What If The Reason We’re Collectively So Fond Of Isack Is Because We Sense He’s A Weed Smoking Lesbian

so so so good

play me like a deck -- if you call, i'll fold [mb.12]

pairing: matt boldy x hughes cousin! reader

nickname: sunshine

word count: 19.1k

summary: You've always loved spending summers with your cousins. But since you were forbidden from dating Jack's "no-good" buddies, there's been one big problem -- a 6'2, Massachusettan problem. And since you have a problem, well, everyone else should too.

warnings: swearing, light making out, fakeout enemies and very real idiots to lovers, super nosy NTDP boys

author's note: Celebrating the beginning of summer by dropping my longest fic (to date) and beginning my first series! Welcome to Lake House Summers, friends. :D [P.S. This takes place over a rough timeline in '23. Throwback.]

Summer is, without a doubt, your favorite time of the year. Always has been. When you were younger, it would mean vacationing with Auntie Ellen, her husband Jim and their three sons – your beloved cousins – and being involved in the whirlwind that is the life of a Hughes. 

As you got older, summer turned into vacations with friends and visiting the Hughes family in Michigan. And once the boys went pro, summertime was your one-way ticket to their lake house, where you had a room meant just for you. It was pretty heavenly. 

Sure, you did a lot of the cooking for them especially during that first year and the decorations just screamed “man-house” despite your and Auntie Ellen’s best attempts to redecorate (or decorate at all). And yes, the house was overrun with hyperactive young men all the time since the Hughes’ college or developmental program friends visited. But you love the place. 

And it’s undeniably fun, living on the lake for a month or so before retreating back to college or your parents’ home in Texas. So when your college graduation gift from the boys is the offer of an entire summer at the lake house, you don’t hesitate to pack your summer clothes and move. 

This is your last summer before you face real adulthood. You’re the first of the cousins to graduate, and you’re pretty sure you will be the only one to complete college in person – Luke having recently signed with the Devils and all. 

Quinn has the decency to warn you in advance that they’ll have a revolving door of friends this year, even if you expect it. And you can feel the excitement build as you drop your mom off at Auntie Ellen’s to make the last stretch of the drive all by yourself, like you’ve been doing since the lake house became a thing. By the time you pull the car into the driveway, you’re practically buzzing. 

You don’t bother grabbing your suitcases from the car – even if it’s not one of your cousins who gets them for you, one of the boys will. The first person you see inside the door practically gets tackled in a hug. Lucky for everyone involved, it’s one of the ones related to you. 

Jack laughs, using your momentum to spin you around in the foyer before making sure you land safely on your feet. 

“Yo, Sunshine’s here!” he calls out to the rest of the house, and while you would love a whole crowd to emerge from the woodwork, it’s really just Quinn and Josh. Quinn wraps you in a tighter but less energetic hug than his younger brother. Josh just nods at you. 

“Moose would come greet you,” your eldest cousin explains, “but he’s exercising his right to sleep in past noon. Josh and I are gonna take the boat out for a spin, Jack can get your stuff if you wanna come with.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I didn’t drive up in my swimsuit. You and Josh have fun. I’ll make sure pretty boy over here doesn’t get hurt carryin’ all my crap.” 

You can feel Jack roll his eyes at that, but Quinn smiles fondly as he and Josh head back toward the dock. Jack leads you the other way, back out to your car so he can grab your big bags like the gentleman Auntie Ellen raised him to be. You bump his shoulder with yours. 

“So,” you ask playfully, “Who’s coming to see me first?”

“That would be Josh.”

“Besides him.”

Jack shrugs. “Some of Luke’s friends, I guess. Most of my buddies can’t make it out until later.” 

Your cousins, bless them, are still pretty normal guys. They don’t care much for the specifics of planning. In the summer, that often falls to you. Parties, room assignments, grocery lists (brand names and quantities included) – all yours. 

Also all yours? One of the bedrooms in the “east wing” of the house. It was the one place where your input on decorations had been taken, and now it’s a warm, light-filled sanctuary in a house almost entirely decked out in shades of gray, black and brown. 

You let yourself fall onto the fluffy, pastel yellow bedspread as Jack sets down your suitcases, taking in the feeling of being home. It’s not all there, not yet, and it won’t really be until the house is littered with hoodies and half-finished drinks belonging to who knows, until you’ve kicked a lot of butts in a few rounds of your favorite card game. 

“Sunshine?” you hear your youngest cousin ask blearily from outside your room. 

Sitting up with a squeal, you give him just enough time to rub the crusties out of his eye, and then attack him just like you did Jack. 

“Lukey! Welcome to the land of the living,” you tease, standing on tiptoe to ruffle his curls. “Big league did a number on you, huh?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, turning a little pink. But you know he’s proud that you acknowledged his promotion. His next words are quiet but you hear them loud and clear. “...missed you.”

So he gets one last squeeze for being sweet before you release him to hunt down some afternoon breakfast, and your last summer of freedom officially begins. 

You get a blissful few weeks of peace with your cousins. Josh leaves after a week or so with a promise to try and come back before the summer is over. Luke’s reunions with each of his college teammates warm your heart, despite the fact that they would never admit just how much they missed each other. You get plenty of time on the boat, roaming the town running errands while the boys golf, and teaching the youngins how a game of Scum is played (and lost) before the storm arrives. 

Jack’s friend Matt Boldy is, unfortunately, the first of his many friends to show up. He just happens to be the only one you don’t get along with, too. You hear the knock from the kitchen and head out with the intention of greeting someone who’s almost as much your friend as your cousin’s, but you watch his face drop at the same time as yours through the glass door. 

“Where’s everybody else?” you ask when you open the door. 

“Coming later,” is all he says gruffly as he squeezes in, avoiding you as much as possible. 

“Great,” you drawl, shutting the door back. “Enjoy your stay.” 

And with that, you head back into the kitchen to finish putting away dishes. You hear Jack greet his buddy, having appeared from wherever he was. Somehow, his brothers have ended up in the kitchen – probably searching for snacks. It seems they can tell that your mood has dropped. 

They know why, too. 

“Why do you hate Matt so much?” Luke asks through a mouthful of chips, hand already in the bag for more. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you say. “I do not hate Matthew.”

Luke starts to point out that it’s implied in the way you call him by his full name unlike literally everyone else, especially here, but Quinn cuts him off. 

“You two have been antagonizing each other for years. Why?” 

“Because he hates me, and I’m reacting.” You shrug as you say it, wiping off a bowl as you put it in a cabinet. 

Luke finally manages to get a word in. “But you, like, hated him as soon as you met him.”

“Jack was really excited to introduce you guys. Thought you would get along so well,” Quinn notes, getting up to put his glass in the sink. “It’s not like you have to, of course, but-” He cuts himself off with a shrug when you turn to glare at him. 

The three of you are quiet for a moment, but the peace is shattered by the entrance of Luke’s last remaining friend, Dylan, and Jack and Matt. 

“Who’s ready to go out on the boat?” Jack asks, and the group scatters. 

You’re off to change – you spent the morning cleaning up from the last couple days of cooking, so it’s not your responsibility to help out with the boat today. Unfortunately, your stop in the kitchen to refill the designated “boat cooler” does make you the last one out to the dock.

Matt turns to Jack and makes some snarky comment about leaving you behind as you approach. Dylan sees the murderous look on your face, so he gets up and takes the seat left by Matt instead of making you do it. Because he’s a good kid. 

The afternoon on the boat goes like it usually does whenever you and Matt are there – he “accidentally” rocks the boat while you’re standing on the back so you fall off, you distract Luke while he’s driving which might happen to throw Matt from his wakeboard before he can really get going. 

From your perch on the back bench to tan, a shadow falls over you not long after the boat stops to pick him up. You pull your sunglasses up to sit on your head, smiling innocently at the man blocking your sun. 

“Have a fun run, Matthew?” you ask, but he scoffs. 

“You got me knocked off on purpose.” At his words, you feel more than see the other boys glancing back at you from their conversation. 

“As if. I wasn’t even driving,” you reason, trying to shift back into the sunlight. Matt’s frown deepens, but he knows he can’t push it too far without intervention. Everyone else is well aware that you two get volatile in each other’s presence. Dylan still seems a little nervous even now. 

So he decides to flick water on you instead, stepping over your legs and plopping down on the seat by your feet because he knows you can’t stay comfortable with him so close. 

Boat time ends when Luke starts complaining about being hungry. You volunteer to help cook because you’re sick of cleaning, but only after you shower. Jack’s going to play sous chef because he wants to learn some new recipes. 

Everyone helps dock the boat and unload as is customary, but you notice Matt makes a beeline for the house. You squint at his retreating figure. If he’s far away and your vision’s blurry, your cousins are right – he does kinda look like your type. Jack says something to you, so you shake off the thought. 

The shower is already running in the bathroom across from your room by the time you get there, so you think maybe someone’s been a gentleman and started it for you. But when you knock on the door after grabbing clean clothes, you hear differently. 

“Occupied!” Matt’s distinctive accent calls, though it’s muffled through the door. 

You’re a grown adult and way too mature to be throwing an entire tantrum about this. So you stomp your foot once, sigh, and go steal Luke’s bathroom. And you don’t think at all about Matt making a point to steal your bathroom.  

Everyone heads off to nap or something after Luke and Dylan clean up (though it’s really a group effort). You spend your time on the deck with a novel you’ve been meaning to finish. As much as you love the boys, they’re not ideal companions for reading about romance. 

It sounds like one of the doors opens while you’re out there, but by the time you finish your paragraph and look up, it’s closed again. 

Eventually, Jack comes outside to get you. 

“Hey, Scum Queen,” he teases, pushing down your book so you look at him. “Ready to beat us all?”

“I don’t know about all,” you say, reminding him that while the rest of them were known to lose, Matt is known for his upset wins. Which, of course, tends to upset you specifically. 

Jack takes a seat on the chair next to you, his smile dropping a little. “I was wondering about that, actually.”

“Don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Jackie, I can teach you to play the game but I can’t teach you the inherent greatness that you and your brothers forgot to pluck from the gene pool.” 

“Not that.” And he still sounds serious, so you slip your bookmark back into your book and really look at him. “Did Matt ever do something, to make you… dislike him the way you do?”

You shrug, shaking your head a little. 

“Nothing serious, I promise,” you reassure your cousin with a smile, because you know if Matt really had done something bad he’d be out of the house and fast. “Just beat me at my game and all, you know? We’ve never really gotten along.”

Jack shoots you a look, like I know, and you know he does. Maybe better than anyone. 

“Why?” you ask softly. 

“I just wanted to make sure since you two can barely be in the same room together and all. Never known you to be like this, Sunshine,” he notes. 

You shrug again. “Never known anyone else who brings it out of me like he does.” 

And the two of you leave it at that, because you both know sometimes things work and sometimes they just don’t. 

“So,” Jack starts again. “Are you in the mood to win a card game?”

“Maybe,” you tease, but let him help you out of your lounge chair anyway. 

Three days later, Jack is on the verge of tearing his hair out during the final hours of Cole and Alex’s drive up. You and Matt have definitely been worse this summer, he’s decided, even though both of you have confessed now that you’re not even sure why this whole feud started. 

His only reprieve was Luke taking you along to visit his parents for the morning, so you could catch up with your beloved Auntie Ellen. But you would be back soon enough, and the bickering would resume. 

He can only hope that Cole and Alex arrive first. 

He’s a fool for thinking that it could happen. 

Jack is pacing around the foyer, conveniently avoiding Matt. Matt, who bounds down the stairs at the same time as Jack hears a car pull into the driveway. And they both know Alex and Cole won’t be here until mid-afternoon, which is why nobody went out for long-term activities today. When the car door shuts, Matt squares his shoulders. Jack just sighs. 

You bound in, freezing when you see your cousin’s friend. But you’re in such a good mood you choose to ignore him. 

“This is from your mama,” you tell Jack, then give him a big hug. “She sends her love and, for whatever reason, luck.” Jack knows why. “Anyway, I’m gonna go get ready and head back out. See y’all later!”

Luke comes in as you’re bouncing up the stairs to your room. He sees Jack and Matt watching you leave, looks of confusion on both their faces. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Matt is hurt by the lack of attention he’s gotten from you today. But Luke knows better. And he will never say that out loud… to you or Matt, anyway. 

“She picked up a date at the store,” he says simply, holding up the few grocery bags in his hands, then continues on into the kitchen. 

He ignores the back deck door slamming a minute later.

 

Cole and Alex are there with everybody else when you get back that night, gathered around the firepit in the backyard. You slip on a hoodie over your sundress before heading out to join them, grabbing a beer for yourself from the basement fridge on the way. 

“Hey, guys!” you call as you approach, tousling Alex’s hair once you get close since he has his back to you. “How was the drive?” 

Ever the sweetheart, Cole is on his feet right away to envelop you in a hug. 

