also me: still makes you wait a week and a half between chapters
i will say i am posting this from a hotel pool though so don’t doubt my commitment to this series too much
thank you guys for being so patient again while i get chapter 4 ready, it has been the most challenging chapter to write so far, but hopefully it’s worth it and that you love it as much as you’ve been loving the previous parts!!
p.s. i’m posting this from my phone instead of my laptop so if the formatting or anything looks weird just bear with it please until i have my laptop again in a few days🙏🏻
part I part II part III
word count: 5.7k
synopsis: it’s been three weeks since yours and john’s endeavours in the malone’s parking lot and there’s been nothing to report since. maybe a little bit of playing hard to get could move things along.
~~~
The music and lights flooded your senses as you opened the front door of Malone’s. Being a Saturday night, the place was packed, the dance floor crowded with people moving and twisting to the song being pumped from the huge speakers in the corners of the room. Your eyes swept the nearby crowd, landing on the brunette at the bar who was talking to a tall blond.
“Hey guys,” you greeted them, coming to a stop beside Allie.
“Hey! Oh my god, you look amazing!” Allie greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. When she pulled away she looked you up and down again, nodding and smiling approvingly.
“Thank you,” you replied sheepishly, still not completely sold on the outfit that your roommates had convinced you to wear.
“I have no idea what Logan could’ve done to deserve you,” Dean added, causing you to laugh.
“Speaking of,” Allie said, raising her eyebrows at you conspiratorially. “Let’s go see what he thinks.” Allie grabbed your hand and began to lead you towards the booth you had all sat at the last time you’d been to Malone’s with them. “We’ll finish this later, Dean,” Allie called over her shoulder. You looked back at the blond to see him tilt his beer in your guys’ direction with a smirk on his face.
“What was that about?” You asked the other girl, who seemed to avoid your gaze.
“Oh nothing. Just about a classmate of mine who he’s trying to get with.” You nodded, only half focused on the words coming out of the brunette as you got closer and closer to the booth where you could see John was sitting with the others. As you took a deep breath you watched as his head turned and he first registered Allie coming towards the table and did a double take when he noticed you beside her. You almost laughed at the expression on his face before he took a swig from his beer bottle and stood to make room for you and Allie.
“Look who I found!” Allie announced, presenting you to the table. Tucker, Garrett, and Hannah all cheered at your arrival, with Hannah complimenting your outfit as Allie had.
“You look absolutely incredible.”
“Doesn’t she?” Allie agreed, noting the quieter member of the group’s lack of response. “What do you think, Logan?” Your eyes met the hockey player’s as he seemed to blush at the attention, unless it was just the way the lights were hitting his face.
“You look great,” John replied, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. Your dark washed jeans that hugged your each and every curve until they flared out below your knees and the lacy corset-like top that sucked you in and enhanced your assets in all the right places kept his eyes on you for longer than would’ve been comfortable had it been anyone else. You smiled and thanked him, sliding into the booth beside Tucker and across from Hannah. “Do you want a drink?” John asked, still standing.
“Could you get me a long island, please?” you asked, sweetly. He nodded before heading off towards the bar. You watched him walk off before Allie’s questioning look and pointed thumb pulled your attention to her.
“So, what’s the deal?”
“Do I wanna be here for this?” Tucker asked, his eyes darting from Allie to you to Hannah to Garrett and back again. The other guy at the table only shrugged, Hannah having assumedly filled him in on the situation.
“You’re a grown man, Tucker, make your own decisions,” Allie replied, making you and Hannah laugh. You wondered how many drinks she had already had before you’d arrived.
“Come on, Tuck, let’s go find Dean,” Garrett suggested, nodding his head in a vague direction opposite from the table. The two hockey players slid out of the booth before Allie asked again what was going on between you and John.
“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, wishing you had that long island you’d asked for in your hand already. “Last time we hung out was with you guys and then he kissed me in the parking lot and we went our separate ways.”
“But that was like three weeks ago!” Hannah exclaimed.
“So you see why I’m confused.”
“You guys haven’t hung out at all since then?” Allie asked, to which you shook your head.
“We’ve seen each other in passing. Or for, maybe, fifteen minutes between classes and practice. Other than that, nothing.”
“But you’ve still been texting, right?”
“Yeah, there’s that. And we call or FaceTime whenever we have a little time at the end of the night, but that’s really been it these past few weeks.”
“Damn,” Allie sighed, slumping back in her seat, appearing stumped at the your situation.
“He invited you out tonight, though. That’s a good sign,” Hannah remarked.
“Yeah, ‘cause this is the first Saturday that he’s been on campus since then. If he doesn’t have an away game, he has some kind of job in town.” You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the time that you have spent with John or not understanding of his having to work and go to games. You got it. You’ve also been really supportive, watching Jules’ live streams when you got the chance and wishing him luck before every game. The only reason you hadn’t been to a game in person since the first one was because your schedules just couldn’t align. So you couldn’t be mad. No, that would just be bratty and unsupportive. But you could be frustrated at not knowing what the two of you were or where whatever was going on between the two of you was going.
“And you guys haven’t, like, described the relationship at all?” Allie asked, waving her hand around as if to signify whatever it was that was going on between you and John.
“Does ‘hanging out’ count?” You sighed.
“Okay, but you’re not really just hanging out,” Allie said, using air quotes around your repeated words. “I’d say you’re dating.”
“One date counts as dating?”
“One date with the intention of going on more,” Hannah suggested. “Plus it was one date that ended in a parking lot makeout session.”
“An intention had never been explicitly said though.”
“And whose fault is that?” Allie asked pointedly.
“Hey, I thought we were all Team Me here?”
“We are, but if you’re confused about your future with Logan, maybe you should talk with him about it,” Hannah explained, eyeing you from over the rim of her glass. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. You had never been one who was great at communicating your feelings, especially not romantic ones. Which was perhaps the reason why John was the closest you’d ever gotten to a boyfriend. Along with the fact that most guys just sucked.
“Hey, sorry, the line was moving as slow as Dean’s been on the ice lately,” John said, placing your drink down on the coaster in front of you, him and Garrett having perfect timing with their reappearance at the table. You thanked him, moving over so he could slide in beside you and taking a big gulp of your long island, the sweet drink flowing smoothly down your throat. You were normally a sipper when it came to drinks, especially alcoholic ones, but right now you felt like you needed at least three of these in your system. “You okay?” John noticed your behaviour and leaned over to ask in your ear. His proximity stoked the mixed jumble of emotions at your core. Annoyed with how normal he seemed, excited at being in the same proximity as him once again, and angry at yourself for how you wanted to be even closer to him.
“Just thirsty,” you replied, through a tight smile, barely making eye contact. The hockey player nodded along, eyeing you warily as you took another large sip of your drink. You watched over the top of your glass as Garrett slid in beside Hannah and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if it were second nature. Your heart swelled at seeing your new friend so happy and in such a good relationship. A new flicker of irritation also appeared in your gut at the sight of them so easily in love. If it was so easy for Garrett why couldn’t it be for John? Maybe it’s because you’re not his girlfriend, you told yourself. And he doesn’t want you to be. That’s why he hasn’t asked you out again. That’s why it’s been three weeks since you last hung out or even really spent any in-person time together. The FaceTimes and phone calls could’ve just been a ruse to keep you around until he found someone else. If anything you were surprised it had taken this long for him to.
I mean look at him.
You knew how guys like John Logan worked. They paid you special attention, gave you cute nicknames, let you meet their friends, kissed you (oftentimes way more than that), and then once they’d had their fun, it was onto the next girl. Hell, and this process was being generous for a lot of them.
And it made you feel like an idiot that you might have fallen for it.
Your spiralling train of thought fueled the flame at your core, your irritation with the guy beside you growing into a self-feeding hearth. You gripped your drink in your hand, careful of the slipperiness caused by the condensation, and gulped down the rest of it in practically one gulp.
"Woah, someone didn’t come to play,” Dean remarked, sidling up the booth with Tucker at his side.
“It’s just like water,” you said, grinning at the blond.
“Amen to that,” Dean and Tucker replied, lifting their drinks in your direction.
“In that case, do you want a refill?” John asked, his hand already on your glass.
"Sure, thanks.” John nodded, standing up and heading back towards the bar. You looked to Allie and Hannah who were grinning back at you.
“Oh, tonight’s gonna be fun,” Allie announced.
Throughout the next hour and a half or so of you sitting at the booth with the gang, Logan had bought you another long island, bringing your total to three within two hours. When you had asked for a fourth not long after finishing your third, he had suggested a water break, causing the fire at your core to spark, threatening to jump out at him.
Instead, you simply smiled the same tight-lipped smile you’d been giving him all night before asking Hannah and Allie if they wanted to join you at the bar to get another drink. The two girls happily agreed, eyeing John before sliding out of the booth and each grabbing one of your hands as you led the way through the growing crowd on the dance floor.
“Whatever’s going on between you and Logan is hotter than the air in here during playoff season,” Allie commented once you had all reached the bar and you had placed your order. You tried to fight the blush that you could feel creeping up your cheeks, hating how easily his name affected you.
“I’m not being too mean to him, am I?” You didn’t mean to completely push him away, but with the growing amount of alcohol in your system it was getting harder to keep your true feelings under wraps. You were aware of how little attention you’d been paying him, the times he’d brought you drinks or asked if you wanted another really being the only times you’d interacted with him. You’d been focused on talking with Hannah and Allie and making fun of Dean, not wanting it to come across as if you were interested in the other guys. You and John may not have a label or even be exclusive, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still loyal to your crush.
“Honey, you could be cursing him out in front of everyone in this restaurant and I still don’t think it would be mean enough,” Allie replied straightfaced.
“While it is fun to see Logan squirm,” Hannah, the voice of reason, cut in, “he might still deserve an explanation for why you’re acting so off towards him.” You nodded along, knowing deep down she was right, but not yet willing to be a completely mature person and have a grown up face-to-face conversation with the guy. You were gonna choose to blame it on the three, almost four, long islands in your system.
“Is it horrible of me to wait to talk to him tomorrow so I can put it off and get drunk, or should I do the responsible thing and let Allie have my drink and go talk to him now?”
“Do it now.”
“Tomorrow!” Allie and Hannah replied at the same time, causing you to uncontrollably giggle. You really were a lightweight. Maybe Logan was right and it was time for some water. You turned to the bartender, who was just about to set your next long island in front of you, if you could get a water when you were interrupted by a loud voice right beside you.
“Another of whatever the lady’s having, please,” the voice said over the music. The bartender nodded, turning to grab a new glass. You looked beside you, and then upwards, to meet the eyes of this new person who seemed to tower over you, even when you were both leaning against the bar. His blue eyes seemed to reflect the multicoloured lights coming from the small stage at the back of the restaurant, the teeth behind his not-at-all crooked smile almost being too white and too straight, and he had not one hair out of place. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you answered, almost confused. Why did he want whatever you were drinking when he didn’t even know what it was? Where the hell had he come from? Why did he seem so close to you?
“I haven’t seen you here before, are you new to town?” His voice was too high pitched for his face and body, causing you to go from almost confused to genuinely confused in your tipsy state. The guy was a walking anomaly.
“No, I just don’t go out that much,” you answered in a bored tone, really just wanting to get a glass of water.
“Why? Your boyfriend keep you at home all the time?” The flame of irritation returned, licking at your core as you kept yourself from completely lashing out at the guy.
“As if a guy could tell me what to do with my own time. Which you’re currently wasting, by the way.” You turned your back on the guy and back towards Hannah and Allie who had been focused on checking if Allie’s eyeliner had been smudged or not. Maybe you could move down and get a water on the other end of the bar.
“Did I do something to upset you, princess?” The flame leapt its barricade and overtook you as you wheeled around to give the creep a proper piece of your mind.
“Is everything okay over here?”
Before you could even say anything, a third voice jumped in, this one familiar. When you looked up you saw John standing beside you looking every bit of your own personal knight in shining armour - if armour could consist of jeans, a flannel, sneakers and a silver chain. It was the happiest you’d been to see him all night as he fixed the other guy with a cold look.
“Who are you, her boyfriend?” the creep asked, standing to his full height which was still a couple inches shorter than John, causing you to stifle a laugh. You wondered if he’d been using the stool behind him to make himself look taller next to you.
“I’m probably closer to being her boyfriend than you are, man. So why don’t you get lost?” You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to John then, which you’d been forcing down all night to your own dismay. You looked over your shoulder to check if Allie and Hannah were seeing this too, both of them looking at John with varying degrees and mixtures of impressed and attracted.
“Whatever. Wasn’t worth it anyways,” the guy mumbled, before swiping his drink, which was still a mystery to him, from the bar and walking off towards a table at the other end of the restaurant. The four of you watched him leave for a few moments before John turned to face you and you knew you were screwed. You couldn’t help the attraction that was probably written all over your face at the moment, and you obviously couldn’t not thank him for deescalating the situation for you.
“You okay? He didn’t touch you or anything did he?” John asked, looking you over in a protective manner instead of a checking you out manner.
“Yes, thank you,” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment from wishing that he had been checking you out instead of just making sure you were okay.
“Can we talk? In private, please?” John asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. You knew this had been coming. You had been anticipating it all night and now here it was. You were only surprised that he had been the one to initiate it instead of you. You couldn’t help the twinge of irritation that a man seemed to be more mature than you when it came to talking about emotions.
You nodded anyways though, quickly letting Allie and Hannah know that you were going off with John - to which Allie responded with a drunken smile and double thumbs up and Hannah gave an encouraging smile - before taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to lead you through the crowd and to the photo booth in the back corner by the bathrooms.
Luckily, no one else was inside as he pushed the curtain aside and nodded his head for you to enter first, before following you and pushing the fabric back into place. The plastic bench was surprisingly roomy enough for the both of you to sit comfortably side by side without being completely squished together, and the curtain provided a decent enough block from the noise beyond it that neither of you would have to yell to be heard.
“So what’s up?” you asked, wanting to ease the tension from the get-go. John gave you a look, bringing a blush back to your cheeks.
“How about you tell me?” Surprisingly, John’s voice was free of any accusation or irritation, and sounded genuinely concerned and curious about what you had to say. “I’ve barely heard from you this week and now that we’re here, together, in person, it doesn’t really seem like you wanna be around me. I was wondering if I did something to upset you or anything.” The softness in his words and tone quickly sobered you up, realizing that your actions had actually had an effect on the guy, despite that being your intention. You just didn’t actually think that he cared.
“Well, honestly I’m just as confused as you are,” you said with a halfhearted laugh. “Our only date was over a month ago, and you kissed me and introduced me to your friends three weeks ago, but nothing since. I know that may not mean all that much to you, but I really don’t want to just be another conquest or whatever.” The words tumbled out of you as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, unable to keep eye contact as you spilled your guts in a way that hopefully made sense.
“You were never just another anything to me.” John’s words were thick with honesty, the skin between his eyebrows creasing with the effort it took to convey his feelings calmly. “It was really shitty of me to leave you hanging for so long, especially after the last time we hung out, and I’m really sorry about that. Truly. It’s gonna sound like a line, but with hockey, school, and my jobs, it’s been a lot lately. That’s why I’ve only ever done casual, ‘cause I know how hard my schedule makes it to maintain anything else.”
You nodded along, mentally jumping ahead to the part where he declared that he couldn’t do anything more than casual and you would just have to be okay with that to continue seeing him. And as much as you liked the guy, that wasn’t something you could do. However, he surprised you instead.
“But, I don’t want just casual with you.” Your head whipped up then, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d brought you in here. His were round as always, but were the most intense you’d ever seen them. More intense than they’d been during the sole game of his you’d watched in person. “This isn’t me asking you to be anything you don’t want to be. It’s me saying that I like you. A lot. And if you’re willing to continue putting up with me, it’s also me asking if you feel the same way.”
You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond to such a real question. A question you had been hoping to hear at some point for the past three weeks. Despite your speechlessness, there was never a doubt to what your response would be.
