick your heads up," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing towards the drink table.

Garrett snorts, leaning closer so only you can hear.

"Don't worry about him, he's had like... six beers."

Before you can answer— 

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

Your stomach knots. 

The voice is familiar enough that you don't have to turn around, but you do anyway. Your ex stands about two feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

He doesn't look angry. Just... uncomfortable. 

His eyes flick briefly toward Garrett before settling back on you. Garrett only looks between the two of you once, immediately catching the shift in your expression.

Garrett takes a small step backward, reading the situation. "I'm gonna... go see what Dean's yelling about."

He doesn't wait for either of you to answer, giving you a small nod before disappearing into the crowd. Your eyes follow his back for a brief moment, before remembering you're not alone. 

Your ex shifts awkwardly on his feet while the silence stretches between you. Your arms cross your chest, glancing in any direction other than his, rocking back on your own heels. 

He lets a short breath out through his nose, "guess you're doing alright."

Your eyebrows knit together. "What?"

His eyes drift toward where Garrett disappeared, "just didn't expect..." he trails off. You wait. Nothing. "Never mind." 

The same bubble you felt for weeks before ripping off the band-aid made it's return to your chest. 

"No," you say quietly. "Finish your sentence."

He scratches absentmindedly at the back of his neck.

 "I just didn't think you'd..." he gestures vaguely toward the other room. "Move on so fast."

For a moment, you almost laugh. Not because it's funny, just because of the absurdity of it. Somehow after months of giving you absolutely nothing, he now finds something to say.

"Move on?" You question, your eyebrows raised.

Your ex shrugs again. The same indifference that used to end every difficult conversation before it ever started. You let out a slow breath. 

A familiar hand brushes lightly against your elbow, glancing over to find Allie slipping in next to you, red cup still in hand. Her expression flattens instantly, when she realizes who you're talking to.

You give her a small nod after her eyes flick between the two of you, signaling to her that you're okay. She doesn't leave, keeping her closeness to you. 

Not one part of you believes you owe this man any explanation, other than the nerve he suddenly carries within him. Maybe it was the beer. 

"I came with Allie," you say simply. "I was eating pretzels. Alone." 

He blinks. Silence. 

A small breath leaves your nose as you force yourself out of a reaction, Allie's grip on your elbow tightens for a second. You look over at her as she shoots her eyes to the left, following her gaze to find Garrett slowing to a stop a few feet away. 

Garrett glances around the room before looking back at you, his hands are in his pockets. "They're threatening to replace us..." 

A beat. 

"Unless..." he scratches the back of his neck before letting his hand drop back down to his side. "... you guys are talking."

There's no pressure in his voice. The choice is entirely yours to make. You look between him and your ex.

"No," you answer a little quicker than you meant to. "I'm finished." 

Garrett simply nods, keeping his eyes on you. "Cool."

He turns on his heel, checking back around his shoulder making sure you follow. You look back at your ex one more time, still standing there, not saying a word. 

Allie grips your elbow as she falls into step next to you as you catch up to Garrett.

Suddenly, the warmth of the house starts to feel overwhelming. The noise, the people, all of it.

"I need some air," you say quietly.

Garrett doesn't miss a beat, "I'll come with you."

You look over at Allie. Not necessarily asking for permission, just checking.  She responds with tiny nod of her head. Small enough only you could notice as she loosens her grip on your elbow.

Garrett tips his head toward the back door as you follow behind him, leading you out to the deck. 

The door shuts behind you, muting the music to a distant hum. Crickets chirp as the breeze ruffles through the leaves, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. The two of you walk towards the edge of the deck, leaning over the railing as you looked out into the yard. For a moment, neither of you say anything. 

You expected this entire night to feel different. Expected the tightness in your chest to remain, expected the ache. But you didn't feel that at all. 

"Garrett?" you question softly, breaking the silence. He looks over at you attentively, giving you space to continue.

"Thanks for not asking." 

Garrett furrows his eyebrows, "hm?"

"About him," you continue quietly with a small shrug. "You didn't ask what happened. Make me explain.."

"Didn't seem like you wanted to." His gaze flickers toward the trees before returning to you. "But if you change your mind..."

You smile faintly. You probably won't, but you appreciate the option. 

"Can't believe you convinced me to keep playing beer pong after I sucked so bad..." you say softly, glancing down with a smile as you fiddle with the bracelets on your wrist.