“Good, Sunshine, it was good. How was your date?” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows and emphasizing the last word. 

You shrug coyly, giggling at his goofiness. There’s always been a lighthearted, playful and flirty edge to your relationship with most of Jack’s friends, and you’re not about to let a one-off date ruin that. You’ll complain to Luke later that the guy made you pay for ice cream, and he looked down on Texans, and that he hated hockey and none of that could ever work with you. 

“We were just discussing going out to golf on Tuesday once Trev flies in, if you wanna join,” Quinn offers, knowing you’ll smile and politely decline like normal. 

“It’s okay, I might be busy anyway,” you say softly. 

The boys ooh, assuming it’s with the guy you were just with, but really you might be going shopping with Auntie Ellen. They don’t have to know that, though. You notice one in particular – sitting across the fire, avoiding your gaze – sipping his beer quietly. It would be reasonable if Quinn seemed to be the one who had a problem with you going out on dates, or even Jack, but Matt? Really?

Luke scoots over toward Matt to make room for you on his bench, so you join him and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. 

“So, do we have any plans for the fourth yet?” you question, trying to change the topic. 

The Fourth of July being on a Tuesday makes it a bit awkward, but there’s normally a party. Maybe hosted, maybe attended, but honestly hosting is easier. You always know exactly where to escape, and you know the bedrooms aren’t being used for escapades because they’re always locked. 

This simple inquiry launches the boys into a debate, one that you know will be heavily influenced by Trevor later. The single boys usually want to find a party; the taken ones like having the party come to them. Oddly enough, though, Matt is leaning toward host with Quinn, Luke, and Alex. 

You’ve been hoping to get a little fling out of the summer – being your last one of complete freedom and all – so your early vote says go out. Jack’s mouth smiles, but his eyes look nervously over the fire. 

“Why do you wanna go out, Sunshine?” Luke nudges you, talking low to avoid putting all the attention on you. 

“I dunno, maybe I don’t feel like cleaning up this year,” you tease, elbowing him back. 

Cole leans over and throws an arm around your shoulder, cheering about the fact that you’re on his and Jack’s side. Everyone assumes that Trevor will be, too, leaving you all at a stalemate and giving Quinn a great excuse to push the conversation back until it can be properly debated. 

Eventually, conversation dies out and someone suggests heading inside to play some games. There’s a ping-pong and a pool table in the basement, next to an old-fashioned blackboard divided into five columns. 

These columns, ultimately, are the lifeblood of the summer in a house full of men who literally live to compete. The categories are: Games Won (Pool), Games Won (Basketball), Games Won (Ping-Pong), Wakeboarding Time Record, and Current Scum Winner/Loser (under which it is usually declared to be Queen Sunshine complete with a smiley face and several exclamation points, and some other poor soul). 

You’re not ready to lose the title to Matt in front of everybody, so you let emerging pool champion Luke sway the conversation in his favor. But when you’re paired up with Quinn against him and Matt for a teams game, well, you refuse to add a tally to either of their names in the “Games Won” column.

 

The morning that Trevor is supposed to fly in, you wake up early. Which is pointless, because even if you do end up going along to pick him up from the airport he won’t even get in until almost noon. Like any self-respecting Hughes would do, you make for the kitchen. It may be hours until someone else joins you on the main level. Still, can’t hurt to start cooking. That might bring you a companion. 

You start with the eggs because they’ll reheat just fine. Even during the offseason, the boys tend to eat pretty healthy. Minus snacks and the occasional pizza. Nobody will mind if you finish the carton – leftovers aren’t a worry when you have this many hockey players in a single house. 

A tall shadow appears from the same direction that you came from, and you get your hopes up that it’s your baby cousin, coming to save you from loneliness. 

But it’s just Matt, half awake and looking grumpy as ever. You stay quiet, watching him perk up at the smell of scrambled eggs. 

“Those for anyone to take?” he asks softly. You nod. His response is even harder to hear, but you catch it. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“You’re welcome.”

The room stays quiet for a few minutes as he scoops a serving for himself and scarfs them down just standing across from you at the island counter. It’s kind of nice, having someone around in the early hours. Even if it’s someone that you wouldn’t normally picture there. 

He offers to help right around the time that you replace his portion of the eggs. 

“Do you even know how to cook?” you tease gently, not wanting to break whatever this new, fragile thing in between you is. 

“Yes!” he says, offended. “Kinda.”

“Ever heard of bell peppers?” He folds his arms, making an incredulous face at you. You’re surprised at how endearing it is in the soft morning light, but push the thought away. “Can you grab me some from the bowl over there?” You point to the other counter with your chin, getting the fridge ingredients yourself. 

He grabs all three – red, yellow, and green – and when he turns back to you, they’re being tossed from one hand to the other almost rhythmically. It makes you smile. 

“I didn’t know you could juggle,” you note, catching the green pepper that he tosses your way without dropping either of the other two. 

“How much do you think you know about me, Sunshine?” There’s a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice, the smallest trace of a smile on his lips. Once again, you have to force yourself to stop thinking that you could get used to interacting with him like this regularly. ‘Cause that’s not how it’s gonna be once literally anyone else comes into the kitchen. 

“Enough,” you answer, adding quickly as to not ruin the current mood, “As much as I know about any of my cousins’ other friends that spend a ton of time here.” 

He hums almost dismissively, and you bristle. Whether it was kind of a cop-out answer or not, it’s the only answer you have. 

“Alright,” you say, leaning back against the fridge while your omelet cooks. “What do you know about me, Matthew? I’m intrigued.” You give him a moment to think. 

“I know you like romance novels,” he offers with a one-shouldered shrug. It takes a minute before he continues. “And that you complain about having to clean, or cook or whatever but you really love taking care of your cousins. I know that you’re insanely competitive, maybe even more than the boys.”

The worst part is that none of it is wrong. He nailed you and your character, nonchalant, like knowing you almost intimately was just another day for him. And you hate it. 

“Your food is burning,” he says, then, pushing himself away from the counter to get a drink behind you in the fridge. 

You scramble for your omelet, hurriedly tossing in the cut-up peppers and ham that you prepared. And you pretend that a shiver doesn’t go up your spine when he puts his hand on your back and moves you so the fridge door doesn’t push you into the stovetop. 

“I’m getting a hoodie,” you announce suddenly. “Don’t ruin my breakfast, please.” Then you run off, nearly bumping into a half-awake Quinn during your escape. 

When you come back, your omelet is cooked and folded to perfection, already on a plate. But Quinn’s the only person left in the kitchen — and he can’t do that to save his life.

You don’t go with Jack and Cole to pick up Trevor from the airport. Instead, you stay and work on your tan on the boys’ little personal beach. Part of that time is spent lying on your stomach, book open but barely looked at. 

If asked, you would say it’s not your fault that the boys decided to play catch or whatever outside and shoot a wink at Alex mid-sentence. 

Luckily, Trevor’s grand entrance prevents that from happening. He comes out of the basement door, carrying a case of beer and yelling something weird. It’s an inside joke, if you have to guess. The beer gets left on a table so he can make the rounds. 

He high fives or daps up or whatever all of the guys as he makes his way across the yard to you. Of Jack’s friends, he’s easily the flirtiest. And while it’s fun for the both of you, it means absolutely nothing – you help him scout for girls that are entirely unrelated to his buddies at parties. He even admits in front of everyone else that you’re the best wingman to him. Wingwoman. Whatever. 

You get to your feet when he gets close, holding your arms up for the inevitable hug. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” he greets you, flirty tone making you giggle. 

“Hi, Trev,” you say, looping your arms around his neck so he can pick you up and spin you around. He doesn’t disappoint, arms tight around your waist to keep you secure. “How was Cali this year? Get enough pretty girls to feed your ego or do you still need my help finding more?”

He laughs, boisterous as usual. 

“Okay, separate!” Jack orders from across the yard, making the two of you laugh even more. 

Trevor lowers you back to the ground to satisfy your cousins, but he grabs your book and carries it inside for you, talking all the while. And you miss the glare from the other side of the yard, but Trevor doesn’t.

The next night, everyone gathers around the kitchen table for a game of Scum. You’ve only lost twice since you arrived for the summer, and both times you regained your title by the end of the night. 

Jack swears you’re a card counter. Quinn shakes his head in resignation and calls it magic. Luke just huffs, but laughs at his brothers’ frustration. He already owns a game; he doesn’t care. 

“So,” Trevor starts, leading the game easy with a single 4. “Sunshine.” You look up at him from beneath your lashes, playing innocent. Because who knows what he’s going to say next, really? “How was your second date today?”

A harmless enough question, but entirely incorrect and he’s definitely asking on someone else’s behalf. Probably Jack. Who absentmindedly lays down a single five. 

You glance at your hand. There is a king, but you’re hoping to save him for later. This better not get too high. 

“There wasn’t one,” you say simply. “I went shopping.”

“Ooh, for us?” Cole teases as Alex mercifully lays down a six, and you wink at him obligingly. 

“Definitely. Y’all’re gonna love my outfits on the Fourth.” 

Trevor raises an eyebrow, but gets distracted by Matt playing two sevens. Luke can’t top it, and neither can Cole. You sigh when you’re forced to play your pair of nines. 

Quinn has to pass too. 

You lose your crown to Matt that night, just like the first summer you met. And just like that first loss, you lose hard. For a couple of games it looks like there’s a chance to steal it back, but Jack cuts it out from under you and immediately loses it back to Matt. At least you’re no longer the scum by the time everybody’s sick of the game. 

Later on in the night, Trevor brings something vodka-infused with a straw in it to aid in your dramatic recovery on the deck. Just like Jack had last week, he plops onto the lounge chair next to you. The two of you sit in silence for a minute while you nurse your drink. 

“Trying to show off for someone, Sunshine?” he asks eventually, only looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I sure hope it’s not that guy who hates hockey and your lovely Southern charm.”

“I’m gonna kill Luke,” you say, but there’s no force behind it. 

Trevor raises his hands defensively. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, kid.” 

“You, Jack and Luke are younger than me.”

He waves off the notion, leaning in with a mischievous grin. 

“So who is it, Sunshine? I know it’s not me, and Turcs has a girlfriend this summer. That leaves two people and you’ve got the most casual platonic relationship I’ve ever seen with one of ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes, hating the blush creeping into your cheeks. 

“I’ll give you this, Trev – he’s physically my type, but I will never get over him being him to explore that. I promise,” you say, pulling the straw out of your drink and tilting your head back to gulp down the rest. “Now, if you don’t have anythin’ else important to tell me, I think I’ll be heading on in for the night.” 

You almost bump into Matt himself as you walk in – he’s leaning out the door like he was going to say something. He does not get out of the way in time, and you barely manage to stop yourself from crashing into him. 

There’s a moment where both of you are frozen. You’re looking up at him, he’s blinking down at you. He’s kind of leaning over you, one arm propping him up on the door frame, and Trevor is definitely reacting behind your back. 

“I was, uh, Trevor… game inside?” Matt stumbles over his words like you’ve never seen, gesturing at your mutual friend and back towards the kitchen table. 

Trevor must nod or something, because Matt starts stepping inside like he’s satisfied. You kind of have to move in sync to avoid touching him, the way the two of you are positioned in the doorway. Still, your arm accidentally brushes his ribs. Goosebumps raise immediately. If you’re not mistaken, he reacts too. 

“Um, goodnight, Matthew,” you mumble, and then you’re gone. 

The next couple of days pass quickly and relatively quietly. All of Jack’s friends are happy to be back together for a bit. You spend more time with Quinn and Luke. Though, of course, the three of you are always invited to things. Like golfing today, which was turned down in favor of a day on the lake. 

During a quieter period where there are more boats around and nobody can wakeboard, the three of you sit and talk. Mainly about the party on the Fourth, which unfortunately you are hosting this year. 

“Trevor did not come through,” you complain from your spot on the back of the boat. 

“Not for you,” Luke says, cringing as soon as he gets the last word out. Quinn shoots him a look, which unfortunately for them you know means shut up. You sit all the way up immediately. 

“What did you guys do?” you ask slowly. 

Neither of them answer you, which means they definitely did do something. Luke even avoids your eyes. 

“Did you bribe Trevor?” 

“No!” Luke scoffs, failing miserably at lying. (You find out later that Quinn has a local friend who only attends parties at the Hughes lake house, and he begrudgingly promised to talk up Trevor if the party happened to land at home.)

You fall back onto the seat, draping an arm across your forehead. 

“Quinn, did you really not want to go out that bad?” you try, focusing on your elder cousin. 

He shrugs, muttering some lame excuse like he likes hosting or something because he can make sure everyone stays safe. 

“Luke?”

“I can’t always get away with drinking at other parties,” he explains. “No one cares here.” 

“You guys have betrayed me today,” you declare, and that’s the end of the conversation. 