“I do feel the same way, John,” you said, a smile threatening at the edges of your mouth. “Do you really think I’d continue to willingly be around Dean if I didn’t at least tolerate you?” John laughed, his head ducking sheepishly away from your gaze, grateful for the words that had come out of your mouth.
“That’s why I had to be sure. I had to see if you were just tolerating me or if there was another motive.”
“Well, consider my motive to be that I like you, you goof.” You playfully punched him in the arm, but before you could fully retreat your arm, John lightly grasped your wrist - those sparks once again soaring where your skin met - and gently pulled your upper body towards his. Your foreheads met, leaning against each other, both pairs of eyes sparkling. John’s eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips, asking silent permission to kiss you. You leaned in closer as a response.
“Please insert cash to take pictures.”
Before your lips could meet you were interrupted by the high-pitched robotic voice coming from the touch screen in front of you. The noise had made you flinch backward away from John, who seemed to be glaring at the machine, which caused you to laugh. When your eyes locked again, though, his smile had returned, simply because of the one on your own face. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, retrieving the five dollars the machine required and feeding it into the slot.
“This okay?” he asked as he put his wallet away. “’Cause I could always go get Dean to come and replace me.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” you playfully threatened, leaning forward to press the large ´Start’ button on the screen.
“First pose?” John asked as the countdown from ten began.
“Just smile,” you responded, leaning into his side with a wide smile on your face. John quickly matched your expression, leaning his cheek against your forehead, his arm around your waist, holding you close. The countdown ended with a flash, the captured moment posted on the screen for you to review before the next countdown began.
“Funny face?” John asked, to which you nodded. John crossed his eyes while your hand squished his cheeks, causing his lips to pout like a duck’s. You did the opposite and puffed out your cheeks and closed one of your eyes in a wink. John’s hand that had originally been around your waist was now doing a peace sign behind your head to make bunny ears. Three, two, one. Flash.
“Tongues out?” You both stuck your tongues out towards the camera. However, when the countdown reached two, John’s head quickly turned and pressed a kiss to your cheeks, causing your eyes to go wide for the picture.
When the final countdown ended and displayed the fourth and last photo, it showed you and John in the middle of a passionate kiss, not even seeming to be aware of the picture being taken.
The machine announced that your pictures would be ready soon in the slot on the outside of the machine before returning to the home page. None of this mattered to the two of you though, who were completely focused on each other and how your mouths and bodies moved together. It was like your parking lot endeavour, but even more, knowing this time how you both felt about the other. Your hands traced and grabbed and pulled all over each other, wanting to be even closer than you already were in the cramped photo booth.
Who knew how long it had been, how long your pictures had been ready for, when there was a knock on the outside of the metal booth.
“Hey, lovebirds, other people have uses for the machine too.” Tucker’s voice cut through the curtain and the entranced haze you had found yourselves in. You pulled away at the interruption, John groaning under his breath at the loss of your lips on his, your breath mingling in the space between the two of you. Your eyes met again, shining on a new level as you both came out of the clouds. You laughed then, filled with pure happiness, your smile threatening to spill from your face. John sat there, drinking in the sight of you, with your mussed hair, shining eyes and glowing smile. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been more grateful to be exactly where he was at that moment.
Well, maybe it was three weeks ago in the Malone’s parking lot.
Your hand gently cupped his face, your thumb swiping over his lips, his eyes never straying from your own as you concentrated on what you were doing. You eventually pulled away, meeting his eyes again which were completely relaxed.
“You had lipgloss all over your face,” you whispered in the quiet of the photobooth. You doubted Tucker and whoever else was on the other side of the curtain was listening in, but you wanted the moment to last as long as possible, not feeling any rush to leave the escape you had found for yourselves.
“Damn, I kinda wanted everyone to know I was here with someone,” John replied, smirking. You gave him a look, unable to stop the smile that continued to grow on your own face.
“Well, you can show everyone by dancing with me, how about that?” You stood up from the bench and held your hand out for him to take. He groaned, his head falling back dramatically before taking your hand and pulling himself up to almost his full height, having to duck his head in the booth.
“Show me to the floor, gorgeous.” You kissed his cheek before pulling aside the curtain, the lights and noise hitting you all at once. You blushed as you made eye contact with Tucker, who was leaning against the side of the booth with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“Have fun in there you two?” the other hockey player asked as John stepped out after you.
“No, not at all,” John replied, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, his front pressing into your back.
“Well, don’t forget your pictures.” Tucker said cheekily before ducking into the photobooth after a girl and closing the curtain behind them. You found the slot with your awaiting pictures behind where Tucker had been leaning, picking them up to examine them. Your smile grew even wider as you took in the four shots, a warmth growing in your chest at your faces frozen in smiles, goofy faces, and kisses for you to keep a hold of forever. Or at least as long as you and John were in each other’s lives.
“Can’t exactly show your parents that last one,” John remarked, his arm still laid over your shoulder. You looked up at him then, noticing a similar look in his eyes to the one that was on his face in the pictures.
“Eh, they don’t need to see these anyways.” You turned in his arms, both of which wrapping around your waist as you gazed up at him. “Keep these in your pocket for safe keeping?” John nodded, plucking the print from your hand and sliding them into his back jeans pocket without breaking eye contact. You grinned up at him before taking his hands in yours and leading him out to the dance floor.
You found an empty spot near the back of the small floor before turning back to him with a grin and beginning to dance, swaying your hips to the beat and raising your arms over your head. John watched you for a second with an amused grin before joining in, his hands on your hips, nodding his head to the beat. You shook your head at him, his very little movement not going to do for you. You took his hands in yours and began to move them together, careful not to hit anyone around you, but more so than he originally had. John laughed along, slowly getting more into it and beginning to move the rest of his body too. You nodded as encouragement, laughing with joy.
“Logan, loosen up those hips man,” Dean said as he passed by a few minutes later and handed John a shot glass full of clear liquid. The brunet thanked the blond before shooting back the liquor and handing the glass back. Dean whooped in acknowledgement right before Allie danced over to the three of you and handed you a glass.
“Looks like you deserve your fourth long island!” she called over the music as you took the drink from her. You thanked her and took a long sip, savouring the taste as you continued to move to the beat. You held your drink in one hand, taking John’s in the other. John spun you in a slow circle and then in against his chest, both of you moving to the music.
As the night went on, you had one more drink while John had two more shots, both with the boys who had come and joined in the dancing. At some point you had all formed a small circle, consisting of you, John, Dean, Beau, Allie, Hannah, Garret, Tucker, and the girl Tucker had been in the photobooth with. You and John had hardly left each other’s sides, except for when you had gone to the bathroom with Allie and Hannah, both of you always having a hand on the other.
Eventually, the others began to trickle off. You and John decided to split an Uber with Hannah and Garrett back to the guys’ house, while Allie, Dean, and Beau went in another car. To make it easier and less expensive, John offered for you to spend the night at his place and then he could drive you back to your house in the morning. Slightly nervous, yet mainly thrilled, to spend the night with John - even if all you did was sleep - you agreed.
You quickly sent a text in your group chat with your roommates letting them know the plan since they’d been the ones to drop you off at Malone’s - to which they replied with “ayyyyyy who’s getting some” and “wrap it before you tap it girl” - before following the group out to wait for the car.
John had graciously taken the passenger seat in the Uber, but that hadn’t stopped you from fiddling with his hair under his head rest. Once at the house, you wished the other couple goodnight as they slipped into Garrett’s room before John showed you to his. It was (thankfully) way cleaner than you expected, and honestly even cleaner than you had left yours after an hour or two of choosing an outfit earlier in the night. His walls were covered with car posters, hockey memorabilia - both from Briar and the Bruins - and pictures of his family and friends. Despite being tired and slightly more than tipsy, you took your time to look around, smiling at the goofy pictures of himself and the boys that were plastered on the wall above his desk and the baby pictures of presumably himself and his siblings.
“Johnny?” You called, turning around and not finding him behind you where he had last been standing.
“Here,” he responded, emerging from his closet with something in his hands. You took the items as he handed them to you, revealing them to be a t-shirt and boxers for you to change into. “I’ll go in the closet so you can change out here,” he added before doing as he said and stepping into the closet and closing the door behind him. You stripped your tight jeans and top from your body and stepped into John’s clothes, pleased to find that they smelled just like his cologne.
“All done,” you exclaimed, folding your clothes and placing them on his desk chair. When he emerged from the closet he had changed into a pair of blue plaid pajama pants and a black tank top. In your drunken state you were unsure if you were drooling or not.
John smirked at whatever face you were making and came up to place a kiss on your cheek before leading you over to his bed.
“Come on, sleepy, let’s get you to bed.” He pulled the covers back and nodded for you to climb in first. You did happily, probably imitating a little kid on Christmas morning based on how John laughed, and pulled the covers up to your chin. John walked back over to the door and switched off the light before walking back and climbing into bed beside you. You instantly curled into his side, your legs tangling with his as he pulled you close, the smell of his cologne becoming that much stronger and intoxicating. You couldn’t help your hand as it wandered to John’s bicep, gently squeezing it and sighing. John laughed, his chest rumbling against your ear causing you to smirk. You felt his lips press gently to your hair for a moment.
"Goodnight, gorgeous.”
“G’night, Johnny boy.”
~~~
a/n: because i’m posting this from my phone adding the taglist was weird so if i accidentally missed you or added your tag weirdly i’m sorry and i’ll fix it in a few days🫶🫶
a/n: i'm so sorry for the extra long wait with this one, but it is finally here and is hopefully worth the wait!! i am finally done moving for the next little bit so i will be trying to get the next chapters out faster but thank you guys so much for your patience and all your love for parts 1 and 2, i hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!!
p.s. i only proofread it once because i was so eager to post it for y'all so please excuse any mistakes :))
part I part II
word count: 6.6k
synopsis: logan gives you his jersey to wear to his game, but you can't decide whether wearing it means you're his or not
~~~
The bell over the door chimed, announcing the entry of a new customer. You looked up from the book you had open in front of you to find John standing there with something blue draped over his arm. A smile matching your own immediately spread across his face when he spotted you behind the front desk.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked, bookmarking your page and closing the book.
“I came to see my favourite person,” John announced, catching you off guard. “Is Lucinda around?”
“Ah, you actually just missed her, she’s on her way to her grandkids’ concert. You can probably still catch her though,” you played along.
“Damn, I guess I’ll just have to give these to you instead,” John sighed, handing over the item he was carrying. You gave him a quizzical look as you unfolded it before your jaw partially dropped upon realizing what you were holding. The name Logan and the number 22 stared at you from the back of the jersey, while the Briar name and another large 22 were sewed onto the front. You gaped at the item as John then handed you something else that was much smaller. A ticket to the Hawks game the next day with a small sticky note that said in surprisingly legible handwriting: “For my lucky charm.”
“You know you’re really risking it by calling Lucinda your lucky charm before she’s even seen you play,” you remarked.
“Well, since it’s going to you instead, hopefully whatever jinx I could get doesn’t actually happen.”
“I’m sure Lucinda would’ve been very appreciative of this gift had she been here to accept it,” you said, folding the jersey back up. “I’ll take good care of them for her.” John let out a breathy laugh, watching as you carefully set the folded jersey beneath the counter.
“How’s your day been?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.
“Pretty slow,” you shrugged. “I’ve only been here for a couple hours, but not many people have come in.”
“Want me to buy something so you make a sale?” John asked, you assumed jokingly, though it was sometimes hard to tell with him.
“Well it wouldn’t hurt if you did,” you teased. You watched as he looked to his right and grabbed a book off the closest stack and placed it on the counter, sliding it towards you. “Oh my god, no, stop, I was joking,” you interrupted his actions, covering your hand with his, a spark felt between the two of you, and pushing it back towards him.
“What do you mean? I’ve really been wanting to check out,” he paused to read the title he’d picked up, “‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting.’” You nodded along, scrunching your face as if you believed him.
“Mhm, and you’re buying it for yourself?” you asked, deciding to play along with this new bit he’d started.
“Yeah, of course,” he scoffed.
“So you’re pregnant?”
“Not me, necessarily, but…yeah.”
“And does the other parent of the child you’re expecting know that you’ve been out here giving jerseys with your name and number on them to other women?” John’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, grasping for words.
“Way to ruin the fun, implying that I’m a cheater or something,” John quit causing you to laugh as you placed the book back where it had come from.
“Well, are you?” you asked earnestly, meeting his eyes again. You noted how he hesitated before answering, making your stomach churn.
“I’ve only ever done casual,” he finally replied. “I’ve never asked anyone to wear my jersey before, if that helps.” You nod along, understanding what he was implying. Only ever casual, nothing serious. You didn’t know whether you should be raising the red flags or not, considering you were apparently the first girl he’d ever asked to wear his jersey to one of his games. Which was a big deal, considering how superstitious hockey players could be.
“So, I’d be the first person to wear this, is what you’re saying?”
“Well it was my freshman year jersey, so maybe not the first person to wear it, but the first girl, yeah,” he explained, almost sheepishly. “And I washed it, multiple times, so it hopefully doesn’t smell like I used it all of freshman year.” You scrunched up your nose, causing him to laugh.
“I’m really the first girl you’ve asked to wear your jersey?”
“Yeah,” he fizzled out, as if he had more to say, but didn’t yet know how to phrase it. “But you don’t actually have to wear it if you don’t want to. I know it’s like, a big thing, to be wearing a guy’s name on your back, so if you’re not comfortable, you really don’t have to.” A wave of relief washed over you, choosing to believe what he told you. He had yet to give you a reason to believe he was lying, other than the fact that he was a male hockey player, and you felt as if you knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth. You just hoped this faith in him wouldn’t somehow backfire on you.
“I’ll definitely think about it,” you said with a smile.
“Of course,” he replied, a matching smile on his face. “I should actually probably get going, I have a car to work on at the garage, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.”
“‘Kay, see you later.” He waved bye before opening the door and stepping out into the autumn air.
“Bye, Johnny,” you replied, watching him leave with a small smile on your face. You looked down at the folded jersey, huffing out a sigh as you began to compare the pros and cons to wearing it for everyone and anyone to see.
“I say wear it,” your roommate, Mandy, said from your desk chair where she’d been keeping you company while you tried on different outfits for John’s game in a couple hours. “He gave it to you to wear, why not do it?”
“Because I’m not his girlfriend,” you said, flopping onto your back on your bed. “What if people say something?”
“Like what? That John Logan has a new hottie in his jersey? Oh no, one of Briar U’s best might be locked down!” You gave her a look which she replied to with a grin. “Is it that big a deal to wear it?”
“To me it is, yeah. It’s like he’s claiming me as his or something.”
“Are you not his?”
“I’m not his, or anybody’s, anything. We’ve only hung out once and yeah, we’ve been texting, but that’s just as friends from what I can tell.”
“Didn’t he tell you that he would’ve kissed you if Peyton and I hadn’t been watching from the window?”
“He could’ve been joking.”
“Oh my god, okay,” Mandy exclaimed, turning in her chair to fully face you. “I don’t know how you’re missing it, but he likes you! He gave you his jersey because he likes you enough to want to see you repping his name! Hockey players don’t just give their jerseys to anyone. He even told you that you’re the first girl he’s asked to wear his jersey.”
“What if he was lying?”
“So what if he was?”
“Then I’ll look fucking stupid!
“To who? If anything it’ll make him look like a jersey slut!”
“He’s a hockey player, of course he’s a slut!”
“But do you like him?” Mandy asked, causing you to pause. You did like John, a lot, but you felt like there was still so much to learn about him that half the people on campus already knew thanks to Jules’ social media. The fact that he was so popular around the school and the area in general made you wonder why he seemed to pay such special attention to you. In your mind there had to be some kind of ulterior motive. You almost felt like Laney Boggs from She’s All That or Andie Anderson from How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days or any other leading lady in a romcom who was only chosen by the male main character to win a deal of some sort. But maybe you were just projecting.
Yes, his Instagram followers and comments were filled with hundreds of blondes, but the only people he ever seemed to interact with on there were his teammates and Jules, as you had found during your initial online stalk after you had exchanged phone numbers.
