it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
aka off campus social/text au!
garrett graham x fem!reader (she/her)
childhood best friends -> lovers (lots of angst i love angst)
status: complete!
--
⋆part one - profiles/intro/playlist ⋆part two - the deal
⋆part three - the unknown ⋆part four - the shirt
⋆part five - the game ⋆part six - the concussion
⋆part seven - the comfort ⋆part eight - the fight
⋆part nine - the threat ⋆part ten - the phone
⋆part eleven - the aftermath ⋆part twelve - the daycare
⋆part thirteen - the distance ⋆part fourteen - the girls' trip
⋆part fifteen - the inbetween ⋆part sixteen - the return
⋆part seventeen - the confession ⋆part eighteen - the kiss
⋆part nineteen - the cabin ⋆part twenty - the end
dividers via @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
disclaimer: most media involved is from pinterest/actor socials! all texts/posts were generated by me via memi messaging & photonote. watermarks for @/evescole are my previous username.
general triggers: mdni!! dark humor, suicidal jokes, cursing, stalking, angst (hehehe), lowkey hannah erasure but i tried not to, mentions of phil graham.
absolutely NO artificial intelligence was used in the production of this series.!!!
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
The alarm goes off before sunrise now. It’s a jarring break in the silence of the apartment.
Boston was only beginning to wake outside of the windows; the city softened beneath a hazy layer of morning fog. The skyline looks slightly different each time, less like a borrowed view and more like coming home. It was home now.
You listen to the familiar sounds from the bedroom doorway, resting one shoulder against the frame as Garrett moves around the kitchen with practiced ease. The coffee maker is kicking to life as his Bruins bag lands beside the kitchen island. Your dog, Stanley, perks up from his spot near Garrett’s feet, his tail coming to life as he chases toward you with interest.
“Good morning, sweet boy,” you whisper as you give him a small kiss on his head and watch as he takes off for a toy.
Garrett looks up at your voice, a small smile forming instantly as you walk closer to him. You accept the mug of coffee he poured without asking. He never really asks anymore.
Just like he no longer needed reminders that you preferred to snack while you edit, that you always picked up breakfast after sunrise shoots, or that editing photos past midnight meant you’d be impossible to wake before seven. Somewhere along the way, loving each other had become less about grand gestures and more about remembering the little things.
“You were supposed to sleep in,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead when you step into his space.
“I tried. You’re not exactly a very quiet person, Gare.”
He laughs softly and takes a second to kiss you for real this time, his palm warm against your back. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No, you’re not.” Your words are muffled by the material of his sweatshirt.
Life had settled into something neither of you could have really imagined back in college.
Garrett had become exactly the player everyone insisted he would be, pulling on a Bruins jersey every night with the same quiet gratitude he’d carried since becoming captain. The little boy who once dreamed about the NHL from a frozen backyard rink still existed somewhere beneath the composure that surfaced each time he stepped onto TD Garden ice.
And somehow, while he was chasing one dream, you’d built another.
The girl who wandered campus with a camera in hand now found herself photographing magazine covers, musicians on tour stops, athletes, and campaigns that once hid on your Pinterest board. Your work had become recognizable enough that strangers occasionally stopped you because they admired your art.
Garrett liked to joke that the world had finally caught up to what he’d been saying for years now. You’d always seen people differently. Now, it was time to see you, too.
He steps away from you to grab the hefty bag from the floor. You follow him to the door anyway, as you do often. Stanley follows the two of you, his paws connecting with the hardwood before he flops against the doormat like he’s personally offended by Garrett leaving. He probably is, now that you think about it.
Garrett crouches down to scratch Stanley, who instantly perks up at receiving attention. “Oh, don’t be like that buddy. I’ll be back soon.”
“He says you’re a liar.”
Your eyes follow as he stands back up to his full height. It’s been years of this same routine, and it all ends up the same way. Garrett’s free hand settles on your waist, and you rise on your toes to kiss him softly, unhurried, like he has nowhere to be.
His arm slides behind your back to shift you closer and he finally lets you out of the breath-stealing kiss for just a moment. “Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”
You smile and dip back for another quick peck. “I know.”
“I’m serious.” He’s trying to pin you with a stern look, but he’s failing miserably.
“6:30. I’ll be ready,” You confirm as your fingers tangle in the loose curls at the back of his neck. He’s losing his composure the longer you hold him here, and you love every second of it.
Every goodbye in college ended with a kiss, and then one more for good measure, and a finale one because neither of you really wants to walk away. The same still happens now. Except this time, you (and Stanley) are the only ones he comes home to without fault.
--
The rest of the day disappears behind a camera lens.
The beach north of the city buzzes with activity in the June sun. Production assistants are weaving around light stands while stylists shift loose fabric into place before the wind catches on. Today, you were shooting an editorial spread for Vogue, built around effortless summer evenings along the New England coast. Models are laughing between takes, even as makeup artists rush in for touch-ups every time. Somewhere behind you, an editor calls your name to ask if they can squeeze in a few more shots.
And every time, you answer the same, “I would love to.”
Because at one point, photography had felt like survival. Now, it was a release. And you loved every bit of it.
By the time you arrive back home, the apartment is still empty except for Stanley, who greets you as though you’d been gone for weeks instead of hours. You’re setting your gear down gently before plopping on the floor to be at his level.
“Oh, there you are. Did you think I left you?” You’re talking to him in a shameless baby voice, and he rolls over in enjoyment. “You have your father’s flair for drama, don’t you?”
Stanley trails after you as you maneuver the apartment space to get ready for dinner. You’re half watching the clock, half taking your time as you shower and pick out an outfit for the evening. Garrett arrives shortly after with his hair still slightly damp from a post-practice shower.
“You clean up pretty nice.” He kisses your shoulder as he stands behind you in the mirror. Once the necklace finally settles where you want it to, you shift in his arms to face him. He’s in a crisp white dress shirt that normally only comes out on press days.
“I was going to say the same thing,” you comment back before leaning up to kiss him softly. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
--
The drive to the waterfront unfolded beneath streaks of pink and gold stretching across the evening sky. Garrett kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other held yours across the center console. It was a blissful moment of quiet peace throughout your normally chaotic schedule.
“I figured we could walk the beach first,” Garrett offered after putting the car in park. The restaurant lot is relatively full, so you’re glad to be there early to get a spot.
You glance toward the shoreline. “You hate getting sand in dress shoes.”
Garrett shrugs and gives you a teasing smile. “I think I can handle it.”
The waves roll gently against the shore as the two of you wander in comfortable silence. Your heels have been abandoned, along with Garrett’s dress shoes and socks, in favor of the sand beneath you.
For the longest time, you’ve loved the ocean. Garrett had learned that long before he knew about the aperture or shutter speed or why golden hour was the first time to get booked on your calendar.
You round the bend and stop short.
Because a few feet away is a beautiful line-up of white roses carved into the sand, candles flickering inside glass lanterns, and photos pinned onto fairy lights in between it all.
You asleep with Stanley curled against your legs. One of you laughing at Garrett’s oversized Bruins jersey. Your first magazine cover. Dean’s blurry cabin selfie of the group. Briar graduation. Numerous ones from the hockey house, or games, or coffee dates.
“Garrett?”
He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing softly across your knuckles. His eyes are teary as he watches you take everything in. For someone who is no stranger to pressure, Garrett is pretty sure this is the most nervous he’s been in his entire life.
Your heart is racing in your chest as Garrett steps onto the soft white blanket and sets your shoes aside. The sight of him on one knee brings you to instant tears as you look down at him.
“I’ve been trying to think of the exact moment I fell in love with you, and I can’t. Because every time I think I’ve found it, I remember a different one - that little girl who chased me with a bug in her hands. The teenager who held me through the roughest part of my life. My best friend who put up with the rockiest shit throughout college. The woman who built a home with me.”
Garrett’s smiling despite his voice wavering with nerves. You’re trying to give him the best comforting look in return, but you’re trembling too and crouch down to be on his level instead.
“I don’t think I fell in love with you once, Bug. I’ve just been falling more and more every day. And if you’re willing, I’d like to spend the rest of my life seeing how much more there is. Will you marry me?”
You’re nodding before he can even ask the question, hands reaching toward him. “Yes, oh my God. Garrett, yes!”
He slips the ring on your finger with hands that trembled just enough to betray him before pulling you into him, laughing against your shoulder as you cried.
Several yards away, you’re blissfully unaware of a photographer grabbing every second of the interaction, and the several kisses that follow. You’re in a haze of emotions, and you really don’t know how you didn’t figure it out sooner, considering Garrett is horrible at secrets.
The next hour goes by in a flash of photos, where you’re crying in most of them, but smiling through it all anyway. Eventually, Garrett has to drag you from the sand to actually have dinner. You can’t peel your eyes from the ring that’s catching in the light of the sunset, and he can’t stop watching you do it either.
“You kept a secret,” You joke as the two of you walk up the pathway. “I can’t believe you.”
He squeezes your hand, letting out a small laugh. “It almost killed me. I had to tell Dean three weeks ago because I thought I was going to explode.”
--
--
You’re barely listening as Garrett speaks with the hostess, simply letting him guide you up the stairs to the open roof of the restaurant. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your purse, and you can’t wait to tell everyone how the night went.
“Surprise!”
A small scream of shock slips out when you finally look up. The room is applauding as familiar faces blur through your tears, and you’re hiding into Garrett’s shoulder in shock as he laughs. Logan and Grace are whistling at your appearance, Tucker already halfway across the room with Sabrina close behind him. Beau is clinking silverware against his glass while Allie beams from beside Dean, who looks impossibly proud at pulling this off. Hannah is wiping tears from her cheeks.
Mixed among them are Garrett’s Bruins teammates, your closest friends and coworkers, and the family the two of you have spent years building. Every version of yourselves is scattered in this room tonight, and your heart may burst from all of it.
Much later, after Dean absolutely insists on giving a speech, after Tucker cries and denies the living shit out of it, and Logan quietly admits he’s been waiting way too long for this day to happen, you and Garrett slip into your own corner.
The noise fades just a bit with the distance, the water dark now beneath the moonlight. Garrett’s pressed against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“I would’ve said yes with no ring at all.” Your voice is quiet as you lean against him, closing your eyes. Silence settles around you comfortably, and you take a deep breath to soak it all in.
“I know,” He teases softly, twisting the band around your finger slowly. The weight of it on your hand is still unfamiliar, but you know it’ll soon become your favorite feeling. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
There was a time when you both spent years circling one another. Always close enough to matter, never quite close enough to stay. Life had a way of pulling apart just as quickly as it brought you back. Something always pulled you in again, though.
Somewhere between all of the practices and editing sessions, between beach weekends and playoff runs, anniversaries and ordinary Tuesdays, home had become less of a place and more about the quiet certainty that no matter where you ended up, Garrett would be there waiting for you.
You kiss him softly, and then one more for good measure, and a final one because you’re finally home.
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
The alarm goes off before sunrise now. It’s a jarring break in the silence of the apartment.
Boston was only beginning to wake outside of the windows; the city softened beneath a hazy layer of morning fog. The skyline looks slightly different each time, less like a borrowed view and more like coming home. It was home now.
You listen to the familiar sounds from the bedroom doorway, resting one shoulder against the frame as Garrett moves around the kitchen with practiced ease. The coffee maker is kicking to life as his Bruins bag lands beside the kitchen island. Your dog, Stanley, perks up from his spot near Garrett’s feet, his tail coming to life as he chases toward you with interest.
“Good morning, sweet boy,” you whisper as you give him a small kiss on his head and watch as he takes off for a toy.
Garrett looks up at your voice, a small smile forming instantly as you walk closer to him. You accept the mug of coffee he poured without asking. He never really asks anymore.
Just like he no longer needed reminders that you preferred to snack while you edit, that you always picked up breakfast after sunrise shoots, or that editing photos past midnight meant you’d be impossible to wake before seven. Somewhere along the way, loving each other had become less about grand gestures and more about remembering the little things.
“You were supposed to sleep in,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead when you step into his space.
“I tried. You’re not exactly a very quiet person, Gare.”
He laughs softly and takes a second to kiss you for real this time, his palm warm against your back. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No, you’re not.” Your words are muffled by the material of his sweatshirt.
Life had settled into something neither of you could have really imagined back in college.
Garrett had become exactly the player everyone insisted he would be, pulling on a Bruins jersey every night with the same quiet gratitude he’d carried since becoming captain. The little boy who once dreamed about the NHL from a frozen backyard rink still existed somewhere beneath the composure that surfaced each time he stepped onto TD Garden ice.
And somehow, while he was chasing one dream, you’d built another.
The girl who wandered campus with a camera in hand now found herself photographing magazine covers, musicians on tour stops, athletes, and campaigns that once hid on your Pinterest board. Your work had become recognizable enough that strangers occasionally stopped you because they admired your art.
Garrett liked to joke that the world had finally caught up to what he’d been saying for years now. You’d always seen people differently. Now, it was time to see you, too.
He steps away from you to grab the hefty bag from the floor. You follow him to the door anyway, as you do often. Stanley follows the two of you, his paws connecting with the hardwood before he flops against the doormat like he’s personally offended by Garrett leaving. He probably is, now that you think about it.
Garrett crouches down to scratch Stanley, who instantly perks up at receiving attention. “Oh, don’t be like that buddy. I’ll be back soon.”
“He says you’re a liar.”
Your eyes follow as he stands back up to his full height. It’s been years of this same routine, and it all ends up the same way. Garrett’s free hand settles on your waist, and you rise on your toes to kiss him softly, unhurried, like he has nowhere to be.
His arm slides behind your back to shift you closer and he finally lets you out of the breath-stealing kiss for just a moment. “Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”
You smile and dip back for another quick peck. “I know.”
“I’m serious.” He’s trying to pin you with a stern look, but he’s failing miserably.
“6:30. I’ll be ready,” You confirm as your fingers tangle in the loose curls at the back of his neck. He’s losing his composure the longer you hold him here, and you love every second of it.
Every goodbye in college ended with a kiss, and then one more for good measure, and a finale one because neither of you really wants to walk away. The same still happens now. Except this time, you (and Stanley) are the only ones he comes home to without fault.
--
The rest of the day disappears behind a camera lens.
The beach north of the city buzzes with activity in the June sun. Production assistants are weaving around light stands while stylists shift loose fabric into place before the wind catches on. Today, you were shooting an editorial spread for Vogue, built around effortless summer evenings along the New England coast. Models are laughing between takes, even as makeup artists rush in for touch-ups every time. Somewhere behind you, an editor calls your name to ask if they can squeeze in a few more shots.
And every time, you answer the same, “I would love to.”
Because at one point, photography had felt like survival. Now, it was a release. And you loved every bit of it.
By the time you arrive back home, the apartment is still empty except for Stanley, who greets you as though you’d been gone for weeks instead of hours. You’re setting your gear down gently before plopping on the floor to be at his level.
“Oh, there you are. Did you think I left you?” You’re talking to him in a shameless baby voice, and he rolls over in enjoyment. “You have your father’s flair for drama, don’t you?”