Even though it’s not actually July yet, someone made the brilliant decision to shoot fireworks out from the big lake island on the Friday night before the fourth. It’s not even sarcasm when you say that – you’re looking forward to everyone being on the boat together, watching the light show. 

The guys seem pretty pumped about it too, gathering a variety of beers and snacks in advance. Jack scolds Trevor for offering you his hoodie when you shiver on the way out to the dock. You end up wearing an old one of Jack’s, but somehow that still puts a smug look on Trevor’s face. 

Your flip-flops don’t have much traction, so you slip when you’re climbing on the boat. You close your eyes, waiting to feel the cold water catch you – but someone grabs your hand. When your eyes open up again, Matt is holding onto you. Panting a little bit, like he’d sprinted across the boat to get to you. But he wouldn’t. Right?

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly as he pulls you closer – back into a safe and fully upright position on the boat. 

You nod wordlessly, gaze lowering to where his hand still holds yours. He remembers, too, lets go and scratches his neck awkwardly. Then he walks away without another sound. 

Trevor sidles up to you instead, asking if he can join you in your usual spot on the back bench. Of course he can, so he escorts you to your seat and hands you a blanket in case you get cold. The boat ride out to the middle of the lake is quick, jovial. You and Matt are completely avoiding each other, so there’s no fighting. 

You look around in the brief, dark moments before the fireworks start. Quinn drove so he stays in the driver’s seat, Jack has forced you into the middle of the bench and claimed your other side protectively. Luke sits alone behind the driver’s seat, comfortable in between his brothers. Matt, Cole and Alex are on the bench on Trevor’s other side, but even with the proximity you barely notice his presence. 

You’re too caught up in the moment to worry about it, listening to the boys talk amongst themselves with a content smile on your face. 

“They’re starting!” Cole calls and points in the direction of the lights, making everybody turn their heads or twist in their seats. 

It’s beautiful – sparkling golden lights reflecting over the lake, distorting in the surface as small waves rock the boat gently. They’re the kind that audibly crackle and fizz out as they disappear into the dark, fading away with a beautiful grace. You start to think maybe it’s a shame that you all miss the fireworks every year just for the sake of a party. 

The next round is oranges, greens and purples like Mardi Gras. They’re bigger, louder, a bit more rapid-fire than the simple golds. 

It’s pretty, but you’re definitely more of a golden sparkler fan. You make a mental note to ask if someone is willing to get sparklers for the party. It’ll make you feel better. 

Your gaze wanders over the lake, watching the reactions from other boats full of people who seems to be enjoying the fireworks as much as the boys. A hush has fallen over the normally loud lake. Kids and adults alike wait in wonder with their eyes to the sky. 

Even Jack, the most energetic of your cousins, has fallen still beside you. Finally, your eyes find Matt. He’s hardly looking at the fireworks.

The whole world seems to flash red as your eyes meet his in the semi-dark. The next firework is white, shedding enough light to illuminate the deep blue staring back at you. Then the fireworks, too, turn everything blue with their shine. 

Alex points out some of the firework debris as it falls and your spell is broken. Both you and Matt try to follow where Alex is pointing with your eyes. As you lean forward for a better view, you feel Trevor reach for Jack behind your back. 

They seem to be disagreeing about something quietly instead of watching the show, which is now themed around patriotic colors. 

But they’re putting in effort to not be obvious about it, so you let it be. If it’s big enough, it’ll come back up later. 

The fireworks go out with a literal bang: one last, giant, super fast explosion of color turning the world red, white and blue, over and over. Cheers go up from the other boats (and yours) as soon as the sky goes dark. 

Cole is singing the show’s praises as Quinn turns the boat around. 

“The way they split it into different sections,” he’s gushing, gesturing wildly to Luke and almost hitting Matt, “just- awesome!” 

The rest of the night fades away in splashes and peals of laughter. You try your best to forget the way your relationship with Matt is shifting around you. 

Early July makes everyone restless. Some of the boys start offseason training. Since he doesn’t, Quinn spends most of his time helping you prepare for the upcoming party. Trevor has plenty of input, but conveniently never has enough time to actually make it happen. 

Your request for sparklers is approved only if you are the one to get them. But you catch Trevor and Cole on some downtime anyway, so they come with you for “liquor and lighters,” as they (incorrectly) become known. They’re even nice enough to let you have the passenger seat instead of Trevor. 

Which, unfortunately, gives him an excuse to sit unbuckled in the backseat of Cole’s car and lean forward to start gossipy conversations. 

“Cole,” he starts in a suspiciously sweet voice. “Have you noticed anything weird this summer?”

Cole seems to know exactly what his friend is on about. 

“Oh yes I have, Trevor. Did you notice something weird?”

“Indeed,” Trevor responds. “I-”

You cut him off. “The only weird thing right now is the way you two are talking. Wanna bring it up like normal people?” 

They exchange a look. A silent battle ensues, and apparently Cole loses. He sighs, running a hand over his face as he brakes for a red light. 

“Fine. Okay. What is up with you and Matt? Like, one minute you guys will do literally anything to spite each other, but the next you’ve made eye contact or accidentally touched each other or something and it’s like dogs who wear a shock collar.”

“It really is so weird,” Trevor pipes up. 

You think about it for a moment. Yeah, that is how on edge the two of you have been lately, but you’re not really sure why. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you eventually say with a shrug. “We’re fighting just like normal.”

“But you’re actually not.” Trevor holds up a finger and says it with such a matter-of-fact tone, you don’t even bother with a response. You only hum dismissively. 

The three of you sit in near-silence for a few minutes. Trevor’s “pre-party” playlist is on low volume in the background. 

All of a sudden, Cole stage whispers, “I think they like each other,” dragging it out in enough of a sing-songy way to be annoying. 

“Shut up!”

“And you don’t wanna tell each other so you’d rather act like kids-” Trevor adds, cut off when you turn in your seat and stick a finger in his face. 

“Zegras, I swear to all that is hockey if you say another damn word about that, the both of you are getting left at the fireworks place so I can watch your arrest live on the news-”

Cole doesn’t let you finish your threat. “Woah, woah! We’re all friends here. It’s just a little crush, we can be civil about it.” You turn your glare on him, and he deflects it to the backseat. “Right, Trevor?”

“It is definitely not a crush,” you mumble, slumping back in your seat. 

They stay quiet about it for the rest of the grocery run, but you know they didn’t listen. 

On the Fourth of July, otherwise known as Party Day, the guys get up early and nap in preparation for the late night. The morning was spent on the lake. You are the one who gets the house ready – setting out bags of chips in bowls, leaving notes detailing the dips and their locations and what bowl to put them in, making sure the public bathrooms are girl-clean and not just boy-clean. 

The event isn’t huge on decorations, but you got stars and stripes patterned napkins and that kinda stuff just for the sake of it. You make a place for them, but since you’ll be getting ready for the party essentially until it starts, actually setting everything out is up to the boys. 

Your cousins know their responsibilities, especially as the main hosts of the party; this has been how the four of you have been delegating it for years. And you always know that when Quinn comes down dressed in red, white, or blue (you have convinced the trio to choose one main color each for five years in a row now), it’s time for you to head back up to your room. You pass Luke on the way. 

“Don’t look too pretty,” he warns, turning on the steps so you know he’s serious. “We’re not gonna want to chase a bunch of broken-hearted guys out of here at the end of this.”

“Aw, thanks Lukey,” you tell him, bending down to kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair. “I’ll try to avoid hurting feelings this year.” 

You practically skip the rest of the way into your room. Conversations float up periodically from the floor below – Trevor fishing for compliments, Cole laying it on too thick with Matt and flustering him, Alex missing his girlfriend. They soon turn into greeting the people who arrive early, bearing fruit trays and extra ice for coolers. 

By the time you’re finished, somebody’s already turned on the big speaker in the living room. It’s later than you meant to be done. Still, you hope that people remembered to set out the dips. 

“Somebody call the fire department, ‘cause we’ve got a smokeshow in the house!” Trevor calls when he sees you coming down the stairs, red solo cup already in his hand. You try to hide your cringe at the smell of jungle juice when he gets near. He hooks an arm around your waist and leans in to whisper, “Fiery redhead by the sink. Thoughts?” 

You give her a onceover as Trevor all but hangs off of you. When your scan is complete, you raise on your toes to tell him, “Showing off pictures of a boyfriend. Try the black-haired girl in the off-shoulder thing by the deck doors.” You pat him on the open-shirted chest and send him on his merry way. 

Luke is almost hiding in plain sight in the living room, talking hockey with some guy whose grandparents have lived on the lake forever. He raises his cup in acknowledgement when you wave at him. 

Jack is busy with, you assume, his next fling, and Quinn is actually playing the part of a good host. 

Matt is nowhere to be found. 

It’s really weird that you have to remind yourself not to be disappointed about that. So you shake it off with a seltzer and start making some friends out of the crowd. There’s a girl you recognize who’s been around for a few summers now, and when Jack excuses himself from his not-gonna-be girlfriend you steal her too. 

The music gets louder the more you drink, the beat more enticing. You probably won’t see these girls after tonight, but for now they are your social buoys. They keep you afloat in the crowd until some guy pulls you in for a dance. It’s just in time for Jack to come back for his girl, too. 

Luckily for you it’s only Trevor. 

“She was more into you,” he murmurs in your ear, unaffected smirk on his face. “I would ask if you’re interested, but I think she’s got some competition.” He points with his eyes over to the wall, where Matt has mysteriously reappeared. 

Some girl is trying her hardest to talk to him, but he won’t turn to look at her fully. 

“He doesn’t have a claim on me, Trev,” you remind your friend, facing him and starting to get into the dance when the song changes. “We don’t even-“

“No, just wishes he did.” His hands land on your waist. Jack would not appreciate this if he saw it, but he vanished not long before Matt showed up. Knowing that the way you do, you turn it up a little more. 

You’ve never gotten to see how good of a dancer Trevor is – might as well take the opportunity. 

A couple songs later, you’ve sent him off toward a late-arriving group of girls with a kiss on the cheek for good luck. If they ask about it, he’s going to say you’re his cousin. You know this is how it works because someone asked you last year. 

This is one of the biggest downsides to hosting the party instead of finding one, you remember. When you get tired, you can’t make it go away. You can’t leave. The best you can do is hide. Your favorite spot is at the edge of the water, so close to the treeline that no one will see you from the yard. 

You grab an extra drink for yourself and smuggle a blanket from the boat stash just in case it’s colder outside than you expect. There are games of cornhole and something else happening on the lawn. The firepit is in use. Quinn might be over there now, actually. Probably starting to wind down a little bit, just like you. 

But someone has wandered over from somewhere, and they’re sitting in your spot. 

The realization almost makes you trip over your shoes. And the sound alerts them to your presence. Not much light manages to reach his face around you, but you don’t need it – you can recognize Matt in the dark by now. 

“Hey,” you greet him, voice dull. “Found my hiding spot?”

“Always knew about it,” is the simple response. 

You choose to ignore the roughness in his tone. “Okay if I sit?”

He just shrugs. So you sit anyway, shoving your drinks into the sand while the blanket falls to the side. Silence falls between you and Matt. You’ve always felt like the nearby trees muffle the sounds from the yard and house, for which you’re grateful. 

Even now.

Matt is the one to speak first. “You and Trevor got something going on?”

Almost petty, you shrug. “Same stuff as always, I think. Nothing special. He’s… not my type.” The confession feels maybe a little too vulnerable for anywhere else. But not here. Here, you’re safe. 

It still gets Matt’s attention. His head turns the slightest bit, trying to see you from the corner of his eye. “He isn’t?”

“Not really.” You punctuate that with a swig of your drink, tilting your head back even farther to drain it when you hear a suspiciously Trevor-like whoop in the distance. It’s not your problem now, and you don’t intend for it to be later, either. 

Even with the revelation, Matt stays quiet. Which is normal for you two. But normal feels kinda… wrong at the minute. 

“You weren’t feeling the party?” you ask after maybe a minute or so of silence, as if talking civilly is a normal activity for the two of you to engage in. 

“Nah. Alex and Cole took over beer pong and Trevor and Jack are caught up with women. Not fun being the odd man out in there.”

“What about Quinn and Luke?”

The corner of his lips – the side closest to you, anyway – twitches. Like he’s holding back a smile. “Actually hosting, thank God.” He pronounces the last word differently than everyone else at the lake house, in that Masachusetts-y way that he still talks even after years away from home because of hockey. You admire that about him. He never completely took on the accent that most of your cousins and their friends seem to imitate, even if subconsciously. “‘d you get tired of holding down the fort too?”

You just hum in response. He’s right on the money, but you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he is. It seems like he’s aware nonetheless. 

“C’mon, Sunshine, just admit that I know you well enough to know that,” he teases, tilting his head toward you a little bit. 

“Never,” you say back, turning ever so slightly to grin at him. 

He sighs, shaking his head. “We’ll get there someday.”

