The fans really love the kitchen, from just seeing it on Twitter. People being like, "Oh, he's renovating his kitchen in Toronto... he's not leaving any time soon!"
Alex watched my face carefully, like he was waiting for something to change. For fear. Regret. Reality.
None of it came.
My heart was still racing, but there was something steadier underneath it now. Something stubborn.
“You think I’m going to fall apart because you kissed me?” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
“I think you already did.”
I scoffed and pushed past him, walking back toward the couch like I wasn’t just pinned against his wall thirty seconds ago.
My legs felt weird.
Unstable.
But I refused to let him see it.
I picked up one of the books on his table.
“Attachment Theory,” I read out loud. “That’s ironic.”
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s ironic about it?”
I flipped through a few pages like I actually cared. “You acting like you’re above attachment when you literally study it.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “Understanding something doesn’t mean you participate in it.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It’s efficient.”
I put the book down. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you came here anyway.”
He had a point.
I sat back down on the couch, this time leaning into it like I was comfortable. Like my heart wasn’t still recovering.
Alex didn’t move for a moment.
Then he walked over and sat in the armchair across from me.
Not next to me.
Across.
Like this was an interview.
“You’re analyzing me,” I said.
“I’m observing.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not as mysterious as you think.”
“Oh?”
“You’re just emotionally unavailable with a superiority complex.”
He laughed quietly. “Did your friends tell you that one?”
“No,” I said. “Common sense did.”
He tilted his head slightly. “And yet you’re still here.”
Silence hung between us again. I hated how comfortable he was with silence. Most people rush to fill it. Evan definitely would’ve. Evan would’ve asked if I wanted tea. Evan would’ve apologized for something he didn’t even do.
Alex just watched.
“You keep comparing me to him,” Alex said suddenly.
My stomach dropped slightly. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I crossed my arms. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I know enough.”
God, he does that thing again.
“You’re not psychic,” I said.
“No,” he replied calmly. “But you keep bringing him into the room.”
I looked away for a second. That annoyed me.
“Evan and I are over.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like I’m secretly in love with him.”
“I didn’t say you were in love with him.”
Alex leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re curious about people who push you,” he continued calmly. “People who don’t immediately give you what you want.”
“That’s normal.”
“Not the way you do it.”
“Oh really? Enlighten me.”
He studied me for a long second. “You test people.”
I frowned. “No I don’t.”
“You do.”
“How?”
“You see how far someone will go for you,” he said. “And the second they go too far, you lose respect.”
That felt… uncomfortably accurate.
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“You just met me.”
“And you’ve already proven it.”
My chest tightened slightly.
“How?”
He gestured vaguely toward the door.
“You broke up with a guy who worshipped you.”
“That’s not why—”
“And you came here tonight,” he interrupted. “To someone you think is dangerous.”
My stomach flipped.
“You’re not dangerous.”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me.
“You’re just arrogant.”
“That too.”
I leaned back against the couch, suddenly tired.
“You really like hearing yourself talk.”
“No,” he said. “I like watching you realize things.”
“And what exactly am I realizing?”
His gaze softened slightly. Not kinder. Just… quieter. “That you’re not as in control as you pretend.”
My heart thumped again. “You’re obsessed with control.”
“Everyone is,” he replied. “Some people just lie about it.”
“Like you?”
“No,” he said calmly. “I’m honest about mine.”
That word again. Honest.
“You keep saying that,” I muttered.
“Because it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does.”
I groaned and rubbed my face. “You’re actually unbearable.”
“And yet,” he said softly.
I looked at him again.
And there it was.
That same energy from the party.
Like we were standing too close to something unstable.
“Why did you kiss me?” I asked suddenly.
His expression didn’t change.
“You wanted me to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”
“You leaned into it.”
My cheeks heated. “That doesn’t mean I wanted it.”
“It means you didn’t stop it.”
Silence again.
I hated how the room felt warmer now.
I stared at him for a moment.
“You think this is going to end well?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“You’re very confident about that.”
“I’m realistic.”
“So why bother?”
His eyes held mine again.
“Because you’re not going to walk away yet.”
My stomach dropped slightly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
He leaned back in his chair again, completely relaxed. “Because you’re still here.”
I looked toward the door.
It was still right there.
Still open.
Still an option.
But leaving suddenly felt like losing something.
Which was ridiculous.
We barely knew each other.
“You’re manipulative,” I said quietly.
“Maybe.”
“You like messing with people.”
“Only the interesting ones.”
“And what happens when you get bored?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I leave.”
There it was. Cold. Honest. And somehow that felt worse than a lie.
“You’re kind of a terrible person,” I said.
He shrugged. “I never said I wasn’t.”
I laughed quietly. “You really don’t try to impress people.”
“Impressing people is a waste of time.”
“Most guys would be trying a lot harder right now.”
“I’m not most guys.”
No. He definitely wasn’t. And that was the problem.
“You know this is a bad idea,” I said more to myself than to him.
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay with that.”
“Yes.”
“And you think I am too.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Because the truth was sitting right there between us.