Stanley trails after you as you maneuver the apartment space to get ready for dinner. You’re half watching the clock, half taking your time as you shower and pick out an outfit for the evening. Garrett arrives shortly after with his hair still slightly damp from a post-practice shower.
“You clean up pretty nice.” He kisses your shoulder as he stands behind you in the mirror. Once the necklace finally settles where you want it to, you shift in his arms to face him. He’s in a crisp white dress shirt that normally only comes out on press days.
“I was going to say the same thing,” you comment back before leaning up to kiss him softly. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
--
The drive to the waterfront unfolded beneath streaks of pink and gold stretching across the evening sky. Garrett kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other held yours across the center console. It was a blissful moment of quiet peace throughout your normally chaotic schedule.
“I figured we could walk the beach first,” Garrett offered after putting the car in park. The restaurant lot is relatively full, so you’re glad to be there early to get a spot.
You glance toward the shoreline. “You hate getting sand in dress shoes.”
Garrett shrugs and gives you a teasing smile. “I think I can handle it.”
The waves roll gently against the shore as the two of you wander in comfortable silence. Your heels have been abandoned, along with Garrett’s dress shoes and socks, in favor of the sand beneath you.
For the longest time, you’ve loved the ocean. Garrett had learned that long before he knew about the aperture or shutter speed or why golden hour was the first time to get booked on your calendar.
You round the bend and stop short.
Because a few feet away is a beautiful line-up of white roses carved into the sand, candles flickering inside glass lanterns, and photos pinned onto fairy lights in between it all.
You asleep with Stanley curled against your legs. One of you laughing at Garrett’s oversized Bruins jersey. Your first magazine cover. Dean’s blurry cabin selfie of the group. Briar graduation. Numerous ones from the hockey house, or games, or coffee dates.
“Garrett?”
He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing softly across your knuckles. His eyes are teary as he watches you take everything in. For someone who is no stranger to pressure, Garrett is pretty sure this is the most nervous he’s been in his entire life.
Your heart is racing in your chest as Garrett steps onto the soft white blanket and sets your shoes aside. The sight of him on one knee brings you to instant tears as you look down at him.
“I’ve been trying to think of the exact moment I fell in love with you, and I can’t. Because every time I think I’ve found it, I remember a different one - that little girl who chased me with a bug in her hands. The teenager who held me through the roughest part of my life. My best friend who put up with the rockiest shit throughout college. The woman who built a home with me.”
Garrett’s smiling despite his voice wavering with nerves. You’re trying to give him the best comforting look in return, but you’re trembling too and crouch down to be on his level instead.
“I don’t think I fell in love with you once, Bug. I’ve just been falling more and more every day. And if you’re willing, I’d like to spend the rest of my life seeing how much more there is. Will you marry me?”
You’re nodding before he can even ask the question, hands reaching toward him. “Yes, oh my God. Garrett, yes!”
He slips the ring on your finger with hands that trembled just enough to betray him before pulling you into him, laughing against your shoulder as you cried.
Several yards away, you’re blissfully unaware of a photographer grabbing every second of the interaction, and the several kisses that follow. You’re in a haze of emotions, and you really don’t know how you didn’t figure it out sooner, considering Garrett is horrible at secrets.
The next hour goes by in a flash of photos, where you’re crying in most of them, but smiling through it all anyway. Eventually, Garrett has to drag you from the sand to actually have dinner. You can’t peel your eyes from the ring that’s catching in the light of the sunset, and he can’t stop watching you do it either.
“You kept a secret,” You joke as the two of you walk up the pathway. “I can’t believe you.”
He squeezes your hand, letting out a small laugh. “It almost killed me. I had to tell Dean three weeks ago because I thought I was going to explode.”
--
--
You’re barely listening as Garrett speaks with the hostess, simply letting him guide you up the stairs to the open roof of the restaurant. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your purse, and you can’t wait to tell everyone how the night went.
“Surprise!”
A small scream of shock slips out when you finally look up. The room is applauding as familiar faces blur through your tears, and you’re hiding into Garrett’s shoulder in shock as he laughs. Logan and Grace are whistling at your appearance, Tucker already halfway across the room with Sabrina close behind him. Beau is clinking silverware against his glass while Allie beams from beside Dean, who looks impossibly proud at pulling this off. Hannah is wiping tears from her cheeks.
Mixed among them are Garrett’s Bruins teammates, your closest friends and coworkers, and the family the two of you have spent years building. Every version of yourselves is scattered in this room tonight, and your heart may burst from all of it.
Much later, after Dean absolutely insists on giving a speech, after Tucker cries and denies the living shit out of it, and Logan quietly admits he’s been waiting way too long for this day to happen, you and Garrett slip into your own corner.
The noise fades just a bit with the distance, the water dark now beneath the moonlight. Garrett’s pressed against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“I would’ve said yes with no ring at all.” Your voice is quiet as you lean against him, closing your eyes. Silence settles around you comfortably, and you take a deep breath to soak it all in.
“I know,” He teases softly, twisting the band around your finger slowly. The weight of it on your hand is still unfamiliar, but you know it’ll soon become your favorite feeling. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
There was a time when you both spent years circling one another. Always close enough to matter, never quite close enough to stay. Life had a way of pulling apart just as quickly as it brought you back. Something always pulled you in again, though.
Somewhere between all of the practices and editing sessions, between beach weekends and playoff runs, anniversaries and ordinary Tuesdays, home had become less of a place and more about the quiet certainty that no matter where you ended up, Garrett would be there waiting for you.
You kiss him softly, and then one more for good measure, and a final one because you’re finally home.
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realizes he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
--
The streets around the off-campus house were looking more like a dealership than a college neighborhood. SUVs and trucks were all parked along the curb, trunks thrown open while bags, coolers, and enough groceries to feed an army were shoved wherever they would fit.
Dean’s got a clipboard full of half-ass ideas that he considers organized while Beau is trying to tell incoming cars where to park without blocking anything necessary. They’re both failing successfully, but laughing the entire time they do.
“I still think we should’ve rented a bus,” Dean huffs as he slams another case of beer into the back of Garrett’s jeep. There was barely enough room for whatever luggage would need to be stored in there already, and there was still more being brought out.
“You say that every trip,” Logan shouts across the driveway from where he’s stuffing a duffel bag into the trunk of Dean’s car. “Why the fuck is your car so small?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to squeeze all of us into your truck instead?” Dean shoots back as he wipes sweat from his forehead.
Garrett’s leaning against the passenger door of his Jeep, coffee in one hand as he watches the chaos unfold with an amused smile. Every few seconds, his eyes drift toward the sidewalk like an answer would get here any faster.
“She’s not here yet.” Tucker smacks a hand on Garrett’s shoulder in passing as he throws a bag of snacks in the backseat. He’s been watching his friend stare at the road for the past five minutes.
“I wasn’t looking.”
“You’ve checked the street six times, dude.”
Garrett opens his mouth to defend himself, but he’s interrupted when Allie’s car pulls around the corner. You climb out of the back with a duffel bag while Allie and Hannah wrestle a literal suitcase from the trunk. The three of you are laughing at something the guys in the driveway can’t hear.
Logan shakes his head as he watches his best friend’s expression soften. “He’s a goner,” He whispers so only Dean and Tucker can hear him.
“You all look very alive for 9 am on a Friday,” You say as you walk up the driveway with Allie and Hannah following. You’re dressed in comfy clothes for the drive ahead, but there’s still energy in your step for the weekend.
“Anything for you, Bug,” Dean jokes as he takes your bag from your hands, only to throw it into Garrett’s chest so he can hug you instead.
Garrett grunts with the impact but catches it anyway, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.
You shake your head at the interaction and step back from Dean. Out of habit, you’re bumping Garrett’s hip with your own to get him off the passenger door so you can open it. Your backpack goes flying in first, and you’re vaguely aware of the shadow behind you that is your boyfriend.
You’d been very clear with Garrett that this weekend would have to be more strict on your relationship if you guys wanted things to stay quiet. He already knew that Hannah was somewhat aware of what went down, and although he wanted nothing more than to show you off this weekend with everyone around, he also loved the little privacy you had.
--
--
Soon enough, backpacks are thrown in cars with you, Allie, and Hannah riding with Garrett while the rest of the guys pile into Dean’s BMW. The first twenty minutes of the drive disappear with Allie’s playlist (of non-Broadway songs, Garrett’s only condition), and Dean’s voice through the walkie-talkies he insisted be taken in the car. Every five minutes, he’s interrupting another song just to report something completely useless, but it keeps everyone entertained.
Two hours later, the cabin is tucked against the edge of a lake. Pickup trucks are already taking up half the gravel drive, evidence that several of Beau’s teammates were already present. Music is coming from the back, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone cheering from a cup pong win.
Everyone scatters relatively quickly. Bags disappear into rooms or onto pieces of furniture deemed good enough to claim for sleep. Coolers are tossed in the kitchen, and Tucker’s yelling something about getting the grill started.
Garrett grabs your bag from the trunk before you can even process it. Dean watches from behind his sunglasses with the subtlety of a neon sign. He’s secretly documenting each moment to rub in your face later, but for now, he’s also enjoying watching the two of you try to act like this isn’t something more than friendship.
“I can get it.” You open your hand to take it, but he shakes his head and adds his own to his shoulder.
“I’ve got it.” His hand brushes against yours for a quick second before he closes the door and makes his way to the porch.
You shake your head, scoffing, “Okay, show off.”
The girls claimed one of the larger bedrooms upstairs, as evidenced by the bags that have practically exploded across the floor within minutes. Makeup is slowly scattering in the bathroom, with hair tools being plugged in any available outlet.
Allie’s holding up a tiny pair of red shorts and sighs, “I should’ve done more squats this week.”
You laugh, throwing your bag on the bed before jumping next to it with a groan. “I could go for a nap.”
“No!” Allie shouts, shorts getting abandoned as she tugs you from the warmth of the blankets beneath you. “Come on, we just got here! There will be plenty of napping when it’s not cabin weekend.”
Hannah’s giggling from her spot in the bathroom where she’s watching the two of you. A curling iron is gripped in her hand as she waits for it to heat up. “Allie, go get us some drinks.”
The brunette next to you gasps like she’s found gold. “Oh, Hannah. My little genius.”
Allie’s running from the room the next moment, her bare feet taking off down the hall.
For a few seconds, the room feels much calmer. You stand to start getting ready yourself, knowing it would likely take longer if Allie was going to continue her chaotic back and forth. Hannah watches you from the corner of her eye as you pull the red costume from your bag.
“So.”
You glance over, hand still tightly wrapped around the fabric. “What?”
She shrugs lightly, a sneaky smile on her face. “What cute couples' costume did you and Garrett decide on?”
“Not a couples’ costume. Duo,” You remind her, but you’re smiling, too. “And we’re keeping things lowkey this weekend. He has his friends, I have mine. We’re just… co-existing.”
“Was he negotiating making out in the closet?”
“He was!”
Hannah nearly snorts at the annoyance in your voice before the two of you break into laughter. You’re tossing your current clothes aside to tug on the red skirt and matching tank top with a sigh. She’s still watching you, waiting for the extension of your comment that she knows is sure to come.
You take a second to glance in the mirror at the red garments that would pair with your devil-horned headband. Garrett was the one who picked the devil/angel combo, but you insisted on the specific roles (partially because you wanted to see him shirtless with wings and a halo, but who said that??).
“Part of me wishes everyone knew, but I also love this little bubble we have right now, too,” You mumble quietly.
Hannah feels a slight pang of guilt because, oh shit, she told everyone about the kiss, but also, neither of you were subtle in hiding what you had.
The bedroom door swings open and Allie steps in with three canned drinks between her arms. She takes in the fresh clothes on your body and nearly gasps, “Okay, hot!”
You shake your head at her and grab a drink from her outstretched hand with a thanks.
“Did I interrupt girl talk?” She continues as she bounces over to hand Hannah a drink, too.
“Nope.”
“Definitely.”
The simultaneous answers make Allie narrow her eyes, particularly at you and your avoidance of her gaze. “I’m watching you, Bug.”
“Me?” You spin toward her, slightly offended as you crack the tab on your drink. “I’m innocent, your honor.”
“Innocent my ass,” She hums, finger poking at the nearly faded hickey in the dip of your shoulder, so you squeak in protest and step away from her.
Music from downstairs is successfully drifting through the floorboards now, along with the unmistakable sound of someone chanting for shots and the athletes surely obliging.
You look at your reflection one last time, taking in the careful consideration that getting ready had taken. Allie had a glitter lotion that cast little gold flecks across your skin, pairing nicely with the distinctive red outfit.
The three of you step into the hallway, you in the lead with Allie and Hannah following closely behind you.
Halfway down the stairs, Garrett looked up, and every single thing Hannah teased you about became painfully obvious. He absolutely forgot whatever Dean was saying, disregarded the shot of tequila in his hand, and every single person around him.
Because he could only see you.
Hannah caught it immediately, sharing a glance with Allie behind your back. Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to, because Garrett had just answered every question the group chat had asked over the past few days.
Oh, he was so in love.
You barely make it off the last step before Garrett crosses the room. Not enough for anyone to tease him, just in a way he’s always done when you entered a room over the years. If someone didn’t know better, it looked natural. Except everyone knew better.
“Hi,” You whisper. Your cheeks are warm with attention, and you’re the one fighting the itch to reach out and touch him. He didn’t miss the chance to be shirtless at a party with a cheap pair of angel wings against his back and a crooked white halo above his head.
“Hi.” Garrett’s smirking now as his eyes take in the costume and the glitter across your collarbone. He’s speaking low enough that you’re the only one to hear. “You look beautiful, baby.”
You let out a shy laugh, glancing down at the camera in your hands before meeting his gaze again as if the compliment didn’t just give you butterflies. “You too, angel.”
He lets out a low whistle at the nickname. “Keep talking to me like that, and we’re going back upstairs.”
You shove against him playfully. Garrett laughs and offers you his hand, which you take, because that’s something you’ve always done. The kitchen area is alive with people as he weaves the two of you over to where your friends are standing.
Dean has committed entirely to Maverick, aviators and all, while Beau trails after him in a similar outfit to Goose. Hannah’s dressed head-to-toe in icy blues and shimmery silver while Allie complements her in reds and oranges that nearly glow on their own. Logan’s oversized bird wings keep smacking Tucker’s yellow bee-styled ones.
The secret gets harder to deal with once drinks are moving, and you’re caught up in the haze of people. Neither of you means to orbit one another. You just do.
Whenever you wander into another room, Garrett somehow ends up there five minutes later. When he’s chatting with Logan and Dean, you somehow need the counter space next to him. You never stand together long enough for anyone to question it; he’s your duo costume, anyway.
Except everyone notices.
Dean notices Garrett’s eyes following you every time someone starts talking to him. Allie notices you unconsciously turning toward Garrett when you hear his laugh. Hannah catches the tiny smiles behind the cups and the brushing of hands. Logan notices everything, the way he always does, and he’s whispering updates to Tucker in live time.
Nobody says a word.
As the night settles in, everyone eventually makes their way outside, where a bonfire’s holding strong under the starry sky. Blankets are dragged from cars, drinks are refreshed, and people settle into camping chairs when everything seems to quiet down.