Your curiosity has successfully been piqued. “Where’s ‘there’?” you question, fully facing him now. 

“Just… better. Along, I guess,” he admits, suddenly acting shy. Matt won’t look at you anymore, only now you want him to. 

Hoping to restore some of the odd comfort that the two of you had before your confession, you let silence fall over your little hiding place. Some silence, anyway. Nothing can completely subdue the sounds of the party. 

When it feels peaceful again, you speak. “We get along well enough, don’t we?”

“Always have to disagree with me, don’t you, Sunshine?” he responds, shaking his head before finally making eye contact again. “Can’t just say that yeah, we could fight in front of the guys a little less or something?”

“Fighting with you is fun,” you shrug. 

“Fun for you, sure,” Matt says, making a face. 

You cut him off before he can continue, pointing a finger at him. “You can’t tell me that you don’t look forward to it, Matthew, I notice you gearing up for it everytime you see me enter the room.”

“That’s because you always pick a fight with me!” he says, louder but not yet loud enough to draw attention to your hiding place. “And I hate being called that!”

“What, by your name? It’s Matthew. You are named Matthew.”

“You know everyone calls me Matt.” 

Only now do you realize how close his face has gotten to yours, why his voice has lowered again in volume but not in intensity. 

And you follow his eyes making their way downward to watch you breathe out, “But to me, you’re Matthew.” 

He mumbles something else, something you can’t hear over the sudden noises of fireworks and excited partygoers. You’re pretty sure, though, that his mouth made shapes for the words ‘kiss’ and ‘right now.’ Furrowing your brows, you try to lean in so he can repeat it, but instead he recoils. 

You mostly hear what he says this time, and you’re pretty sure it’s “I’m tired of this. I’m going inside.” 

Matt walks off into the night, leaving you wrapped in your blanket with more questions than answers. 

Everybody sleeps in late the next day, as expected. You pretend not to hear more than one pair of footsteps making their way out of the house before getting up to make some hangover breakfast. 

A door cracks down the hall, but it closes as soon as yours opens. 

Alex, for some reason, is the only one already downstairs when you get there. But he’s on a phone call. He holds up a hand in greeting before heading out onto the deck. 

Trevor bounces down the stairs after you’ve started a cup of coffee for yourself, in a good enough mood that you know at least something went down last night. But at least he has the decency to wait until you’ve gotten your pick-me-up to start talking about it. 

Except he doesn’t say what you expect him to. At all. 

“Why did you and Matt come out of the same hidden spot at the edge of the yard last night, only like twenty minutes apart or whatever?”

You just groan. That’s too weird of a story to share first thing after you’ve woken up, even if Trevor is great at being a substitute for girl talk. He raises an eyebrow and leans over the island counter. With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to the fridge to find some bacon or something.

He waits until you’ve gotten some food and headed out to the dock with it to press again. 

“So. You and Matt. Something fun happen last night, or…?”

You sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. “I think… we might have almost kissed?” Trevor gasps, grabbing your arm with both hands excitedly. His eyes are wide. “But we didn’t!” you continue insistently. “Just… our faces got really close, and he muttered something I couldn’t hear over the fireworks, and I tried to move so I could hear him and I guess he remembered we’re us so he ran off.” 

“When are you guys going to just admit it?” Trevor asks, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen two people so down bad for each other.” He only gives you like a second to scoff before he’s going on. “Just get together and get over all that other stuff already.”

“I don’t think we can, Trev. Every time I think we might, we just start fighting again. Usually worse.” 

He pats your back a couple of times. It’s awkward. 

“There, there,” Trevor says. “We’ll fix it.” And then he’s moving, up and away, down the dock and back to the house. 

“We?” you call after him. “Trevor, what do you mean we?” 

Just like last night, you never get an answer. 

Except you do. That night, after dinner but before a couple rounds of ping-pong and pool, you’re passing by the stairs to the basement when you hear two voices. Two voices that you’ve come to know pretty well after the past few summers. 

“-Sunshine, she’s just driving me crazy, dude,” Matt is saying. 

And maybe you’re a little too nosy for your own good, so you stop. 

“I can’t be around her without- without-” Trevor must make a face or something, because you can hear the disgust in Matt’s voice. “No, not like that!”

“It’s just like I’ve been saying all along,” your mutual friend tries to tell him. “The two of you would get along so much better if you’d stop acting like kids and just like each other already.” 

You lower yourself to a sitting position on the stairs, listening intently now. 

Matt scoffs. “Never in a million years, Trevor. You’re crazy. She-” He pauses, lowering his voice for the next little bit. Even though you move down a couple of steps, you don’t catch it. “-and I can’t stand it! I can’t stand her. I don’t see how you guys have put up with her all this time, always being here, and- and-” 

You picture him gesturing wildly, like he does when he’s arguing his case during a card game. Except he’s not arguing that a play was legal. He’s arguing about you, and how intolerable you are, apparently. 

He heaves a deep sigh that you can even hear from your spot on the stairs. “I can’t do this anymore, Trevor. I give up. We’re just gonna hate each other forever, and I’ll be an active participant in that.”

Finally – quietly, hesitantly, so unlike either of them – you hear Trevor speak. “Matt, it’s not like you’ve been particularly nice to her, either.” Matt tries to say something again, maybe protest, but your friend stops him. “It takes two people to be nice to each other.”

“We can’t do that, Trevor. You know it as well as I do.”

Something about the resignation in Matt’s voice makes something in your chest twinge. It certainly can’t be your heart, but some part of you feels maybe something akin to sympathy. A similar frustration over the situation. 

There’s a gap between the two of you that formed long ago, and it looks too big now to bridge solely in the name of friendship. At least, you don’t have a clue how to start. 

When you hear a foot land on the bottom stair, you scramble away as quietly as you can. 

There’s supposed to be a storm today. Jack’s been complaining about it all week, and you can hear him complaining about it downstairs now. It’s disrupting any plans he could make – boating, golfing… that’s pretty much it. 

Most of the guys seem to be bothered by the uncertainty of their weather apps more than the storm itself. Jack’s friends don’t have much time left to spend here, and they’re antsy to make the most of what they do have. You’re just relieved by the promise of Matt’s departure, since he evidently can’t even stand being around you. 

It’s not that you’ve always assumed the way that the two of you poke and prod at each other is all in good fun. No, there’s always been some level of real, negative emotion there. But this summer especially, there was something else, too. A mutual understanding, maybe. An almost-friendship. 

You thought that he was starting to feel it too, in the quiet moments between fireworks. When it felt like there was no one else to perform for. 

Apparently you were wrong. 

These thoughts are the first thing you face head-on this morning. Somehow, they’re easier to deal with than your cousin’s whining. Then someone knocks on your door. 

“Are you decent?” Trevor calls through the wood. It would be a nice gesture if he didn’t start opening the door before you’ve really answered. 

“Come on in, I guess,” you say, failing to hide the gloominess in your voice. 

His little half-grin slides off his face. “Oh, man. You’re that upset about the storm too?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that.” And you don’t want to have to explain it to him, but Trevor was the one Matt chose to talk to. You just pick at your comforter while he comes over to sit next to you. 

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

“You can’t tell him,” you say immediately, inwardly cringing at yourself because of course you have to tell Trevor. 

His expression changes to one of understanding quicker than you would have expected. “You heard us talking before the basement games last night.” You nod. He asks something you wouldn’t have expected. “But you were so quiet. What all did you hear?”

“Um, how about that he can’t stand me?” you make finger quotes in the air, your voice raising. “That we’re gonna hate each other forever, apparently, and that I just drive him sooo crazy, don’t I?”

Your friend sighs. His hands go up into the air in a kind of defensive, kind of surrendering way. He starts to talk, then closes his mouth. Finally, he runs his hands through his hair. 

“You’re gonna have to talk that out with him, Sunshine,” he says. “But just know, you’re missing some context.”

You’d really like to press him further, but Luke saves him by poking his head in the door. His brows furrow at something that’s going on in the room, but you don’t know what. “Are you guys coming on the boat?” he questions. 

Trevor interrupts before you can ask where the storm has gone. “We’re taking the boat out?” 

“Yeah, looks like we’ll be clear for a little bit more. Jack wants to get out while we can, so you guys might wanna decide fast.” He starts to leave, but you call him back, shooing Trevor out of the door so he can go get ready for the outing. Trevor doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Is Matt going out on the boat?” you ask urgently. It’s clear that Luke notices how wide your eyes are. Still, he shakes his head. 

“I think he’s out doing something,” your baby cousin tries to offer, but you wave it off. 

“If we’re leaving before he gets back, I’m in.”

Mid-day boating turns into afternoon naps or house-cleaning and cards after dinner. You cheer up as the day goes by, especially since you happen to never be in the same place as Matt. That is, until Jack calls for Scum. 

Matt is the king at the start of the night. He holds the position through two games. 

If you were playing any other game, one where you could spend the entirety of it sabotaging him, you would have taken the seat right next to him. Instead, poor Luke and Cole are playing buffers. 

“I just can’t stand the way you shuffle,” you comment once. “Give me the cards next time, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Think I can handle myself, Sunshine. Just mind your own business for once,” comes the retort through gritted teeth. Quinn and Alex raise their eyebrows. 

By the third and final deal, the two of you have gotten worked up to a point that the others have never seen before. You flick the cards at him so hard that they slide off the table more often than not unless he catches them. He glares back at you, but doesn’t say anything. 

Not until it’s time to lay down his first card. 

“You ever wonder how much better this game would be if everyone could handle not being the king or queen after every round?” he asks Jack next to him. 

“Matt-” Jack starts to say, eyes darting over to you nervously to wait for your reaction. 

You pretend not to hear, just waiting for your turn to lay down your eights and hopefully end the round, but most of the guys can see how infuriated you are. 

Then you lean over to whisper to Cole, “I thought you hockey players were meant to be at least a little competitive.” He does laugh at that. 

Matt narrows his eyes. The next round starts shortly after. 

As the game goes on, people start tapping out as you all go around. You and Matt start taking every opportunity to gripe at each other. 

For a minute, it looks like Matt’s going to beat you. He looks you dead in the eye as he says, “I think my first decree as king is gonna be an exile.”

You suck in a breath. Even if he isn’t saying it outright, you know exactly who that’s directed at. And you can’t say you’re happy about it, but you also can’t say that you wouldn’t kick him out of here right now if you had the power. But you won’t. You never will.

As Quinn takes his turn after you distractedly pass again, you come to a realization: you will never be rid of Matt. As long as he’s friends with Jack, he’s going to stick around.

This antagonistic relationship — whatever’s actually underneath it — can’t last.

So you make him an indirect offer on your next turn, when you lay down a singular ten. “I’m getting kind of tired of this, boys. Maybe we should find a new game, start over and make new rivalries?”

You don’t miss the looks thrown around the table. Least of all, Matt’s brief yet victorious smirk. 

Quinn passes. Alex passes. Trevor lays down a pair of sixes, a playful smile on his lips. He’s the only person at the table who seems so at ease, but even his calm is a farce. Luke passes too. 

Matt makes eye contact with you and only you before he lays his cards down. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to back down.

“Is this just because you’re losing? Spoiler alert: you can’t always be a winner, Sunshine. Not everything is gonna go your way. The sooner you accept that, the better,” he tells you, as he presents his set: the kings of clubs, diamonds, and spades. 

It doesn’t escape you that his trio is heartless. 

Next to him, Jack tenses. Cole’s eyes flick to you. Your skin heats under the lights of the kitchen nook chandelier. Despite your embarrassed blush, you keep a straight face. And you straighten your four remaining cards against the table, nodding to Jack to go ahead with his turn. 

He passes. Poor Cole, eyes darting between you and Matt, double checks his cards. The shuffling sounds like thunder in the silence that’s enveloped the room – no, the entire house. He comes up empty. Matt keeps his steely gaze on you the entire time. 

“You know, I think you forget that at the end of the day life isn’t a competition,” you say, voice tight. “And winning it all is worth nothing if you scare off anyone who might have been close to you.” You take a deep breath before forcing the last sentence out. “Guess we have to learn that the hard way sometimes.”

Your chair screeches on the floor as you stand, shattering the quiet and making almost everyone else at the table flinch. 

“Good luck to the rest of y’all,” you finish simply, tossing your quartet of twos onto the table. “And have a good night.”

With that, you head back through the darkness of the living room and up to your bedroom. Even all the lovely colors you had taken care to fill it with look dark in the dead of night. 

You stay inside your room the next day, though it dawns bright and sunny. You creep out to the empty kitchen at some early hour to smuggle some snacks back up to your room. Hopefully, Luke gets the silent apology you send for depriving him of Cheez-Its for… however long you have them. 

Quinn knocks on the door at some point before noon to ask if you want to come along for something that you half listen to, because they wanna do it before other reasons that you don’t really listen to. No offense to your cousin, of course, but you’re very wrapped up in your wallowing. 

