part 1 | part 2 | PART 3 | part 4 | part 5
Summary: Dean Di Laurentis is loud, arrogant, and has a smirk with dimples that makes you want to throw something at his face. You called him a playboy to his face. Now he won't leave you alone. You tell yourself he's just annoying you for fun and you want nothing to do with him. Until one day, you realize you're looking for him in every crowd. And that's when you know you're in trouble.
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader
Tags/warnings: Introvert girl. Enemies to lovers. Slow burn. Denial. Hockey romance. Fluff. Mutual pining. Mild language. Anxiety. Suggestive theme. No explicit content. Using the word (Name).
Author's note: Hi guys, thanks for being so excited about this story! It really means a lot to me. Sorry it took a while to update. I kinda had writer's block because I've been busy stressing over my thesis and job interview. Anyway, enjoy part 3! 💗
Taglist: @starinisstuff @sonnensplitter @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thecraziestcrayon @alice07ea @monayyy-21 @khanealb @myunperfektstorys @enemiestoloversfan @wilmonyibo7 @glittergirly78 @hey-its-kayla-claire @outpostsworld @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @f1flowergirl @shannon-1355 @liltacogurl @awesomebunnyqueen @historygeekqueen @sandrellymendonca @legendarychrattgirl @thewiselionessss @kristyjane22-blog @dina2223 @puertoricanborricua777 @tillslvt @velvetsighs @iwishiwasironman
The moment you stepped into your dorm room, you shut the door, dropped your bag carelessly onto the floor, and threw yourself onto the bed. A long, heavy sigh escaped your lips. Today had been so exhausting. The History class had completely drained your energy, and having to follow it up with a group discussion with Leon at the library didn't help.
Closing your eyes, you tried to escape into a deep sleep. But the vivid memory of Dean from this afternoon— his deep, pleading voice and the firm, warm grip around your wrist, sent your eyelids flying open in shock. You quickly sat up, staring ahead in absolute horror.
"That was... not funny at all."
You shook your head, trying to get that moment out of your brain. You dragged yourself up to change into a more comfortable oversized t-shirt, grabbed your laptop, and snatched your favorite snack. Crawling under a mountain of blankets, you decided to lose yourself in your favorite show. For a few hours, you successfully blocked out the outside world, forgot about campus, pushed assignments out of your mind, and tried your best to... forget the electric warmth of Dean’s hand around your wrist.
Until the sharp click of the door opening and approaching footsteps forced you to look up.
"Hey, (Name). Have you been back long?"
You nodded at Jules, watching your roommate walk over to your bed.
"Where have you been? Did one of your classes get rescheduled today?" you asked.
Jules shook their head. "Actually, I just got back from the hockey house. And the thing that's been messing with my head the entire walk back is... Dean was asking about you." Jules gave you a highly suspicious look.
Your brow furrowed. "Why was he asking about me?" you asked, confused. Your heart suddenly started beating fast for no reason.
Jules tossing their bag to the floor before sliding onto the edge of your bed. "That is exactly the question I’ve been asking myself since I decided to leave early. You never told me you actually knew him, (Name)."
You blinked rapidly, caught off guard. "It wasn't exactly worth mentioning." You quickly averted your eyes, staring back down at your glowing laptop screen.
But you could practically feel Jules boring holes into you with a deeply skeptical, suspicious gaze. It forced a soft sigh out of you before explaining. "He’s in my History class, and by some cruel stroke of luck, he’s also my partner for a group project." You shot Jules a strained, forced smile before looking back at your laptop lazily.
"Well... it definitely sounds like he thinks otherwise."
"Well, I don't want to hear a single word about him. Now tell me, why were you even at their house? Was there a party so 'The Fifth Line' admin just back on action?" You threw them a questioning look.
Jules shook their head. "I wanted to borrow Logan's laptop for my class tomorrow because mine is broken. But he refused to lend it to me," Jules grumbled irritably.
"You can use mine. I don't have any classes tomorrow."
Jules’s face instantly lit up with a massive grin. "Seriously? Ugh, you are an actual lifesaver. Big love to you, my favorite roommate!"
You let out a soft chuckle. "Don't overdo it. If I can help, why wouldn't I?"
"But," Jules chimed in, their voice dropping to a teasing pitch, "you still owe me an answer as to how Dean Di Laurentis knows you well enough to be checking up on you."