You’re standing on the back porch, watching a lightning bug crawl across the ground near your feet. Garrett quietly joins you a few moments later, his warmth settling against your side in a way you can’t really pull away from.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m hiding us. We’re terrible at it,” You laugh quietly, glancing over at him. You reach for his hand anyway. “I miss you.”
The confession sounds different coming from you, like every facade you’ve painted in these past 16 hours is disappearing with the words. Neither of you is scared for anyone else to know, but it means more eyes and more questions.
“You know, you two are exhausting.”
Logan’s voice cuts through the quiet, making you and Garrett jump apart. The hockey player is halfway down the porch steps with two beers in hand, looking absolutely offended.
“What?”
“This whole sneaking, pretending thing as if you’re not beside each other every seven minutes at least.” Logan waves his hands as he walks the remaining distance to stand in front of you both. When you blink at him, he sighs, “Guys, we know. We’ve known.”
“For like, a while!” Dean adds from his chair by the bonfire, where Allie’s laughing in his lap.
Tucker raises his cup in the air in agreement. “You guys are not subtle. At all.”
“You’ve touched each other approximately forty-three times tonight,” Hannah says, giving you a knowing wink that makes you hide behind your hands. “So, can you stop pretending now?”
Your mouth parts in shock at all the confessions, and Garrett starts laughing next to you. You turn to him with wide eyes, but all he does is shrug. “I told you, baby. We are not good at keeping secrets.”
He’s waiting for you; you know he is. Because Garrett’s never pushed you into something you don’t want to do, and he never will. So, you stand up and brush dirt from where you had sat on the ground.
“Fine,” You admit, reaching an open hand back for Garrett to grab and pull himself up as well. “You guys suck so bad.”
Allie reaches over to pat the empty chair next to her with a smug look on her face. You shake your head as Garrett sits first before looping his arms around your waist and tugging you down, a shocked gasp following his actions.
“Oh, thank God,” Dean groans dramatically as he watches you settle into Garrett’s hold. “I was tired of watching you two act like Victorian lovers who’d combust if your shoulders touch.”
The group erupts into laughter, and you shake your head at the mess of it all.
Garrett’s hands are warm on your thighs as he holds you against him. He drops his mouth to your ears. “So, does this mean I get to actually call you my girlfriend now?”
You lean into his shoulder like it would bring you impossibly closer and smile. “I suppose you’ve earned the privilege.”
And somehow, with everyone teasing you, surrounded by the people who’ve become your family, letting yourself be seen doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realizes he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
--
The streets around the off-campus house were looking more like a dealership than a college neighborhood. SUVs and trucks were all parked along the curb, trunks thrown open while bags, coolers, and enough groceries to feed an army were shoved wherever they would fit.
Dean’s got a clipboard full of half-ass ideas that he considers organized while Beau is trying to tell incoming cars where to park without blocking anything necessary. They’re both failing successfully, but laughing the entire time they do.
“I still think we should’ve rented a bus,” Dean huffs as he slams another case of beer into the back of Garrett’s jeep. There was barely enough room for whatever luggage would need to be stored in there already, and there was still more being brought out.
“You say that every trip,” Logan shouts across the driveway from where he’s stuffing a duffel bag into the trunk of Dean’s car. “Why the fuck is your car so small?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to squeeze all of us into your truck instead?” Dean shoots back as he wipes sweat from his forehead.
Garrett’s leaning against the passenger door of his Jeep, coffee in one hand as he watches the chaos unfold with an amused smile. Every few seconds, his eyes drift toward the sidewalk like an answer would get here any faster.
“She’s not here yet.” Tucker smacks a hand on Garrett’s shoulder in passing as he throws a bag of snacks in the backseat. He’s been watching his friend stare at the road for the past five minutes.
“I wasn’t looking.”
“You’ve checked the street six times, dude.”
Garrett opens his mouth to defend himself, but he’s interrupted when Allie’s car pulls around the corner. You climb out of the back with a duffel bag while Allie and Hannah wrestle a literal suitcase from the trunk. The three of you are laughing at something the guys in the driveway can’t hear.
Logan shakes his head as he watches his best friend’s expression soften. “He’s a goner,” He whispers so only Dean and Tucker can hear him.
“You all look very alive for 9 am on a Friday,” You say as you walk up the driveway with Allie and Hannah following. You’re dressed in comfy clothes for the drive ahead, but there’s still energy in your step for the weekend.
“Anything for you, Bug,” Dean jokes as he takes your bag from your hands, only to throw it into Garrett’s chest so he can hug you instead.
Garrett grunts with the impact but catches it anyway, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.
You shake your head at the interaction and step back from Dean. Out of habit, you’re bumping Garrett’s hip with your own to get him off the passenger door so you can open it. Your backpack goes flying in first, and you’re vaguely aware of the shadow behind you that is your boyfriend.
You’d been very clear with Garrett that this weekend would have to be more strict on your relationship if you guys wanted things to stay quiet. He already knew that Hannah was somewhat aware of what went down, and although he wanted nothing more than to show you off this weekend with everyone around, he also loved the little privacy you had.
--
--
Soon enough, backpacks are thrown in cars with you, Allie, and Hannah riding with Garrett while the rest of the guys pile into Dean’s BMW. The first twenty minutes of the drive disappear with Allie’s playlist (of non-Broadway songs, Garrett’s only condition), and Dean’s voice through the walkie-talkies he insisted be taken in the car. Every five minutes, he’s interrupting another song just to report something completely useless, but it keeps everyone entertained.
Two hours later, the cabin is tucked against the edge of a lake. Pickup trucks are already taking up half the gravel drive, evidence that several of Beau’s teammates were already present. Music is coming from the back, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone cheering from a cup pong win.
Everyone scatters relatively quickly. Bags disappear into rooms or onto pieces of furniture deemed good enough to claim for sleep. Coolers are tossed in the kitchen, and Tucker’s yelling something about getting the grill started.
Garrett grabs your bag from the trunk before you can even process it. Dean watches from behind his sunglasses with the subtlety of a neon sign. He’s secretly documenting each moment to rub in your face later, but for now, he’s also enjoying watching the two of you try to act like this isn’t something more than friendship.
“I can get it.” You open your hand to take it, but he shakes his head and adds his own to his shoulder.
“I’ve got it.” His hand brushes against yours for a quick second before he closes the door and makes his way to the porch.
You shake your head, scoffing, “Okay, show off.”
The girls claimed one of the larger bedrooms upstairs, as evidenced by the bags that have practically exploded across the floor within minutes. Makeup is slowly scattering in the bathroom, with hair tools being plugged in any available outlet.
Allie’s holding up a tiny pair of red shorts and sighs, “I should’ve done more squats this week.”
You laugh, throwing your bag on the bed before jumping next to it with a groan. “I could go for a nap.”
“No!” Allie shouts, shorts getting abandoned as she tugs you from the warmth of the blankets beneath you. “Come on, we just got here! There will be plenty of napping when it’s not cabin weekend.”
Hannah’s giggling from her spot in the bathroom where she’s watching the two of you. A curling iron is gripped in her hand as she waits for it to heat up. “Allie, go get us some drinks.”
The brunette next to you gasps like she’s found gold. “Oh, Hannah. My little genius.”
Allie’s running from the room the next moment, her bare feet taking off down the hall.
For a few seconds, the room feels much calmer. You stand to start getting ready yourself, knowing it would likely take longer if Allie was going to continue her chaotic back and forth. Hannah watches you from the corner of her eye as you pull the red costume from your bag.
“So.”
You glance over, hand still tightly wrapped around the fabric. “What?”
She shrugs lightly, a sneaky smile on her face. “What cute couples' costume did you and Garrett decide on?”
“Not a couples’ costume. Duo,” You remind her, but you’re smiling, too. “And we’re keeping things lowkey this weekend. He has his friends, I have mine. We’re just… co-existing.”
“Was he negotiating making out in the closet?”
“He was!”
Hannah nearly snorts at the annoyance in your voice before the two of you break into laughter. You’re tossing your current clothes aside to tug on the red skirt and matching tank top with a sigh. She’s still watching you, waiting for the extension of your comment that she knows is sure to come.
You take a second to glance in the mirror at the red garments that would pair with your devil-horned headband. Garrett was the one who picked the devil/angel combo, but you insisted on the specific roles (partially because you wanted to see him shirtless with wings and a halo, but who said that??).
“Part of me wishes everyone knew, but I also love this little bubble we have right now, too,” You mumble quietly.
Hannah feels a slight pang of guilt because, oh shit, she told everyone about the kiss, but also, neither of you were subtle in hiding what you had.
The bedroom door swings open and Allie steps in with three canned drinks between her arms. She takes in the fresh clothes on your body and nearly gasps, “Okay, hot!”
You shake your head at her and grab a drink from her outstretched hand with a thanks.
“Did I interrupt girl talk?” She continues as she bounces over to hand Hannah a drink, too.
“Nope.”
“Definitely.”
The simultaneous answers make Allie narrow her eyes, particularly at you and your avoidance of her gaze. “I’m watching you, Bug.”
“Me?” You spin toward her, slightly offended as you crack the tab on your drink. “I’m innocent, your honor.”
“Innocent my ass,” She hums, finger poking at the nearly faded hickey in the dip of your shoulder, so you squeak in protest and step away from her.
Music from downstairs is successfully drifting through the floorboards now, along with the unmistakable sound of someone chanting for shots and the athletes surely obliging.
You look at your reflection one last time, taking in the careful consideration that getting ready had taken. Allie had a glitter lotion that cast little gold flecks across your skin, pairing nicely with the distinctive red outfit.
The three of you step into the hallway, you in the lead with Allie and Hannah following closely behind you.
Halfway down the stairs, Garrett looked up, and every single thing Hannah teased you about became painfully obvious. He absolutely forgot whatever Dean was saying, disregarded the shot of tequila in his hand, and every single person around him.
Because he could only see you.
Hannah caught it immediately, sharing a glance with Allie behind your back. Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to, because Garrett had just answered every question the group chat had asked over the past few days.
Oh, he was so in love.
You barely make it off the last step before Garrett crosses the room. Not enough for anyone to tease him, just in a way he’s always done when you entered a room over the years. If someone didn’t know better, it looked natural. Except everyone knew better.
“Hi,” You whisper. Your cheeks are warm with attention, and you’re the one fighting the itch to reach out and touch him. He didn’t miss the chance to be shirtless at a party with a cheap pair of angel wings against his back and a crooked white halo above his head.
“Hi.” Garrett’s smirking now as his eyes take in the costume and the glitter across your collarbone. He’s speaking low enough that you’re the only one to hear. “You look beautiful, baby.”
You let out a shy laugh, glancing down at the camera in your hands before meeting his gaze again as if the compliment didn’t just give you butterflies. “You too, angel.”
He lets out a low whistle at the nickname. “Keep talking to me like that, and we’re going back upstairs.”
You shove against him playfully. Garrett laughs and offers you his hand, which you take, because that’s something you’ve always done. The kitchen area is alive with people as he weaves the two of you over to where your friends are standing.
Dean has committed entirely to Maverick, aviators and all, while Beau trails after him in a similar outfit to Goose. Hannah’s dressed head-to-toe in icy blues and shimmery silver while Allie complements her in reds and oranges that nearly glow on their own. Logan’s oversized bird wings keep smacking Tucker’s yellow bee-styled ones.
The secret gets harder to deal with once drinks are moving, and you’re caught up in the haze of people. Neither of you means to orbit one another. You just do.
Whenever you wander into another room, Garrett somehow ends up there five minutes later. When he’s chatting with Logan and Dean, you somehow need the counter space next to him. You never stand together long enough for anyone to question it; he’s your duo costume, anyway.
Except everyone notices.
Dean notices Garrett’s eyes following you every time someone starts talking to him. Allie notices you unconsciously turning toward Garrett when you hear his laugh. Hannah catches the tiny smiles behind the cups and the brushing of hands. Logan notices everything, the way he always does, and he’s whispering updates to Tucker in live time.
Nobody says a word.
As the night settles in, everyone eventually makes their way outside, where a bonfire’s holding strong under the starry sky. Blankets are dragged from cars, drinks are refreshed, and people settle into camping chairs when everything seems to quiet down.
You’re standing on the back porch, watching a lightning bug crawl across the ground near your feet. Garrett quietly joins you a few moments later, his warmth settling against your side in a way you can’t really pull away from.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m hiding us. We’re terrible at it,” You laugh quietly, glancing over at him. You reach for his hand anyway. “I miss you.”
The confession sounds different coming from you, like every facade you’ve painted in these past 16 hours is disappearing with the words. Neither of you is scared for anyone else to know, but it means more eyes and more questions.
“You know, you two are exhausting.”
Logan’s voice cuts through the quiet, making you and Garrett jump apart. The hockey player is halfway down the porch steps with two beers in hand, looking absolutely offended.
“What?”
“This whole sneaking, pretending thing as if you’re not beside each other every seven minutes at least.” Logan waves his hands as he walks the remaining distance to stand in front of you both. When you blink at him, he sighs, “Guys, we know. We’ve known.”
“For like, a while!” Dean adds from his chair by the bonfire, where Allie’s laughing in his lap.
Tucker raises his cup in the air in agreement. “You guys are not subtle. At all.”
“You’ve touched each other approximately forty-three times tonight,” Hannah says, giving you a knowing wink that makes you hide behind your hands. “So, can you stop pretending now?”
Your mouth parts in shock at all the confessions, and Garrett starts laughing next to you. You turn to him with wide eyes, but all he does is shrug. “I told you, baby. We are not good at keeping secrets.”
He’s waiting for you; you know he is. Because Garrett’s never pushed you into something you don’t want to do, and he never will. So, you stand up and brush dirt from where you had sat on the ground.
“Fine,” You admit, reaching an open hand back for Garrett to grab and pull himself up as well. “You guys suck so bad.”
Allie reaches over to pat the empty chair next to her with a smug look on her face. You shake your head as Garrett sits first before looping his arms around your waist and tugging you down, a shocked gasp following his actions.
“Oh, thank God,” Dean groans dramatically as he watches you settle into Garrett’s hold. “I was tired of watching you two act like Victorian lovers who’d combust if your shoulders touch.”
The group erupts into laughter, and you shake your head at the mess of it all.
Garrett’s hands are warm on your thighs as he holds you against him. He drops his mouth to your ears. “So, does this mean I get to actually call you my girlfriend now?”
You lean into his shoulder like it would bring you impossibly closer and smile. “I suppose you’ve earned the privilege.”
And somehow, with everyone teasing you, surrounded by the people who’ve become your family, letting yourself be seen doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
The text from Hannah comes through sometime in the early morning. You remember reading it, groggy and still half asleep, before typing an agreement. You didn’t have the energy to even theorize why she was texting you at 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday.
Malone’s was surprisingly busy for a Friday afternoon. Hannah had beaten you there by a few minutes and grabbed a table. She had been restless all night, her mind replaying all of the little signs and things she probably slipped over because she wasn’t thinking about it.
You slide into the open seat and grab some of the fries she had preliminarily ordered. She shook her head at you. “You could at least pretend to ask, you know?”
With a shrug, you take a sip of the water that’s in front of your spot. “I could, but we both know I won’t.”