"You're welcome for helping you discover your hidden talent," he chuckles, his gaze dropped to your hands.

"Hidden talent?" 

"Absolutely."

You roll your eyes playfully, letting a quiet giggle slip out of you. Maybe it's because the night has finally caught up with you, or maybe it's because you spent so long bracing yourself for the next uncomfortable moment. But standing there with him feels... easy. 

The conversation fades. You stand beside him, shoulders almost touching, watching the leaves ruffle against each other. For once, you aren't thinking about what you're supposed to say. You aren't replaying the conversation with your ex or wondering if you made the right choice. 

You're just here. With him. 

When you turn to look at him, he's already looking at you.

Your eyes land on his, watching his gaze flick down to your lips for a moment before returning to yours.

Suddenly, the space between you feels a lot smaller than it did a moment ago. It makes your heart stutter. 

Garrett shifts slightly closer, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

Your breath catches.

Somewhere inside the house, you vaguely register Allie's voice. 

"Dean, dont-"

Then—

"There you are!"

You and Garrett both jump.

Garrett immediately leans back, blinking toward the doorway as Dean steps out onto the back deck with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.

A second later, Allie appears behind him, stopping short the moment she takes in the scene.

She closes her eyes. "I tried."

Dean looks between the three of you, brows furrowing.

"You barreled outside the door like a Labrador that heard the treat bag."

Dean scoffs, "first of all, rude."

"I was actively trying to stop you," Allie mutters at him through gritted teeth. Dean follows her pointed look toward you and Garrett as his eyebrows slowly climb.

"....Oh."

Garrett lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't..."

Dean's hands immediately lift in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

Allie raises an eyebrow, "your face did."

"I'm just expressive."

"No, you're annoying," she bites back before nudging his shoulder, slipping back into the house. 

Dean rolls his eyes, then claps his hands. "Alright, Graham. I've already slaughtered this moment and I need a beer pong partner, and it's you." 

"Think I'm done with pong..."

He walks up to Garrett, clapping his hand on his shoulder. "The night is still young, Captain." 

A small smile pulls at Garrett's lips, "you really don't quit do you?" 

"Nope," he starts back toward the door, confident Garrett will follow. 

Garrett shakes his head, but before he turns away, his eyes find yours again. Suddenly, you're pulled back into that same quiet space as before. The one that felt like it belonged to the two of you.

"See you inside?" 

It's not a question, not really.

You nod. "Maybe..." 

Something shifts in his expression. The smallest hint of a smile.

"I'll take maybe."

 Garrett holds your gaze for one more second, before turning away, disappearing back into the house.

And for the first time all night, leaving doesn't sound like the best option.

----

extra a/n: pt.2???

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

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

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

But she does. She always has.

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

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

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

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

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

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

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

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dean..."

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

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

“Dean…”

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

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

And then...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

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

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

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

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

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

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

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

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

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

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

"But yeah... of course."

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

It all suddenly felt... very far away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

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

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

But she does. She always has.

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

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

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

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

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

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

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

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dean..."

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

"How bad is it?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

“Dean…”

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

How bad is it?

Bad. Really fucking bad.

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

And then...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funny how quickly hope could sneak back in.

She told herself it was relief, nothing else.

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

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

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

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

A laugh almost escapes her, because the stupid part?

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

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

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

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

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

"But yeah... of course."

[itsalliehayes]

always made me feel seen. ‘specially when i was out of the spotlight.

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

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

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

But she does. She always has.

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

"What's going on?"

[hockeymaverick]

What's going on?

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

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

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

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

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

Davenport he grimy thinks to himself.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

The assignment. What a stupid fucking idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dean..."

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

"How bad is it?"

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

Missing you.

Miserable without you.

Listening to show tunes because they remind me of you.

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jensen?" she echoes, eyebrows lifting.

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

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

But she does. She always has.

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

"What's going on?"

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

Mission Failed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, quieter.

"I've... been okay."

Her eyes met his.

"And you?"

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[hockeymaverick]

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

Lie number one.

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

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

Shes perfect.

She’s Allie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

[hockeymaverick]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsalliehayes]

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

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

She was a terrible liar.

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

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

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

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

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

The question is light and playful, safer that way.

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

"Jury's still out."

[itsalliehayes]

open

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

Allie Hayes stands somewhere in the middle of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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