John hadn’t given you any sort of reason to think this way other than the fact that he was popular, which he barely even seemed to notice. He worked a bunch of random side jobs on top of working at his family’s garage to help out and make some extra money. He didn’t let you pay a single cent or touch a door handle of any kind when he was around and he seemed genuinely interested whenever you told him anything about yourself. You’d told him stuff you’d only ever talked about with your closest friends. And he told you stuff he’d only ever talked about with Jules.
Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to just wear the jersey.
It was only a jersey right?
A couple hours later, you found yourself walking into the Briar University Arena with Garrett’s girlfriend, Hannah, and her best friend, Allie. Both of your roommates, Mandy and Peyton, had already had plans for the night when John had invited them along with you, so when you told him that it would just be you at the game he asked Garrett if Hannah would want to go with you. Being the sweetheart that you had heard of her being from John, your friends, and others in passing, Hannah agreed and the two of you had followed each other on Instagram and started talking about whatever was happening between you and John all in the same night. At some point she had asked if her friend, Allie, could come along and already knowing her from some introductory classes you had taken together, you happily agreed, believing that the more emotional support the better. The three of you had made a group chat and coordinated plans for the game, with you offering to pick the girls up from their dorm before heading to the arena.
When you had left the house the jersey had been folded and tucked in your arms, still unsure about whether to wear it or not. You had placed it in the backseat of your car, figuring that you would ask Hannah and Allie for their opinions when they got in the car. When you presented your dilemma to them, Hannah told you to hang on a second before leaving the car and hurrying back into the dorms. Three minutes later she emerged, holding something in her arms.
“I will wear Garrett’s jersey, if you wear Logan’s jersey,” she declared, holding the jersey in her arms up for you to see the name and number on the back. You sighed, taking in both hers and Allie’s encouraging smiles, before agreeing that you would put it on when you got to the rink. The other two cheered, causing you to laugh as you started your car, the engine purring like brand new.
You slipped the jersey over the blue sweater you had chosen to wear to still be repping Briar’s colours had you not decided to wear the jersey. You tugged your hair out from under the collar, allowing it to fall down your back. When Allie saw this she came up to you and swooped your hair to lay in front of your shoulders, allowing the name and number on your back to be completely visible. She nudged you playfully before linking arms with you, Hannah taking your other arm, and the three of you walked into the arena arm in arm.
Once your tickets were scanned you set out to find your seats, following the signs at each section’s entrance. You found your section not too long after, and followed Hannah through and down the rows to your seats.
“Damn, Logan chose good seats,” Allie remarked, as you sat down. She was right. You were a section over from center ice on the home team’s starting side and a few rows above where the benches were. You had a perfect view of the entire ice, not having to lean over Hannah or Allie to see what was happening behind either net. Hannah also pointed out that if Logan did something special for you, you wouldn’t be too far away to see it, which caused your cheeks to flush.
In the tunnel leading out onto the ice the guys were all vibrating with excited energy, fully amped up to play their game. John was especially antsy to get out there, eager to find you in the crowd and hopefully wearing his jersey.
“You good, Logi?” Tucker asked, slapping Logan on the back, bringing the guy out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, yeah, just hyped up, man.”
“Is your girl here, Logan?” Dean asked in a teasing tone.
“I’m hoping so,” was John’s reply, a grin breaking over his face.
“Let’s go!” Garrett called out from the back of the line, the rest of the guys crying out and beginning to move down the tunnel. Logan huffed out a breath and flipped the cage of his helmet down over his face, following the guys in front of him out. As soon as his skates hit the ice he felt at home, easily pushing and gliding his way down the ice towards the home side. His eyes scanned the crowd, automatically looking for the section he’d selected the tickets for. It wasn’t long before his eyes fell on you in his jersey. His breath caught in his throat at how good you looked with his number on your front and on your sleeves. He had to remind himself to watch where he was going, tearing his eyes away from you so as to not crash into the boards or any of the other guys.
“He definitely saw you,” Hannah remarked, the blush in your cheeks growing even stronger as your smile grew even bigger.
“Is she wearing your jersey, Lo?” Dean asked, skating up to John who was waiting for his turn to practice shooting. John looked back up at you, a smile instantly on his face as he saw you talking and laughing with Hannah and Allie. He was really happy that they’d been willing to come out to the game with you. While he was sure that you would’ve been fine coming on your own, he was glad that you were getting to know the girls and that they were getting to know you, hopefully thinking that you were as great as he thought. Based on the amount of times he’d looked over and seen you all smiling and laughing he didn’t think he had anything to worry about.
“Yeah, I gave it to her yesterday,” John replied, Dean taking note of how his eyes kept swerving back to you.
“John Logan giving a girl his jersey. Has Hell frozen over?”
“Shut up.”
“Nah, man, in a good way. When was the last time you liked a girl as much as you seem to like this one?” The question caught John off guard, genuinely having to think about the last time, if there had even been one, where he’d liked being around and talking to a girl as much as he liked being around you. He wracked his brain, a small montage of faces playing in his thoughts, but he couldn’t name one who he had liked in the same way he liked you.
“Never too late for a first,” John replied before it was his turn to shoot. He easily took the puck off of Tucker’s pass, dribbling it towards the net, the goalie ready to intercept whatever shot he took. John kept the puck close, his hands moving fast before he wound up, faked going for a slap shot, then easily shot it into the small space between the top right corner of the net and the goalie’s shoulder. He looked to you in the crowd, checking to see if you had seen what he had just done and found you clapping and cheering along with Hannah and Allie. John was sure his cheeks would fall off if he smiled any bigger.
“Show off,” Dean commented with a smirk as he skated up to John a few moments later after his own practice shot.
“Me? Never,” John deadpanned. The two guys shared a laugh before the buzzer sounded, announcing the end of warm-up and that the game was about to begin. The Hawks got to where they needed to be, John finding his spot on the ice along with Garrett, Tucker, Dean, and Birdie, placing his helmet on the ice in front of him. Your heart fluttered when he stood back up, his hair flipping back. As the anthem started playing, John looked back to the stands to catch a glimpse of you. You were standing, facing towards the anthem singer, your hands politely clasped in front of you. Any nerves he had instantly washed away, the sight of you instantly settling him into a ready and relaxed state. He was still looking at you when your head turned his way, your eyes meeting across the rows of other spectators between you two. Matching smiles grew across both of your faces. As the anthem came to a close John gave you a wink, causing you to giggle, before the singer finished and the audience erupted into cheers and applause.
John picked his helmet back up and slipped it on, finding his starting spot on the ice. The other starting players found their positions, the exciting energy building as the ref told everyone to have a good game before dropping the puck.
The game was fast paced from the very start, the Hawks instantly taking possession of the puck, getting it over to the opposing team’s end. The three forwards passed it between themselves, Garrett finding an angle and going for the shot, but it was taken down by one of the other team’s defencemen. The Hawks chased after them, Dean and Birdie right on their tail. Dean was able to knock it off the other defenceman’s stick and passed it over to Tucker, who turned fast and sped towards the opposite net. He passed it back to Garrett who set up for the shot again and managed to get it past the goalie, the Hawks getting the first goal of the game.
You, Allie, and Hannah all jumped to your feet cheering, Hannah cheering louder than the rest of the crowd. You watched as Garrett waved and smiled at Hannah after high five-ing the guys on the bench, giggling at how Hannah’s smile had grown at her boyfriend’s acknowledgement. As the first period continued, the Hawks were aggressive and all over the other team, keeping close on their tails and never letting it stay in their zone for too long. John especially was all over the ice during his shifts, making his presence well known. Watching him you couldn’t understand why he was yet to be drafted. Even if you were biased, it would be impossible to deny his talent.
When the first period ended the Hawks were up 2-0, Garrett and Tucker having scored, with John having gotten an assist on Tucker’s goal. During intermission, you, Allie, and Hannah decided to take a walk around, getting popcorn and sodas from the concession stand. Soon after you got back to your seats the guys re-emerged from the tunnel, lapping around the other side of the rink this time. Six minutes into the second period, John swiped the puck out of the other team’s powerplay set up, skating as fast as he could to the opposite team’s net, two of the other team’s players on his tail. He found a slot, set up his shot and whipped it into the net through the goalie’s legs.
You yelled in shock, instantly jumping up, popcorn flying from the container in your lap, cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd. John celebrated, going for the archer celebration, before the rest of the guys on his line crowded him in a hug. He had a huge smile on his face as he looked up and met your eyes, a matching smile on your face. Once he finished high five-ing the rest of the team, he looked up again, pointing directly at you with a huge grin. You waved back sheepishly before sitting back down, Allie and Hannah playfully nudging your shoulders as your hands covered your face to hide the blush you were sure was climbing up your neck all the way to your cheeks and the tips of your ears.
“I bet your girl liked that, Lo,” Tucker exclaimed once the line had returned to the bench, nudging his friend’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe she got you out of your slump,” Dean remarked, shaking his hair out. John punched him in the arm, but couldn’t help the smile growing on his face. It was true. He hadn’t scored a goal in eleven games before this, and now that you came to a game he finally did? Call it a coincidence or a hoax, but he was going to start calling you his lucky charm.
The rest of the game was just as entertaining. The Hawks scored two more goals, while the opposing team managed to slip one past the Hawks goalie late in the third, bringing the final score to 5-1 for the Hawks. The most entertaining part of the game though came right after the other team’s goal, when Dean must have said something as he skated past one of the opposing players who then crosschecked him in the back. The rest of both lines instantly went into action, getting all up in each other’s faces and shoving each other around.
“They should all just kiss and move on,” you remarked, gaining laughs from Hannah and Allie. You noticed how John especially seemed to be causing some trouble on the ice, the smirk on his face visible from your seat as he went back and forth with one of the opposing players. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it extremely attractive.
Eventually, the refs managed to break up the interaction, the Hawks getting a powerplay for the last minute and twenty-two seconds of the game. The guys all seemed to cheer extra loud when the buzzer sounded, essentially cheering their opponents off the ice. You and the other girls stood, clapping as the Hawks thanked their goalie and slapped each other on the ass before heading back down the tunnel to shower and change. Before leaving the ice, John made sure to catch your eye with a huge smile.
“How long do they normally take?” you asked once you, Hannah, and Allie had found an empty table in the lobby to wait at.
“Oh, they take their sweet time,” Allie said with a smile. “Maybe they’ll hurry today though, since you’re here.” You waved her off, playfully rolling your eyes.
“They can take all the time they need if it means they won’t smell like they just played a sixty minute game.” You all laughed, the conversation flowing into being about the game, the boys, and their weird hockey superstitions and habits. Eventually, the team started trickling out one by one, with John, Tucker, Garrett, and Dean all emerging at the same time. For reasons unknown to the guys, this made the three of you burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Garrett asked, coming up beside Hannah’s chair.
“We were just wondering if the four of you were going to come out skipping and holding hands,” Allie explained, the three of you cracking up again.
“They were pretty damn close to it,” you remarked, smiling as John came to stand beside your chair. You greeted him with a smile which he returned full force.
“She hasn’t even formally met us yet and she’s already laughing at us, Lo,” Tucker exclaimed, his beaming expression undercutting any offense he actually felt.
“Then she’s already fitting in,” John answered. He then introduced you to the guys, who all thanked you for bringing John out of his slump.
“Eleven games, Logi. Eleven,” Dean emphasized, John shaking his head as he was reminded of how long his scoring slump had lasted. “You gotta come to each game now, no excuses,” he pointed to you. “We need our boy playing like this every game.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m leaving as soon as you guys start playing like shit.”
“Us? Never,” Dean feigned shock, a hand to his chest.
“I’ve seen your stats Di Laurentis, I wouldn’t act like a martyr.” The rest of the group laughed, including Dean.
You all sat around talking for a few more minutes before they invited you out to go to Malone’s with them for dinner and drinks. You happily agreed, Allie and Hannah saying they’d drive over with you. Once at the restaurant, John and Dean pulled into a spot that was one over from where you had parked, and Garrett and Tucker pulled into the spot across from them. The group easily found a booth to fit all of you, John gesturing for you to slide in first after he’d asked if you were okay sitting next to the window, with him taking the seat beside you and Hannah taking the one across from you. Once you guys all got your orders in, the guys all tried to subtly interrogate you about yourself and John, except they were horrible at the subtle part.
“So, you’re an Oilers fan?”
“From an Oilers family.”
“You’re from Edmonton then?”
“Born and raised.”
“Why’d you pick Briar?”
“The offered full-ride scholarship for the most part. But also to see some place outside of Edmonton.”
“Did you ever play hockey?”
“Until I was fourteen.”
“What position?”
“Defence,” the guys all ooh’d at this fact and seemed to get even more enthralled with the conversation.
“Could you give Dean-O a run for his money?”
“It’s been a while since I played, but I could probably put up a fight.”
“I’ll see you on the ice then, kid.”
“Eat your heart out, Di Laurentis.” The rest of the group all laughed at your jabs at Dean, who took them all in stride.
“You found a feisty one, Logan,” the blond remarked, lifting his drink in your direction.
“Go to the bathroom before your tears start falling, Dean.” You smirked at John’s comeback in your honour. Dean pretended to wipe tears from his face before challenging Tucker to a game of pool. The two guys went off, with Garrett following after Tucker claimed they needed someone to make sure that Dean didn’t cheat. You mentally noted the new room on John’s side of the bench and how he didn’t move away from you despite it. Hannah and Allie also seemed to notice this when you met their smirking faces.
“Hannah, come with me to the bathroom?” Allie asked, looking pointedly at you. Hannah looked at you too with a smile, nodding her head.
“Of course, we’ll be right back.” The two girls exited the booth, leaving you and John alone, sitting side by side. You laughed almost nervously, turning your body to face the guy who did the same.
“Are you doing okay?” John asked.
“Yeah, yeah your friends are all great.”
“I’m sorry if they’re being too much. That’s just how they are honestly.”
“Hey, they’re hockey guys, I can’t say I’m surprised.” You both laughed. “Also, do they only ever call you by your last name?” John looked away sheepishly, scratching his neck.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a hockey thing, y’know?”
“Do you want me to start calling you Logan then?” John shook his head, looking at you earnestly.
“No. I like that you call me something that no one else does.” Your heart warmed, yours and John’s smiles growing. Right on time, the food was then all delivered to the table and the rest of the group reappeared. John’s side was pressed back into yours as you both made room for the others.
“Are you comfortable?” John asked you, noticing how close you were to each other.
“Yeah, are you?” John shrugged before moving his arm that was pressed against yours to lay across your shoulders. Your breath caught slightly in your throat at the even closer proximity, but leaned into his arm.
“Is this okay?”
“So long as you can eat with one hand,” you joked.
“Easy.” Your group all ate their meals while swapping stories about the game tonight, the guys focusing specifically on things that John had done.
“What did you say to the guy at the end? The one who was all up in your face?” Garrett asked, causing John to smirk at the memory.
“Something about how if his shot was as strong as his words maybe he would’ve scored a few more.” The guys all erupted in laughter, Allie and Hannah rolling their eyes, being used to their post-game behaviour, but you loved it. It reminded you of being back home and watching Oilers games with your dad, him always commenting on the fights and the words the players must be exchanging. It was one of your favourite things growing up and you and your dad had sort of kept up the routine by discussing the Oilers and other NHL news through text and call. It wasn’t the same, but it was the best you could do while being away at school.
“You went with the archer again, Lo. Seems like that’s becoming your signature celly.”
“It’s always the first one that comes to mind.”
“And was the point to the stands afterwards also the first thing to come to mind?” Dean asked, looking between you and John. You looked pointedly at John too, a teasing smile on your face. He looked down at you, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders, seeming to consider his answer.
“Yeah, something up there just kept catching my eye.”
“I bet it was the giant number twenty-two on someone’s back,” Hannah added.
“Possibly.” You smiled sheepishly, turning your focus to the food on your plate as the rest of the group noted John’s jersey that you had on. You didn’t notice how John continued to look at you, a relaxed smile on his face, while neither of you noticed how Allie snuck a picture of the two of you in this pose.