“God, you’re so much like Garrett.”
An unconscious smile makes its way to your face as you settle back against the booth.
Hannah’s jaw drops as if you’d just spilled the best secret of all time. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
Her eyes widen, and you glance behind you, expecting someone to be walking up or something crazy for her sudden reaction. There’s nobody, though, and when you turn back around, she’s leaning even closer.
“No way.”
“Hannah?”
“You kissed.”
You nearly choke on your water, which, to her, is an answer.
“You did!” She’s shouting now, nearly flipping out of her seat in excitement. People turn and look, to which you give apologetic glances and try to calm the girl across from you.
“Hannah, sit down!” You hiss with a stern look, and she finally wrangles back in her seat.
The waitress comes over to take your orders, which is a welcome distraction from Hannah’s outburst. You can practically see her bouncing to ask more, and you have no idea what you’re going to say.
Was it really that obvious? Did you really read ‘I just kissed Garrett Graham after sleeping in his bed’ all over your face? Shit, what would Garrett say? You thought you guys had been subtle. Well, as subtle as you could be, all things considered.
“This is the best day of my life.”
You sink lower in the booth, wishing you could disappear into the floor. “This is a nightmare.”
Hannah laughs so hard at your reaction that she’s almost crying. It takes a moment before she finds her words again. “How long?”
“Two weeks”
“Two weeks?!” She’s yelling again, and you bury your face in your hands with a groan.
“Keep your voice down!”
Hannah shakes her head, barely pausing to thank the waitress for dropping the food before she’s back on you again. ‘No, I can’t actually. I suffered through months of whatever the hell that was, and I know the boys suffered even longer.”
You laugh then, finally emerging from hiding behind your hands. For some reason, you’re so nervous for other people to know. That makes it real, that makes it something other than just you and Garrett.
“Nobody knows,” You explain quietly. “We’re trying to keep it that way, at least for a bit.”
“I’m happy for you,” She continues with a nod, dipping a fry in her ketchup. “But that’s also why I asked you to meet me here today. I owe you an apology.”
You shake your head in confusion, grabbing a few more fries for yourself. “For what?”
Hannah shrugs lightly, letting out a quiet laugh. “I practiced this conversation all night long, and I still don’t know what to say.”
“You didn’t do anything that needs an apology, Hannah. None of this is your fault,” You tell her. You really mean it, too. Hannah didn’t intentionally pull Garrett from you; the deal did. Justin did what he wanted because he wanted to, not because she had a piece in it.
She’s smiling at you, and it’s enough that you know she doesn’t think you’re mad at her. “I knew Garrett cared about me when we set all of this up. And I’m not going to lie to you, I did like him, and I think he’s a great guy. But every time I looked at him, all I could think was that he’d rather be talking to you. And maybe if I’d just handled things differently--”
“Stop,” You interrupt her gently when her eyes fill with tears. Shifting out of the booth, you move around to sit on her other side to be closer to her. “Hannah Wells. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t cause anything between Garrett and me, and you sure as shit didn’t tell Justin to do what he did. I know it may be easier to cope with it all if you place it on your shoulders, but it is not your fault.”
She brushes her thumbs under her eyes to move the fresh tears. “But what if--”
“There is no ‘what ifs’ either. I know where you’re coming from, because I sat there and thought, if I had handled everything better, none of this would’ve happened. And it took Garrett reminding me that someone else’s choices don’t become mine just because they affected me.”
You pull your leg up on the booth to face her fully, grabbing both of her hands. “You went on one date. You were honest with him; you didn’t hurt him. You didn’t drag him through the mud. His decision was already made because that note was on my bed before your night ended. He did that. Not because you made him, not because he was upset. It was already done. Not because you did anything wrong.”
Hannah’s laugh is teary, but she takes a deep breath and gives you a confirming nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
“I usually am.” Your response is light and joking, but it does its job of making her smile. “Do not apologize to me for any of this. It was something, but I’m really glad it brought me to where I am now, you know?”
“You mean to Garrett’s bed?”
“Hannah!”
The laughter is almost contagious between the two of you. You pull her into a tight hug, and she returns it just as much.
“I’m really glad you made that deal with Garrett because I don’t know what I would’ve done without you through this whole thing,” You admit quietly.
“Oh, please,” Hannah scoffs when you guys separate. “I’m the lucky one. I would not have survived their antics without you. He’s lucky to have you.”
You catch sight of the person in conversation walking through the door with all of your friends behind him, and can’t fight the smile on your face as they approach your table. “No, I’m definitely the lucky one.”
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
The text from Hannah comes through sometime in the early morning. You remember reading it, groggy and still half asleep, before typing an agreement. You didn’t have the energy to even theorize why she was texting you at 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday.
Malone’s was surprisingly busy for a Friday afternoon. Hannah had beaten you there by a few minutes and grabbed a table. She had been restless all night, her mind replaying all of the little signs and things she probably slipped over because she wasn’t thinking about it.
You slide into the open seat and grab some of the fries she had preliminarily ordered. She shook her head at you. “You could at least pretend to ask, you know?”
With a shrug, you take a sip of the water that’s in front of your spot. “I could, but we both know I won’t.”
“God, you’re so much like Garrett.”
An unconscious smile makes its way to your face as you settle back against the booth.
Hannah’s jaw drops as if you’d just spilled the best secret of all time. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
Her eyes widen, and you glance behind you, expecting someone to be walking up or something crazy for her sudden reaction. There’s nobody, though, and when you turn back around, she’s leaning even closer.
“No way.”
“Hannah?”
“You kissed.”
You nearly choke on your water, which, to her, is an answer.
“You did!” She’s shouting now, nearly flipping out of her seat in excitement. People turn and look, to which you give apologetic glances and try to calm the girl across from you.
“Hannah, sit down!” You hiss with a stern look, and she finally wrangles back in her seat.
The waitress comes over to take your orders, which is a welcome distraction from Hannah’s outburst. You can practically see her bouncing to ask more, and you have no idea what you’re going to say.
Was it really that obvious? Did you really read ‘I just kissed Garrett Graham after sleeping in his bed’ all over your face? Shit, what would Garrett say? You thought you guys had been subtle. Well, as subtle as you could be, all things considered.
“This is the best day of my life.”
You sink lower in the booth, wishing you could disappear into the floor. “This is a nightmare.”
Hannah laughs so hard at your reaction that she’s almost crying. It takes a moment before she finds her words again. “How long?”
“Two weeks”
“Two weeks?!” She’s yelling again, and you bury your face in your hands with a groan.
“Keep your voice down!”
Hannah shakes her head, barely pausing to thank the waitress for dropping the food before she’s back on you again. ‘No, I can’t actually. I suffered through months of whatever the hell that was, and I know the boys suffered even longer.”
You laugh then, finally emerging from hiding behind your hands. For some reason, you’re so nervous for other people to know. That makes it real, that makes it something other than just you and Garrett.
“Nobody knows,” You explain quietly. “We’re trying to keep it that way, at least for a bit.”
“I’m happy for you,” She continues with a nod, dipping a fry in her ketchup. “But that’s also why I asked you to meet me here today. I owe you an apology.”
You shake your head in confusion, grabbing a few more fries for yourself. “For what?”
Hannah shrugs lightly, letting out a quiet laugh. “I practiced this conversation all night long, and I still don’t know what to say.”
“You didn’t do anything that needs an apology, Hannah. None of this is your fault,” You tell her. You really mean it, too. Hannah didn’t intentionally pull Garrett from you; the deal did. Justin did what he wanted because he wanted to, not because she had a piece in it.
She’s smiling at you, and it’s enough that you know she doesn’t think you’re mad at her. “I knew Garrett cared about me when we set all of this up. And I’m not going to lie to you, I did like him, and I think he’s a great guy. But every time I looked at him, all I could think was that he’d rather be talking to you. And maybe if I’d just handled things differently--”
“Stop,” You interrupt her gently when her eyes fill with tears. Shifting out of the booth, you move around to sit on her other side to be closer to her. “Hannah Wells. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t cause anything between Garrett and me, and you sure as shit didn’t tell Justin to do what he did. I know it may be easier to cope with it all if you place it on your shoulders, but it is not your fault.”
She brushes her thumbs under her eyes to move the fresh tears. “But what if--”
“There is no ‘what ifs’ either. I know where you’re coming from, because I sat there and thought, if I had handled everything better, none of this would’ve happened. And it took Garrett reminding me that someone else’s choices don’t become mine just because they affected me.”
You pull your leg up on the booth to face her fully, grabbing both of her hands. “You went on one date. You were honest with him; you didn’t hurt him. You didn’t drag him through the mud. His decision was already made because that note was on my bed before your night ended. He did that. Not because you made him, not because he was upset. It was already done. Not because you did anything wrong.”
Hannah’s laugh is teary, but she takes a deep breath and gives you a confirming nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
“I usually am.” Your response is light and joking, but it does its job of making her smile. “Do not apologize to me for any of this. It was something, but I’m really glad it brought me to where I am now, you know?”
“You mean to Garrett’s bed?”
“Hannah!”
The laughter is almost contagious between the two of you. You pull her into a tight hug, and she returns it just as much.
“I’m really glad you made that deal with Garrett because I don’t know what I would’ve done without you through this whole thing,” You admit quietly.
“Oh, please,” Hannah scoffs when you guys separate. “I’m the lucky one. I would not have survived their antics without you. He’s lucky to have you.”
You catch sight of the person in conversation walking through the door with all of your friends behind him, and can’t fight the smile on your face as they approach your table. “No, I’m definitely the lucky one.”
another series coming up soon: dean di laurentis x figure skater!graham reader!
here’s your summary:
Garrett Graham has one rule: Don’t touch his little sister.
Dean Di Laurentis has never had a problem following that rule, mostly because Garrett’s sister has always been exactly that. Garrett’s sister.
Until one late-night party, where one “absolutely not” sends Dean chasing the only girl who’s ever turned him down.
What starts as a harmless secret quickly becomes something neither of them planned for. Between early morning skating practices, late-night hockey games, and stolen moments no one can know about, keeping their relationship hidden seems easier than risking Garrett’s friendship.
Until secrets stop feeling romantic because some scars don’t come from broken bones.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // part seventeen - the confession .✦݁˖
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
You’re twenty minutes into your Marvel movie rewatch when Garrett shifts next to you. He’s been fidgeting the entire time you’ve tried to watch the film, enough that you’ve noticed he was uncomfortable, but figured he’d eventually fess up.
Garrett isn’t watching the movie at all. He’s watching you.
He’s been quietly watching the way you’re mouthing the lines that you memorized. He’s observing the way you shift when you get too warm under the blanket, and the way you keep glancing over at him to make sure his attention is on the movie when it definitely hasn’t been.
The other night was a quiet realisation of how much Garrett missed getting to witness you just exist. He’d replayed your phone call in his head more than he cared to admit. Weeks ago, you would’ve called Dean or Allie. Maybe even tried to handle it yourself before asking for help.
This time? You called him.
You glance over and catch him already looking at you for the third time. “What?”
Garrett shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Am not.”
“You literally are.”
Garrett laughs this time, the same laugh you’ve spent years pretending doesn’t make you feel warm inside. The laugh that’s making it really difficult not to smile back at him.
He doesn’t offer any other explanation, just continues to look at you as if he blinks, you’ll disappear. He studies you for another second and then looks down at his hands, where his thumb is rubbing the seam of the blanket between you.
The silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Not after everything. Not after weeks of slowly finding your way back here, back to movie nights and shared blankets, falling asleep halfway through films because being near each other had always been easier than pretending you didn’t want to be.
Garrett runs a hand through his damp hair and swallows. “I think I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, and I kept fucking it up…”
Outside his room, you can hear the muffled sounds of Logan and Tucker arguing over what to make for dinner. Dean’s yelling his opinion from the second floor, which earns a chorus of complaints down the stairs.
Garrett doesn’t seem to notice because the world has somehow narrowed down to the two of you, and nothing else matters.
“I think… I think for a long time, I got so used to you always being there that I forgot you were choosing to be. And I never thanked you for it. And it’s not just for me, but for the guys, too. You’ve always done those things without expecting anyone else to notice.”
A fond smile tugs at his mouth when you laugh under your breath. Garrett’s right. You never expected anyone to notice because you just loved them, loved him, because it was so easy to do.
“I noticed,” He admits after a second, “I just don’t think I ever had the balls to acknowledge it because it felt like touching something a little too important.”
You’re suddenly too warm under the blanket and sit up to be at his level. The movie has been forgotten by both of you, and his eyes still haven’t left yours.
“I’ve been a fucking coward, Bug. Because I’ve never just said how much you meant to me after everything we’ve been through. It’s all the little things, and I love every single one. Especially the part where you argue with me for twenty minutes over whether a movie ending was satisfying, even if you’re objectively wrong.”
You roll your eyes to prevent them from watering instead. “I’m never objectively wrong.”
“I know.” Garrett’s voice is impossibly gentle, and you swear you’re a puddle in his hands.
“I want to say I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with Jackson, but I can’t,” Garrett laughs this time, and you find yourself smiling too. “Every time I saw you with him, you looked happy. And after everything I’d done, I wanted that for you.”
You freeze, your eyes narrowing at him because you can’t tell if he’s being serious. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I was jealous as fuck, baby. I fucked up, and I lost you because of it.”
The words are so quiet you almost miss them. For a second, you don’t know what he means before it clicks.
“Garrett.”
“I’m serious.”
“I just thought you were needy for attention.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Garrett, look at me.”
Without an invitation, your hand moves to rest gently against his cheek until he finally gives in. His fingers rest where your sweatpants and top have shifted to reveal bare skin on your hip.
“You didn’t lose me. You will never lose me.”
There’s not enough restraint for him to stop his gaze from dropping to your mouth for a split second before he meets your eyes.
It’s enough for you to notice, because you always do.
“Can I--?”
You’re interrupting his question by action this time, closing the distance between you in ways that you’ve dreamt of so many times.
The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s certain, like Garrett’s known this is where he belongs his whole life. You try to pull back for air, and he’s tugging you right back in, shifting until you’re in his lap right where he wants you.
Kissing Garrett doesn’t feel new, even though it is. It’s familiar, like coming home. Like every late-night phone call, every hockey game, every study session. Every moment led you here.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are smiling so silly that it makes you laugh. Your forehead drops to his shoulder out of shyness, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you back up to see you again.
“So.” His eyes have a mischievous twinkle to them, his cheeks are warm from the rush of the past few moments, and the way he’s eager for more.
“So?” You repeat with laughter behind your words.
“We’re definitely not telling Dean.”
You shake your head, your thumb brushing across his skin as you take in every color in his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Tucker might pass out.”
“Logan will bully the shit out of us.”
Adrenaline is running through you now, and you feel like you’re buzzing even though it’s well past bedtime. You’re holding Garrett Graham’s face in your hands, and for once, everything is so good.
“Just us? For now?”
Garrett nods in agreement before he kisses you again.
--
Nothing changes publicly for you two, but everything shifts privately.
Your stuff starts to slowly take up space in Garrett’s room again. Not obvious, not noticeable. Half of it gets hidden away, which never used to happen.
But things are different now, and you’re obsessed.