I stood up.
For a second his eyes flicked to the door again.
I noticed.
“You think I’m leaving.”
“I think you’re thinking about it.”
I walked closer to him slowly.
He stayed seated.
Watching.
“You’re not the only one who likes testing people,” I said.
Something shifted in his expression. Interest.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because you might not like what you find.”
I stopped right in front of him. Close enough that his knee brushed my leg. “You assume I scare easily.”
“I know you don’t.”
“Then why do you keep saying I should be?”
His gaze dropped to my lips for half a second. Then back up. “Because if you don’t,” he said quietly, “you’re going to get hurt.”
My chest tightened. “And you’re warning me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
A small pause. “Because you deserve the choice.”
That surprised me.
I searched his face for a second.
“You’re confusing,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “I’m consistent.”
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at it briefly.
His expression hardened slightly.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
But something about his tone changed. Sharper. More distant. “You should probably go,” he said.
That caught me off guard. “What?”
“You have class tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
He stood up now, suddenly creating distance again. Like he was closing something.
“Goodnight,” he said.
Just like that. Conversation over.
I stared at him. “You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m ending the night before you start pretending this means something.”
My chest felt weirdly tight. “I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he said calmly.
God.
I grabbed my bag.
“Fine.”
I walked to the door.
This time he didn’t stop me.
Didn’t grab my wrist.
Didn’t say anything dramatic.
Just watched.
My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.
“Y/N.”
I turned.
His eyes were darker now. Quieter.
“You’re going to keep coming back,” he said.
Not a question.
A statement.
I scoffed. “No I’m not.”
He tilted his head slightly. “We’ll see.”
And somehow… That sounded exactly like a challenge.
⸻
I didn’t sleep much that night.
Not because of what happened.
But because of how it ended.
Alex didn’t try to keep me there.
He didn’t ask me to stay.
He didn’t text after.
Nothing.
Just silence.
And for some reason that bothered me more than if he had tried to pull some dramatic move. I kept replaying the moment he told me to leave. Like I’d somehow lost something.
Which is insane.
I barely know him.
⸻
The next morning, Lucy was already sitting on my bed when I woke up.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You went to his place.”
It wasn’t a question.
“How do you know?”
“Bree told me he asked for your number.”
Of course he did.
Lucy leaned forward. “So?”
“So what?”
“Did you hook up?”
“No.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.
Lucy watched my face carefully. “You kissed.”
I groaned and buried my face in the pillow.
“Oh my God.” She laughed. “I knew it.”
“It was nothing,” I said into the pillow.
“That’s the tone girls use when it’s definitely not nothing.”
“You know when someone makes you feel like they can see every thought you’re having?” I said.
Lucy immediately frowned. “That’s not hot. That’s terrifying.”
“Exactly.”
“And you still kissed him?”
I rubbed my face. “I don’t know why.”
Lucy crossed her arms. “Actually I do.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re bored.”
I looked at her. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
She leaned back against the wall. “You dumped the nicest guy on campus because he treated you too well,” she continued. “Now you’re flirting with someone who looks like he might ruin your life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“This entire friend group is dramatic,” she said. “Look at us.”
Fair point.
“You know Stephen hates him, right?” she added.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Stephen says Alex ‘plays long games.’”
That phrase again. I tried to ignore the small twist in my stomach. “Well Stephen manipulates everyone too,” I said.
Lucy went quiet.
Yeah.
We both knew that.
⸻
Later that afternoon I saw Evan.
Of course I did.
Campus is too small to avoid people.
He was sitting outside the student center with Wrigley.
Wrigley looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His leg was bouncing like he had electricity running through it.
Evan noticed me first.
His whole face lit up.
That stupid golden retriever energy.
“Hey!” he said, standing up immediately.
I forced a smile.
“Hey.”
Wrigley gave me a quick nod.
“You coming to the game?” Evan asked.
Game.
Right.
He always invites everyone.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said.
“You should come,” he said quickly. “It’ll be fun.”
I glanced at Wrigley. He was staring at his phone now, completely zoned out.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He blinked like he just woke up. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Just tired.”
Evan frowned. “You sure?”
Wrigley nodded.
But something felt… off.
I pushed the thought away.
Evan turned back to me. “Are you doing okay?” he asked softly.
There it was. The question he always asks.
I should’ve said yes.
Instead I heard Alex’s voice in my head:
You keep smiling like you owe him kindness.
“I’m fine,” I said.
But my tone must’ve sounded strange. Because Evan looked at me like he wanted to ask more.
He didn’t. He just nodded.
“Okay.”
⸻
That night my phone buzzed. But I already knew who it was.
Alex: Did you survive today?
I stared at the message.
Me: Barely.
Three dots appeared.
Alex: Dramatic.
Me: You started it.
Pause.
Alex: Did you tell Lucy?
Me: She’s psychic.
Alex: And?
Me: She thinks you’re a red flag.
Alex: She’s probably right.
I frowned at my screen.
Me: You’re very self-aware for someone who enjoys chaos.