Once you had all finished eating and had just been sitting and chatting for a while, Hannah announced that she should probably head back to the dorms seeing as she had an early morning. Allie joined in, saying that she would go back with her.
“Did you guys want a ride back since I picked you up?” you asked. Both girls shot you a puzzled look which they quickly masked with smiles.
“I can drive them,” Garrett announced before either of them could make up an excuse for you to stay.
“I’ll come along too,” Dean added, quickly downing his beer before hopping out of the booth.
“Uh, yeah, I guess I will too,” Tucker agreed.
“Logi, you have your truck, right?” John nodded, giving his friends a knowing look at what they were doing, similar to the one you were giving Hannah and Allie.
“Well, it was great getting to meet you guys,” you said earnestly, hoping it didn’t sound like you were trying to push them out the door. “I hope we can all hang out like this again soon.” The guys and girls all agreed, saying how nice it was to meet you and stating that you needed to be at as many games as possible from now on. Dean refused to leave until you agreed to be at the next game, which you did hesitantly. You and John both seemed to be waiting for them all to file out the door before saying anything else.
“So.”
“So?”
“Did they scare you off?”
“Are you kidding? If anything I’m scared in,” you smirked, remembering a similar conversation that had occurred between the two of you weeks ago when you had first found out that John was a hockey player.
“Good. ‘Cause I think I’ll somehow be at fault in their eyes if you stopped coming around.”
“So far, I have zero reasons to not want to be around you, Johnny.”
“Well isn’t that what every guy wants to hear?” You laughed in response, John noticing how the corners of your eyes crinkled when you laughed or smiled widely. “I like how easily you get along with the guys. I think watching you go back and forth with Dean made everyone’s night.”
“His reputation makes it way too easy to tease him,” you replied. “But, I really liked getting to know them and getting to see you in your usual scene. And it was really nice of the girls to come to the game with me.”
“According to Allie, they were a lot more excited to hang out with you than to actually watch the game.”
“Oh, well the sentiment goes both ways.”
You stayed in the booth, continuing to talk about whatever came to mind. Like most, if not all, of your previous conversations it was filled with laughing and smiles that made your faces hurt. At some point, John’s hand had come to rest on your knee, sending sparks up your spine, but you didn’t push him away. If anything you wanted him closer.
The time flew by and before you knew it the other customers were packing up and heading out the door as the staff began to clear away tables and wipe down the bar.
“Looks like we should get going,” John noted, glancing around the rest of the restaurant that had seemed to disappear while the two of you had been talking. You nodded, allowing him to slide out of the booth before you. You happily took the hand that he offered to help you up, sparks once again flying between the two of you. He thanked the staff members that you passed as he led you out the door, your hands still intertwined. The cool air was refreshing as you hadn’t realized just how stuffy the bar had been. Something must’ve been distracting you.
“You’ll be okay getting home by yourself?” John asked as he came to a stop beside your car.
“Oh yeah. I’ve actually done it successfully a few times before so I should be good,” you joked, gaining a smirk from John.
“Can you text me when you get home, please?” Your heart warmed at him wanting to make sure you got home safe.
“Of course.” A moment passed between the two of you where it seemed as if you got lost in each other’s eyes and the rest of the world seemed to freeze. The air around you two even seemed to move slower. John’s hand came up as if in slow motion and gently pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers leaving a tingling trail behind as they grazed your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you inhaled, almost shocked as he did such. His hand never left your body though as his fingers traced down your jawline, his index finger and thumb gently holding your chin and tipping it upwards to his. Your heart felt as if it might fly out of your chest with how fast and wild it was beating, hoping that he couldn’t hear it with how close he was to you.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice as gentle as his hand.
“It’d be even better if you kissed me.”
He smirked and in the next moment his lips were on yours. His were surprisingly soft as they were at first just pressed to yours, but then slowly began to move. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, your lips seeming to fit together just like puzzle pieces as you became completely consumed by the other. His cologne flooded your senses as your eyes were squeezed tight. Your hands found the back of his neck, your fingers weaving into his hair at the nape of his neck. His hand had slid from holding your chin to now cupping your jaw, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across your cheek, while the other was on your waist, pulling you close. Your whole body felt as if it were made of flames, fireworks seeming to explode between the two of you as you connected.
You didn’t know how much time had passed by the time you pulled away from each other, both of your chests heaving and both of your smiles as bright as the moon overhead. Your shining eyes met as you laughed breathily, John’s forehead pressed against yours.
“Better now?” John asked, his voice almost shocking you as the rest of the world came back into existence around you. You nodded, a huge grin still on your face as you processed what had just happened.
John Logan had kissed you.
He sighed as his hand that been cupping your face slid to meet his other hand at your waist, pulling you closer so that your bodies were flush together.
“I’ve been waiting weeks to do that,” he uttered, his breath brushing against your cheek.
“What took you so long?” you asked cheekily.
“I wanted to make sure you felt the same way. Didn’t want to rush anything.”
“You’re sweet.” This time you reached up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. You began to pull away, but unable to get enough of you he chased after you, pressing another and another and another to your lips before standing upright. Your matching grins lit up the space between the two of you as you laughed, not wanting the moment to end. “I should probably get home,” you whispered despite wanting to live in the moment forever. John groaned at the thought of having to pull away from you, but nodded in agreement. His hands slid from your waist and up your sides - gaining a laugh from you at the tickling sensation - up your arms and to your hands that were still fiddling with the hair at the base of his neck. He gently pulled them away, taking your hands in his and pressing your knuckles to his lips.
“You sure you’ll be okay getting home by yourself?” he asked again, your hands still in his. You nodded.
“And I’ll call you when I get there,” you reassured him.
“Thank you,” he said. Another moment passed of the two of you just staring into each other’s eyes, taking in what had happened in the past ten minutes. John then sighed again before swooping down and planting a kiss on your cheek, causing you to laugh. You squeezed his hands before forcing yourself to let go of one to retrieve your keys from your bag. As soon as the car was unlocked, John opened the door for you and gestured for you to climb in. Once your seatbelt was buckled, John then leaned in one more time to kiss you.
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
“Goodnight, Johnny.” He closed your door for you and waved before rounding the back of your car and climbing into his truck two parking spots away. You waved at him one more time before backing out of your spot and heading for the exit to the lot. Your music kicked as you pulled up to the stop sign, ‘Locked Out of Heaven’ by Bruno Mars flowing through the speakers.
Your grin never left your face the entire drive home.
a/n: you asked and i delivered - here is part 2 to this fic !!! i'm so excited about the hype that y'all have been giving to part 1 and hope that the rest of the series will meet your guys' standards. fyi i am in the middle of moving houses right now, so the next few chapters might be slower to be posted but i will get to them as fast as i can! i hope you enjoy this chapter and are excited about the ones to come!!
word count: 7.7k
synopsis: yours and john's schedules finally align so you can go get coffee together and get to know each other better. but it isn't a date...right?
~~~
His cologne enveloped you as soon as you opened the front door to find him standing on the other side of the threshold. He was wearing a pale blue button-up under a Carhartt jacket, his silver chain poking out of the space left by the top two buttons that were undone. His hair was as fluffy as you’d always seen it, tempting you to run your hands through it to see if it was really as soft as you expected.
And his smile.
It was shyer than you’d seen it before, but it was still the same as the one that had been engraved in your mind since you’d met him almost three weeks ago.
“Hi,” you greeted him, unable to contain the grin that spread across your face.
“Hey,” he replied. “You look great.”
“Thanks, so do you.” You stepped back, opening the door wider for him to enter the house instead of just standing on the front porch. “I rushed down and forgot my bag, but I’ll be right back,” you explained, shutting the door behind him.
“Take your time, I can wait.” You gave him another smile before turning and hurrying up the stairs. You almost rammed your shoulder into your doorway, but managed to dodge it just in time. You grabbed your bag of choice that was already packed with all the essentials you might need, spritzed yourself with your favourite perfume, and shoved your feet into your shoes. You stopped momentarily to check your hair and makeup in your vanity mirror. You fluffed your hair and gritted your teeth to check for any lipstick residue before standing up straight and forcing yourself to take three deep breaths.
It’s just coffee, you told yourself, feeling your shoulders relax. It might not even count as a date.
Neither you or John had outwardly labelled it as a date, which you found somewhat reassuring. A date was a lot of pressure. Just getting coffee was easy.
You opened your eyes, meeting them in the mirror and let your natural smile appear on your features. Despite having just fluffed your hair, you tucked it behind your ears, nervously fixing it down over your shoulders.
You could do this.
You didn’t even know why you were so nervous. Even if it was a date, it wasn’t the first one you’d ever been on. You had gone on a handful in your previous two years at Briar, with only two ever leading to a second date. Neither of which led past a fourth date. Which you were fine with. Those guys hadn’t been the ones for you. Sure, they’d been nice to look at across a candlelit dinner or on the mini golf course, but none of them had been especially interesting. None of them had really had anything to offer personality wise. You couldn’t land a single joke or even a teasing quip without feeling as if you had hurt their feelings, or even without being lectured on why your joke hadn’t landed.
Meanwhile, John had laughed at all your jokes and taken your teasing in stride, even firing some of his own back. It was fun being around him, easy.
You wanted to be around him.
The week and a half since you two had last seen each other in person would have passed by so much slower had you two not been texting practically nonstop. He had been busy with hockey and work, while you had been occupied with school and work, yet somehow you two had managed to arrange a day and time that worked for both of you all on the same day that he had asked if you would be willing to go for coffee with him. Your fingers had never flown across a keyboard as fast as when you’d read that text from him. Since then there was rarely a time where you weren’t texting John or thinking about your last text exchange with him. You were hopelessly crushing, but too scared to admit it.
Too scared to even admit that you were currently about to go on a first date with him because that would make it real.
As you reached the middle of the staircase you were horrified to find your roommates in the entryway talking to John.
“What’s going on?” You asked, stepping onto the staircase’s landing. The three of them had all turned to look at you, John with an almost mesmerized look in his eyes, which your friends immediately noticed, exchanging a look between the two of them.
“Oh, we were just getting to know John here,” your roommate said with a smirk.
“Were you now?” You glanced nervously between them all, your roommates grins doing nothing to help you out.
“Nothing bad. We were just asking about his intentions with you, his political views, thoughts on women’s rights, thoughts on hockey culture- y’know all the normal stuff.”
“Oh yeah just the stuff that comes up in everyday conversation,” you deadpanned, the teasing from your roommates actually helping to calm your nerves. “You ready?” You fully faced John, meeting him face to face. He had a small smile on his face, which your roommates would later tell you had never left his face in the entire time that he had been in your presence.
“So long as you are,” he replied. You nodded and began to reach for the door handle, but he beat you to it, opening the door so you could walk through first. “It was really nice meeting you guys,” he said to your roommates who were waving flirtatiously at you when you turned back to watch the exchange.
“You too, John boy!”
“Hands to yourself!” You could feel the blood in your cheeks as he latched the door shut behind you, matching your steps down your porch steps.
“I would say I’m sorry about them, but I’m really not,” you said as you walked down the short path to his truck which was parked exactly where it had been two and a half weeks ago when he’d originally come to take a look at your car.
“No, they’re awesome, I love that,” John replied. “I can tell you’re really comfortable with them.”
“Yeah, they’re my best friends in the world, they’re the best.”
“That’s great.” You two exchanged smiles, before John took a few steps ahead of you to get to the passenger side door first to open it for you. You thanked him as you climbed in and once you were settled he closed the door behind you. As you turned to pull your seatbelt over you, you caught your roommates watching you from the front living room window. You shook your head at them in mock disappointment as they only laughed and waved their phones to let you know that they had been recording and taking pictures since you two had left the front door. You looked away as John pulled his door open and climbed into his seat.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good,” he said, clicking his seatbelt into place and handing his phone out to you. “Do you want aux?” You gasped at the chance to see what his music taste was and excitedly took his phone, feeling a spark as your fingers lightly brushed. His phone was already unlocked and open to Spotify, allowing you to easily navigate to his playlists and saved albums. He watched you with a small smile for a few moments before putting the truck in drive and pulling onto the street, but not before leaning forward and giving your roommates a wave through the window. You looked up at this exchange and laughed at your friends' reactions in the window.
Going back to his phone, you scanned the names of playlists and album covers. Most of the playlists seemed to be workout and hype mixes, leaving you to wonder how many of these playlists one person could need before you remembered your five different studying playlists for your different moods. Most of the albums were rap and hip hop and artists you didn’t listen to or had never even heard of. You found one playlist titled ‘Jules’ influence’ which was filled with a random mix of songs from indie artists, some of which you had heard of.
“So, is it horrible?” John asked, causing you to look up from his phone and at him. You must’ve looked confused because he followed up. “My music taste. Jules always says I need to work on it.”
“It could be worse,” you replied, teasingly. “Could also be a lot better, though.” John laughed, a warm feeling developing in your chest at the sound. You continued to scroll, feeling as if you might find a hidden gem in the depths of his Spotify account. And you did when you found a playlist of Bruno Mars’ entire discography.
“I knew there had to be something redeeming in here,” you said before pressing shuffle play. You sighed as Locked out of Heaven began playing through the speakers. John looked over at you with an amused smile as you nodded your head to the beat.
“Big Bruno Mars fan?” John asked.
“Says the one with a whole playlist of just his music,” you teased. “This is my favourite song of his though.” John leaned forward and turned the volume up a few notches, causing you to grin at him.
About fifteen minutes later you rolled into town, lucky enough to find a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop that your roommate had recommended you guys check out. Before you even had your seatbelt undone, John had undone his and rushed around the truck to get your door for you, a gesture you giggled at and thanked him for.
The ease of finding a parking spot turned out to be completely out of luck because when John had opened the cafe door for you, you found the small space to be almost completely packed, with the line ending only two feet away from the door. Once the line had crept slightly forward, John was able to fully join you in the line, your back pressed almost completely to his front, catching you off guard at the proximity.
“Do you know what you’re getting?” His lips practically brushed your ear as he leaned down so you could hear him, the blood rushing to your cheeks once again. You shook your head no, unable to even spot a glimpse of the menu. A few moments later, John’s phone appeared in front of you, displaying a picture of the menu. You looked back at him over your shoulder, a grateful smile on your lips for the gesture. You did your best to focus on what the menu listed instead of the fact that he was so close you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. It was either him or the sheer warmth of being in the cramped coffee shop.
“Can I get a small iced caramel mocha, please?” you asked the barista once it was your turn to order almost twenty minutes later. After you had decided on your orders, you and John had made up a game of deciding the personalities and lifestyles of the other patrons in the shop as a way to pass the time. While they had originally started off as plausible possibilities they became more humorous and outlandish as your wait grew.
“And can I get a small iced cinnamon mocha, please?” John ordered after you. He beat you again by having his card ready before you could even unzip your bag to find yours. After the barista confirmed your orders you fixed John with an annoyed look which he met with a smile.
That damn smile of his.
“Y’know I am capable of doing things myself, right?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Yeah, but I’m here. So why should you?” You could only shake your head, trying to hide your growing smile. After another few minutes of designating the customers around you with fake backstories your drinks were ready. You both thanked the barista before turning and scanning the shop. Noticing that there were absolutely zero free chairs and tables you agreed to head outside.
“I can finally breathe again,” you sighed as you stepped back into the fresh air, John holding the door open for you.
“You ready to give these a try?” John asked, gesturing to the drinks you both held.
“Let’s do it.” At the same time you both took sips of your respective drinks. Yours was not good. But, seeing as John had paid for it, and not wanting to come off as too picky, you tried to mask your disgust with a pleased expression. “Hmm.”
“How is it?” John asked, studying the drink in his hand.
“It’s…decent.”
“Really? ‘Cause mine’s disgusting.” You almost choke on your sip at John’s reaction, a laugh trying to fight its way out of you.
“I was trying to be nice!” you groaned. “But yeah, this is awful.” You both can’t help the laughs that escape you at the ridiculousness of having just waited half an hour for those horrible drinks.