It has become impossible for Garrett not to touch you. He’s pulling you into his lap while you study. You’re sleeping in his shirts and waking up tangled in his grasp. Every goodbye ends with a kiss, and then one more for good measure, and a finale one because neither of you really wants to walk away.
There are suddenly too many close calls.
Like earlier, when the guys were on the couch watching past film before their game. You’d walked behind the couch, and Garrett’s hand slid beneath your sweatshirt just enough to touch the bare skin of your back.
You hadn’t reacted because it’s become normal, even as he rubbed lazy circles into the skin while keeping his eyes on the television. And then Dean turned, and Garrett’s hand dropped so fast you nearly jumped.
Or that morning, when he kissed your cheek and kept walking like Logan hadn’t been standing in the fridge looking for food.
There’s no confrontation. There are no questions. There’s just you and Garrett.
--
--
The kisses stay soft and lingering for days. Garrett’s attached to you because he’s never been able to hold you this way, and he simply can’t get enough.
You’re making coffee in the kitchen one Saturday morning, wearing a worn Bruins hoodie that definitely belongs to him, and you’re not really scared for anyone to see it.
Garrett wanders in, still half asleep. His hair is a disaster, his eyes barely open, and his mind is solely focused on you. He doesn’t say anything before he wraps both arms around your waist from behind and buries his face against your shoulder.
You laugh quietly, one hand resting over his arms. “Morning to you, too.”
Garrett groans lowly into your skin, and you shiver.
“You could’ve stayed in bed,” You murmur, fingertips dancing across his bare skin now as the coffee maker finally kicks to life.
“You aren’t there.”
His answer makes you hum. “I’m so sorry then.”
Garrett shadows you as you make two cups of coffee, eggs for yourself and for him, and even some bacon to snack on. It’s only a matter of time before you’re interrupted, so you’re soaking up the peace while you have it.
He watches as you steal bacon from his plate like you didn’t just finish your own a few minutes before.
“You’re aware those are mine, right?”
“You’re aware they’re being left unattended, right?” You look up at him with a teasing smirk. He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too much to argue.
“That’s not how ownership works, baby.”
“It is in this kitchen.”
You’ve got him there.
Garrett doesn’t say anything in return. He’s watching you, instead. You, barefoot in his kitchen. In his clothes. Your hair is messy because you haven’t had a chance to fully get ready yet. The fact that you’ve drunk your coffee and are reaching for his, too, because you know he’ll let you. He watches as you twist your face in displeasure.
“So fucking bitter.”
“You made it.”
“And I can’t believe you drink it.”
Garrett laughs and steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You criticize everything I do.”
“And you love me for it.”
The words come out casually, naturally, like you’ve said them a hundred times. And you have, but every time Garrett hears them, he still looks at you like he can’t believe he’s allowed to.
“I do.”
You glance over your shoulder where he’s standing and smile at him. “I know.”
And then your phone buzzes on the counter, and Garrett physically feels you tense beneath his hands at the notification tone it has. He knows in seconds because nothing else makes you react this way.
“Bug?”
You glance at the notification on the phone screen. “It’s them. I changed the text tone so I would know.”
Garrett stays close as you unlock the device and click the notification. His expression changes into a slow, awful realization. You catch it. “What?”
He doesn’t answer because something on that screen is giving him deja vu. Something he’s heard before, and it’s making his stomach sink. There’s only one other person who could know if he’s right, though.
“Call Hannah.”
You blink in shock at the direction, confused as to why that would help. “What?”
“Call Hannah.”
Garrett’s pulling his own phone out when you don’t move fast enough for his liking.
“Garrett-”
“Trust me, please.” His voice is too serious for you to ask anything else.
So, you do. The speaker phone fills the quiet in the kitchen until Hannah answers shortly after, her voice still laced with sleep. “Hello?”
“Did Justin ever write a song about you?”
Silence follows Garrett's question.
“What?” Hannah sounds a bit more awake now.
“The text, it’s a lyric. Did Justin ever write a song about you?”
There’s a small curse on the other side of the phone. You can hear her bedding shuffle as she likely sits up to be more coherent. “Read it to me.”
Garrett repeats the words on your screen. There’s a pause for a moment, and your heart is racing in your chest.
“Oh, my God.”
--
Everyone’s at the house within an hour. Dean’s confused and may still be drunk as he collapses against the couch with a groan. Logan is busying himself eating the breakfast leftovers that you and Garrett promptly abandoned after hanging up the phone.
Hannah is quietly pacing back and forth. Your phone is in her hands, and her lips are moving to words nobody can hear.
“It’s him. It has to be,” She speaks after a moment. “That’s the lyric from the song he was rehearsing when we were practicing together. He never said who it was about, but that is exactly what came out of his mouth.”
Garrett’s standing behind you, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and hide from this conversation. “You recognise it?”
Hannah nods, her anxiety growing with each second. “He played it for me. And he said--”
Her gaze flickers between you and Garrett as if something clicked the last piece into the puzzle.
“He said sometimes people don’t realise what they have until someone else has it.”
The room goes quiet. Your head falls back against Garrett’s shoulder with a dejected sigh. Your eyes are burning now with frustrated tears, and you hate that everyone is sitting here to watch it happen.
“Pull up his music,” Logan’s the first one to speak up, and everyone looks to him. “His songs, his lyrics. Pull it, pull everything. Start searching.”
Everyone moves at once. Allie tosses her computer on Dean’s lap, who immediately starts digging in. Logan and Tucker hover the former’s laptop, pulling up Justin’s socials. Hannah’s pacing again, but you selfishly don’t have it in you to try to focus on her.
Garrett’s hands are on your arms, slowly moving up and down to offer any help. You’re glad he’s here. You’re thankful he’s holding you now, too, because this was all fucking insane.
“Hold on.” Logan’s zooming in on a photo from Justin’s blog. It’s placed strategically enough to see a guitar and pick in focus, but that’s not what Logan’s pointing at.
It’s you. Sitting at the coffee shop across the street, blissfully unaware that you’re being watched.
Then another one, this time in the library, where you’re just half in the frame in a study room.
You shake your head. “No.”
“Hey.”
“No, I would’ve noticed,” You defend yourself as you shift off Garrett’s chest to face him. “I’m not--”
“How the fuck did we miss this?” Dean curses, tugging at his blond hair, frustrated.
“Wait, wait,” Tucker interrupts before everyone spirals, and he looks to you. “Do you have your SD card here?”
You nod. “It’s in Garrett’s room.”
Everyone is thankfully distracted enough that they don’t question why your stuff is in Garrett’s room, or why you’re in his hoodie, or why he hasn’t let go of you in the twenty minutes everyone’s been here.
Hannah still has your phone in her hand when another notification pulls through, and she gasps. Garrett moves away to read over her shoulder, his own expression falling, and soon enough, everyone is crowding around the device.
--
--
“Don’t answer. Do not do anything.”
Dean’s looking straight at Garrett when he speaks. He grabs the phone for himself, sending a screenshot to his number before he disappears into the hallway without another word. You can faintly hear his conversation, but not enough to make out the words.
“Okay, okay. This is fucking insane, and I can’t believe this shit is happening before noon.” Allie’s mildly freaking out, and you can’t even blame her. She takes a big breath and plops back on the couch.
“Alright, nobody spiral. You two, go get the SD card. Allie and Hannah can start going through things to collect more evidence. I’ll take the social media. Tucker, we’re gonna need sustenance, my man.”
Tucker salutes. “On it, bro.”
Logan clasps Garrett’s shoulder briefly, and it sets everything in motion. The hockey captain is reading between the lines, understanding that his friend is giving you guys a chance to get quiet because you’re likely thirty seconds away from breaking.
Garrett pulls you up the stairs, where the noise disappears behind the closed door of his bedroom.
You’re standing in the middle, completely zoned out as you scan the pieces of yourself that are scattered across the room. Everything suddenly feels so exposed.
“I hate this.”
You flinch at the words and spin to face Garrett with tears in your eyes. “What?”
His expression softens when he sees how upset you are. His hands are soft when they cup your face, and you swear your knees may give out at his touch.
Garrett tries to act like the small noise you let out doesn’t break his heart.
“I hate that he’s been the one making you feel like this,” He continues quietly. “If I had known that helping Hannah would’ve turned into this big of a mess, I would’ve never risked it.”
You shake your head as the tears break free this time. “It’s not your fault. It’s not Hannah’s fault. Fuck, it’s not my fault either, but I feel so stupid that--”
Garrett shushes you, “Stop that. You are not stupid. You were in survival mode, Bug. You don’t get to take something that he did and put it on yourself. He wanted you to feel like you weren’t safe, and he did. But look at me.”
You force yourself to open your eyes again to look at him.
“Did you do anything wrong? Did you invite him in? Did you encourage his messages?”
“No…”
“No. Then none of this belongs to you.”
The breakdown that follows isn’t loud. You’re quietly crying in his arms, holding onto him so tightly that you’re shaking because you’ve just been keeping things together for too long.
You’re so out of it that you don’t notice Garrett picking you off the ground to carry you. You don’t notice when he maneuvers both of you on the bed until his back is against the headboard and you’re curled into his lap.
And for a moment, there is no chaos. There is no stalker, no hidden messages. There’s just you and Garrett.
You and Garrett.
--
The next few hours are crazy, and you’re more than grateful to have such a good group of people to surround you. Nobody lets the weight linger too long; they’re good at distractions, at making you laugh, and keeping the energy up even if they aren’t feeling like it.
It’s a cycle of statements, of campus security showing up, and Dean talking through conversations with a language so professional you swear he’s been cloned. Evidence is pulled from your camera, Hannah hands over notes from their songwriting sessions, and Tucker makes enough food to feed half of campus because he isn’t sure what else to really do with his hands.
Dean gets the call as the sun is setting.
“They got him.” His voice is quiet, but the words ring loudly in your ears after he says them. He looks at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “They fucking got him.”
The relief is instant, before you're being pulled into so many hugs. There's a lot to unbury here, pieces that need put together, and more ugliness that's yet to be seen, but you don't even care because it's almost over.
Garrett finally gets you in his arms, one palm warm against your back as the other holds your head against him so his chin can rest on you. You’re not crying, and you’re suspiciously quiet, but you let yourself sink into him anyway because you’re no longer having to hold it all together.
There’s zero care if anyone notices that this hug is different, that neither of you is really letting go. This isn’t just Garrett comforting his best friend anymore; this is Garrett holding someone he loves.
“You’re alright, baby.”
The other noises disappear when Garrett kisses your head, and you take a shuddering breath, holding him just a bit tighter to you. “So tired.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
The house slowly empties shortly after, with promises of updates tomorrow and a request to do this shit when there isn’t something so depressing going on.
Garrett doesn’t ask if you’re staying the night again; he just lets you follow him up the stairs once everyone else has filtered to bed.
You’re still quiet as he hands you a warm washcloth to take the day off your skin. It continues as you let him tug the hoodie off your frame, replacing it with a worn, soft t-shirt that’s seen your body more than his at this point.
Garrett plugs your phone in when you find enough energy to brush your teeth. He tosses the clothes from the day in the hamper and sprays the room with the scented mist he knows you like to fall asleep to.
The normality of it all feels healing.
The room is dark when you curl into his chest under the blankets a few minutes later. His fingers slowly trace your skin as he feels you breathe against him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Garrett hums softly into your hair. “Figured.”
You’re quiet again for a minute before you squeeze him closer. “Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
a/n: sorry i don't love the way this ended but i was so burnt on this chapter lol. here comes the fun!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // part seventeen - the confession .✦݁˖
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
You’re twenty minutes into your Marvel movie rewatch when Garrett shifts next to you. He’s been fidgeting the entire time you’ve tried to watch the film, enough that you’ve noticed he was uncomfortable, but figured he’d eventually fess up.
Garrett isn’t watching the movie at all. He’s watching you.
He’s been quietly watching the way you’re mouthing the lines that you memorized. He’s observing the way you shift when you get too warm under the blanket, and the way you keep glancing over at him to make sure his attention is on the movie when it definitely hasn’t been.
The other night was a quiet realisation of how much Garrett missed getting to witness you just exist. He’d replayed your phone call in his head more than he cared to admit. Weeks ago, you would’ve called Dean or Allie. Maybe even tried to handle it yourself before asking for help.
This time? You called him.
You glance over and catch him already looking at you for the third time. “What?”
Garrett shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Am not.”
“You literally are.”
Garrett laughs this time, the same laugh you’ve spent years pretending doesn’t make you feel warm inside. The laugh that’s making it really difficult not to smile back at him.
He doesn’t offer any other explanation, just continues to look at you as if he blinks, you’ll disappear. He studies you for another second and then looks down at his hands, where his thumb is rubbing the seam of the blanket between you.
The silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Not after everything. Not after weeks of slowly finding your way back here, back to movie nights and shared blankets, falling asleep halfway through films because being near each other had always been easier than pretending you didn’t want to be.
Garrett runs a hand through his damp hair and swallows. “I think I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, and I kept fucking it up…”
Outside his room, you can hear the muffled sounds of Logan and Tucker arguing over what to make for dinner. Dean’s yelling his opinion from the second floor, which earns a chorus of complaints down the stairs.
Garrett doesn’t seem to notice because the world has somehow narrowed down to the two of you, and nothing else matters.
“I think… I think for a long time, I got so used to you always being there that I forgot you were choosing to be. And I never thanked you for it. And it’s not just for me, but for the guys, too. You’ve always done those things without expecting anyone else to notice.”
A fond smile tugs at his mouth when you laugh under your breath. Garrett’s right. You never expected anyone to notice because you just loved them, loved him, because it was so easy to do.
“I noticed,” He admits after a second, “I just don’t think I ever had the balls to acknowledge it because it felt like touching something a little too important.”
You’re suddenly too warm under the blanket and sit up to be at his level. The movie has been forgotten by both of you, and his eyes still haven’t left yours.
“I’ve been a fucking coward, Bug. Because I’ve never just said how much you meant to me after everything we’ve been through. It’s all the little things, and I love every single one. Especially the part where you argue with me for twenty minutes over whether a movie ending was satisfying, even if you’re objectively wrong.”
You roll your eyes to prevent them from watering instead. “I’m never objectively wrong.”
“I know.” Garrett’s voice is impossibly gentle, and you swear you’re a puddle in his hands.
“I want to say I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with Jackson, but I can’t,” Garrett laughs this time, and you find yourself smiling too. “Every time I saw you with him, you looked happy. And after everything I’d done, I wanted that for you.”
You freeze, your eyes narrowing at him because you can’t tell if he’s being serious. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I was jealous as fuck, baby. I fucked up, and I lost you because of it.”
The words are so quiet you almost miss them. For a second, you don’t know what he means before it clicks.
“Garrett.”
“I’m serious.”
“I just thought you were needy for attention.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Garrett, look at me.”
Without an invitation, your hand moves to rest gently against his cheek until he finally gives in. His fingers rest where your sweatpants and top have shifted to reveal bare skin on your hip.
“You didn’t lose me. You will never lose me.”
There’s not enough restraint for him to stop his gaze from dropping to your mouth for a split second before he meets your eyes.