He is given a flimsy excuse and a smile at 75% effort, and that’s all it takes for him to go away. But he can usually tell when you really just don’t want to talk about it. You turn the music back on to cover up the sounds of the boys getting ready to leave and tuck back into your novel. 

Somewhere in the middle of the scramble, you hear someone yelling for someone else to “get a move on, we really don’t have all day”. The noise catches your attention. As you look up from your book, you notice a shadow passing in front of your door. They hesitate, as if they want to come in. There never is a knock like you expect. Instead, the voice yells again and the shadow moves on. You’re pretty sure they’re not calling for Luke. 

The house has been completely empty for a while when you decide to venture out for a little pick-me-up. Unfortunately, your car is trapped in front of Cole’s in the driveway. 44 Scoops is a little out of the way on your bike, but it has the best ice cream around and you deserve some today. You barely notice the sky darkening as you ride. The girl taking the orders greets you warmly.

“Hi, what can I getcha today?” she asks, smile putting her braces on full display. 

“Um, just one vanilla in a cone, please,” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear under your hood. You feel like kind of a weirdo keeping it up, but you really didn’t feel like doing anything with your appearance. 

“We’ll get that right out,” the girl says, then tilts her head at you. “Do you like sprinkles?”

You nod, but feel your eyebrows furrow. It’s kind of a weird question since you didn’t order sprinkles, but she doesn’t say anything else so you fork over a five dollar bill. When she returns to the counter a minute later, your scoop is covered in rainbow sprinkles. 

“It kinda looked like you could use them,” the girl offers, shrugging as soon as the cone is safely in your hand. “I hope your day gets better!”

“Thank you,” you tell her, “Really.”

She smiles one more hot-pink-and-metallic smile at you, then moves on to the next customer. 

And the day does not get better. Almost as soon as you turn toward the door, it starts sprinkling outside. Partway through your ice-cream-and-Instagram-reels binge, your phone dies. The cone melts a little too fast for you, and you get a couple spots on your sweatshirt as you finish it up. 

It takes a miniature pity party just to get the courage to clip your hair up, go outside and get back on your bike. 

Unknown to you, the boys are in a bit of a frenzy at the lake house. They started bringing the boat in when the sky got dark (a little earlier than they planned, even), but it was still raining by the time they got everyone and everything inside. 

Then Luke calls for you to see if you want the late lunch/early dinner that Quinn plans on making, but you never answer. So he heads up to your room just to make sure you’re not asleep or still ignoring everybody, and you aren’t even there. 

“Sunshine’s gone!” he announces when he slides back into the main living area. He’s trying and failing to hide his panic. His brothers exchange a glance that they pretend he doesn’t see, and Jack heads off to double check your room as if Luke is blind. 

Quinn designates places for the other boys to check like they think you might have fallen asleep somewhere and failed to wake up despite all the noise they made coming back. Matt disappears into the basement without a word. Luke’s job now is to tag-team calling you with Quinn until one of them makes contact. 

“I checked literally every bedroom upstairs. No sign of her, but her car’s still here,” Jack announces when he gets back downstairs, picking up his phone to start calling too. “You guys haven’t called Mom yet, right?”

Luke shakes his head. Quinn is too busy pacing around the kitchen table looking out the windows, seemingly under the impression that you might emerge from the tree line at the edge of the property. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Matt come up from the basement and head toward the second floor stairs, still not talking. 

“She’s not up there-” Jack starts to tell his friend, but Matt shakes his head. When he finally speaks, it’s gruff. 

“I’m just grabbing a hoodie,” Matt says. Then he’s gone, taking the stairs two at a time just like Luke did. 

The rest of Jack’s friends re-emerge from the basement and start convening with Jack and Luke when they hear the front door open and shut. Quinn is still getting the dial tone in the kitchen. Cole suggests that you may have gone out for food or something. Trevor pipes up that it could’ve been a need for liquor that drove you out in this weather. 

“I wouldn’t blame her if it was,” Alex comments lowly, and Trevor has the decency to look embarrassed. “Matt went pretty hard on her last night.”

“He knows he was out of line, and I think she does too,” Jack assures everyone. “Not that… I’ve talked to her today, or anything. But I just have a feeling that was the final fight, y’know? Something about it…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Nevermind. I’m probably crazy.”

You’ve successfully gotten yourself most of the way home when you see a familiar car heading your way on one of the many weirdly-named streets following the lakeshore. When you think you’re in their line of vision, you start raising your arm to wave for help. Then you see the face behind the wheel. Your hand drops of its own accord, and you move a step or two farther from the side of the road in case Matt decides he’s feeling extra cruel and wants to splash you or something. 

He turns around somewhere and catches up to you as you’re about to cross the top of a cul-de-sak, cutting you off with a turn onto the street. You frown at the passenger side window, watching it roll down.

“Get in the car, Sunshine,” he says. 

“But-”

“I’m not letting you get sick out here just because you want to stick it to me, okay? You get in here. I’ll get your bike.”

A couple of minutes later, the bicycle has been shoved into the trunk and backseat with an astounding lack of grace, and you’re sitting with your arms crossed up front as Matt turns the car around. The pounding rain almost completely covers up what he says to you as he gets back onto the main road. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“No matter what issues we have, it was fucked of me to bring it up in front of everybody during the game,” he admits. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. And I’m really sorry for whatever I did two years ago to make you hate me like you do, because that was probably pretty fucked too.”

You sigh. “You didn’t… do anything.”

His foot twitches on the brake pedal; you feel the car stutter beneath you. Just like you feel him trying to watch both the road and your face, so you burrow back into your hood and look out your window. 

“I didn’t do anything?” 

“No.”

“Then why do you hate me?”

And you know it won’t be good enough, at all, but you shrug. How do you put it into words that your cousins poked and prodded you about how you would like Matt for almost years before you actually met? That Jack had asked you to not date any of his friends a long time ago and of course you wouldn’t disrespect his wishes, but you definitely agreed that if you were allowed to date this one, you might have gone for it? 

How do you tell someone that you’ve had to hate them because you wouldn’t be allowed to love them?

So you mutter some snappy bullshit like “someone had to,” and try to leave it there. 

“Tell me the truth, Sunshine.” Which is about what you expected. 

“Did Jack or Quinn ever tell you how well they used to think we would get along?” you ask, folding your arms and leaning back in your seat but finally looking at him. He’s definitely been in the car for a bit now, but there are speckles and water marks even from before he got out to shove your bike in the back. 

He thinks for a moment, then nods. “I think Jack said once that we would get along… that everybody loves you and I wouldn’t be any different.” His cheeks turn pink when he realizes the phrasing that he used. One hand automatically flies off the wheel to scratch the back of his neck. “Not that… you know what I mean.”

You only hum in response. 

“What does that have to do with you hating me, though?”

“It was never really hate-” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Sure felt like hate.” You stay silent, waiting for him to notice that he’s pissed you off. He doesn’t even have to look over to know. “Sorry, go on.”

“It wasn’t really hate,” you insist, as he turns away from where you’re supposed to go. “It was… the rejection of like. Like how cold is just the absence of heat. You’re going the wrong way.”

“Indifference is the absence of like,” Matt corrects you, a little smug. “And we’re in the middle of a conversation that I don’t think we’re going to be able to have once you get back to that house.”

Your eyebrows furrow. He just nods at his phone, down in the cupholder, and you pick it up. Hold it out to him, but he shakes his head. 

“The boys were worried about you. Get on there – password’s 129453 – and text Jack that you’re okay and I got you.” You quietly do as he says, waiting for another command. “And that we’ll be back soon, but we have to do something first.”

Jack knows it’s you because you told him so and he starts to ask questions. But you don’t have the answer to a lot of them. You just reassure him again that you’re safe, everything’s fine, you just wanted ice cream and there is absolutely no need to call any parents or beloved aunts about this. 

Matt looks over at you, nodding for you to continue your original explanation. The rain keeps beating down on the car, a steady drum to drown out the sound of your heartbeat. 

“Jack called it first,” you say. “Said you were just my type, that we’d get along like a house on fire, that kinda stuff. But he also said, back when he started the program with you and all the other guys, that he didn’t want me dating any of you either.” You laugh, trying to keep the bitterness out of the sound. Maybe you mostly succeed. “Because he knew that hockey players were just that – players.”

Matt purses his lips, but lets you keep talking. 

“And it’s not like I’d be able to get to know any of you without him around, so I kinda just had to take him at his word for it, right?” you continue, feeling yourself starting to ramble. “Then we got here for the first summer. And Jack was right on the money. But I knew that if I really let myself start to like you-” you shrug. “-I’d be doing nothin’ but getting myself hurt by toeing the line that Jack set.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You keep going. “So I tried to ignore you. Not feel anything at all. That didn’t work, but I thought it would still be easier for me if we weren’t… close. I’m sorry that it turned into all this mess. I just wanted to protect myself.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie up over your hands. 

Matt drives on, silent for a minute. It stretches into two, three minutes until it’s almost comfortable. Then he turns sharply into a gas station parking lot on the corner. The car stays on when he parks away from everybody else on the side of the building, but he unbuckles and twists in his seat to face you. 

“So you’re meaning to tell me – all this time, you just liked me and you were, no offense, a complete pest, as a front?” You nod. 

He collapses back into his seat, running his hands through his hair and accidentally pushing his hood off in the process. It’s hard to ignore his long legs stretching in the little space they have, swim trunks riding up his thighs. 

“You liked me,” he states again, simply. You nod again. His eyes dart to you, tongue tracing his lower lip, cheeks pink. “You… like me?” 

It comes slower this time, and all your nervous energy manifests as your fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves, but you still nod. You aren’t sure that he’s looking at your eyes when you do it. 

Then, he laughs. Your first instinct is to recoil a bit, especially if he’s laughing at your confession. Which would be cruel, but maybe earned. This is probably the worst way you could resolve every conflict from the past two years. It takes genuine effort to keep a straight face. 

“You like me,” he says once more. “Have all this time.” 

Something holds you back from responding, from making a defensive, sarcastic comment that would ruin whatever you’re building or rebuilding here. He speaks again, quieter still, barely audible over the weather outside. 

“That makes so much more sense, looking back.” 

And he looks back up at you, disbelief still written on his face. Then the mask cracks, and he smiles brighter than has ever been directed at you before. 

“You know, one of Luke’s buddies asked me once why we flirted so different from you and all Jack’s other friends,” he admits, making your eyes widen. 

“I mean, I wasn’t really trying to, but-” you stutter, feeling your face turn sunburn-red. 

“If we agree that that’s what all this has been, I gotta say, you flirt like a little boy on the playground,” he teases you. You resist the urge to punch him in the shoulder just hard enough to walk the line of playful and mean. 

“You’re no better!” you exclaim. There’s more you want to say, but Matt shuts you up by grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and pressing his lips to yours over the center console. 

Instead of saying anything else, you sigh into the kiss. One of your hands finds itself slipping into his dark blond hair, tugging on the surprisingly soft strands. His other hand grabs your waist, squeezing ever so slightly. You take his bottom lip in between your teeth. 

“Oh my god, you tease,” he scolds you, (smiling) as he pulls away for a second. If you didn’t know him as well as you somehow do, you’d be disappointed by him cutting you off this quick. 

But he moves his seat back as far as he can, putting space between himself and the steering wheel. Then he’s grabbing at your hoodie, your back, your thighs – anything to urge you onto his lap. 

You’re lucky the windows are tinted. 

Once you’re settled, knees on either side of his thighs – which, honestly, aren’t leaving you very much room but why on earth would you fault him for that – he positions one hand gently on your cheek, stroking it absentmindedly with his thumb. 

“I like you too, by the way,” he says, a goofy smile on his face. You raise your eyebrows in a silent question and he nods, closing his eyes in content as you weave your hands back into his hair. “All this time.”

Finally, he pulls your face back down to his, pressing his lips to yours so much more softly and awkwardly than a minute ago. You feel like a teenager having their first kiss again, but this time you know it’s perfect. This one feels like an exhale after years of holding your breath. 

Matt pulls back and you pout, which makes him laugh and wrap his arms around your waist in a hug. Then he leans back in the seat again, big hands resting comfortably on your hips. 

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” you ask, but you kind of mean why aren’t you kissing me anymore. 

“Just admiring,” he replies, making you groan. 

Since you so clearly need to take the initiative here, you lean forward and steal his lips in a kiss again. His breath catches when you nip him, this time, and you wonder why you didn’t just do this sooner. It’s so much better than the whole push-and-pull thing you’ve had going for the past couple of summers. 

He presses you closer to him with one hand, deepening the kiss and using the other hand to pull down your hood and release your hair from its claw clip. In response, you pull on his again and he lets out this breathless little sound that you wanna hear at least five more times before he goes back home for summer training. 