You rolled your eyes dramatically. "I already told you, we're in the same cla—"
Jules cut you off instantly. "I know that. What I mean is... why would the Dean Di Laurentis go out of his way to ask how you're doing? It is highly, highly uncharacteristic of Dean to remember a girl who has zero connection or business with him."
"We have class business," you answered flatly.
Jules threw you a deadpan look. "Class business? (Name), with him it’s always bedroom business! Hooking up, sex, and all that stuff!"
Catching the flash of shock on your face from the sudden shift in their tone, Jules instantly looked apologetic. "Sorry, I took it a bit too far. I know you don't talk about that kind of stuff, but— okay, forget it. Back to my first question. Do you know why Dean is acting like that?"
You shook your head, attempting to brush it off entirely. "I have no idea, Jules. Maybe he's just curious about his project partner because he didn't know who I was, right? That's normal."
"Yeah, and about that... He literally stalked my Instagram account and showed me a photo of you on my profile. The one of us together that Logan took at Dean and Beau’s birthday party."
You stared at Jules in utter disbelief, trying to treat it as normal behavior even though the erratic pounding in your chest screamed the exact opposite. "Wow, so he really has nothing better to do with his time, huh?" you asked, letting out a bewildered, amused huff.
"Not really. He’s usually busy with hockey, parties, classes if he's in the mood, and girls—mostly girls."
"Jules, you're overthinking this, okay? He's definitely just curious because of the project. Nothing more. So please, can we just stop talking about him?" you pleaded.
"Okay, fine. My lips are sealed." Jules raised both hands in mock surrender, making you smile. "For now."
The last part made you shake your head with a quiet chuckle, completely used to your roommate’s relentless curiosity and refusal to drop a topic.
"Oh, by the way, I’ve been texting you for hours, but my messages are stuck on a single checkmark."
Hearing Jules’s comment as they headed into the bathroom made you glance over at your bag, where your phone had been inside the entire evening.
You unzipped the bag and fished it out. Turning off the Airplane and Do Not Disturb modes you had turned on earlier, your screen instantly exploded with notifications from Jules, closely followed by a barrage of alerts from a brand-new group chat.
(Leon Briar U added you to 'History Group 4')
(Leon Briar U added +1xxx.. to 'History Group 4')
Leon: Hey guys, I set up the group chat
Leon: I’m going to send over the draft I put together, please review it
+1xxx..: I'll look it over
Staring at the screen, you immediately opened your direct messages with Leon. You demanded to know why he made the group and if he had gone out of his way to ask for Dean's number directly.
A few minutes later, Leon typed back.
Leon: Sorry for not telling you, (Name). But after you left earlier, Dean approached me and handed over his number
Leon: He asked me to make a group so he could actually contribute to the discussion
You let out a heavy breath, quickly replying to Leon that it was fine and that you were just curious. Switching back to the group chat, you stared at it for a few seconds before finally sending a simple thumbs-up emoji.
Almost instantly, a new notification banner popped up from an unknown number. Feeling a sudden jolt of nervousness, you instinctively exited the messaging app to read the preview from the notification bubbles instead.
An uninvited wave of nervousness washed over you as you waited for the next bubble to appear. But minutes ticked by, and the unknown number—aka Dean— didn't send anything else.
Panic and confusion took over. Should you reply? Should you even open the message? Why on earth was he texting your personal inbox instead of keeping it in the group chat? What was the point of a text that was literally just a greeting? He could have done that in front of Leon. Why slide into your direct messages?
"Arghhh!" You aggressively ran your hands through your hair in pure frustration.
Your Instagram notification chimed. You stared at your screen in absolute horror as a notification informed you that Dean Di Laurentis had requested to follow your private account.
"What the..." The words died in your throat.
Before the panic could completely consume you, you made a fast decision—you turn off your phone and tossed it to the far corner of your bed, completely out of arm's reach.
You couldn't understand why you were panicking into such a frantic mess. Your heart was practically hammering against your ribs. Worst-case scenarios played on a loop in your head. What if Dean was doing this just to mess with you? What if this was all some game to him? Planning to disrupt your peace with endless texts, or worse— pretending to be nice just to laugh at you later with his friends?