“Here,” John says, gesturing for you to hand him your cup. “I think I know how I can make these better.” You hand your plastic cup over and watch as he walks a few steps away and proceeds to throw both practically full cups in the garbage can. “I hate wasting food, but there’s no way either of us are drinking those anymore.”
“Completely understandable in this case.” He walked back over to you, stopping a couple steps away with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.
“So, I know I asked you to go for coffee, but seeing as that didn’t go the best, did you wanna take a walk around town instead?”
“I’d love to.” The two of you fell into step beside each other, John taking the side closest to the street, which you’re sure to remember to tell your friends about later on.
“How’s your car been the past couple weeks?” He asked.
“Really good!” you replied. “No smoke, no noises that shouldn’t be there. She’s back and better than ever.”
“Good, I’m glad.”
“How’s hockey been?”
“Good. We’ve won our last couple games, which is always nice.”
“Yeah, I bet,” you laugh. “You been scoring a lot?”
“Not as much as I want.”
“It’ll happen. Watch you’ll start a hot streak next game, I can feel it.” John laughed, his chest warm at the faith you had in him.
“We gotta get you out to a game. Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.” You felt your cheeks warm at the implication that you could be good for his game, knowing how seriously hockey players took their superstitions.
“If it keeps the Hawks winning then sign me up,” you joked before stopping mid-step. “Have you ever been in there?” you asked. John came to a halt and turned to look at the thrift shop you were pointing to.
“Can’t say I have.”
“They have the coolest stuff all the time. It’s the best thrift I’ve ever been to.” You had no intention of actually going in and just wanted to share the remark, but John noticed the gleam in your eyes and suggested going in. “We don’t have to, I was just saying.”
“No, no, you said they have the coolest stuff, so I wanna see,” John teased you with a smirk. You could feel the challenge in the air between you two and decided to take him on.
“Alright. Follow me.”
John got the door for you once again and you couldn’t help the smile on your face that came from the gesture and being back in one of your favourite stores. The shop was small, practically a hole in the wall, and was stuffed wall-to-wall with racks of clothes and tables of trinkets. The familiar smell was comforting as you took a deep breath.
“This place smells like my grandma’s house,” John remarked behind you.
“That’s the best part!” you exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll show you my favourite part of the shop.” You took off down the main aisle of the place, headed towards the back. You turned down an aisle that was crammed full of colourful knitted blankets, following it all the way down to a shelf against the wall. The shelf itself was slanted, appearing as if it could collapse at any moment, with the amount of things stuffed onto it only adding to this appearance. You grinned as you reached it, turning to John and framing the shelf with jazz hands.
“Wow, it’s…a shelf.”
You fixed him with an exasperated look, which quickly reverted back to a grin. “It’s not just a shelf, it’s a wonderland of trinkets and accessories.”
“I’m sure it is.” John reached towards the shelf and plucked a tiny figurine of a cow wearing a party hat from it. He inspected it for no more than five seconds before looking at you with a quirked brow. It took a lot of your willpower to not kiss him right there and then.
“You’re telling me that’s not adorable?”
“No, no, it is. I’m thinking you might’ve hyped it up a bit too much though.” He placed the figurine gently back in its spot and looked back at you.
“Well, you haven’t seen much just yet.”
You spent the next half an hour showing John around the store, ten of those minutes being completely spent on the trinket shelf, trying to convince him to purchase something from it, deciding on the party cow. When he finally agreed, he insisted on finding you your own shelf trinket to purchase. Eventually, he found a matching cow figurine to his, this one with a green party hat instead of pink. He clutched the both of them in his hand while you moved your tour along to a different part of the shop.
You showed him the graphic t-shirt racks, many of which he agreed were very cool and was the section he took the most interest in. His second favourite was the table near the front of the store that held many different accessories, including hats, scarves, gloves, and bags. Upon arriving at the table, John spotted a fluffy frog hat, which he placed carefully over his hair, causing you to laugh uncontrollably.
“Wait! Stay there, I need a picture,” you managed to get out through your laughs, pulling out your phone to take said picture. At first he faked an annoyed look before a smile broke out on his lips, causing your laughing to begin once again. Once you got the picture, John took the hat off his head and placed it gently on top of yours.
“Now hang on,” he instructed, pulling out his own phone to snap a picture. You gave him a variety of facial expressions and poses, turning the simple photo into a photoshoot of sorts. John only smiled through them all, enjoying the sight in front of him. Once you deemed he had gotten enough pictures of you in the frog hat, the two of you made it your mission to find the silliest item for the other person to wear or hold up for a picture. The game quickly turned competitive.
You found John a pair of extremely short gym shorts that resembled early 2000s velour tracksuits.
He found you a silk robe covered in a dollar sign print.
You found a pair of pink leopard cowboy boots.
He found a sweater that seemed to list the dates of a singular person’s six different wedding ceremonies.
You found a mug that read ‘Honey, I’m sorry for sleeping with your great-aunt. Please take me back!”
He found a blanket that had Danny Devito’s face printed all over it.
After almost an hour of this game, you decided to continue on with the day. John quickly paid for both of the cow figurines before you both headed outside.
“Pink or green?” He asked, holding a figurine in each palm.
“Green, please.” You plucked the figurine from his outreached hand, but not before snapping a picture of him holding the both of them. “Aw, they’re like our little children.” You internally cringed, horrified that you had just implied that these practically microscopic cows were your shared children. This wasn’t even a date and you had basically said that you were already thinking about having kids.
You might as well have just walked into traffic right then and there.
However, if John had thought your remark was weird, he didn’t say so and simply pulled out his phone.
“Let’s take a family picture then.” He held his phone out wide in front of the both of you. You shook yourself out of your self critical fog and turned your body in towards him, proudly displaying your new trinket in the palm of your hand. The sides of yours and John’s hands brushed as you both posed, your internal dialogue turning from self deprecating to a mess of giggling and blushing. “So, where to next?”
You glanced around the streets, scanning for anything interesting that there might be to do.
“We could just keep walking? See if we come across anything worthwhile.”
“Sounds great,” John agreed, falling into step beside you once again. You were in the middle of discussing the items you had found in the thrift store when John stopped, gesturing to the store you’d wound up in front of. “Hey, isn’t this where you work?”
You glanced up at the sign, realizing that you had, in fact, walked right in front of the bookstore that you’d worked at since your freshmen year at Briar. “Oh yeah, it is.”
“Do you wanna go in?”
“What? Oh no. We don’t have to. I’m there all the time already, they’re sick of me.”
“Yeah, but you probably don’t really get the chance to look around all that much, right?”
“Right…” you hesitated, not wanting to make the day all about you. But he did have a point.
“Alright, then let’s go in.” He grabbed the door handle and as soon as he swung it open the smell of hundreds of books, most of which were used, envelopped you in a warm hug. You sighed, taking in the beautiful sight of stacks and stacks and tables of books waiting for you to explore them; despite you being the one who most likely shelved at least a third of them. While you and your roommates had the house that you loved, this shop truly was your home away from home. Despite spending a good chunk of your time here every week, you would’ve been content with having to move in full-time.
“Welcome in!” a voice called from the register to the left of you. Your boss, Lucinda, sat at her usual perch behind the front desk with her usual grin.
“Hi, Lucy,” you greeted her, feeling shy all of a sudden as John stepped in behind you.
“You’re not working today, dear, what brings you in?”
“Uh, my friend, John, suggested we come in just to look around.” Lucy didn’t miss the slight twitch in John’s smile at you calling him a friend, something you missed due to him standing behind you.
“Hi, I’m John,” he introduced himself, sticking out his hand for Lucinda to shake, which she gladly did with a laugh.
“Lucinda,” the bookstore owner greeted back. “Well, you two enjoy yourselves, and if you need anything, I’ll be right here. Though, of course, you already know where everything is, dear.”
“Thanks, Lucy.” You turned to face John who gestured for you to lead the way. You’re different in the bookstore than you were in the thrift shop. While in there you were loudly confident, thrilled to be showing John around, in here you were more quietly sure of yourself–wandering the shelves slowly, taking in every book spine your eyes fell upon. While this was your place of work, it was also your solitude. You rarely ever ventured to any of Briar’s libraries to study because you had this place and Lucinda was always willing to let you in to study for as long as you needed.
You followed the natural flow of the store’s fixtures, from the tables at the front displaying new and popular reads, to the back where the nonfiction books and magazines were held. When a book looked particularly interesting you would pick it up and read the synopsis, gauging whether it should be added to your TBR or not. Not being much of a reader himself, John followed behind you, listening as you read synopses or excitedly recounted the plot points of your favourite books when you came across them. The way your face lit up upon finding an old favourite of yours would make his heart stutter and the tips of his ears go warm. Needless to say he was in no way bored while following you around. In fact, he could’ve done it forever if you let him.
“Hey, what time is it?” you asked after placing a book back in its slot on the shelf.
“Three thirty.”
“What?” you wheeled around, your eyes practically bulging out of your head.
“Yeah, why?” John asked, slightly amused.
“We’ve been in here for an hour!”
“What’s wrong with that?” John asked through a laugh, clearly not understanding what you were so hysterical about.
“We were supposed to spend today together, not just with you following me around at my job!”
“Hey, it’s okay!” John reassured you, his hand gently squeezing your bicep as you tried hard not to completely freak out at having completely overtaken the day. “I was the one who told you we should come in here. I had a feeling what I was getting into when I did. So, it’s cool, okay?” He watched you intently as you sighed deeply, his doe-like eyes fixated on yours. You nodded, feeling calmer from his reassurance that you hadn’t completely ruined what might’ve been your first date together.
“Okay, sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he gave you a smile to make sure you knew that it truly wasn’t as serious as you thought. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yes and you get to pick what we do next. No more letting me control everything.”
“Well I think that’s only fair,” he deadpanned before allowing a smile to spread over his lips at your slight pout from the teasing. You said bye to Lucinda as you exited the store, the older woman telling John to come back whenever he wanted which made him laugh.
“So where to, Johnny boy?” you asked, as you continued your side-by-side walk further into town.
“You ever been to the lake just outside of town?” You shook your head, only just remembering that the lake existed. “Follow me then.” He guided you down the sidewalk, taking a few shortcuts down residential streets, before arriving at the east edge of town which overlooked the small lake that was overshadowed by tall willow trees. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, but was yet to bring about any chill to the air. John led you down to a bench a little ways from the water, dusting the seat off with his jacket sleeve. He gestured for you to sit, which you did, taking a seat beside him, less than a foot of space between you two. You both sat facing towards the water, the wind on the surface of the water and in the tree branches and the wildlife being the only sounds to break the silence.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“Every once in a while,” John replied, looking out over the water. “When we were younger my mom would bring me and my siblings here if it was nice out.”
“Are you close with your mom?” Something shifted in the guy’s face at the mention of his mom. Not darkness, but something haunting.
“Not really. She’s been in and out of rehab so much that I never really know where or how I’ll find her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s no one’s fault. It’s just how her brain works.” He said it so casually that you almost believed that he believed it himself. And even though you’ve only known the guy for less than a month, you had a feeling that he wasn’t being the most honest. “Or at least that’s what all the doctors have told us.”
“That’s still hard, though. Especially with having to help take care of Jules.” He turned to look at you then, his eyes scanning your face.
“Did I tell you that?”
“Yeah,” you laughed. “When you picked me up from class after you fixed my car.” John then groaned, his hands coming to cover his face.
“Some first impression I made then, huh?” You laughed, folding one leg in on the bench so you could turn your body to face him.
“Well, I think that was actually your second impression. Unless you count all the texting from that week and how you repeatedly accused me of being a Rangers fan!”
“Hey, I’ve apologized since, haven’t I?” He asked, now turning his body to face you.
“Yeah, I guess today counts as an apology,” you responded in a quieter tone than before. His eyes roamed your face and you somehow failed to notice how they lingered on your lips for a second longer than anywhere else.
“Do you have a favourite spot you go to? On or off campus?”
“We were just at my favourite spot,” you responded, referring to the bookstore.
“Huh, explains why you took so long.” You reached forward and shoved John’s shoulder jokingly. He groaned in fake pain, clutching his shoulder as you laughed.
“Hey, I apologized! I genuinely thought it had only been like twenty minutes.”
“Nah, I’m just kidding,” he said, sitting up properly again, a small smile on his face. “It was fun seeing you in your element. I just didn’t think anyone could spend that long looking at books without getting bored.”
“Well, what was one of the first things you learned about me?”
“That you’re an English major.”
“Right on, Johnny.” He looked down at his hands with a smile, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.
“What do you plan on doing with that after you graduate?” he asked.
“Grad school,” you sighed, a common reaction you had whenever the thought of your future came about. “Maybe a PhD to see how long I can fend off the work force, then hopefully teach at the college level.”
“Got it all figured out, huh?”
“For the most part. Hopefully.”
“Are your parents supportive?”
“Oh, they’re the best,” you smiled at the thought of your parents. How they had constantly pushed you to do what you wanted to do, not what anyone else thought was best. Your heart clenched at not having seen them in what felt like forever. “They just want me to be whoever I want.”
“That’s great. I’m glad you have that,” John said, sounding genuinely happy that you had that support system.
“Thanks. I’m just so scared of disappointing them, y’know? They’ve worked so hard my whole life and it’s like…what if I end up not being worth all that trouble?” You caught yourself off guard by admitting this. You had never really voiced these concerns out loud, but for some reason when you were around John the words just fell right out.
“Hey, if they really love you and care for you then it won’t matter what you do in the future,” he said, earnestly. His eyes bore into yours, almost as if he was trying to push the thought into your head. “You’ll still be their daughter. And for what it’s worth, I know you’re gonna do something great with your life. I don’t think you’d allow yourself to do or be anything less than great.” You laughed, your heart clenching at his words and how genuine they sounded coming from him. Any regrets you’d had about voicing your concerns had flown right out the window.
“Thanks for saying that.” He nodded his head, a small smile on his lips. “What about you? What are you gonna do with your business degree, Johnny?”
“Who even knows,” he groaned, eliciting a small laugh from you. “It’s, hopefully, just a backup.”
“For?”
“If I don’t make it to the NHL.”
“You have doubts that you will?” you asked, genuinely confused.
“You say that like you’ve seen me play.”
“I’ve seen a clip or two,” you shrugged. “Mostly from Jules’ account.”
“I just really want to prove myself. But that’s hard when you play on a line with Phil Graham’s son.” There was a small hint of irritation in his voice, which you could understand. You knew that Garrett Graham was John’s best friend, but also, possibly, his biggest competition for a chance at getting to the NHL. Garrett had already been drafted to the Boston Bruins, but that only meant that there were now even more eyes on him and less on John.
“Hey, you’re your own person. You don’t have to exist or live in anyone else’s shadow other than your own,” you tried to reassure him like he had done for you. “And the NHL? Easy. You’ll be playing for the Oilers as soon as you graduate,” you ended, cheekily.
“Is that a threat?”
“You could play for a lot worse teams than Edmonton.”
“Ugh, like Vegas.” You both cringed which led to laughter from the both of you.
“Have you ever told anyone that stuff?” you asked after your laughter had lapsed into silence for a few moments. “About making it to the show?” John whistled at your choice of words.
“Damn, you’re talking like one of the guys calling it the show," he laughed. "I’ve really only talked about it with Jules. You’re the only other person I’ve told.” Blood flows to your cheeks again, either from the chill that had begun to waft off the water, or from being one of the only people that knew about John’s secret feelings.
“Not even Garrett?” John sighed and shook his head.
“It’s hard when he’s already been drafted and I’m stuck waiting for a chance.” You mulled his words over in your mind.
“Do you believe in things being meant to be?” John hesitated, seeming to now mull your words over. You didn’t notice how his eyes lingered on you as he thought of the words to say.
“I might.”
“Well, think of getting picked as being meant to be. Maybe it just hasn’t been the right time or the right team. If it’s meant to be it’ll happen when it’s supposed to. Not before.” You met his eyes then, which had already been trained on your face. A moment passed where it felt like only the two of you existed, purely understanding each other, with nothing else around.
“All that Shakespeare’s made you wise, English major,” John broke the silence with a smile.