The two of you are interrupted by an obnoxious buzzing from the cupholder. Matt reaches over and grabs his phone without even moving you off of his lap. 

You think you hear Jack’s voice on the other side, asking a series of questions that Matt barely has the time to answer before another three come out of your cousin’s big mouth. 

“Yeah, she’s fine. Took her bike. We’re on the way home now. Do you guys need us to stop for anything?” Jack says something else, and a smile dances on Matt’s lips. “No, we’re all good now. I think the two of us will be more tolerable together from now on. We talked it out.” 

Absentmindedly, you wipe a smudge of your tinted chapstick off the corner of his lips. He looks up at you for a second, winks, and runs his hand through his hair as he looks back toward the passenger side mirror. 

“I promise, it’s chill,” he tells your cousin. “And she says she’s sorry for scaring you. Her phone just died when she was out.” It’s not a lie, you’re just surprised he realized. But maybe you shouldn’t be – the two of you have paid unnecessarily close attention to each other for a long time. Whether you realized it or not, you did get to know each other under the pretense of hatred. “Yeah, we’ll be back in time for dinner. Like I said, heading back soon. Uh-huh. See ya.”

Matt punctuates the end of the call by kissing you again, then pushes you back over the center console to your own seat while he readjusts. 

“So…,” you trail off, back to playing with your sleeves. Matt looks at you, a smile already half-formed on his face. “What now?”

“We’ve got time to talk it out, right? Let’s just get back to the house first.” He reaches over, squeezing your leg. And he leaves his hand there as he pulls out of the gas station, for the rest of the drive, only letting go when the house is in sight. 

He looks over at you again with a knowing smirk once he parks the car in the driveway. 

“So. You still gonna pretend you hate me in there?”

You shrug, smiling, and jump out of the car. The door is mostly closed, but you hear him shout “hey!” after you as you dart off into the rain. 

All eyes are on you once you open the front door. 

And all it takes is one glance from you for Trevor to pump his fist and shout, “Yessss!” dragging it out victoriously. The rest of the boys catch on almost one-by-one. You can see the realization spread from Trevor and Luke to Quinn and Jack, then Alex and Cole as you feel Matt appear behind you in the entryway. 

“Finally!” Trevor continues, throwing his hands up in the air. “It only took you idiots like three years!”

“Trevor, what-” Matt starts, moving out from behind you so he can take off his wet hoodie and toss it down the basement stairs toward the laundry. 

While your not-so-much-anymore enemy gets an explanation for Trevor’s behavior, your cousins approach you and quietly usher you into the office. Jack shuts the door behind the four of you. This feels like a confrontation. 

“You scared us pretty bad there, Sunshine,” Luke starts, crossing his arms and leaning back against Quinn’s desk. 

“I am so sorry, you guys, it was a complete accident. I took a bike ride for ice cream, then my phone died. I was literally on my way back when Matt caught me,” you explain. 

A random cheer sounds from the other room. It distracts Jack, who looked like he was about to start shooting off another round of questions. You silently thank Trevor. 

“We’re just glad you’re okay, Sunshine, we promise.” Quinn’s first sentence is reassuring. Then he asks a not-really question that might be worse than whatever Jack had in mind. “What we’re wondering now is what’s going on with you and Matt. If you’ve made up and all.”

There hasn’t been enough time to define anything. You guys aren’t planning on fighting anymore, you don’t think. Still, what are you allowed to tell your cousins? The anxiety rising in your throat makes you cough. Jack’s eyes widen. 

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” he questions, worrying aloud. “We should’ve let you change into dry clothes before we dragged you in here, our bad-”

“That would be great, thanks,” you reply decisively. “But we’re not going to ruin everybody else’s vacations anymore, if that’s what your concern is. Now-” you make eye contact with all three brothers before you finish. “-if anyone has any problem with me going to get warm, dry, and comfortable, please voice that now.”

“One last thing,” Jack says, nodding for the other two to go. 

The two of you wait, facing each other, until the door closes behind Quinn. You sit down in one of the office chairs and cross your legs, waiting for Jack to speak. He sighs, tucking his hands under his armpits before looking up at you from beneath his backwards hat. 

“Sunshine, I made a big mistake years ago. I was trying to look out for you when I asked you not to date my friends, because I thought they’d all be like Trevor… and me,” he admits. 

You lean forward, definitely wanting to hear what he says next. 

“I was wrong about Matt. He’s not a player, not like the rest of us. We’ve all been watching you two bicker and pine over each other for years now, and I know both of you like each other even if you won’t say it in those words. Not to me, at least.”

He takes a deep breath, making sure to really meet your eyes before his big finish. 

“Please date Matt.”

“What?” you ask, trying not to laugh. “Are you like, asking me out in his place?”

It only takes you looking back at him for Jack to crack and start laughing. It was a weird phrasing. He knows that. 

“I swear we’ve been driving him crazy, making him jealous ‘n’ trying to get him to confess but he wasn’t gonna say anything until you had gotten over whatever he’d done to you originally.”

“What he’d done? Oh no buddy, that was all you,” you tell Jack, and when he just makes a confused face you explain further. “Y’all were completely right when you said I’d like him and I did, but I also remembered that I wasn’t supposed to date your friends. Just wanted to be a good cousin, y’know?”

“I’m so sorry,” Jack says, covering the top half of his face with his facepalm. “I should’ve grown up about that ages ago.”

You agree. “You should’ve, but who knows how it would have gone back then. And we’re here now, right?”

Your (slightly idiotic but lovable) cousin nods along with wide eyes, probably hoping this will absolve him of guilt. “Seriously, though. I am sorry. And also please stop flirting with Trevor – you’re killing poor Bolds, over there.” 

Finally, you laugh, getting up and throwing your arms around him. He holds you tight, just like the two of you used to hug when you were little. You used to say that if you never let go of each other, then your families would never be without each other again. It was cute then, but being mature now and knowing that you’ll have a strong bond whether you’re in the same state or you’re dating each other’s friends is much better, you think. 

“Can we just make a pact that you guys – and I mean all of you – will hold off on meddling from now on? Please?” 

“Will do,” Jack says quietly before releasing you. His eyes get a little twinkle in them when he inclines his head toward the door and says, “Now go get your man.”

“I think I’m gonna change first.”

“Right. That sounds… yeah. Go do that.”

Once you’re in dry clothes, you find Matt in his room, in the process of changing shirts even though his was barely touched by the rain. 

“Hey,” you say, rapping your knuckles gently against his door. “We still need to talk, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, patting the bed next to him. “Close the door, if you’re allowed?”

You nod, heading over to where he directs you without a word. The two of you spend at least a minute shifting in various ways, trying to make this comfortable. Because somehow it worked so much better when you were making out in a car. 

“So. There’s a lot to talk about.” 

He nods enthusiastically, running a hand through still-damp hair. But he doesn’t actually speak. He waits for you to continue, to decide what you want to bring up. 

“I guess… to start, Jack kind of finally gave us his blessing, but there’s a lot more I want to discuss with you before we act on anything like that. Like all the ways you were complaining to Trevor about me a couple nights ago. That stuff… it didn’t sound like a guy with a crush,” you admit, avoiding his widening eyes by fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

“What all did you hear?” he questions, voice low. 

“That you couldn’t stand me,” your throat tightens, but you force the words out. “How we could never be nice to each other, not in a million years, so you were going to start actively hating me. The way that I just drive you crazy, apparently.”

His hands enter your line of vision. One cups your cheek. The other gently tugs at your own hand until you let him envelop it in his. The hand partly cupping your chin is equally gentle, tilting your head up so you look at him. His eyes are almost glassy. 

“Sunshine, you have to listen to me when I say that I was going crazy that night. I thought I’d fooled myself into thinking that you actually liked me the night before, and I hated myself for it more than anything. But you weren’t around, and you were an easy excuse, so I took it out on you there. I can’t forgive myself for it, so I’m not going to ask you to do it either. But you are missing a little bit of context.”

Matt closes his eyes briefly to take a quick breath. “I couldn’t be around you without trying to find some sign that could give me hope that we’d get over our rivalry, or whatever it was. I said you’re too out of reach, that you would never like me at all, let alone like that.” 

“I pretended Trevor was being the really crazy one, but it was all me. But I still shouldn’t have said any of that, and I’m so sorry. Especially that you had to hear it,” he finishes. 

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. “I really appreciate you admitting that.” Then you continue. “I have to apologize too. For all these years of teasing and taunting you, for trying to let you know that I heard you… literally in front of everyone else during Scum, where we couldn’t actually talk about it. That was uncool of me. I could’ve handled everything a lot better since we met. I should have. You…” You trail off once before you finally manage to get the words out. “Maybe you deserve someone who can handle all of their feelings like, I dunno, a grown-up.”

And this time, when you look up, you see that he really is tearing up a little bit. But he’s smiling. And he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want a grown-up, Sunshine. I want you. Have since we met.”

You giggle. It’s a little choked out, a little wet from making it around the lump that formed in your throat, but you get it out. 

“Don’t tell Jack that,” you tell him. “He’ll be insufferable about being right.”

“God, I know,” Matt groans, falling back onto the bed and almost pulling you with him. “He’s just the worst about that, isn’t he?”

“We can’t forget Trevor,” you say. “He’s gonna be so bad too.”

He groans again, more muffled as he drags a hand down his face. “I’d say we shouldn’t date or change how we act just to fuck with ‘em, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

You’ve swallowed whatever was building in your throat and started to dry your face before you reply, “Jack already asked me out on your behalf, actually, so no, I don’t think that’d work at all. Nice thought, though.” 

“That’s kind of humiliating,” he points out. “Your cousin and my friend who told you to stay away from me got so sick of us acting like little kids around each other that he just – what, said ‘please date Matt’?”

“Bingo.”

This elicits a third groan from him, and he rolls over a little bit to sit back up. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead. Cross my heart. Swear it, all that stuff.”

When he falls back onto the bed like the drama queen you’ve always known he is, you follow. Matt re-opens his eyes to find you leaning over him. So he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down to lay on top of him, your faces just inches apart. 

“Worry about it later?” he asks, distracted by your sudden proximity (as if it isn’t his doing). 

A second passes, but you nod and lower your face to press your lips to his. Just like last time, it feels like breathing fresh air. It feels right. 

Maybe it would escalate. Maybe you and Matt would realize that you’re not in a car and you have some space to move around a little, but your lovely baby cousin knocks something against the wall in his room next door and ruins the moment. When you separate, though, Matt stills holds you close, his forehead meeting yours as you both catch your breath. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” he mutters, making you open your eyes. When he continues his voice is breathy. “...but, wow.” 

You feel a smirk spreading across your face before you can stop it. 

“Hey, I said don’t make fun of me!”

Time passes without you getting into an argument with Matt. Not in front of the boys, not at all. But neither of you clarify what’s changed between the two of you either. So by day three of peace and quiet, some of them are understandably tense. 

You and Matt are sitting out on the deck together during nap time when you hear the blinds hitting the other side of the door. The sound puts both of you on alert – making you look up from your book, Matt open his eyes from his half-nap. 

“‘d you think it’s the guys?” he asks quietly, glancing back toward the house. 

“Probably,” you shrug. “Made Jack promise not to meddle, but I doubt they can go this long without being nosy.” You look up at him over your book. “Not like there’s anything to tell, right? We’re kind of just… kissing. On occasion.”

He blinks slowly. “Yeah. I guess so.” Despite the agreement, his brows furrow. “And… you’re cool with just doing that?”

“If you are,” you respond. The air is growing heavy with the sudden awkwardness of trying to address whatever’s going on between you two now. Clearly, neither of you are the best at actually talking about your emotions, and that doesn’t seem like it’s going to change just because the feelings did. 

Matt sits up, slow and lazy, reaching over to force you to lower your book. 

“I don’t think I’m cool with that,” he says, voice quiet. “Sunshine, I’d like to actually date you. Take you out for dinner or something, make it kinda special and all that.” 

“Make it special, huh?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. 

His face reddens, but he nods. “Jack did ask you to date me, right? Not just ‘kiss me on occasion’?” He makes finger quotes as he reuses your words, then waits for your head to bob once in affirmation before standing. “Okay. Be ready at seven.” 

And with that, he’s heading back inside. The situation reminds you a little bit of that night at the party. But better. This time, the fireworks in your stomach are mixed with butterflies instead of nausea. This time things are working out, you think. 

Voices float out from the door when he opens it. Trevor, you recognize, and Luke. At least the two of them are converging on Matt inside, asking for clarification on why there’s no more fighting if you two aren’t officially a thing yet. Maybe Jack is there too. He’d probably be more defensive of you than your younger cousin, the ‘must defend her honor’ type. You hope for Matt’s sake that he’s still asleep or eating or doing literally anything else. 

Trevor must somehow have a sixth sense for when things are happening between you and his old friend. Because as soon as you head up to your room to get ready for whatever’s being planned, he follows. 