It’s enough for you to notice, because you always do.
“Can I--?”
You’re interrupting his question by action this time, closing the distance between you in ways that you’ve dreamt of so many times.
The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s certain, like Garrett’s known this is where he belongs his whole life. You try to pull back for air, and he’s tugging you right back in, shifting until you’re in his lap right where he wants you.
Kissing Garrett doesn’t feel new, even though it is. It’s familiar, like coming home. Like every late-night phone call, every hockey game, every study session. Every moment led you here.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are smiling so silly that it makes you laugh. Your forehead drops to his shoulder out of shyness, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you back up to see you again.
“So.” His eyes have a mischievous twinkle to them, his cheeks are warm from the rush of the past few moments, and the way he’s eager for more.
“So?” You repeat with laughter behind your words.
“We’re definitely not telling Dean.”
You shake your head, your thumb brushing across his skin as you take in every color in his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Tucker might pass out.”
“Logan will bully the shit out of us.”
Adrenaline is running through you now, and you feel like you’re buzzing even though it’s well past bedtime. You’re holding Garrett Graham’s face in your hands, and for once, everything is so good.
“Just us? For now?”
Garrett nods in agreement before he kisses you again.
--
Nothing changes publicly for you two, but everything shifts privately.
Your stuff starts to slowly take up space in Garrett’s room again. Not obvious, not noticeable. Half of it gets hidden away, which never used to happen.
But things are different now, and you’re obsessed.
It has become impossible for Garrett not to touch you. He’s pulling you into his lap while you study. You’re sleeping in his shirts and waking up tangled in his grasp. Every goodbye ends with a kiss, and then one more for good measure, and a finale one because neither of you really wants to walk away.
There are suddenly too many close calls.
Like earlier, when the guys were on the couch watching past film before their game. You’d walked behind the couch, and Garrett’s hand slid beneath your sweatshirt just enough to touch the bare skin of your back.
You hadn’t reacted because it’s become normal, even as he rubbed lazy circles into the skin while keeping his eyes on the television. And then Dean turned, and Garrett’s hand dropped so fast you nearly jumped.
Or that morning, when he kissed your cheek and kept walking like Logan hadn’t been standing in the fridge looking for food.
There’s no confrontation. There are no questions. There’s just you and Garrett.
--
--
The kisses stay soft and lingering for days. Garrett’s attached to you because he’s never been able to hold you this way, and he simply can’t get enough.
You’re making coffee in the kitchen one Saturday morning, wearing a worn Bruins hoodie that definitely belongs to him, and you’re not really scared for anyone to see it.
Garrett wanders in, still half asleep. His hair is a disaster, his eyes barely open, and his mind is solely focused on you. He doesn’t say anything before he wraps both arms around your waist from behind and buries his face against your shoulder.
You laugh quietly, one hand resting over his arms. “Morning to you, too.”
Garrett groans lowly into your skin, and you shiver.
“You could’ve stayed in bed,” You murmur, fingertips dancing across his bare skin now as the coffee maker finally kicks to life.
“You aren’t there.”
His answer makes you hum. “I’m so sorry then.”
Garrett shadows you as you make two cups of coffee, eggs for yourself and for him, and even some bacon to snack on. It’s only a matter of time before you’re interrupted, so you’re soaking up the peace while you have it.
He watches as you steal bacon from his plate like you didn’t just finish your own a few minutes before.
“You’re aware those are mine, right?”
“You’re aware they’re being left unattended, right?” You look up at him with a teasing smirk. He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too much to argue.
“That’s not how ownership works, baby.”
“It is in this kitchen.”
You’ve got him there.
Garrett doesn’t say anything in return. He’s watching you, instead. You, barefoot in his kitchen. In his clothes. Your hair is messy because you haven’t had a chance to fully get ready yet. The fact that you’ve drunk your coffee and are reaching for his, too, because you know he’ll let you. He watches as you twist your face in displeasure.
“So fucking bitter.”
“You made it.”
“And I can’t believe you drink it.”
Garrett laughs and steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You criticize everything I do.”
“And you love me for it.”
The words come out casually, naturally, like you’ve said them a hundred times. And you have, but every time Garrett hears them, he still looks at you like he can’t believe he’s allowed to.
“I do.”
You glance over your shoulder where he’s standing and smile at him. “I know.”
And then your phone buzzes on the counter, and Garrett physically feels you tense beneath his hands at the notification tone it has. He knows in seconds because nothing else makes you react this way.
“Bug?”
You glance at the notification on the phone screen. “It’s them. I changed the text tone so I would know.”
Garrett stays close as you unlock the device and click the notification. His expression changes into a slow, awful realization. You catch it. “What?”
He doesn’t answer because something on that screen is giving him deja vu. Something he’s heard before, and it’s making his stomach sink. There’s only one other person who could know if he’s right, though.
“Call Hannah.”
You blink in shock at the direction, confused as to why that would help. “What?”
“Call Hannah.”
Garrett’s pulling his own phone out when you don’t move fast enough for his liking.
“Garrett-”
“Trust me, please.” His voice is too serious for you to ask anything else.
So, you do. The speaker phone fills the quiet in the kitchen until Hannah answers shortly after, her voice still laced with sleep. “Hello?”
“Did Justin ever write a song about you?”
Silence follows Garrett's question.
“What?” Hannah sounds a bit more awake now.
“The text, it’s a lyric. Did Justin ever write a song about you?”
There’s a small curse on the other side of the phone. You can hear her bedding shuffle as she likely sits up to be more coherent. “Read it to me.”
Garrett repeats the words on your screen. There’s a pause for a moment, and your heart is racing in your chest.
“Oh, my God.”
--
Everyone’s at the house within an hour. Dean’s confused and may still be drunk as he collapses against the couch with a groan. Logan is busying himself eating the breakfast leftovers that you and Garrett promptly abandoned after hanging up the phone.
Hannah is quietly pacing back and forth. Your phone is in her hands, and her lips are moving to words nobody can hear.
“It’s him. It has to be,” She speaks after a moment. “That’s the lyric from the song he was rehearsing when we were practicing together. He never said who it was about, but that is exactly what came out of his mouth.”
Garrett’s standing behind you, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and hide from this conversation. “You recognise it?”
Hannah nods, her anxiety growing with each second. “He played it for me. And he said--”
Her gaze flickers between you and Garrett as if something clicked the last piece into the puzzle.
“He said sometimes people don’t realise what they have until someone else has it.”
The room goes quiet. Your head falls back against Garrett’s shoulder with a dejected sigh. Your eyes are burning now with frustrated tears, and you hate that everyone is sitting here to watch it happen.
“Pull up his music,” Logan’s the first one to speak up, and everyone looks to him. “His songs, his lyrics. Pull it, pull everything. Start searching.”
Everyone moves at once. Allie tosses her computer on Dean’s lap, who immediately starts digging in. Logan and Tucker hover the former’s laptop, pulling up Justin’s socials. Hannah’s pacing again, but you selfishly don’t have it in you to try to focus on her.
Garrett’s hands are on your arms, slowly moving up and down to offer any help. You’re glad he’s here. You’re thankful he’s holding you now, too, because this was all fucking insane.
“Hold on.” Logan’s zooming in on a photo from Justin’s blog. It’s placed strategically enough to see a guitar and pick in focus, but that’s not what Logan’s pointing at.
It’s you. Sitting at the coffee shop across the street, blissfully unaware that you’re being watched.
Then another one, this time in the library, where you’re just half in the frame in a study room.
You shake your head. “No.”
“Hey.”
“No, I would’ve noticed,” You defend yourself as you shift off Garrett’s chest to face him. “I’m not--”
“How the fuck did we miss this?” Dean curses, tugging at his blond hair, frustrated.
“Wait, wait,” Tucker interrupts before everyone spirals, and he looks to you. “Do you have your SD card here?”
You nod. “It’s in Garrett’s room.”
Everyone is thankfully distracted enough that they don’t question why your stuff is in Garrett’s room, or why you’re in his hoodie, or why he hasn’t let go of you in the twenty minutes everyone’s been here.
Hannah still has your phone in her hand when another notification pulls through, and she gasps. Garrett moves away to read over her shoulder, his own expression falling, and soon enough, everyone is crowding around the device.
--
--
“Don’t answer. Do not do anything.”
Dean’s looking straight at Garrett when he speaks. He grabs the phone for himself, sending a screenshot to his number before he disappears into the hallway without another word. You can faintly hear his conversation, but not enough to make out the words.
“Okay, okay. This is fucking insane, and I can’t believe this shit is happening before noon.” Allie’s mildly freaking out, and you can’t even blame her. She takes a big breath and plops back on the couch.
“Alright, nobody spiral. You two, go get the SD card. Allie and Hannah can start going through things to collect more evidence. I’ll take the social media. Tucker, we’re gonna need sustenance, my man.”
Tucker salutes. “On it, bro.”
Logan clasps Garrett’s shoulder briefly, and it sets everything in motion. The hockey captain is reading between the lines, understanding that his friend is giving you guys a chance to get quiet because you’re likely thirty seconds away from breaking.
Garrett pulls you up the stairs, where the noise disappears behind the closed door of his bedroom.
You’re standing in the middle, completely zoned out as you scan the pieces of yourself that are scattered across the room. Everything suddenly feels so exposed.
“I hate this.”
You flinch at the words and spin to face Garrett with tears in your eyes. “What?”
His expression softens when he sees how upset you are. His hands are soft when they cup your face, and you swear your knees may give out at his touch.
Garrett tries to act like the small noise you let out doesn’t break his heart.
“I hate that he’s been the one making you feel like this,” He continues quietly. “If I had known that helping Hannah would’ve turned into this big of a mess, I would’ve never risked it.”
You shake your head as the tears break free this time. “It’s not your fault. It’s not Hannah’s fault. Fuck, it’s not my fault either, but I feel so stupid that--”
Garrett shushes you, “Stop that. You are not stupid. You were in survival mode, Bug. You don’t get to take something that he did and put it on yourself. He wanted you to feel like you weren’t safe, and he did. But look at me.”
You force yourself to open your eyes again to look at him.
“Did you do anything wrong? Did you invite him in? Did you encourage his messages?”
“No…”
“No. Then none of this belongs to you.”
The breakdown that follows isn’t loud. You’re quietly crying in his arms, holding onto him so tightly that you’re shaking because you’ve just been keeping things together for too long.
You’re so out of it that you don’t notice Garrett picking you off the ground to carry you. You don’t notice when he maneuvers both of you on the bed until his back is against the headboard and you’re curled into his lap.
And for a moment, there is no chaos. There is no stalker, no hidden messages. There’s just you and Garrett.
You and Garrett.
--
The next few hours are crazy, and you’re more than grateful to have such a good group of people to surround you. Nobody lets the weight linger too long; they’re good at distractions, at making you laugh, and keeping the energy up even if they aren’t feeling like it.
It’s a cycle of statements, of campus security showing up, and Dean talking through conversations with a language so professional you swear he’s been cloned. Evidence is pulled from your camera, Hannah hands over notes from their songwriting sessions, and Tucker makes enough food to feed half of campus because he isn’t sure what else to really do with his hands.
Dean gets the call as the sun is setting.
“They got him.” His voice is quiet, but the words ring loudly in your ears after he says them. He looks at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “They fucking got him.”
The relief is instant, before you're being pulled into so many hugs. There's a lot to unbury here, pieces that need put together, and more ugliness that's yet to be seen, but you don't even care because it's almost over.
Garrett finally gets you in his arms, one palm warm against your back as the other holds your head against him so his chin can rest on you. You’re not crying, and you’re suspiciously quiet, but you let yourself sink into him anyway because you’re no longer having to hold it all together.
There’s zero care if anyone notices that this hug is different, that neither of you is really letting go. This isn’t just Garrett comforting his best friend anymore; this is Garrett holding someone he loves.
“You’re alright, baby.”
The other noises disappear when Garrett kisses your head, and you take a shuddering breath, holding him just a bit tighter to you. “So tired.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
The house slowly empties shortly after, with promises of updates tomorrow and a request to do this shit when there isn’t something so depressing going on.
Garrett doesn’t ask if you’re staying the night again; he just lets you follow him up the stairs once everyone else has filtered to bed.
You’re still quiet as he hands you a warm washcloth to take the day off your skin. It continues as you let him tug the hoodie off your frame, replacing it with a worn, soft t-shirt that’s seen your body more than his at this point.
Garrett plugs your phone in when you find enough energy to brush your teeth. He tosses the clothes from the day in the hamper and sprays the room with the scented mist he knows you like to fall asleep to.
The normality of it all feels healing.
The room is dark when you curl into his chest under the blankets a few minutes later. His fingers slowly trace your skin as he feels you breathe against him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Garrett hums softly into your hair. “Figured.”
You’re quiet again for a minute before you squeeze him closer. “Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
a/n: sorry i don't love the way this ended but i was so burnt on this chapter lol. here comes the fun!
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realizes he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
It was obvious to anyone who looked that you were anxious. You’d been this way since the party two weeks ago, when the messages started again. Everything felt like it was adding on to your plate, and you retreated to the safety of yourself because that was easier than admitting it was getting to your head.
You were getting more confident with the photography aspect of things, going as far as to create your own website with a portfolio and start booking sessions. The editing took the longest time, among all the touchups and styling to do.
Jackson keeps you company for most of it. The library is quiet as the two of you sit in the study room, various supplies scattered across the table. You’ve dimmed the lights to something less fluorescent and have a soft playlist going in the background.
Jackson sits across from you with an economics textbook wide open and a burn in his eyes that says he’s beyond done studying.
A notification comes across your laptop screen, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.
--
--
“What are you smiling at?”
You show him your screen so he can see Garrett’s messages. He blinks at the last text. “Don’t move?”
“I never know with him, honestly. Probably find out in ten minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, Garrett Graham arrives in gray sweatpants, a hockey hoodie, and both hands full of goodies.
“Hey,” You greet quietly, surprised at the sight of him out and about the night before a game.
“Figured you could use a pick-me-up after today.”
He sets a drink down beside your laptop without making a big deal out of it before placing a bag from your favorite bakery there, too. Then another bag goes over for Jackson to reach for.
“Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got some options,” Garrett explains with a nod. He doesn’t sit on it for long, placing both hands on your shoulders to squeeze lightly. “I’m heading to the rink. Let me know when you get back with the girls, okay?”
You nod in agreement. He hesitates for almost a second before he decides it’s good enough. He looks over at Jackson. “See ya, man.”
“Yeah, thanks for the snacks.”
Garrett gives a small wave over his shoulder as he disappears through the doors again.
The room settles again without all the movement, and you don’t hesitate to rip into the bag of food that’s now in front of you.
“Does he do that often?” Jackson asks, his eyes looking toward the items in your vicinity.
You shrug lightly. “He’s just always kind of done that.”
“Can I be honest with you?”
The phrase didn’t sound great, so you immediately knew where it was heading. You bit your lip and shifted in your seat to see him better. “I already don’t like that.”
Jackson laughs quietly. “I know, sorry. I just, I’ve been thinking recently. Those messages, from the unknown number, did… was there something between you and Garrett?”
There’s a small moment of silence before you answer.