And what if he viewed you as some sort of a 'challenge' simply because you were the only girl acting completely immune to his existence?
Or more worse... what if Dean genuinely wanted to apologize? The problem was, you weren't ready to speak to him. Not over the phone, and definitely not in person. That sounded like a living nightmare.
You dreaded every single one of those possibilities, but the absolute worst fear of all was that... your walls would completely collapse, leaving you to fall for the charms of the guy you had literally called an arrogant jerk.
You let out a stressed laugh. You had to be losing your mind to even entertain the thought that Dean could ever be genuine with you, which was practically impossible. First of all, you definitely weren't his type. Second, you despised drama, and Dean was a walking drama. Third, if you ever got close to Dean, you would instantly become a target for death glares and cyberbullying from the entire Briar U hockey fandom and his endless roster of fangirls.
Okay, that third reason was totally irrational. Because, going back to reason number one, you weren't his type. That realization slowly grounded your sanity, just in time for your phone to buzz again.
This time it was an announcement in the main History class group chat. The professor had suddenly rescheduled next week's lecture to the day after tomorrow due to an emergency trip abroad with the dean.
Instantly, the student-run chat exploded into complete chaos. A rescheduled lecture meant the group presentations were being pushed up to the day after tomorrow. Which meant the final draft of the research article had to be completed by tomorrow.
Leon was already rapidly typing in your group chat.
Leon: (Name), Dean, did you guys see the main chat??
Leon: The presentation got moved to THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW!
Leon: And we all have to speak in front of the class?!! Where are we at with the draft? What's missing??
You pinched the bridge of your nose. Before you could even process the shock of Dean's personal notifications, a new problem dropped out of the sky. A real, academic problem that directly impacted your GPA. You needed to fix this, which meant putting aside all your silly panic and overthinking about Dean.
Before you could reply to Leon's panicked text, new messages from Dean appeared.
+1xxx..: I already checked your draft and merged it with a few of my own
+1xxx..: I'll handle printing out the physical copies and setting up the PowerPoint slides later
+1xxx..: We need to meet up briefly tomorrow afternoon to map out who speaks when, so we don't look awkward in front of the class
+1xxx..: Are you guys can make it?
Leon: Sorry, I have an afternoon shift tomorrow and can't swap because my coworker is out sick
Leon: You guys go ahead and split the sections, I'll take whatever you give me
You stared at the screen, trapped in a wave of anxiety. A massive part of you wanted to avoid him and not reply, but if you refused, you wouldn't be able to prepare your notes early. The awkwardness on stage would become an absolute reality, and you would end up dying of embarrassment.
So with trembling fingers, you finally forced yourself to type a response into the group.
You: I can. Tomorrow at 1 PM, at the library.
You: Please bring your laptop too.
+1xxx..: Sure, see you tomorrow
You let out a sigh of relief. But the relief quickly vanished the second you remembered the pending direct message sitting unread in your inbox. Now that you had active in the group chat, ignoring his personal text was no longer an option.
Okay. Short and simple. That was more than enough. You quickly exited the app and shut your phone off. Taking a long, deep breath, you slowly exhaled. You needed to prepare yourself for tomorrow.
You had to act completely casual. Not overly dramatic. Not too mean. Not too kind. Just normal, calm, and collected.
You could totally handle this.
Meanwhile, in an upstairs bedroom of the Hockey House, Dean was staring at his phone screen like the device had just announced the end of the world.
Your one-word reply with no emojis, no exclamation points, and absolutely no small talk, made him groan in frustration. Dean threw his phone onto the bed, then ran his hands through his blonde hair until it was completely messy. In his entire life, he had never been this confused by a text message from a girl. Usually, girls would type long paragraphs full of heart emojis, but this girl responded like a mean, annoying professor.
Dean picked his phone back up. He typed a few of his best flirty lines, then deleted them. He typed a long apology draft, then deleted it again. He was giving himself a headache because his usual talent for texting girls seemed to have completely vanished.
"Ugh, fuck!" he cursed out loud. Frustrated because he didn't know what to reply, Dean finally decided to head downstairs.
The delicious smell of cooking instantly hit Dean's senses. Tucker was busy in the kitchen, while Logan and Garrett were in the living room playing PlayStation together. Every now and then, they shouted curses at the game.