“So,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you as you start ruffling through your closet. “Matt asked me for restaurant recommendations tonight.”

“Okay?”

“C’mon, just admit that he’s finally really going after you. We all know how long he’s wanted to, and I’m pretty sure the last few days have put him as on edge as your cousins.”

His words make you frown. “Why are they worried? It has nothing to do with them.”

Trevor tsks, shaking his head dramatically. His hair falls into his face, so he has to brush it away. “Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine. Do you know what happened the last time you two were this quiet around each other, civil or otherwise?” 

Even though you start to answer with a sigh, he cuts you off. “You went missing in the middle of a storm. Freaked out all of us pretty bad, especially your cousins and Matt.”

“He was freaked out?”

“Oh yeah. Went so quiet, just threw on a hoodie and headed out to find you without, like, a word to the rest of us. Almost like he knew where you were or something.” The way your friend answers makes it seem as if he doesn’t think too much of it, just knows that it indicates that Matt has feelings for you. 

You, on the other hand, are struck by that last little admission. He did know where you were. Even that day in the rain, you’d had a feeling that he’d have found you even if you had stayed at the ice cream shop, but now you know. 

And the warm fuzzy feeling grows in your chest until it’s spreading through the rest of your body, forcing you to hide your smile from Trevor behind the closet door. 

“Did he tell you what we’re doing?” you question. 

He nods. 

“Can I know?”

He shakes his head. Heaving another deep sigh, you turn to him with a hand on your hip. “Trevor, I at least need to know what to dress for. Can I have that much?”

“You’ll be moving around a little bit, but I’m pretty sure you can wear a skirt without worrying about it. Like, no jumping or anything crazy.” 

“This- you make it sound so weird,” you comment, and Trevor just shrugs. 

Still, you follow his advice even after you shoo him out of the room once more to really put something on. It keeps feeling strange – you’ve never dressed to get Matt’s attention before. You have no idea what he likes besides being pretty sure he likes you. But that’s not helpful. 

There’s a knock on your door as soon as you’ve found your outfit, and you make the person wait until it’s on to enter. It turns out to be Jack. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” he says casually, trying to hide the way his eyes widen when he sees your change of clothes. “Whatcha up to?”

“Going out tonight,” you say simply, because if Matt didn’t tell your cousins and friends then there must be a reason. “Why?”

“Just…be safe,” he replies. “Might be another storm coming in tonight. We really can’t have you getting sick. Mom would never forgive us.” You’re pretty sure he’s figured out that something is going on, but he’s just being sweet now. 

You smile at him. “I will,” you promise him softly. “No more getting lost in bad weather, I understand.”

He looks like he might want to say something, but instead he just pulls you into a hug with a short nod. There he is, you think to yourself. This is the cousin that would insist upon walking your seven-year-old self down the aisle whenever you roped the boys into playing wedding with you. The one who promised to look after you forever because even if you would always be older, he’d get bigger and stronger. 

So you squeeze him just that little bit tighter before you let go.

Matt isn’t in his room when you look, and he’s not in any of the common spaces. Eventually a confused Alex takes pity on you and directs you out to the driveway. You don’t see him by any of the cars, so you call his name. 

“Hey!” he responds, popping up from the other side of his car. “You’re- um, you-” Tripping over his words, he has to take a moment to collect his thoughts before he can talk. “You look great, Sunshine.” 

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond with an exaggerated wink. “What are you up to out here?”

Still seeming a little nervous, he gestures at his car. “Just… cleaning it up before you get back in. You know, since we’re going on an actual date and all.” The admission makes you smile. He keeps talking. “And, if you’re ready to go, we can head out. Starting to look like we might be on a bit of a time crunch with the weather and all.” 

Matt gestures to the sky, rounding the car to open the passenger side door for you. He holds it open until you get there. At which point he promptly leaves you alone in the car to toss the garbage bag he’d been throwing his car trash in. 

The ride to… wherever you’re going is awkward. Conversations are short, fading out quickly. Even though the two of you have managed to coexist peacefully for a little bit now, you still don’t really know how to interact with each other. Just be. 

“So what are you gonna do now that you’ve graduated?” Matt asks at one point after being seated at the hole-in-the-wall, local secret pizzeria that he chose for dinner. 

You shrug. “Look for jobs at home, I guess. Maybe around here, but that’d probably mean staying with Auntie Ellen for a bit and I’m not sure that would work.” 

He nods in understanding. The conversation dies. 

Later, you try starting something. “How do you think your team’s gonna be this season?”

“Well,” he says, brows furrowing in thought, “You always want to be better than you were, right? But with so many guys coming and going between seasons, it’s hard to know what kinda chemistry the lines will have on-ice.” 

This time, you’re the one nodding like you get it. And you kinda do. But since you’re not a hockey player yourself, you don’t quite understand it at the same level as, say, anyone else at the lake house would. 

Overall, dinner is pretty smooth, but the conversation doesn’t come easy. And the sky has definitely darkened prematurely since you went inside the place. Matt opens your door again, then the two of you are back in the car with only a Spotify playlist filling the air between you. The distinct awkwardness of the situation almost makes you giggle. 

“We already know kind of a lot about each other, huh?” you think aloud, looking over to see his face bathed in the red of the brake lights in front of you. He smiles at you, hand reaching for yours over the console. 

“Yeah,” he says, “I guess we do.” 

There was more on your mind, but you cut yourself off with a little gasp as Matt pulls into a parking lot. The parking lot of a mini golf course, to be exact. His smile turns fond when you grab his arm excitedly with your free hand. 

“Mini golf?” you half-ask, half-exclaim. “Matt!”

He shrugs bashfully. “I know you used to love it, and you probably haven’t gotten to do it much recently.”

“No,” you say happily, in agreement. Then your face turns to a pout. “All of y’all got too caught up in boring full-sized golf.” If it were even possible, you’d say that his smile only grows at your words. From pride, maybe, or endearment. “This is the best surprise date ever!” you continue, shaking his arm. 

“I’m glad,” he chuckles, leaning over to gently touch his forehead to yours before leaving to help you out of the car. 

The contrast between pizzeria and mini golf is stark. Playing a game brings out a competitive side in both of you, maybe the side that helped you form your strange bond in the first place. And each of you are fully convinced that you will come out victorious. 

“Watch this!” you call to Matt before sending your brightly-colored ball into a tunnel that should shoot it out as a hole in one. He watches closely, and is very obviously trying not to laugh when it gets stuck in said tunnel and you have to ask if he’ll use his turn to help you out. 

“Maybe next time, Sunshine,” he teases after the two of you free your ball, patting you on the back. 

Though you try to glower at him, the expression doesn’t hold. It quickly dissolves into a grin and a giggle. 

Surrounded by laughter and fake palm trees, the two of you manage to tie up the score by the sixteenth hole. Then something flashes in the distance. A low rumble follows, making some of the parents start herding their families to the exits immediately. 

You exchange a look with Matt. “Keep going until they tell us to stop?” you ask, holding up a fist. 

“Abso-freaking-lutely,” he answers, bumping his fist into yours. 

Of course, the intercom chooses this exact moment to crackle to life and project a wobbly teenage voice commanding all guests to exit the course, but pick up a coupon for another free game on the way out due to the unfortunate weather-related circumstances. 

Both you and Matt sigh, but have little choice other than to follow the instructions given. 

“This sucks,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets along with the free game coupon. “We might not even get time to use this thing before it expires.” 

“Hey,” you say, reaching to tug one of his hands into your own. “I still had fun tonight. Thank you.” He starts smiling at you just as the sky opens and the first raindrops start hitting your head and shoulders. An idea hits you. You let go of his hand, ignoring the offended look he shoots you. “Race you to the car!” 

And he may have longer legs, but you have a headstart. 

The clouds aren’t the only reason why the sky is dark when Matt pulls back into the driveway. There may have been another impromptu gas station stop, but you’d never admit to it. Glancing outside, you hesitate to get out of the car. 

“C’mon, Sunshine, you’re already soaked,” Matt tries to urge you. “Let’s just get in there.” Your gaze redirects to him, a smirk spreading across your face, and he rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Silently, you start getting comfortable: unbuckling your seatbelt, leaning back in your seat, pulling out your phone. Your clothes just started feeling kind of dry again – why should you ruin it? It barely fazes you when the driver’s side door opens and closes. Then your door opens, and you jump a little.

Matt holds out a hand. “Are you coming inside with me or what?”

Sure, it’s no Prince Charming moment. But it’s your Matt. Only a second or so passes before you slip your phone into a pocket and slide off the seat until your feet hit the ground. 

It’s still pouring out. There’s no way around that. 

But the streetlights and the lanterns next to the front door are casting warm light over the pavement through the apparent wall of rain. Suddenly, you stop caring about the possibility of getting wet entirely. 

Matt doesn’t flinch when you surge up to kiss him. He smiles into it, closing your car door for you and leaning down so you can wrap your arms around his neck. One of his hands finds your face in the semi-dark, his thumb moving back and forth, accidentally rubbing in the cold raindrops that fell there. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re cold. It doesn’t matter that it’s after dark on a summer night. It doesn’t matter that your cousins and all of Matt’s friends are still awake, just inside. 

All that matters is you and Matt, holding each other close in the face of everything else going on right now. 

“Does this mean I win?” you ask cheekily when the two of you part. 

The space between Matt’s brows crinkles for just a second before realization flashes across his face and he’s shaking his head. “Naw, Sunshine. If I’m here kissing you right now, I think it means I won.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, stepping in closer to him so you’re almost completely in his space, “What’s your prize of choice then?”

“I have you, don’t I?”

You look up at him, eyes shining in the light like the puddles forming in the yard. “You mean that?”

Matt’s arms come down to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you even more into his chest and tucking your head under his chin. He’s about to say something else when a door opens and a voice calls into the night. 

“Get in here, idiots! You’re gonna get hypothermia or whatever!”

Jack’s voice joins Cole’s. “You’re so gross! This is worse than when you were fighting!” 

You and Matt exchange a look then burst out laughing. But you head into the house nonetheless, hand-in-hand, prepared to defend each other against the ruthless barrage of teasing all of your friends have prepared. 

After all, only the two of you are allowed to antagonize each other.

---

DOMIII OH MY GOD

---

scarlet johannson did not spend an entire decade fighting tooth and nail to make natasha into an actual character instead of the sex object writers wanted her to be while also having to endure the most vile, misogynistic questions during press tours for people to now disrespect her legacy because yelena is 'better'. the only reason why that is, is because of everything scarlet went through. natasha singlehandedly paved the way for every other female superhero in the mcu and don't you forget that

do you love mark webber

I LOVE MARK WEBBEER!!

i didn’t see that there was more after the texts and was like “damn i’ll ask for a pt. 2” AND LOW AND BEHOLD there was more i started kicking my feet

THE HARDEST THING TO SIGN - LN4

summary : The hardest thing Lando Norris has signed…? You already know. Hint : a distraction cupped in lace.

listen up : explicit!! smut. p in v. oral (f receiving) dirty talk. 18+

words : 1933 + a couple texts!

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It was supposed to be a joke! No- It was a joke!

Not to Lando Norris, apparently.

You’d been dragged to some hotel by your friend, her ranting about how some F1 drivers are staying there and she might be able to get an autograph. You didn’t really believe this but, low and behold, there they were.

Carlos Sainz signed your friend's hat and she cried when Lewis Hamilton waved. You watched Lando Norris pass by the two of you, his signature quick on your friend's phone case.

You had joked before that he was the hottest out of the drivers. Curly hair, dreamy eyes, tanned skin.

But then again, it wasn’t really a joke. Your friend knew it too- knew how whenever she had F1 on, you’d ask about him.

It became such a running bit that when you were smushed between so many fans, you yelled out to him, “Sign my tits!”

You had expected to get a few laughs, sure! You didn’t expect him to actually turn around.

Lando Norris, apparently, has great hearing. He's in a white Mclaren hat and a shirt that matches, sharpie in hand and fully frozen while staring directly at you.

And then: he’s smiling and walking directly towards you.

Your brow raises, your friend slapping your arm and screaming in your ear. You can’t hear her because holy fuck Lando Norris is ridiculously attractive.

He’s in front of you way too quick, uncapping the sharpie before meeting your eyes. You want to laugh, want to do anything so he doesn’t see how pink your cheeks have gotten.

Instead, you tug the top of your tank top down, the lace of your bra sticking out. You don’t miss the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, in fact, it makes you smile.

His hand slips onto your side, steadying you with one large hand while the other moves in closer with the sharpie. “What’s your name, love?” His voice is quiet, waiting for you to answer even with the people around.

“Y/n.”

He smiles at this, “I’m impressed, Y/n.” Then his gaze dips back to your chest, the marker finally meeting your skin and dragging across in an unusually careful signature.