“And looking at spreadsheets all day has made you lose perspective, business major,” you joked back.
“I gotta keep you around then. Make sure I don’t lose sight of it all.” The way John looked at you then made your breath catch in your throat. Your mind seemed to go blank, other than being filled with how he was looking at you right then and how it made you feel. Maybe this was a date.
“Keep playing your cards right and we’ll see, Johnny,” you scoffed, forcing yourself to look away and back at the water, hoping he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.
“”Keep,” huh? So I’ve been doing good so far.”
“Well saving me money goes a long way in my book if that feeds your ego.”
“Duly noted.” You looked back at him with a smile. One that he wished he could’ve taken a mental picture of so he’d never forget it.
“Oh, look at the sunset!” You exclaimed, pointing out over the lake where the autumn sky had begun to show streaks of purple, pink, and orange, a reflection of which showing on the surface of the water. John noticed how the bright colours highlighted your hair and formed almost a halo around you. While your back was turned he pulled out his phone and snapped a couple pictures of you, wanting to keep these for memory. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yeah, it is.” John remarked, his eyes focused on you instead of the sky.
Once the sun had fallen behind the trees lining the lake, John had asked if you wanted to go back to the truck before it got too cold. You agreed, taking the hand he offered to help you up off the bench. After brushing yourself off, you looked up at John to find him looking at you with a smile on his face. You returned it before quickly turning and yelling “race ya!” and taking off back towards the direction you’d come from.
John gave out a startled yell before you heard his feet pounding on the ground behind you. You laughed as your heart beat wildly in your chest, your breath coming out in fast pants as you continued to outpace the hockey player. Despite not knowing the neighbourhood the best, you managed to find your way back to the main road in town and pushed yourself the final yards to John’s truck in front of the coffee shop which you had left what felt like ages ago.
You raised your arms in victory, turning to face the athlete as he came to a stop behind you, panting. You let out a cheer as he hunched over his knees, gulping in breaths of air.
“How the fuck did you get so fast?” John panted out, causing you to laugh.
“I did track and field in high school,” you explained, your hands on your hips as you took in deep breaths. “And I sometimes run the track at Briar.”
“What the fuck. I might pass out.” You laughed at the poor guy’s state, having to stop yourself from tousling his hair as he remained hunched over.
“What, that wasn’t just like a shift on the ice for you?”
“No, that was so much worse.” You couldn’t help the grin that was on your face as he stood up, the flip of his hair making your heart stutter for a second. His cheeks were red from the exertion and the wind hitting him in the face while he ran. Your eyes went from his to how his silver chain fell against his heaving chest and back to his eyes. “That was cruel.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you could handle it, hockey player,” you teased. He looked at you with what might've been supposed to be stern eyes, but they softened as soon as they actually fell on you and the large grin you couldn’t wipe away.
“Next time, it won’t be so easy for you,” he declared, a finger in the air to emphasize his point.
"So I can expect to see you on the track tomorrow morning?”
“Not tomorrow,” he gulped out. “But whenever my legs and lungs recover, then yeah.” You giggled, finding the whole scenario especially funny. “Are you hungry?”
“All that running make you hungry?”
“If anything, my guts are actually inside out right now- thanks again. But we haven’t had anything to eat or drink since we tried that god awful coffee,” he explained, jutting his thumb towards the coffee shop behind you.
“I could eat,” you agreed, slightly cringing at the memory of the coffee from hours ago.
“Good, ‘cause I know a place.”
A two minute walk down Main street later and you wound up in front of a place advertising one dollar pizza slices, to which you scrunched your nose.
“This is the best pizza place within a one hundred mile radius,” John proudly announced.
“A dollar per slice? Is this some kind of payback for making you run?”
“While I will absolutely be getting back at you at some point," John declared, "their customers are college kids and they know how to cater to that.” The thought of how badly this could end for you crossed your mind, but you decided to be adventurous and shrugged.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
John swung the door open for you to enter and your stomach immediately gurgled at the smell of fresh pizza cooking. When you got to the register you ordered two slices of pepperoni and a Sprite and John ordered two slices of meat lovers and a Dr Pepper. He beat you to the machine once again, giving you a huge smile as you frowned at him. Your food was ready minutes later and John let you decide which booth to sit at. You picked the one closest to the window and John started to slide into the seat across from you when you asked him to sit beside you instead.
“I hate when people watch me eat,” you confessed, a blush covering your cheeks.
“No problem,” he responded unfazed, sliding in beside you with ease. Your arms brushed as you reached for your food at the same time, your breath catching slightly at the spark between you two as it happened. You took a bite out of your first slice and automatically understood what John had been talking about when he called it the best pizza place in the area. You scarfed down your first slice, not realizing just how hungry you had actually been.
“Was I right?” John asked when you were halfway through your second slice, already finished both of his. You pretended to think about it, not wanting to let him know just how right he’d been.
“You may have had some good points,” you said, your hand covering your mouth as you spoke. He let out a ‘yes’ while pumping his fist, causing you to laugh. He finished up his drink as you finished your pizza. Once you were both for sure done, he took both of your paper plates and threw them out. You stood as he did so, brushing any crumbs off yourself while his back was turned.
“Ready to go?” he asked. You nodded your head, allowing him to open the door for you again out into the cool October air.
He opened the passenger side door for you once back at the truck and closed it once you were securely in. He handed his phone over to you wordlessly, allowing you to choose the music once again for the drive back to your place. ‘Locked out of Heaven’ by Bruno Mars played as he pulled away from the curb.
“Thank you for today, I had a really good time,” you said after John parked in front of your house.
“Yeah, of course, I did too.”
“And I’m sorry, again, for spending an hour in the bookstore, that was really sweet of you to just let me look. I really never get to do that," you said sheepishly.
“Well, you’ll just have to make it up to me by spending an hour at the rink or the garage with me.” You laughed, not even thinking that that sounded all that bad. You figured now was your chance to ask what you had been wondering since he had originally asked you to hang out.
“I hope this doesn’t make this awkward, but, was today a date?” John’s face was solemn, scaring you into thinking that you had offended him in some way.
“I thought it was, yeah. But if you didn’t think so-”
“No, no, it’s not that!” you blurted out before he could finish. “I was hoping it was and just didn’t want to call it one in case I accidentally got my hopes up.” John gave a small smile at your confession.
“And, was it everything you wanted it to be?” he asked almost shyly.
“Even more so.” His smile grew then, causing your own to grow.
“Well, then we’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“I’d like that,” you agreed, already eager for what the next date would entail. “I should probably get inside though. Don’t want you up too late the night before practice.”
“Especially not after I was forced to run a marathon,” John joked, before quickly climbing out his door and running around to open yours for you. You thanked him again as he helped you down and onto the sidewalk, your hands lingering together for a couple seconds. “Speaking of hockey, actually, would you want to come to our next home game? It’s in a few days and you can bring your friends. I can get you guys free tickets.”
“I’d love to, thanks.” You reached the front porch before you knew it, climbing the steps and turning to face John. “And thank you again for today. I had a lot of fun with you.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. I really like spending time with you too.” He then leaned in, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his cologne engulfing your senses. He pulled away slightly, only to whisper in your ear: “I would’ve kissed you properly if your friends weren’t watching from the window.” He then pulled away, standing at his proper height, with a matching grin to yours. You laughed, not even feeling as if the moment had been ruined, but like everything was falling into place. Like it was all meant to be.
“I should probably go and tell them everything they wanna hear,” you said, not actually wanting the night to end. He nodded, leaning in once again to kiss your other cheek.
“Didn’t want to leave the other cheek lonely,” he said with a grin before turning to head down the porch steps.
“Cheeseball,” you called after him. He turned back to face you still beaming. You watched him walk back to his truck with a matching smile on your face, not yet realizing just how much your face hurt from all the smiling and laughing you had been doing since he’d picked you up. You opened the front door, waving to John as he started up his truck and waved back at you. You closed the door behind you, waiting until you heard his truck roll away and for a few moments afterwards before walking the few steps to the living room doorway to find your friends waiting with their hands in their laps and huge smiles on their faces.
a/n: the off campus obsession grabbed me by the throat and hasn't let me go yet so here's the john logan fic that's been holding me over since i watched the show last week :)
part II
word count: 4.2k
synopsis: when your car goes to shit you ask everyone you know if they know a good mechanic and end up meeting one with a smile that you can't get out of your head
~~~
You had been able to ignore the clunking sound in your car for the past two weeks by gradually turning up the volume on the radio until your eardrums were on the verge of bleeding. You knew that you had no choice but to get it looked at when the steam appeared from beneath the hood when you had started it up this morning. Terrified to drive it, you had taken the bus to campus since your roommates had already left for the day. On campus you asked everyone you knew if they knew a good mechanic who could come out to look at it.
“The Logan’s place isn’t too far from campus and shouldn’t cost too much. You could always ask if they could send someone to check it out if you don’t want to risk driving it,” Allie suggested when you had caught up to her in between classes.
“Oh perfect, do you have their number?” Allie swiped and typed a few things on her phone before showing it to you, a phone number displayed. You tapped it into your phone’s keypad, mouthing a thank you to her, and walking a few steps away to make the call.
“Logan & Sons, how can we help you?” a woman’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Hi, um, there seems to be something wrong with my car. There was some clunking for a while and then it started smoking this morning when I started it, so I was wondering if you could maybe send someone out to come check it? I could drive it in too, it’s just, y’know, the smoking part.”
“Yeah, definitely don’t try to drive it right now. We can send someone over at around four, does that work?”
“That’s perfect, thanks so much.”
After your last class, you caught the bus back to the house you shared with your roommates, making it back just in time to meet the pickup truck that pulled up in front of the house. A tall, brown-haired guy with big, dark eyes hopped down and walked around the front of the truck to meet you on the sidewalk.
“Are you the one who called about a smoking car?” Up close he was even cuter than you’d originally thought. You really hoped you weren’t blushing.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m guessing you’re here to take a look at it?”
“Right on.”
“It’s the one right behind you.” You gestured to the slightly rusty and slightly beat up grey hatchback that he had just parked in front of. He turned and gave out a low whistle as he took it in. It wasn’t necessarily a sight for sore eyes, but it had certainly seen better days, most of which you hadn’t even seen since you’d bought it used two weeks before you came out to Briar for your freshman year.
He gave it a walk around, tracing parts of it with his left hand as he looked it over.
“How long you had this thing?” He looked to you as he asked.
“Three years now. I bought it used.” He nodded along.
“It’s definitely been used, you could say that again.” He snatched a ratty looking rag from the back of his truck and clutched it in his right hand as he popped the hood open. A cloud of smoke appeared as soon as he did so, causing the both of you to cough.
“Looks like an engine problem. It’ll have to come into the shop so we can look at it there.” He shut the hood, the rest of the car creaking as he did so.
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, already tallying up how much this would end up costing you. Even with the rising bus rates it would probably still be cheaper than maintaining this piece of junk. The guy looked at you, appearing to study your face.
“I can drive it to the shop for you, if you want. It’s not too far and it should hold up,” he suggested, catching you off guard with the offer.
“Is it even safe to drive at all?”
“Probably not, but I’d rather drive it than have it blow up with you in it.”
“How likely is it to blow up?”
“Three percent. Maybe five.”
“And what’s your history with luck?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’d feel really bad.”
“About watching me blow up?”
“Yeah, you probably have a lot to live for, I’d hate to be an accomplice to your life coming to an early end.”
“And I’d feel even worse if I had to watch a pretty girl blow up in her car right in front of me just because she didn’t want it to be me in that car.” You smiled and looked away at the compliment. “It’s a five minute drive. I can manage.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair as you looked up to see him opening the driver’s side door and begin to climb in. Before you knew it, you were climbing into the passenger seat beside him. He looked at you with what you admitted to yourself was a really cute smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.
“Are we making a suicide pact here?”
“Hopefully not,” you sighed, fishing something out of your backpack on your lap. “But, you probably need these,” the keys to the car dangled from your hand.
“Actually no, those are irrelevant,” he deadpanned, taking them from you and turning them in the ignition. You held your breath as the engine coughed to life, more smoke leaking from under the hood. You clutched the ‘holy-shit’ handle as if it might actually save you if the car were to blow up, which was seeming like more and more of a possibility.
“Are you sure this is safe?” You couldn’t tear your eyes from the gray smoke coming from the front of the car, as he began to reverse out of the spot.
“It’ll make it to the shop.”
“You didn’t actually answer the question.” He glanced over at you as he shifted the car to drive.
“What? You don’t trust the complete stranger you just met five minutes ago?”
“Can’t say I do, stranger.” He let out a short laugh as he pulled onto the street, the car so far staying together.
“So, do you go to Briar?” he asked moments later as he pulled up to the stop sign at the end of your street.
“Yeah, I’m a junior,” you replied, gripping the holy-shit handle even tighter as he made a left turn.
“No shit, me too. What’s your major?”
“English. You?”
“Business.”
“Really?” He looked over at you momentarily, a smile back on his face.
“Yeah, is that surprising?”
“Kinda. You don’t seem like a business guy.”
“Must be hard to figure out someone’s whole life path in less than fifteen minutes.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, letting you know that he was joking.
“Even harder, when I don’t know their name.”
“It’s John.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, which caused him to look at you with a smirk.
“Okay, business makes sense for you now.”
“Oh okay, English major and what’s yours?” You told him your name and he sighed.
“Yeah, I can’t say that I know what would qualify as an English major’s name anyways,” he replied, which made you laugh again. “Do you do anything outside of school?”
“I work at the bookstore in town.”
“You like it there?”
“Yeah, it’s great. Do you like working at Logan & Sons?”
“Well, I kinda have to, considering I’m one of the sons.”
“Ah, so you’re a nepo baby.” John let out a low laugh.
“Oh yeah. Working at the middle class mechanics shop my dad opened thirty years ago has really gotten me places.”
“Then we’re in the same boat, ‘cause going with my mom to her salon job when she couldn’t afford a sitter has gotten us to the same place.”
“Working middle class jobs that our far more richer classmates will never have to work because they can afford to go to our school without a full-ride scholarship?”
“Exactly!” You both laughed. You were surprised to find that you were already pulling into the Logan & Sons yard. John killed the engine, taking the keys out of the ignition and presented them to you in the palm of his hand.
“See? Made it safe and sound.” You took the keys from his hand, a small shock passing between the two of you as your fingers lightly grazed. “You can hang out at the desk if you want while I take a look. It shouldn’t take too long to diagnose her.” You tugged your backpack out behind you, figuring that you could get some homework done while you waited. You followed John around to the desk at the back of the shop and took a seat on the stool there while he rifled through a few drawers, pulling out some miscellaneous tools.
You tried really hard to focus on the homework you’d pulled from your backpack, but your eyes kept flicking towards the guy hunched over the front of your car. His arms flexed as he fiddled around within the car, causing you to put in real effort to drag your eyes away from them whenever he turned to grab a new tool. You had just done so when he fully stood, closed the hood and walked back towards you.
“So good news,” he started, wiping his hands on a rag he had procured from somewhere. “I can fix her up. Bad news is I’ll need a few days to do it.” You nodded along, internally crying at how much your car’s stay at the shop would probably end up costing you.
“Great, thanks.” You stood, beginning to pack your backpack and mentally trying to figure out when the next bus would be.
“I can give you a ride back to your place.” John announced, tapping his hands on the desk.
“Oh, that’s okay. You’ve already done more than enough for me, honestly,” you waved him off, not wanting to take up any more of his time.
“I actually need to grab my truck,” he said with a small smile. “So too bad.”
“Alright, I guess I don’t get a choice then,” you replied with a matching smile.
“Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” He walked past you on his way to the staff room located behind you, a whiff of his - what you could only describe as intoxicating - cologne surpassed the overwhelming smell of motor oil and grease of the workshop. He emerged from the room a minute later with another person following behind him.
“Jules here is gonna drive us back to yours so I can get my truck, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course.” The drive back to your house passed practically the same as the drive to the shop had, this time with Jules asking you the questions about your job and studies, intercepted with your directions on where they should turn. You thanked Jules once they had pulled to a stop behind John’s pickup, both you and John climbing out of the car.