Dean decided to sit on the carpet, leaning against the couch where Logan and Garrett were sitting.
Noticing that Dean was suddenly being very quiet, Logan commented without looking away from the screen. "You okay, Dean?"
"That’s weird," Garrett commented.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, confused.
"Usually at this hour, you're busy in your room with a girl—oh, shit!" Garrett muttered, ending with a curse as his game character got hit.
Dean didn't answer and just let out a lazy sigh.
Logan laughed because he managed to beat Garrett’s character, then took a quick look at Dean. "You look like you have a lot on your mind, man."
Dean blinked, surprised his friends were actually paying attention. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I’m just... thinking about something."
Hearing that made Garrett and Logan look at each other. The next second, the game on the TV screen stopped. Logan pressed the pause button. The captain and co-captain of the Briar U hockey team put their controllers down and turned completely to look at Dean.
"Thinking about what?" Garrett asked, his playful face turning more serious.
Garrett rolled his eyes, little annoyed because he thought Dean had a real problem, not just another girl topic. "If you want to talk about girls or make out and sex, I’m out of this conversation," Garrett said dryly.
"What girl?" Logan asked, noticing that Dean's voice sounded different this time.
"No, no, I don't want to talk about that, G. But... this girl, she’s in my History class," Dean said, pausing to look at Logan and Garrett. "I accidentally messed up my group project with her. I just wanted to break the ice, but she took it the wrong way. And now she hates me and yelled at me."
"Who? I thought every woman at Briar was already crazy about you," Garrett teased.
"Not this one, apparently," Logan said, making Dean glare at him while Garrett laughed out loud.
It was rare to see Dean looking this pathetic.
"Guys, dinner is ready! Oh wait, it's a miracle you're out of your room at this hour." Tucker, still wearing his apron, walked into the living room.
"And without a girl in his room," Logan added, making Tucker look at Dean with a surprised, teasing grin.
"And he’s sad because a girl hates him," Garrett added. Both of them instantly burst out laughing, while Dean flipped his friends off.
"Okay, okay, whatever is going on right now, we can talk about it over food. I made a special recipe from my mom today, and I think it goes perfectly with whatever crazy story Dean has." Tucker tried to hide his laughter and told them to move to the kitchen.
"Okay, let's go," Logan was the first to get up from the couch.
"You need energy to be sad, man," Garrett patted Dean’s shoulder before joining them at the kitchen counter.
Dean lazily got up and joined them.
"So, about this girl... Who is she? Have we met her?" Garrett started the conversation while eating.
"I don't think so. Her name is (Name), she’s Jules's roommate—"
"Wait, (Name)?" Logan interrupted.
Dean turned his head quickly, a bit shocked. "You know her?"
Logan's face became completely serious. "She's Jules's roommate, of course I know her. And just so you know, Dean, she’s not the type of girl you usually meet at parties and can just drag into casual things, you know. She’s a good, polite girl who focuses on her grades and doesn't care about glamorous college life. And no offense, but if (Name) hates you and was rude to you, it means you really crossed the line. (Name) is never rude to anyone, not even to strangers."
"I-I'm not trying to use her or anything like that, okay? I know I was wrong, I just want to apologize and clear my name," Dean said defensively, though his heart beat nervously because he could feel Logan’s protective mode kicking in. "I texted her privately earlier, but she just replied 'Yeah'. I just want us to be okay before our presentation in class. I don't want it to be awkward and ruin everything. Especially since I'm meeting her tomorrow to prepare."
Garrett looked at Dean, put his fork down on his plate, and leaned his arms on the kitchen counter. The teasing look on the captain's face was now completely replaced by serious eyes.
"Dean, listen. A girl like (Name) won't care about your cheap playboy charm or your overconfident attitude. If you go see her tomorrow with the intention of 'flirting' to get close, she will just hate you more and think you’re not serious."
Tucker, who was chewing his food, nodded in agreement. "Garrett is right, Dean. From what Logan said, her studies are important. So if you want to clear your name, leave your narcissistic attitude behind tomorrow."
"Then what should I do?" Dean asked, his voice sounding frustrated and defeated— a very rare sight for Dean Di Laurentis.
Logan tapped the kitchen counter gently to get Dean's attention. "If you're serious about what you're saying, then show her you can be responsible, Dean. Respect her boundaries, and make her see that you're not as bad as she thinks."