“Garrett… Garrett’s been my best friend since we were kids. We grew up together. Same high school, and now the same college. It’s really hard for me to ever remember anything where he wasn’t there,” You say honestly.
“We’ve always been really close. Probably closer than most people would consider normal. We’ve stuck together around other romantic relationships and…” You sigh, pausing to give him a small smile. “Things were different when we got to college. We were able to be a lot more independent but also much closer. I just shadowed him for a long time because he was all I’d really known. And then we got into an argument and tried to get some space for a while.”
“Which evidently didn’t work,” Jackson offers with a smile. He closes his laptop, and you have a sinking suspicion that no more work will be getting done tonight.
You laugh and shake your own head. “No, no, it didn’t.”
Quiet settles over the study room, but it’s not tense. It’s comfortable and safe in a way that a lot of conversations never really see.
“I’m not gonna lie, I really like you. And I know you like me. We’ve had a lot of fun doing this. But I can also tell you look at him in a way you’ll never look at someone else.”
You open your mouth to disagree, but fall short.
“It’s okay,” He reassures, “He’s a really lucky guy to have someone like you. And even though you guys have had some back and forth, I can tell you guys really care about each other. It’s sickeningly sweet.”
The laugh you let out is a mixture of sadness and agreement. You give him a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Jackson shakes his head, but he honestly doesn’t look too upset. “No hurting from me, I promise. If anything, I think we could still be friends, if you’re up for that?”
You nod.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”
--
Jackson drops you off at Allie and Hannah’s with another reassurance that everything’s okay. You thank him, kiss his cheek, and make your way inside. Part of you is reeling with guilt over the whole thing, but the other half doesn’t even care. And there’s zero sadness, which is surprising.
It wasn’t that Jackson wasn’t nice or didn’t do anything right. It was the exact opposite, actually.
The apartment is quiet when you let yourself in. You kick your shoes off by the door and catch sight of Allie and Hannah in the kitchen area. There are two pizza boxes on the counter and Allie’s seated next to one as Hannah reads flashcards from her spot in the bar chair.
“Hey,” Allie greets quietly. It’s like she can immediately tell by the look on your face that something isn’t right. “How’d it go?”
You toss your backpack to the ground and lean against the counter, slowly letting out a breath. “It went okay.”
“Just okay?” Hannah follows up as she sets the flash cards down.
“We broke things off. He knew I wasn’t really into it, and he’s right,” You lean your elbow on the surface to rest your chin in your palm. “I don’t know how long he knew, but it was long enough for me to feel shitty when he brought it up.”
Allie hops down from the counter to stand closer. “Are you okay?”
You nod. “Yeah. I just feel bad. He’s a good guy, and I wanted it to work but…”
“But?”
“He told me I look at Garrett in a way that I never look at anyone else.”
Allie and Hannah go quiet, both of them looking at each other in a way that makes you suspicious. You stare at them, waiting for the ball to drop.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What?”
“Nothing.”
You roll your eyes, stepping around Allie to grab a slice of lukewarm pizza from the box. “No, say it with your chest, Allie Hayes.”
Allie points at Hannah. The music major shakes her head with a laugh before looking back to you. “We’ve been saying the same thing for months, actually. You have one smile for Garrett, and another for everyone else. It’s hard to miss, Bug.”
You groan and cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God. That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s kind of adorable, actually.”
“It’s humiliating!” You double down, but can’t stop the smile from forming on your face. They’re both laughing with you and the weight on your shoulders feels a lot lighter with it out in the air.
Allie lets you take a few bites of pizza before she continues, “So, now what?”
You dust your hands off on a napkin and shrug. “What do you mean?”
“Are you gonna tell Garrett?”
You hesitate for a second before shaking your head. “I really liked this… this time away, you know? Like I got to hang with you guys, and our trip, and all of my photography stuff. It’s been so good, and I don’t regret any of it. But I’m also not gonna lie, I miss him. I miss us.”
Hannah nods in understanding before explaining, “So start there. Not with dating, and labels, and trying to fix everything. Just, slowly let him back in. Nobody’s saying you have to figure it all out immediately just because Jackson said something about it.”
She’s right, you tell yourself. Because you don’t have to decide right now. You don’t have to call Garrett and tell him what happened tonight. You don’t have to tell him anything at all, actually.
You can take this at your own pace. Little by little. You don’t have to go looking for him, but you also don’t have to hide from him either.
Allie literally claps at the recognition in your eyes and it brings you back. “Yes! Oh my God, this will be fun. Operation Bugarrett is a go!”
You laugh, “Operation what the fuck did you just say?”
“Bugarrett,” She repeats, like it offers any clarity whatsoever. She settles a hand on your shoulder and refuses to explain further. “Just trust me. You do you and let Hannah and I handle the rest.”
You’re not convinced as you look between the two of them. They look devious, and you don’t really know how to feel about it. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Al.”
--
Malone’s is packed on a Thursday night, likely everyone enjoying one last night out before finals season begins. You’re tucked in a booth with Allie, leaning against her shoulder as she excitedly recaps rehearsal to Dexter and Hannah across from you.
The boys are at the booth across from you, rowdy and excited for their upcoming game. You can easily recognise their voices through the noise, piecing together their conversation as you listen. You’re physically here, but mentally, you’re anywhere else.
This is the first weekend in a while that you don’t have a packed schedule, mostly because you want to be there to support the guys in the game, and you just need a solid break. Your social battery is fried and it took Allie a lot of begging to get you out of the apartment among your constant protesting.
You eventually caved, but it was obvious to anyone looking on that you were fading fast.
And by anyone, that means Garrett.
He’s already looking at you when you risk glancing over. Not in an obvious way, but just enough that when your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. It’s a silent are you okay that you haven’t seen in a long time.
You nod once. He nods back.
The interaction lasts all of three seconds, but it’s enough to warm your skin.
“Babe, you’ve barely touched your food,” Allie’s voice drops in volume as she regards you. She knew you wouldn’t be the most energetic person tonight, but she’d rather not leave you alone with everything going on.
“I’ve been picking at them.”
“You’ve had exactly three,” Dexter says pointedly.
“Did you sit here and count?”
“I got bored.”
You shake your head teasingly. Hannah laughs at the exchange, “You’ve been staring into space for a bit there.”
“I’m just tired.”
Allie studies you for another second before squeezing your knee gently. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know,” You say as you adjust your positioning against her side to lean back against the wall so you can see Garrett easier without being obvious. “I want to.”
The conversation picks back up around you, but you’re not listening. Your eyes are half-way closed now as bits and pieces of the boys’ topics drift over. Garrett laughs and the familiarity of it all makes you realise how much you simply missed being around them. How much you’ve missed just existing in the same space.
After a few minutes, someone mentions getting another round of drinks and a mix of bodies shuffle their way around you. Allie whispers an apology as she pulls away from you, the warmth disappearing instantly and sending a chill down your spine.
Across the aisle, Dean waves dramatically as if you can’t see his very obvious hand in your vision. You scoff and roll your eyes, shifting a bit in your seat like you’re not one breeze away from goosebumps.
“Yes, Dean?”
He’s smirking at you and Garrett’s peering over his shoulder curiously.
“You look lonely.”
“I’ve been alone for approximately 40 seconds.”
“And?”
“And I’m enjoying my silence.”
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the silence, babydoll.”
You laugh, tucking your feet closer like it’ll provide any comfort. “You’re so annoying.”
“Heard that before.”
Garrett shakes his head, the hand that isn’t holding his drink slapping against Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Leave her alone.”
Dean points toward you as if it offers any defense. “I am simply including her.”
You laugh and in a moment of weakness, you’re standing. Not because Dean asked, not because Garrett did either. You’ve spent the last hour feeling like you’re sitting beside everyone instead of with them.
You’re standing next to Dean, gaze looking at him pointedly, teasingly. “Move.”
Dean pretends to be offended, as if he didn’t know what he was doing this entire time. “You telling me to move?”
“I like this booth better.”
Dean keeps eye contact with you as he stands, the knowing smirk on his lips getting increasingly worse when he reaches his full height and looks down at you, now. The flirt in him never really disappeared. “Oh? Why didn’t you just say so?”
You slip into the seat easily, like your heart isn’t picking up speed. Garrett fights the pull in his muscles to tuck you under his left arm and into his side. Like he would’ve. Used to.
Dean slides back in on the other side of you, purposefully bumping you further into the booth until your thigh is pressed into Garrett’s. Being pinned between two walls of hockey-based muscle doesn’t give much room, but one thing is for sure…
You’re not cold anymore.
Eventually, Logan, Tucker, and Beau slide back in on the other side of the booth. There’s no big noise about your sudden presence. They’re well aware your social battery is one conversation away from dying completely, so they continue to build around you. Safe. Lovingly.
Allie winks at you when she sits back down in her original seat.
“She’s over there?” Hannah’s asking a bit quieter, but not really since it’s so noisy. She’s trying to play it cool and not peek around Dexter’s shoulder, but she’s itching to. “Did it work?”
Allie keeps her eyes on your form, tucked between two people who would rip the world apart if it meant getting to you. And she loves Dean for it, because Dean loves you in a way that’s so different from how he loves Allie. You’re an extension of Garrett, and Garrett is one of Dean’s best friends, and you’re one of Allie’s. There’s nothing Dean or Allie wouldn’t do to protect the people they love.
“Yeah.” Allie nods and takes a sip of her drink, smiling when Dean sends a knowing, sneaky look in her direction. As if this wasn’t an undercover operation the whole time. As if this hadn’t been her goal when she pushed you into the booth on a side that would give you a view of Garrett. As if Dean hadn’t made up some bullshit lie about needing to sit on the outer seat tonight.
“Yeah, it worked.”
--
Things shift two days later.
You’ve got your set up across Allie and Hannah’s counter, pining through hundreds of photos from the hockey game earlier that night. The social media team was in love with you, simply because they didn’t have to risk trying to coordinate sweaty athletes as they operated in their space. You already had the ability to handle half of them.
And if the captain listens to you, they all fall in line shortly after.
You should’ve gone to bed hours ago, but the win had been too good, and you wanted to get some images edited and shared out before the morning.
The game photos are spread across your screen and you catch yourself smiling as you scroll through them. Tucker screaming into the camera, Dean practically tackling Logan after a good play.
You stop on one photo.
The whole team is celebrating. And then there’s Garrett, looking away from your lens as he laughs at something being said.
It’s not even your favorite shot. The lighting is messy, the angle isn’t perfect.
But it feels so much like him.
You’re still staring when your phone lights up with a notification. Reading the number takes your smile away just as quickly.
--
--
Your stomach drops, breath catching in your chest as you look over your shoulder. Allie closed the curtains hours ago, but it still feels like someone’s seeing straight through them to get to you. Like whoever sent it knows exactly where you are.
The first instinct is to stop looking at it. If you don’t look at it, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe it was never real in the first place.
But then your thumb moves, and you’re pressing the call button before you can talk yourself out of it.
Garrett answers on the second ring.
--
Across campus, the hockey house is still buzzing with energy. The win has easily turned into one of those nights where nobody wants to go to sleep just yet.
Garrett’s in a heated debate with Tucker about their drive patterns of the game when his phone lights up with your name.
“Hey.” There’s a surprise to his tone and a smile on his face until he’s greeted with silence on your end. “Bug?”
You swallow. “Hey.”
One word. It takes one word, and he knows. “What’s wrong?”
“I got another message.”
Garrett’s already standing because something in him is pulled tight and dangerous, like a live wire ready to go.
Dean notices and sits up a bit straighter. Allie’s gone quiet next to him. “Everything okay?”
Garrett doesn’t answer because his focus is on you and the shake in your voice. “Where are you?”
“Allie’s.”
“Are you alone?”
There’s quiet for a second. “Hannah’s closing tonight.”
Garrett’s already got his shoes on, the keys to the Jeep stabbing into his palm solidly. “I’m coming. Stay where you are.”
“Garrett.”
“I’m coming,” He repeats in a more direct tone.
“You don’t have to.”
Garrett takes a second to pause and breathe. He glances over his shoulder where he’s got the attention of his friends, all awaiting his explanation. “I know. I want to.”
He reassures you he’ll be there in a minute before the call ends.
Allie tosses her drink in the garbage and pulls her own heels back on before throwing Dean his jacket from the hook, even though she has no idea what’s going on. “We’re coming.”
“What’s going on?” Logan asks when he finally gets an opportunity.
“She got another message,” Garrett’s answer is blunt, but it’s honest.
He watches the reactions in real time as defeat swallows the group whole, which he knows you would hate. Everyone wants this to be behind you. The mood feels like it’s sucked out of the room, but the focus is on you now, and what comes next.
“Is she okay?”
Garrett nods to Tucker’s question. “Yeah, but I’m going. If anything changes, I’ll call you.
Nobody argues or disagrees when Allie and Dean follow him out the front door and into the night. Because it’s you. And if you called Garrett, they already knew everything was going to be okay.
The drive is almost silent. Garrett’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white.
Dean glances over, taking in the tension in his friend’s posture. He knows nothing will help until Garrett’s got eyes on you to assess everything for himself.
“She called me.”
The sentence hangs in the air for a moment like nobody quite knows what to do with it.
Dean bites first. “She called you?”
Garrett nods once, his eyes locked on the distance between you and him. “She called me.”
Dean notices the change in tone. He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t ask more. But he catches Allie’s eyes in the backseat, and the two of them share a small smile because it’s working.
it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.
throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realizes he's left you behind.
⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader
series masterlist
It was obvious to anyone who looked that you were anxious. You’d been this way since the party two weeks ago, when the messages started again. Everything felt like it was adding on to your plate, and you retreated to the safety of yourself because that was easier than admitting it was getting to your head.
You were getting more confident with the photography aspect of things, going as far as to create your own website with a portfolio and start booking sessions. The editing took the longest time, among all the touchups and styling to do.
Jackson keeps you company for most of it. The library is quiet as the two of you sit in the study room, various supplies scattered across the table. You’ve dimmed the lights to something less fluorescent and have a soft playlist going in the background.
Jackson sits across from you with an economics textbook wide open and a burn in his eyes that says he’s beyond done studying.
A notification comes across your laptop screen, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.
--
--
“What are you smiling at?”
You show him your screen so he can see Garrett’s messages. He blinks at the last text. “Don’t move?”
“I never know with him, honestly. Probably find out in ten minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, Garrett Graham arrives in gray sweatpants, a hockey hoodie, and both hands full of goodies.
“Hey,” You greet quietly, surprised at the sight of him out and about the night before a game.
“Figured you could use a pick-me-up after today.”
He sets a drink down beside your laptop without making a big deal out of it before placing a bag from your favorite bakery there, too. Then another bag goes over for Jackson to reach for.
“Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got some options,” Garrett explains with a nod. He doesn’t sit on it for long, placing both hands on your shoulders to squeeze lightly. “I’m heading to the rink. Let me know when you get back with the girls, okay?”
You nod in agreement. He hesitates for almost a second before he decides it’s good enough. He looks over at Jackson. “See ya, man.”
“Yeah, thanks for the snacks.”
Garrett gives a small wave over his shoulder as he disappears through the doors again.
The room settles again without all the movement, and you don’t hesitate to rip into the bag of food that’s now in front of you.