“Y’know I was gonna say that I’ll give you a call once I’m done with your car, but I realized I don’t have your number.” John noted once Jules had pulled away back towards the shop, holding out his phone in your direction.
“Well, that would’ve just made your job that much harder, wouldn’t it?” You joked back, taking his phone and creating your own contact. You typed in your number and nicknamed yourself ‘english major📚’ before handing it back to him. He smirked as he read it, typing something in himself before returning the phone to his back pocket. Your own phone buzzed with a new notification. Taking it out of your pocket to see that you had received a text from an unsaved number that read ´business major john📊.’ You laughed as you returned your phone to your pocket, meeting John’s amused doe-like eyes.
“There, now your job is the slightest bit easier.”
“Thank god. Otherwise I’d just have to show up to your house again.”
“And that would just ruin my day, honestly.” You sighed jokingly, gaining a laugh from John. “Thank you again for everything, I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. It’s actually kind of my job.” You laughed, eyes closing momentarily and keeping you from noticing the look in John’s eyes as he watched you. “Hey, I should get going. But I’ll keep you updated on the car and-” he paused, one hand on the driver’s side door handle. “If you ever need a ride anywhere just let me know.” You thanked him again as he swung up into the truck. He flashed you that smile that you’re sure you’ll never be able to get out of your head before he pulled away from the curb and onto the road, his left hand waving out his open window.
“Oh, I’m screwed,” you thought to yourself as you turned to finally go into the house.
business major john📊: i’m thinking it’ll be about five days to fix your car up btw
business major john📊: but again if you need a ride at all until it’s done just let me know
english major📚: wow do all your customers get the uber option??
business major john📊: only the english majors
english major📚: well i’m a lucky gal then
english major📚: and thank you but i’ll probably just borrow my roommates’ cars if i need :)
business major john📊: offer still stands for whenever :)
english major📚: you’re a hockey player?
business major john📊: maybe
business major john📊: stalking much?
english major📚: my roommate informed me actually thanks😁
business major john📊: that scare you off?
english major📚: i’m canadian if anything i’m scared in
business major john📊: so you know puck then?
english major📚: a little
business major john📊: you got a favourite team?
english major📚: will my favourite team make or break my car?
business major john📊: depends
english major📚: big oilers fan over here🧡💙
business major john📊: woof we can work on that
english major📚: and yours is??
business major john📊: bruins all day baby🐻🐻
english major📚: yikes
english major📚: looks like we both got some work to do
hockey boy john🚩: how many packs of tissue do you need in your glove box?
oilers girl😬: i’m not paying you to snoop in my car🤨
hockey boy john🚩: i needed to check your registration for smtg
hockey boy john🚩: was definitely not snooping☝️
oilers girl😬: uh huh i’m so sure
hockey boy john🚩: still don’t trust me?😪
oilers girl😬: we’ll see how my car turns out
tissue hoarder🤧: is phil graham your friend garrett’s dad??
car snoop🫵: how are you a hockey fan at briar and only just realizing this?
tissue hoarder🤧: why would i pay any attention to the rangers?
car snoop🫵: fair point
hockey snob: i should be finished with your car tomorrow :)
#1 Rangers fan😰: great sounds good!
Hockey snob: if you don’t wanna take the bus i can pick you up after class tomorrow and you can wait around the shop while i finish up
Hockey snob: only if you want tho👍
#1 Rangers fan😰: that’d actually be great if you could thanks!! :))
Hockey snob: like i said any time :)
Hockey snob: where’s your last class tomorrow?
#1 Rangers fan😰: in the english building at the far west side of campus
#1 Rangers fan😰: if that’s too far for you tho i can meet you at your last class
Hockey snob: don’t even worry about it
Hockey snob: see you tomorrow :)
#1 Rangers fan😰: see ya :))
Leaving your last class of the day usually presents no surprises, except for today, which featured John Logan waiting outside the English building. He didn’t notice you at first which was great as you hastily brushed your hair behind your ears as you made your way towards him. The sun was hitting him at the perfect angle, highlighting his strong features. You were luckily able to close your mouth just in time before he turned his head and met your eyes. That smile that you had in fact not been able to get out of your head for the past few days adorned his face.
“Hey, Rangers fan.” He greeted you, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Don’t say that, anyone could hear you!” The sarcasm is clear in your voice as you hurried down the steps ahead of him. His long legs easily caught up to you, joining you stride for stride. “You didn’t have to come down, y’know? Your truck isn’t that hard to spot.”
“Just in case you forgot what it looked like,” he shrugged. While it had been a week since you had last seen each other in person, the two of you had been texting practically nonstop since then, allowing you to fall into easy conversation about how your days had been. You told him about how your classes had gone and he told you about the jokes his friends Dean and Tucker had told at practice that morning.
“Y’know you should come to a game sometime,” John suggested as your seatbelts clicked into place almost simultaneously. “I bet you’ve probably got some fun chants from back home to share with the crowd.”
“Yeah and some my dad taught me that probably wouldn’t go over well with the NCAA.” The drive from campus to the garage was filled with talk of hockey and your families, exchanging the different ways in which you had gotten into the sport.
“My dad always taped Oilers games, still does, and since I barely saw him during the week because of his crazy work schedule I would sit and watch them with him,” you shared. “I’ve never seen him more excited than when McDavid was drafted in 2015.”
“That’s like my brother when I got into Briar for hockey. He’s the reason I started playing in the first place.” You noticed the shift in John’s grip on the steering wheel at the mention of his brother. His eyes kept straight ahead at the road so you couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling that there was something about his relationship with his brother and hockey that was a touchy subject.
“Are you two close?” He looked over at you, almost taken aback, as if you had taken him out of a trance.
“Yeah, sorta. Our parents weren’t really around so we kinda had to fend for ourselves. Take care of Jules and each other. We bonded over that stuff.” He cleared his throat after sharing, as if airing out his relationship with his siblings had dislodged something for him.
“Sounds like you guys really care for each other.” The ends of his mouth quirked up in that smirk you’d come to memorize.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
As John’s truck pulled into the Logan & Sons lot you noticed that your car had been moved to a different spot since you’d brought it in a week ago.
“I wouldn’t let anyone else work on it so my brother told me to move it so he could still take on new clients,” John explained, noticing my confusion.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do it all yourself, I wouldn’t have cared if someone else had worked on it.”
“I would’ve.” John climbed out of the truck, leaving you dumbfounded in the passenger seat. Shaking yourself out of it, you followed him out and back around to the other side of the desk in the corner of the shop. “It shouldn’t be too long, but make yourself at home.” Once again, you pulled a notebook and pen from your backpack, attempting to start the assignment you’d been assigned earlier today. But yet again you found yourself getting distracted by the contracting muscles in the arms of the guy working on your car. It really was embarrassing how many times you caught yourself practically drooling instead of planning out your essay.
“All done!” John called out about forty-five minutes later, slamming the hood closed. You had actually managed to get yourself to focus on your essay this time around and you looked up to find him dangling your car keys from his pointer finger in your direction. “Wanna take it for a test drive?” You practically ripped the keys from his finger, grinning at the idea of being able to drive your own car again instead of one of your roommates’. You felt almost shy as John climbed into the passenger seat beside you, your cheeks and tips of your ears going red. You twisted the key in the ignition and watched as absolutely no smoke emerged from under the hood and no clunking sound interrupted the purr of the engine.
“Oh we’re so back, baby.” John laughed at your reaction. You couldn’t help the grin on your face caused by your freshly working car and the guy in the passenger seat who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past week. You slowly pulled out of the garage, guiding your car around the side of the building and to the front of the lot. John pointed you to a spot for you to park, which you do, sighing as you shifted into park. “You brought my girl back!” You exclaimed, grinning at John who returned the expression. “You’ve got the magic touch, Johnny.”
He chuckled at the nickname. “Johnny, huh?”
“What no one calls you that?”
“My mom did when I was younger. But I like it better coming from you.” The ease with which he expressed this caught you off guard, losing your breath momentarily. His eyes were soft and your heart softer as you shared a moment in the calm silence. You could’ve lived in these few seconds forever if it were up to you.
Back at the desk you were mentally cringing while waiting for the total price of getting your car’s engine fixed dumped on you like a bucket of cold water. Except when John told you the price it was nowhere near as much as you expected.
“Wait, are you sure?”
“One hundred percent,” John replied, even handing you the printed bill listing the cost of everything. “Briar students get a discount.” You scanned the bill over and over again, making sure that he had charged you for everything. Obviously you didn’t want to pay what you had expected, but you also didn’t want to accidentally scam the guy after he had gone above and beyond for you. After having read the bill at least three times over you decided that it was real and you wouldn’t be as broke as you expected.
“Alright, I guess ring me up.” You handed the bill back over to John who took it with a smile and began to ring up the price. When he turned the machine over to you, you made sure to leave a sizable tip.
“If anything ever happens to it again, you have my number,” John said, ripping your receipt from the machine. “And even if you ever need anything just give me a call.”
“I definitely will. And thank you so much again. For everything, honestly, you’ve been great. You should get a raise.”
“Would you mind telling my brother that actually? He might listen to you instead of me.” Your heart squeezed at this last joke between the two of you, the last laugh you two might share. This past week had been one of your best since coming to Briar and even though it was now the weekend, you didn’t want it to end.
“Bye, Johnny.” You turned your back on him to walk back to your car, secretly hoping that he would run up to you and ask you out, not wanting this to be your last interaction either. You looked back at him once more as you reached the driver’s side door, surprised to find his eyes were still on you. You gave him a smile and a wave, both of which he returned, before climbing in the car. As the air conditioning kicked in you caught a hint of his cologne, flipping your stomach in the best way possible. You snuck a glance at your rearview mirror as you pulled up to the stop sign at the exit to the lot, seeing that John had been joined by Jules behind the desk.
“You know Briar students don’t get a discount, right?” Jules asked their brother as they watched him watch your car begin to leave the lot. He looked at them with a quizzical look on his face, one eyebrow slightly raised.
“Friends and family discount, remember?”
“Didn’t you just meet her this week?”
“You can become friends with someone in a week, Jules,” John said, exasperated, escaping into the staff room behind them.
“Yeah…you have her number! Don’t let it go to waste!”
Your phone had chirped on the drive from the garage to your house, but being a responsible driver you didn’t check it until you pulled into your normal parking spot on the street in front of the house and had shifted into park. You had to read the message three times to make sure that this wasn’t your delusional mind playing tricks on you and that the text from John was in fact real.
Hockey snob: did you maybe want to go get coffee together some time soon whenever we’re both free?
Obviously you said yes.
~~~
a/n: this is getting turned into a series!!! so let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist once a new part is added!!
synopsis: your boyfriend spends months trying to talk you into doing a couples halloween costume that he saw online
warnings: some suggestive content
~~~
It was Connor’s idea. And according to him it took him exactly two months and 13 days to talk you into it.
“Absolutely not,”
“Come on, babe, it’ll be hilarious!”
“Are you forgetting how public your job is? Thousands of people are going to see it and thousands of your fangirls will be talking about it.” Was how your guys’ conversation about the subject went for the entirety of those two and a half months. From the end of August to almost the middle of October, Connor begged and begged for you to do his couples costume idea for Halloween. And each time he got shot down.
He even went as far as getting Frank, Will, and Macklin in on his scheming. Having them text you at the most random times asking what you thought of their costume ideas - with all of the accompanying photos being the couples costume that Connor continued to bug you about. He even went so far as to buy the materials needed to make the costume, using the argument of you not needing to buy anything for the costume.
You didn’t cave until you walked in the front door of your shared apartment one day to find him attempting to make the costume himself and making a way bigger mess than necessary. Construction paper and pieces of fabric were strewn all over the living room and around the hockey player sitting cross legged in front of the TV.
“Connor-”
“Look, you don’t even have to lift a finger to make the costumes! All you’ll have to do is put yours on!” He exclaimed with a huge smile on his face and fabric glue smeared all over his hands and somehow his cheek as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of your boyfriend looking like a little kid with their arts and crafts project.
“Alright fine, you win, Con,” you sighed, crouching down beside him as he let out a cheer. A laugh escaped your lips as he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek before turning back to the project in front of him. “I guess I can lend you some help,” you offered, snatching up what appeared to be the costume intended for yourself to wear.
“Good, because I actually have no clue what I’m doing,” Connor said while managing to get even more glue and a piece of construction paper stuck to his face. You shook your head, laughing as you picked the yellow strip from his face.
“That was more than obvious, C.” He exclaimed in protest as you laughed to yourself, focusing on the project in your hands and trying to decipher what your boyfriend had been attempting to create. Out of nowhere you felt fingers attack your sides, causing you to drop the supplies and cry out in surprise as Connor practically tackled you to the ground.
“What was that? Huh, babe?” He asked as he continued to tickle up and down your sides. Your breath came out in gasps and laughs as you made some attempt to answer him and push him off of you. His hands paused, being placed on either side of your head as you caught your breath. You looked up to see Connor hovering over you, his shaggy hair falling into his face as his eyes examined yours, a prominent smirk on his face.
“Wanna take it back?” You hesitantly nodded your head, staring back up at his bright blue eyes. “I wanna hear you say it.”
“Your arts and crafts skills could use some work but you’re not as hopeless as I would’ve thought, Bedard,” you huffed out. He seemed to consider your answer, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth tilting down slightly. You cringed slightly, mentally preparing for your ticklish sides to be attacked once again as he continued to hover over you and keep you pinned to the floor.
“Works for me,” he uttered moments later before he took you by surprise and crashed his lips into yours. Your hands finding their way into his hair and one of his finding your hip.
Much to Connor’s delight, the two of you won the Blackhawks’ unofficial Halloween Costume Contest. Your doubts on the costume followed you all the way to the Foligno’s front door where Connor asked if you were ready to head in. You nodded, mentally assuring yourself that this wasn’t as stupid of an idea as you thought. Nick and his wife, Janelle were the first to greet you two as you entered their house and automatically voiced their approval of the costume.
“Y’know, Beds, I didn’t believe you when you said you two would have the best costume this year, but I think I stand corrected,” Nick exclaimed, clapping Connor on the shoulder who smiled smugly at you causing you to roll your eyes.
“Let me guess- this was all his idea?” Janelle asked you as the two men continued to talk just off to the side.
“What gave it away?” You asked, smiling. After a minute or two more of talking to the party’s hosts, you and Connor made your way further into the party. Compliments and chirps were sent your guys’ way from the other Hawks and their significant others until you eventually found your way to Kevin, Frank, and Frank’s girlfriend in the backyard.
“I still can’t believe he talked you into this one,” Kevin said, sipping from his plastic cup.
“His arts and crafts skills were a cry for help, I had no choice but to step in and help the poor guy.” You shrugged, smirking up at your boyfriend who simply shook his head.
“Alright, come on, we gotta show everyone the full effect,” Connor exclaimed, setting his cup down on the table behind Frank. You begrudgingly took his hand, allowing him to walk you into the middle of the yard, earning the attention of the others around. You shook your head before pressing your hands to the two lights set in very specific spots on your chest, causing them to turn on. You couldn’t help but laugh along with everyone else at the sight of Connor, dressed as a deer, staring blankly at the two lights.
“A deer in headlights!” He’d exclaimed when he first told you the idea, explaining the entire costume concept.
“I think I deserve some sort of prize for thinking up our winning costume,” he declared smugly as he closed the door to your guys’ apartment at the end of the night.
“Oh, do you now?” You asked to which he nodded his head solemnly, his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on his toes. You shook your head, giggling before rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a prize in our room,” You whispered in his ear before turning and walking away to the kitchen, a huge smile on your lips as you heard your boyfriend gasp as your words registered in his mind.
“You’re a cruel, cruel woman,” you heard him mutter, smirking to yourself.
“Maybe that’s what we’ll be next year then. Cruella de Vil and one of her puppies-” Before you could finish your sentence you were scooped up into Connor’s arms, a gasp escaping your lips.