Dean went quiet. Garrett and Tucker's words, along with Logan's warning that night, filled his mind. He looked at his phone screen one more time, thinking about your short reply. For the first time in his life, the Briar hockey star realized he had to act like an adult and drop his pride to win back a girl's respect.
Next afternoon, the atmosphere in the library was incredibly stiff. Dean was really trying to follow his friends' advice. He showed up on time wearing a casual hoodie, stayed very quiet, and looked completely lost on how to start a conversation because he didn't want to seem narcissistic or saying something stupid in front of you.
Sensing the painful awkwardness, you forced yourself to speak. You told Dean to open his laptop right away so you could check Leon’s final draft. However, when you found out that Dean hadn't finished the presentation slides yet, you didn't say much. You just pulled his laptop right in front of you, deciding to take over and finish the rest of the slides to keep your grades safe.
But your plan to stay calm and collected failed. Well... partially. Because as you were sitting there helping with the PowerPoint slides, you couldn't focus at all. You were really struggling to fix the charts. This was what happened when you didn't sleep all night.
The cursor on Dean’s screen was moving all over the place because your hand on the mouse felt so weak. You had tried to fix the chart data three times, but the formatting was still a mess and kept showing errors. Your head started to throb from pure frustration, and having Dean sitting right next to you only made you feel incredibly nervous.
You let out a frustrated sigh, getting ready to delete it and start all over again, when a large hand suddenly moved smoothly over yours.
Dean placed his palm right over the back of your hand holding the mouse.
The sudden touch made you hold your breath. His palm was warm and a little rough from years of holding hockey sticks— so different from your own hand, which had gone freezing cold from the library’s air conditioning. Before you could panic and pull away, Dean gently took the mouse from your grip.
"Let me take over," Dean whispered softly, leaning close to your ear so he wouldn't break the quiet rules of the library.
Dean slid his chair a few inches closer to yours, closing the distance until your arms were almost touching. His masculine scent completely surrounded you again, making your heart beat wildly against your ribs.
You sat frozen in your seat as Dean’s fingers moved quickly across the keyboard. Within seconds, he easily fixed the chart on the slide until it looked perfect.
You blinked, completely surprised. "I didn't know you could actually be this fast," you murmured quietly, completely losing the angry tone you usually used with him.
Dean turned his head, looking at you from an impossibly close distance. A slow smirk appeared on his face, showing the dimples on both of his cheeks. But the look in his eyes this time felt much softer— he was just teasing you, without any of the old arrogance.
"Of course I can," Dean whispered playfully. "You know, besides being a 'playboy, arrogant jerk, and narcissist' like you called me the other day, I'm actually a pretty smart student. My grades are mostly A's."
Hearing Dean use your exact insults back at you made you roll your eyes. "Oh, really? I thought your brain was only full of hockey, parties, and a list of girls' phone numbers," you shot back sarcastically.
But instead of getting mad, Dean just let out a soft chuckle. "The list of girls' numbers on my phone is completely gone, if you want to know," Dean said casually. His eyes locked onto yours with a deep look that made your cheeks feel burning hot. "And for this project, you've been doing all the hard work from the start, even before we were close. And now you're offering to help make my slides. You're exhausted— I can see the dark circles under your eyes. So, let me finish the rest. You can just rest now. Read a novel, play with your phone, or sit back and look at my handsome face from up close. It's up to you."
You instantly turned your head toward the library window, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the smile that was about to break out. You hated to admit it, but his stupid comment was just... funny. In an annoying kind of way.
You cleared your throat and looked back at Dean. "We're not close, by the way." Sliding his laptop right in front of him, you added, "But thanks. I'm going to take my break at the cafeteria."
You stood up from your chair. "Do you want anything?" you asked, looking down at Dean as he looked up at you.
"Just... come back fast? You know, I feel a little scared in this big quiet library all by myself."
You rolled your eyes. "Why? Because you're used to being surrounded by pretty girls?" you asked sarcastically.
Dean winked at you. "Wow, you really get me. I'm more and more sure that you actually like me."
"In your dreams, Di Laurentis."
You quickly turned around and walked toward the cafeteria, trying to calm your racing heart. You left Dean behind, who quietly watched you leave with a soft smile until you disappeared past the library doors.