His reply came fast.
Alex: I don’t enjoy chaos.
Me: Could’ve fooled me.
Alex: I enjoy honesty.
That word again.
Honesty.
Me: You keep saying that like it’s a personality trait.
Alex: For most people it’s not.
I rolled my eyes.
Me: You sound insufferable.
Alex: And yet you’re still texting me.
God.
He’s so annoying.
Me: Maybe I’m studying you.
Alex: You’re not good at pretending you’re detached.
My stomach flipped slightly.
Me: You’re very confident.
Alex: You came to my apartment last night.
He had a point.
Me: You kicked me out.
Pause.
Longer this time.
Alex: I stopped something.
That made my chest tighten.
Me: What?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Alex: Something you wouldn’t walk away from.
I stared at that message.
My heart started beating faster again.
Me: You think I have that little self-control?
Alex: I think you’re curious enough to ignore it.
I didn’t reply.
Because the worst part?
He might be right.
My phone buzzed again.
Alex: Come to the party thursday.
Me: You just said you don’t like chaos.
Alex: I didn’t say I avoid it.
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
⸻
Thursday came faster than I expected.
Campus had this weird energy all week, like everyone was waiting for the same thing. Midterms were creeping closer, people were pretending to study in the library, but somehow there were still parties every night.
Lucy was sitting on my bed again while I got ready, scrolling through her phone like she was bored out of her mind. She kept glancing up at me every few seconds, watching the way I changed outfits like she was analyzing a crime scene.
“You’ve changed three times,” she said.
“I didn’t like the other ones.”
“You’re going to a frat party, not a fashion show.”
I shrugged, pulling the hem of my top down slightly. “I’m aware.”
She tilted her head, still studying me. “You’re dressing for him.”
I turned around immediately. “No I’m not.”
“You are,” she said calmly. “You didn’t care what you wore to these things before.”
“That’s because before I wasn’t being psychoanalyzed by my best friend.”
Lucy smirked slightly but didn’t argue. Instead she leaned back on her elbows and watched me for another moment before speaking again.
“Are you going to hook up with him tonight?”
I paused for a second, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The honest answer sat somewhere in my chest, uncomfortable and complicated.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Lucy raised her eyebrows.
“That’s new.”
“What’s new?”
“You not having a plan.”
I grabbed my jacket from the chair. “Maybe I’m just going to have fun.”
Lucy laughed under her breath. “That’s exactly how girls end up in therapy.”
“Relax,” I said. “It’s not that serious.”
But even as I said it, I knew Lucy wasn’t entirely wrong. Something about Alex felt less like flirting and more like stepping onto unstable ground. Not dramatic, not romantic—just unpredictable. And for some reason that unpredictability had been sitting in the back of my mind all week, like an itch I couldn’t ignore.
When we got to the party, it was already packed. The music was loud enough that you could feel it in your chest, the bass vibrating through the floor and walls. Bodies everywhere, people yelling over the music, drinks spilling, the usual chaos. Pippa was already there with Bree near the kitchen counter, and Wrigley was leaning against the fridge looking half-present, half somewhere else entirely.
“Finally,” Pippa said when she saw us. “We thought you two died.”
Lucy hugged Bree quickly before grabbing a drink. “Give it an hour,” she said.
I scanned the room without meaning to.
Alex wasn’t there.
That shouldn’t have bothered me.
But it did.
Pippa noticed immediately. She followed my gaze around the room and then looked back at me with a knowing expression.
“Looking for someone?”
“No.”
“Sure.”
I grabbed a drink just to give my hands something to do. The room felt warmer than usual, or maybe it was just the noise getting to me. Bree was telling Lucy something about her photography class, but I couldn’t fully focus on the conversation.
Part of me kept glancing toward the door.
Which was ridiculous.
He texted me to come. That didn’t mean he’d actually show up early.
Still, after about twenty minutes, I started convincing myself maybe he wouldn’t come at all. Maybe this was one of those weird Alex things where he just wanted to see if I’d show up.
That thought irritated me more than it should have.
Then the front door opened again.
And he walked in.
He stepped inside like he already knew exactly where everything was. His eyes scanned the room once.
Then landed on me.
The look lasted barely a second before he looked away and continued walking further into the house, but that was enough to send this stupid rush of adrenaline through my chest.
Lucy followed my gaze and immediately groaned. “Oh no.”
imagine you're a somewhat aging defenceman loyal to the one team that drafted you for your entire entire career that's been cursed for decades and you were supposed to fix it but no matter what you do it's never enough and you keep failing and failing to grasp any success beyond your fingertips and then everything blows up and now your team is having the worst season it's had in a decade and everything is slipping through your fingers and then through your misery your wonderful fellow athlete wife who you even have a kid and a lovely family with and who was the biggest thing in history in a certain pair sport recommends you a show that's been making waves that's based on your profession so of course you watch it and it really seems to be similar to your wife's life and you can totally see why she relates to it and you're also in it except you're not shane or ilya you are rose landry. and everybody knows. happened to my buddy morgan reilly
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