“Hold that thought, doll, I want my prize for this year’s costume first,” he declared, walking towards your bedroom door as you laughed in his hold.
a/n: here is one of my rewritten zegras fics!! i hope you still like it if you're rediscovering it and if you're reading it for the first time i hope you enjoy!
word count: 922
warnings: none :)
~~~
Despite what everyone else at the party thought, yours and Connor’s corresponding costumes were not at all planned. It was simply coincidental that he happened to be dressed as Flynn Rider while you had dressed up as Rapunzel. But no matter how many times you denied it, absolutely no one was convinced.
“Y’know, I can distinctly remember Fraser wearing a very similar costume to yours at the Bruins’ Halloween party last year,” you shouted over the music, clutching onto Connor’s shoulder to keep him crouched at your level. His hair brushed your cheek as he turned to look at you, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Well I did tell you my costume was a bit last minute since it didn’t get here in the mail until yesterday.” His voice sent shivers down your back as his lips barely brushed your ear. Your eyebrow raised as he sent you a wink; a perfect impersonation of what could’ve been a Flynn and Rapunzel still from the Tangled movie. Fraser’s costume last year had been the inspiration for yours this year and he just so happened to be one of the only people you had told about who you were planning to dress up as tonight.
“He told you, didn’t he?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, blondie,” Connor attempted to deadpan but his mouth betrayed him as it turned up into a smile. “Yeah, he told me. I needed an idea and he let it slip that you were dressing up as your favourite princess.” Your heart fluttered slightly, knowing that he knew your favourite Disney princess when you couldn’t remember ever having told him such a thing. It wasn’t even something that was all that important to you but it meant that he had remembered such a small fact that you must’ve told him at some point.
And that meant everything considering the crush you had secretly been harbouring for him practically since you’d met.
“So you decided to pretty much do an unofficial couple’s costume with me?”
“I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating,” he shrugged. “What’s the harm in kidding them a bit?”
You paused.
This was your opportunity.
“Why stop at just dressing up as a couple?” His brow quirked up over the rim of his red solo cup. “Or am I kidding myself by saying this?”
Your words came out quieter but the look on his face was enough indication that he had managed to hear you over all the background noise. His eyes were big and round as they bore into yours, his mouth slightly open as his cup lowered. Your breath hitched and your heart pounded against your ribcage as he stepped even closer and bent down slightly to be eye-to-eye with you.
“Would I be kidding myself if I kiss you right now?” Your cheeks flushed as his eyes dragged over your face.
Your head shook slightly as your eyes flickered from his to his pink lips that quirked up at the corners at your reaction. “I’m gonna need words if I’m going to do this, babe.”
Your heart beat even faster at the pet name and how much closer he seemed to be than he had just moments ago. This was the moment you’d been hoping for for the past however many years since you’d known the hockey player.
“You’re not kidding yourself, Con,” you uttered, meeting his eyes through your lashes.
“So?”
“So if you’re gonna kiss me: kiss me.”
His face parted in such a large grin that you were sure his face might split in half. His unoccupied hand came up to cup your cheek as his lips met yours. His other arm snaked around your waist, cautious not to spill any of his drink on your costume. Your arms wound around his neck, your hands finding their way into the soft ends of his hair at the back of his head. His lips were soft as they moved against yours. You could taste whatever he was drinking on his tongue but were too deep into the haze of your emotions to care.
With him this close, practically flush to your body, you were engulfed in everything that was Connor. His scent, his taste, his hands. Everything that made up the guy you had fallen for. The guy who remembered your favourite Disney princess. Who took you for McFlurries at three in the morning even when he insisted it was too late for ice cream and didn’t even get one for himself. Who made you laugh more than anyone or anything else but who you also trusted with your most precious secrets.
His lips turned up in a smile causing your own to do the same until the kiss was more teeth and laughter than anything else. You pulled away only for him to follow and place one, two, three more soft kisses on your lips. His forehead came to rest against your own, your arms still wrapped around his neck as both of his found your waist and pulled you even closer to him. His face was flushed, his lips swollen and red and his eyes bright as they looked into yours which you were sure held a similar quality.
“Y’know my lipgloss is all over your lips now,” you uttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Good. Now everyone will know who I’m here with and who I’m leaving with.”
“Like our costumes didn’t already give that away.”
i've been pretty inactive on this account lately, especially when it comes to my own writing, but i've been trying to write a lot more recently and wanted to give a little update :)
while the few fics i've written were originally trevor zegras fics that did pretty well, i've decided to take them down considering that my views and beliefs do not align with his at all and i was very disappointed (however, not very surprised) to see his support for charlie kirk last year. he's also just weird and isn't one of my faves anymore :/
i did originally keep them up because people seemed to like them, but i've decided to rewrite them as bedard fics, which i will be posting very soon!
going forward, i do hope to write more fics for this blog, but can't promise that i will be consistent with posting. i am also open to requests!
hopefully some of y'all are as excited as i am for the fics coming soon :))
yeah i’m really happy for macklin and he deserves the worlds captaincy 100% and i’m so glad team canada adopted him as the person they’re passing the baton to because he’s such an amazing gift of a franchise player. but somewhere deep in my bitter heart i can’t help but think about my Close Personal Friend connor bedard
You match with Connor Bedard at 11:42 p.m. You don’t even realize it’s him at first. He’s just Connor. There’s a low-effort bio, a few decent pictures. You swipe right because he’s hot.
He messages first.
Connor:
You’re up late
You smirk at how quickly he sent that.
You:
So are you
Then three messages later:
Connor:
Can I come over
No buildup. No formalities. You stare at your screen for a second.
Then you send him your address
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
You open the door and he’s standing there in a hoodie and sweats. You take one look at him, and yeah. You get it.
“Hi,” you say, like this is normal.
“Hey.”
His eyes flick over you once, quick, but not really. Not subtle.
“You always show up at strangers houses this late?” You ask.
“Only the pretty ones.”
That makes you give him the smallest hint of a smile. The door barely clicks shut before the space between you disappears. It’s immediate. Like the conversation part was just a formality.
His hands find your waist like they already know where to go, pulling you in with just enough force to make your breath catch.
“Still think I’m pretty?” You murmur, close enough that you know he can feel it more than hear it.
“Gorgeous.”
The you kiss him. It’s not soft. Not slow. It’s the kind of first kiss that feels like it’s been building for longer than the minutes you’ve known each other.
A little reckless. A little impatient.
And just like that the tone is set.
He doesn’t stay long after. Sits on the edge of your bed, catching his breath, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re not what I expected,” he says.
You raise an eyebrow. “You expected something?”
He glances at you, half-smirk. “Not this.”
“Disappointed?”
“Not even a little.”
Then he’s pulling his hoodie back on.
“Text me,” he says, like it’s nothing.
Like you didn’t just meet him a few hours ago.
And then he’s gone.
And honestly it should end there. But it doesn’t.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
The next time, it’s after a game with the Blackhawks.
Connor:
You up
You roll your eyes, but you still tell him to come over.
He’s different after wins. There’s more teasing. Hands a little more confident, like he knows exactly what kind of reaction he’s going to get out of you.
“Miss me?” he asks one night, already stepping into your space.
“Bold of you to assume I think about you.”
He hums, unconvinced, fingers brushing your jaw just enough to tilt your head up. “Yeah. I don’t believe that.”
After losses, though, that’s when he’s quieter. More intense. Less talking, more feeling. Like he’s trying to burn something off.
But no matter what, it always ends the same. Him pulling away first. Him grabbing his hoodie. Him pressing a quick kiss somewhere that doesn’t mean anything, and then:
“I’ll text you.”
Gone before the air in your apartment even resets.
Sometimes he lingers. Sits on the edge of your bed, scrolling his phone. Makes some sarcastic comment about whatever show you’ve got playing in the background.
“You seriously watch this?”
“You seriously just showed up at midnight uninvited?”
“Fair.”
He gives a small smirk. Then he’s gone anyway. Always gone.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
And it works. Because it has to. Because the second it becomes anything else it breaks.
So you don’t let it.
You don’t ask him to stay. He doesn’t offer. You don’t text first. He doesn’t text early.
Everything exists in that narrow window of late nights and closed doors, where nothing has to mean anything beyond what it is.
And for a while it stays that way.
But then something changes. Not all at once. Nothing obvious enough to call out.
Just little things. Easy to ignore if you don’t look too closely.
He lingers a few minutes longer one night. Not enough to matter. Just long enough to lay on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone while you move around your room. You don’t say anything. Neither does he.
The next time, he talks a little more. Nothing important. Just a story, half-finished, about something that happened at practice. You don’t even remember the details later. Just the fact that he told it.
Then one night, as he’s halfway to the door, he pauses. Like he forgot something. He doesn’t turn around, just stands there for a second too long before leaving anyway.
You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. Because it doesn’t. It can’t.
But the rhythm is off now. Just slightly. It’s subtle. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t already paying attention.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
One night his hand settles at your waist the same way it always does, familiar, certain. But it doesn’t move right away. Doesn’t rush.
You glance at him, a little thrown off.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
He shakes his head once.
“Nothing.”
But he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, absent, almost like he’s not thinking about it. Or maybe like he is.
There’s a beat where neither of you moves.
And then he leans in. The kiss isn’t different enough to question. Not at first. Still close. Still intense. Still him.
But it lingers. There’s no rush behind it this time. No urgency pushing it forward. No sense that he’s trying to get somewhere else.
It’s just… there. And for a second so are you.
When you pull back, it’s not all the way. Just enough to look at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, quieter than you meant to be.
“Like what?” he says, but there’s something off in his voice.
“Like you’re thinking.”
That almost gets a smile. Almost.
“Am I not allowed?” he says.
“Not like this.”
That sticks. You can see it. His eyes flick over your face like he’s trying to figure something out in real time. And for once he doesn’t have something quick to say.
Instead, he leans in again. And this time you feel it. Not in what he’s doing. But in what he’s not doing.
That’s when it settles in. Quiet. Unavoidable. Something’s different. Neither of you says it, but from that point on, nothing quite goes back to the way it was before.
He starts texting earlier in the day. Staying longer. Touching you even when he doesn’t have a reason to, a hand on your waist as he passes. Fingers brushing yours like it’s accidental. (It’s not.)
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
One night everything changes.
He texts later than usual. Just:
You up
No attitude. No follow-up. When you open the door for him, you know immediately something is off.
He’s quiet. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.
“Tough game?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
He steps inside. Doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t pull you in.
“Connor?” you try.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… needed to get out.”
Not needed you. Just out.
You nod slowly. “Okay.”
There’s a pause. Then he looks at you. Really looks at you. And steps closer.
His hand finds your waist again, but this time it’s different. Not automatic. Slower. Grounding.
“You’re quiet,” you say.
“So are you.”
That almost gets a smile.
The kiss, when he finally leans in, isn’t like the others. Still close. Still intense. But there’s something softer underneath it. Something that lingers. He doesn’t pull away. Forehead resting lightly against yours again, breath uneven. Hands still there, holding on.
That’s when it hits you. This isn’t the same.
“Connor…” your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to.
He hums slightly, still close, still there, like he hasn’t fully decided whether to pull away or stay exactly where he is.
That’s the problem.
“You can’t keep showing up like this if you don’t mean it.” You whisper.
He stills. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough that you feel it, the shift in him, the way something tightens under your hands.
For the first time since you met him, Connor Bedard doesn’t have a quick answer. No sarcasm. No deflection. No easy way out.
His forehead is still resting against yours. Close enough that if either of you moved an inch, your lips would meet again. But neither of you do.
“What do you think this means?” he asks finally, voice low.
That’s not what you expected. You let out a small breath, something between a laugh and frustration.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn it back on me.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you. His hands don’t leave your waist, if anything, they tighten slightly.
“I’m serious,” he says.
And he is. That’s what makes this worse.
You shake your head, trying to find your footing again.
“It means you don’t get to act like this is still nothing.”
His jaw shifts slightly at that.
“Who said it was nothing?”
That hits harder than it should. Because he’s never said that before. Not once.
“You did,” you say, quieter now. “Every time you left.”
You can see that land. For a second, it looks like he’s going to argue. Like he’s going to fall back into that familiar version of himself, the one that keeps this easy, untouchable, uncomplicated.
But he doesn’t.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”
The words are quieter than anything he’s said all night. You blink, thrown off balance.
“That’s not—” you stop, exhaling. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He steps back half a step now. Not far, just enough that the space between you exists again. And somehow, that feels worse than before.
“The point is,” you say, trying to steady your voice, “this was supposed to be simple.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
There’s that pause again. That hesitation.
“I thought it was,” he admits.
Something in your chest tightens. Because that was the deal. That was the whole reason this worked.
“Then why are you here?” you ask.
It comes out softer this time. Less defensive, more… honest.
He looks at you like the answer should be obvious. Like you’re missing something right in front of you.
“I don’t know,” he says.
And he means it. You can tell.
But that doesn’t make it easier, because if he doesn’t know…then there’s nothing to hold onto. Nothing to push against.
Silence settles between you again. He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like he did earlier, restless in a way you’ve never seen from him before.
“I just—” he stops, exhales sharply. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
That’s honest. Too honest for what this is supposed to be.
You nod slowly, you get that, you really do. But that’s not all of it. You can feel that there’s more he’s not saying.
“Okay,” you say carefully. “But that’s not all this is.”
He looks at you again. And this time there’s no hesitation.
“I know.”
Your breath hitches slightly.
“Connor…”
You don’t even know what you’re about to say. What you should say.
Because whatever this is, it’s already past the point of being easy.
He steps closer again. Slower this time. Like he’s giving you time to stop him. You don’t.
His hand comes up, brushing lightly along your jaw, thumb resting just under your chin.
“Then tell me to leave,” he says quietly.
Your stomach drops. Because he’s not challenging you. He’s giving you an out.
“Say it,” he adds, softer now. “And I will.”
You look at him. At the way he’s standing there, so close, but not touching you like before. Actually waiting.
And it feels like everything is shifting, because before he never waited. He just came and went like it didn’t matter.
Now he’s standing here like it does.
You should say it. You know you should.
“Connor…” you start.
But it doesn’t turn into leave. It just… hangs there.
His eyes flick down to your mouth for half a second. Then back up.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
Not a question. Not an answer. Acknowledgment. And then he closes the distance again.
The kiss isn’t rushed. Not like the first night. Not like any of the nights after.
It’s slower. Intentional. Like he’s paying attention to every second of it. Like he’s trying to figure something out in real time.
Your hand curls into the front of his hoodie without thinking, pulling him closer. And he lets you. Easily.
When he pulls back this time, it’s not far. Just enough to breathe.
“This is a bad idea,” you murmur, still too close.
“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “Probably.”
You huff out the smallest laugh, shaking your head slightly.
“That’s reassuring.”
That almost-smile shows up again. Faint but as real as ever.
“Want me to leave?” he asks.
You hesitate again. Then, softer,
“No.”
And this time he stays. Not on the edge of the bed. Not halfway out the door. He stays like he’s decided something. Even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
Hours later, you’re both still there. The room quieter. The tension different now, less sharp, settled. But something is heavier.
At some point, you realize his arm is around you. Not accidentally, and neither of you move away.
When you finally start to drift off, there’s a thought you can’t shake:
who do I need to speak to, to make Zac Efron legally obligated to do a musical at least once every 2-3 years. every year, he doesn't do one, feels like wasted talent 😔
i’m on a hugh dancy kick right now after watching confessions of a shopaholic and i realized he looks like a mix between jonah hauer-king and logan lerman and i have no one to talk about this with
like are y’all picking up what i’m putting down here
i’m gonna need them to adapt the hoo series into a show because i had the vision of an edit of annabeth yelling to the gods after percy’s disappeared to the lyrics of tyrant by beyoncé🧍♂️
i love it when you read multiple works from a writer and you start being able to pick out the things that stick with them. like the themes they keep thinking about, that can’t be satisfied with just one poem or novel or story. or the motifs they like to reuse and recycle throughout their works like an extradiagetic thread. it’s like drawing a map through a writer’s collection of all the things that keep them up at night
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
kianamaiart
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