“Does he do that often?” Jackson asks, his eyes looking toward the items in your vicinity.
You shrug lightly. “He’s just always kind of done that.”
“Can I be honest with you?”
The phrase didn’t sound great, so you immediately knew where it was heading. You bit your lip and shifted in your seat to see him better. “I already don’t like that.”
Jackson laughs quietly. “I know, sorry. I just, I’ve been thinking recently. Those messages, from the unknown number, did… was there something between you and Garrett?”
There’s a small moment of silence before you answer.
“Garrett… Garrett’s been my best friend since we were kids. We grew up together. Same high school, and now the same college. It’s really hard for me to ever remember anything where he wasn’t there,” You say honestly.
“We’ve always been really close. Probably closer than most people would consider normal. We’ve stuck together around other romantic relationships and…” You sigh, pausing to give him a small smile. “Things were different when we got to college. We were able to be a lot more independent but also much closer. I just shadowed him for a long time because he was all I’d really known. And then we got into an argument and tried to get some space for a while.”
“Which evidently didn’t work,” Jackson offers with a smile. He closes his laptop, and you have a sinking suspicion that no more work will be getting done tonight.
You laugh and shake your own head. “No, no, it didn’t.”
Quiet settles over the study room, but it’s not tense. It’s comfortable and safe in a way that a lot of conversations never really see.
“I’m not gonna lie, I really like you. And I know you like me. We’ve had a lot of fun doing this. But I can also tell you look at him in a way you’ll never look at someone else.”
You open your mouth to disagree, but fall short.
“It’s okay,” He reassures, “He’s a really lucky guy to have someone like you. And even though you guys have had some back and forth, I can tell you guys really care about each other. It’s sickeningly sweet.”
The laugh you let out is a mixture of sadness and agreement. You give him a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Jackson shakes his head, but he honestly doesn’t look too upset. “No hurting from me, I promise. If anything, I think we could still be friends, if you’re up for that?”
You nod.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”
--
Jackson drops you off at Allie and Hannah’s with another reassurance that everything’s okay. You thank him, kiss his cheek, and make your way inside. Part of you is reeling with guilt over the whole thing, but the other half doesn’t even care. And there’s zero sadness, which is surprising.
It wasn’t that Jackson wasn’t nice or didn’t do anything right. It was the exact opposite, actually.
The apartment is quiet when you let yourself in. You kick your shoes off by the door and catch sight of Allie and Hannah in the kitchen area. There are two pizza boxes on the counter and Allie’s seated next to one as Hannah reads flashcards from her spot in the bar chair.
“Hey,” Allie greets quietly. It’s like she can immediately tell by the look on your face that something isn’t right. “How’d it go?”
You toss your backpack to the ground and lean against the counter, slowly letting out a breath. “It went okay.”
“Just okay?” Hannah follows up as she sets the flash cards down.
“We broke things off. He knew I wasn’t really into it, and he’s right,” You lean your elbow on the surface to rest your chin in your palm. “I don’t know how long he knew, but it was long enough for me to feel shitty when he brought it up.”
Allie hops down from the counter to stand closer. “Are you okay?”
You nod. “Yeah. I just feel bad. He’s a good guy, and I wanted it to work but…”
“But?”
“He told me I look at Garrett in a way that I never look at anyone else.”
Allie and Hannah go quiet, both of them looking at each other in a way that makes you suspicious. You stare at them, waiting for the ball to drop.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What?”
“Nothing.”
You roll your eyes, stepping around Allie to grab a slice of lukewarm pizza from the box. “No, say it with your chest, Allie Hayes.”
Allie points at Hannah. The music major shakes her head with a laugh before looking back to you. “We’ve been saying the same thing for months, actually. You have one smile for Garrett, and another for everyone else. It’s hard to miss, Bug.”
You groan and cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God. That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s kind of adorable, actually.”
“It’s humiliating!” You double down, but can’t stop the smile from forming on your face. They’re both laughing with you and the weight on your shoulders feels a lot lighter with it out in the air.
Allie lets you take a few bites of pizza before she continues, “So, now what?”
You dust your hands off on a napkin and shrug. “What do you mean?”
“Are you gonna tell Garrett?”
You hesitate for a second before shaking your head. “I really liked this… this time away, you know? Like I got to hang with you guys, and our trip, and all of my photography stuff. It’s been so good, and I don’t regret any of it. But I’m also not gonna lie, I miss him. I miss us.”
Hannah nods in understanding before explaining, “So start there. Not with dating, and labels, and trying to fix everything. Just, slowly let him back in. Nobody’s saying you have to figure it all out immediately just because Jackson said something about it.”
She’s right, you tell yourself. Because you don’t have to decide right now. You don’t have to call Garrett and tell him what happened tonight. You don’t have to tell him anything at all, actually.
You can take this at your own pace. Little by little. You don’t have to go looking for him, but you also don’t have to hide from him either.
Allie literally claps at the recognition in your eyes and it brings you back. “Yes! Oh my God, this will be fun. Operation Bugarrett is a go!”
You laugh, “Operation what the fuck did you just say?”
“Bugarrett,” She repeats, like it offers any clarity whatsoever. She settles a hand on your shoulder and refuses to explain further. “Just trust me. You do you and let Hannah and I handle the rest.”
You’re not convinced as you look between the two of them. They look devious, and you don’t really know how to feel about it. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Al.”
--
Malone’s is packed on a Thursday night, likely everyone enjoying one last night out before finals season begins. You’re tucked in a booth with Allie, leaning against her shoulder as she excitedly recaps rehearsal to Dexter and Hannah across from you.
The boys are at the booth across from you, rowdy and excited for their upcoming game. You can easily recognise their voices through the noise, piecing together their conversation as you listen. You’re physically here, but mentally, you’re anywhere else.
This is the first weekend in a while that you don’t have a packed schedule, mostly because you want to be there to support the guys in the game, and you just need a solid break. Your social battery is fried and it took Allie a lot of begging to get you out of the apartment among your constant protesting.
You eventually caved, but it was obvious to anyone looking on that you were fading fast.
And by anyone, that means Garrett.
He’s already looking at you when you risk glancing over. Not in an obvious way, but just enough that when your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. It’s a silent are you okay that you haven’t seen in a long time.
You nod once. He nods back.
The interaction lasts all of three seconds, but it’s enough to warm your skin.
“Babe, you’ve barely touched your food,” Allie’s voice drops in volume as she regards you. She knew you wouldn’t be the most energetic person tonight, but she’d rather not leave you alone with everything going on.
“I’ve been picking at them.”
“You’ve had exactly three,” Dexter says pointedly.
“Did you sit here and count?”
“I got bored.”
You shake your head teasingly. Hannah laughs at the exchange, “You’ve been staring into space for a bit there.”
“I’m just tired.”
Allie studies you for another second before squeezing your knee gently. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know,” You say as you adjust your positioning against her side to lean back against the wall so you can see Garrett easier without being obvious. “I want to.”
The conversation picks back up around you, but you’re not listening. Your eyes are half-way closed now as bits and pieces of the boys’ topics drift over. Garrett laughs and the familiarity of it all makes you realise how much you simply missed being around them. How much you’ve missed just existing in the same space.
After a few minutes, someone mentions getting another round of drinks and a mix of bodies shuffle their way around you. Allie whispers an apology as she pulls away from you, the warmth disappearing instantly and sending a chill down your spine.
Across the aisle, Dean waves dramatically as if you can’t see his very obvious hand in your vision. You scoff and roll your eyes, shifting a bit in your seat like you’re not one breeze away from goosebumps.
“Yes, Dean?”
He’s smirking at you and Garrett’s peering over his shoulder curiously.
“You look lonely.”
“I’ve been alone for approximately 40 seconds.”
“And?”
“And I’m enjoying my silence.”
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the silence, babydoll.”
You laugh, tucking your feet closer like it’ll provide any comfort. “You’re so annoying.”
“Heard that before.”
Garrett shakes his head, the hand that isn’t holding his drink slapping against Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Leave her alone.”
Dean points toward you as if it offers any defense. “I am simply including her.”
You laugh and in a moment of weakness, you’re standing. Not because Dean asked, not because Garrett did either. You’ve spent the last hour feeling like you’re sitting beside everyone instead of with them.
You’re standing next to Dean, gaze looking at him pointedly, teasingly. “Move.”
Dean pretends to be offended, as if he didn’t know what he was doing this entire time. “You telling me to move?”
“I like this booth better.”
Dean keeps eye contact with you as he stands, the knowing smirk on his lips getting increasingly worse when he reaches his full height and looks down at you, now. The flirt in him never really disappeared. “Oh? Why didn’t you just say so?”
You slip into the seat easily, like your heart isn’t picking up speed. Garrett fights the pull in his muscles to tuck you under his left arm and into his side. Like he would’ve. Used to.
Dean slides back in on the other side of you, purposefully bumping you further into the booth until your thigh is pressed into Garrett’s. Being pinned between two walls of hockey-based muscle doesn’t give much room, but one thing is for sure…
You’re not cold anymore.
Eventually, Logan, Tucker, and Beau slide back in on the other side of the booth. There’s no big noise about your sudden presence. They’re well aware your social battery is one conversation away from dying completely, so they continue to build around you. Safe. Lovingly.
Allie winks at you when she sits back down in her original seat.
“She’s over there?” Hannah’s asking a bit quieter, but not really since it’s so noisy. She’s trying to play it cool and not peek around Dexter’s shoulder, but she’s itching to. “Did it work?”
Allie keeps her eyes on your form, tucked between two people who would rip the world apart if it meant getting to you. And she loves Dean for it, because Dean loves you in a way that’s so different from how he loves Allie. You’re an extension of Garrett, and Garrett is one of Dean’s best friends, and you’re one of Allie’s. There’s nothing Dean or Allie wouldn’t do to protect the people they love.
“Yeah.” Allie nods and takes a sip of her drink, smiling when Dean sends a knowing, sneaky look in her direction. As if this wasn’t an undercover operation the whole time. As if this hadn’t been her goal when she pushed you into the booth on a side that would give you a view of Garrett. As if Dean hadn’t made up some bullshit lie about needing to sit on the outer seat tonight.
“Yeah, it worked.”
--
Things shift two days later.
You’ve got your set up across Allie and Hannah’s counter, pining through hundreds of photos from the hockey game earlier that night. The social media team was in love with you, simply because they didn’t have to risk trying to coordinate sweaty athletes as they operated in their space. You already had the ability to handle half of them.
And if the captain listens to you, they all fall in line shortly after.
You should’ve gone to bed hours ago, but the win had been too good, and you wanted to get some images edited and shared out before the morning.
The game photos are spread across your screen and you catch yourself smiling as you scroll through them. Tucker screaming into the camera, Dean practically tackling Logan after a good play.
You stop on one photo.
The whole team is celebrating. And then there’s Garrett, looking away from your lens as he laughs at something being said.
It’s not even your favorite shot. The lighting is messy, the angle isn’t perfect.
But it feels so much like him.
You’re still staring when your phone lights up with a notification. Reading the number takes your smile away just as quickly.
--
--
Your stomach drops, breath catching in your chest as you look over your shoulder. Allie closed the curtains hours ago, but it still feels like someone’s seeing straight through them to get to you. Like whoever sent it knows exactly where you are.
The first instinct is to stop looking at it. If you don’t look at it, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe it was never real in the first place.
But then your thumb moves, and you’re pressing the call button before you can talk yourself out of it.
Garrett answers on the second ring.
--
Across campus, the hockey house is still buzzing with energy. The win has easily turned into one of those nights where nobody wants to go to sleep just yet.
Garrett’s in a heated debate with Tucker about their drive patterns of the game when his phone lights up with your name.
“Hey.” There’s a surprise to his tone and a smile on his face until he’s greeted with silence on your end. “Bug?”
You swallow. “Hey.”
One word. It takes one word, and he knows. “What’s wrong?”
“I got another message.”
Garrett’s already standing because something in him is pulled tight and dangerous, like a live wire ready to go.
Dean notices and sits up a bit straighter. Allie’s gone quiet next to him. “Everything okay?”
Garrett doesn’t answer because his focus is on you and the shake in your voice. “Where are you?”
“Allie’s.”
“Are you alone?”
There’s quiet for a second. “Hannah’s closing tonight.”
Garrett’s already got his shoes on, the keys to the Jeep stabbing into his palm solidly. “I’m coming. Stay where you are.”
“Garrett.”
“I’m coming,” He repeats in a more direct tone.
“You don’t have to.”
Garrett takes a second to pause and breathe. He glances over his shoulder where he’s got the attention of his friends, all awaiting his explanation. “I know. I want to.”
He reassures you he’ll be there in a minute before the call ends.
Allie tosses her drink in the garbage and pulls her own heels back on before throwing Dean his jacket from the hook, even though she has no idea what’s going on. “We’re coming.”
“What’s going on?” Logan asks when he finally gets an opportunity.
“She got another message,” Garrett’s answer is blunt, but it’s honest.
He watches the reactions in real time as defeat swallows the group whole, which he knows you would hate. Everyone wants this to be behind you. The mood feels like it’s sucked out of the room, but the focus is on you now, and what comes next.
“Is she okay?”
Garrett nods to Tucker’s question. “Yeah, but I’m going. If anything changes, I’ll call you.
Nobody argues or disagrees when Allie and Dean follow him out the front door and into the night. Because it’s you. And if you called Garrett, they already knew everything was going to be okay.
The drive is almost silent. Garrett’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white.
Dean glances over, taking in the tension in his friend’s posture. He knows nothing will help until Garrett’s got eyes on you to assess everything for himself.
“She called me.”
The sentence hangs in the air for a moment like nobody quite knows what to do with it.
Dean bites first. “She called you?”
Garrett nods once, his eyes locked on the distance between you and him. “She called me.”
Dean notices the change in tone. He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t ask more. But he catches Allie’s eyes in the backseat, and the two of them share a small smile because it’s working.
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the silence, babydoll.”
You laugh, tucking your feet closer like it’ll provide any comfort. “You’re so annoying.”
“Heard that before.”
Garrett shakes his head, the hand that isn’t holding his drink slapping against Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Leave her alone.”
Dean points toward you as if it offers any defense. “I am simply including her.”
You laugh, and in a moment of weakness, you’re standing. Not because Dean asked, not because Garrett did either. You’ve spent the last hour feeling like you’re sitting beside everyone instead of with them.
You’re standing next to Dean, looking at him pointedly, teasingly. “Move.”
Dean pretends to be offended, as if he didn’t know what he was doing this entire time. “You telling me to move?”
“I like this booth better.”
Dean keeps eye contact with you as he stands, the knowing smirk on his lips getting increasingly worse when he reaches his full height and looks down at you, now. The flirt in him never really disappeared. “Oh? Why didn’t you just say so?”
You slip into the seat easily, like your heart isn’t picking up speed. Garrett fights the pull in his muscles to tuck you under his left arm and into his side. Like he used to. Used to.
Dean slides back in on the other side of you, purposefully bumping you further into the booth until your thigh is pressed into Garrett’s. Being pinned between two walls of hockey-based muscle doesn’t give much room, but one thing is for sure…