You watch his face while his hand moves up your side, partially cupping your boob and something he’ll definitely blame on grip. Your chest rises with your words, “Impressed at my tits or my nerve?”

He laughs, finishing his signature, “Both? You’re pretty brave, I'll give you that.” His eyes are piercing, even in the night.

Lando steps back, removing his hand from your top and capping the sharpie. Your skin is cold now without his touch and as he’s about to leave, you do something incredibly reckless and possibly embarrassing. “Can I give you my number too or is that too brave of me to ask?”

He stops again, a small smirk on his lips that makes them all the much more kissable. Someone’s yelling at him from the front of the hotel, telling him to hurry up.

He turns back, biting the cap off the sharpie just before he hands it to you. Without thinking it through, you grab his arm and scribble your number down. He’s looking at you when you finish, handing back the marker as the voice yells again. Without any other words, He gives you one last look before returning to his fans and hurrying up the steps.

Your friend shakes you, “Holy shit! Lando Norris just signed your cleavage!” You don’t say anything, just blink down at the mark on your chest before pulling your arms closer to you, “Oh my god…” your friends voice gets quieter, “You’re going to fuck Lando Norris.”

You stand outside room 629, just staring. You haven’t texted him, haven’t even knocked. You’re about to give in to your anxiety and turn around but the door swings open and there he is.

Grey sweatpants. No shirt. Hair wet.

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. “Hey.” He says a little breathless, like he was running around trying to clean up or some shit. “Come in!”

The room is huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever stayed in, that’s for sure. “Cool room…”

Lando scratches the back of his neck, shutting the door as your eyes wander, “Yeah uh… they like me here, I guess.”

You sit on his bed, crossing your legs and leaning back. He’s still standing across the room when you smile. “You nervous?”

“I don’t do this-”

You raise a brow, not believing him in the slightest. “Hook up with girls who you just met?”

“Fans.” he clarifies, walking closer, “I don’t hook up with fans.”

You blink, “I’m not a fan.”

“You’re not?” He’s genuinely confused now and for a second you’re worried you might have ruined some sort of fantasy for him.

You shrug. “Of your face, maybe. But I honestly know nothing about you except that you’re really fast and extremely hot.”

“Don’t forget willing to sign a girls chest.”

You grin as he stands in front of you, looking up at him, his body. “Oh I don’t think I'll ever forget that.” You pull your hoodie off, the signature untouched, your shirt gone.

He’s staring again.

“You’re really fucking hot.” he breathes out, his fingers brushing over his signature.

You tug at the waistband of his sweats, looking up at him, “Show me how hot you think I am.”

He starts to kneel, capturing your lips with his before he goes any further. He’s a great kisser, so experienced that you start to think you’re special.

But then again, how many girls get to have Lando Norris kneel in front of them?

His hands find your bra, the lace flimsy and easy for him to slip his fingers under. You groan at the contact, his knees hitting the floor as he pulls you in, kissing down your stomach.

His hands are huge, a fact that you definitely remember from earlier, how he touched you in front of all those people.

He slips your sweats off, groaning at your matching panties. “Fucking perfect.”

“Picked well huh?” You let out an unexpected moan when he kisses up your thigh.

“Just glad you yelled at me.” You want to squeeze your legs together, the feeling so intense already but then you’d crush him. He takes your panties off next, slipping his tongue between your legs and making your back arch on the bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip, your hand going to his hair. He groans when you tug at his curls, a sound you could never get tired of.

He finds your clit faster than expected, now making you really squeeze your thighs together. He grabs your knee, pushing it back so you don’t suffocate him, though you don’t think he’d mind.

You moan, your head back on the bed and hand pushing him into you more. “Fuck, Lando!” his name slips out and you swear you can feel him smile against you.

He stops suddenly, making you instantly upset. “Those eyes…” He shakes his head at you, standing up to come over you a bit, “Ness to see your face when I make you come.”

His fingers plunge into you, choking out a moan as he just grins stupidly at you. “Take my fingers baby…”

His words make it more intense, makes the rush ten times hotter. He pins your wrists over your head after you try to touch him, “Wanna see you whine for me first.”

And whine you do, bucking your hips into his hand while he laughs. He kisses you while you’re squirming, trying to kiss back but when your legs start to shake, you know it’s no use.

You come in a flash of white heat throughout your body. Moaning as his lips meet your tit.

You make a mess on his hand, on the sheets. Something he brushes off with more kisses. You try to sit up, try to tug at his waistband, but he stops you, “Let me-”

“Fucking need you… your pussy. Your mouth later.” You bite your lip, palming the growing bulge behind the fabric. “F’king hell.”

“Whatever you want, lan.” He kisses you harder at the nickname, keeping your legs spread with his knee.

“God…” He kisses your chest, licking around your nipple as you groan. “When you first asked- I thought about doing this to you immediately. Such perfect tits-”

You slip your hand in his pants, his dick hard as he moans around your boob. He shoves his sweats off, climbing over you while trying to kiss you at the same time.

“Just fuck me-” You say between kisses, making his smile grow as well as his hard on.

“So bossy…” But he gets ready anyway, lining himself up with you and slowly pushing in.

You bite your lip at the stretch, thinking back to how fast he came back to you earlier, “So obedient.”

He scoffs, fully in you now. Everything melts away, the feeling of him in you makes your vision go blurry and your voice go hoarse.

He whines, loudly, pushing in and out to start. “I feel like you were fucking made for me.” He’s so hot it almost hurts, his body tight and so eager for you.

“You’re telling me-” he’s slow but intentional. Every thrust comes another swear word or moan. The hotel room is soon filled with the sound of skin slapping and sounds, smelling like sex.

He flipped you over for a second, your face pushed into a pillow and your back arched farther than it’s ever gone. You cry out into the pillow, your moans muffled while he throws his head back freely.

It doesn’t last long because the next thing you know, you’re on top of him. “Fucking… shit- ride me.” He stutters out as you grind on top of him.

He adds a finger, making your back arch that much more. When he takes it out, he’s grinning like a mad man. Bringing his hand to your face, he slips his thumb between your lips, making you whine at the sudden taste.

“Suck.” And you do. Taking his tongue into your mouth, you lick and suck it all while keeping eye contact.

You grip his bicep, throwing your head back like a fucking porn star. He watches you, watches your tits bounce with his name across them. He’s scared he might cum right then because of how fucking erotic the whole scene is.

Your pace slows, holding onto his thigh now while he holds onto your waist, making sure you don’t fall over. You’re sweaty, your hair falling behind you in a moment of pure bliss.

You cum on him seconds before he rushes you off, cumming on your thigh with a groan.

His arm is across you, your feet tangled and you just breathe. It’s hot, his skin on yours doesn’t make it any better but you wouldn’t want anything different.

He cleans you up and by the time he’s back in bed, you’re half asleep. “I should go-” but you make no effort to move.

“Stay.” He kisses your shoulder, “Wanna care for you…” He drops his head between your shoulder and a pillow, making you smile. “Was that okay?”

“Okay? Much better than okay.” You breathe, finding your fingers in his hair in a much more innocent way now.

“Good. You’re really fucking good.”

You smile, “So, first time fucking a fan. How was it?”

He looks up, “Thought you said you weren’t one?”

“After that? I definitely fucking am.”

---

if i was president of the fia i would require teammates to do a good luck kiss with tongue before every race

they'll show a close up of matthew knies and my fucking internal organs start clenching. my uterus is doing somersaults out here

fun fact for the lb, i live in florida. there will be more fucking annoying people in THESE FUCK ASS wife beater jerseys that the sell. i can’t i can’t.

---

New [tumblr] users: there is something very important for you to know.

There is a secret callsign for [tumblr] users.

If you spot a wild [tumblr] human in the wild, you must tell them this phrase:

"I like your shoelaces."

The appropriate reverse-call, if you hear this phrase, goes thusly:

"Thanks! I stole them from the president."

I'm paying literal actual money for you to see this, so don't let it be in vain. Use this phrase everywhere.

(n.mackinnon) — i just had sex with my ex in a new york apartment

a/n: i was sad after the mikko trade and so this happened. i finally got around to finishing it. not proofread and i wrote this entirely on my phone. do with that what you will. and welp, i don’t know what that ending was. so i hope you guys like it anyways <3

word count: +7.1k

synopsis: | based on the song sex with my ex by fletcher | the biggest trade in hockey in years has you texting your ex, something you swore you would never do. but you thought it would be harmless.

warnings: mentions of the mikko rantanen trade, smut — (oral female, unprotected!sex) cursing, accidental injury, mentions of blood, descriptions of blood & bruising

if there is anything else that needs to be tagged as a warning please let me know so i can make sure it’s tagged properly!

🚨 you are responsible for your media consumption. do not interact if you are under age.

tagging: @jostystyles @comphyjost @mrs-mikko-rantanen @krugstrash @lyds21 @davidpastrsnack @fallinallincurls @ilyasorokinn @laurenairay

—

you bit your lip as you debated sending the message. the news playing in the background of your apartment. the wine in your system telling you to do things you shouldn’t, but you wanted to.

you were in shock. the whole hockey world was in shock. what the hell were they doing?

you had already texted mikko and he had responded. despite everything that had happened between you and his friend, you remained friends with some of the guys on the team. even after your ‘traitorous’ move to new york.

you were now working for a different team. donning different colors and cheering on different guys.

which they all hated. but you had grown up in colorado, and no matter what, you wanted them all to succeed.

so you kept following them. you followed the moves of what was happening with the denver based team and tried not to think about him, but how could you not? he was the face of the goddamn team.

did he think about you?

despite talking to mel and gabe all the time, you’d never ask that question.

you’d shut him out after moving. it was best for you and in the end, it was best for him to. he went back to just focusing on hockey and forgetting what it was like to hold you, to sleep beside you.

but his nights were restless and wanting. there were bags under his eyes and he seemed tenser than usual in the weeks that followed the break up.

reporters across the league talked about it. how he was exploding on the ice, a hot head.

and you hated that you had caused it, but it wasn’t you who had led to the demise of your relationship. you had promised you weren’t gonna blame him, but you did.

you were only human.

but it didn’t matter now, things had started to settle down. and the relationship that had lasted years, was over now. and you were settled in a new city. with a new team. and you hadn’t thought about him for over a year. well, that’s a lie.

you hadn’t talked to him in over a year.

even when they made their east coast road trip and the guys insisted on seeing you, he didn’t come. and you knew why. because you wouldn’t have shown up he was there.

on the ice when you were taking pictures and conducting rink side interviews and shooting content, cale and mikko stopped by to chat before the game.

you tried to pay attention but you couldn’t, not with his eyes on you.

your breath was catching in your throat, your heart speeding up. sweat furrowing your brow.

it was like that every time you saw him.

so why the hell were you texting him now?

you definitely were blaming the wine.

i’m sorry about mikko.

that was all you said. simple. nothing more, nothing less.

a tiny dialogue. something easy.

this was the biggest thing to come out of the avs front office since…well ever.

you chewed on your bottom lip and sipped on your wine as you watched anxiously for the little dots to appear.

you practically dropped your phone on the counter when they appeared.

your heart sank when they disappeared. but then they appeared again. it happened several times.

you breathed deeply and set your phone down on the counter and ran a hand through your hair.

you paced around your apartment and looked out across the skyline. it was late at night, but the city lights were still bright.

trying to pay attention to the news playing on your tv, you stared blankly at the screen.

they were talking about the same thing you had been thinking about. the damn fucking mikko trade.

of course, there were some really shitty takes. and you expected nothing less from biz.

you huffed and chugged another sip of your red.

the phone buzzed on the counter and you almost choked as you rushed over.

the name on the phone you hadn’t seen in so long.

it fucking sucks.

wow, what a way with words, you thought. he always had a talent.

all that waiting for this. honestly, you didn’t know why you were disappointed.

you were just about to shut your phone off and go to bed, ignore what you started when your phone lit up again.

you home?

a lump formed in your throat and you had to read the message six times trying to understand it.

yes. why? are you in new york?

you waited with baited breath as the bubbles popped up on the screen again and disappeared.

ugh! you felt like screaming and throwing your phone across the room.

will be. we land in 20.

god. what do you do? oh my god. he wants to come over. for what? oh. you’re not stupid. you know what he wants to come over for.

you were just about to text back when another message popped up.

can i come over?

against your better judgment, you were texting him your address and turning your phone off.

you chugged the rest of your wine before pouring yourself another huge glass.

you felt frantic as you looked around your place. it was decently clean. should you pick up before he comes?

no. god no, you should shower. most definitely shower before he gets here.

what were you doing? you asked yourself as you made your way to the shower.

the shower wasn’t comforting as you frantically scrubbed yourself clean and tried to blow dry your hair so it wasn’t soaking wet when he got here.

you drank more wine as you stand in front of your dresser debating what to put on. you knew him so well. would it be obvious if you put on one of his favorites? would that say something to him? would he read into it?

the wine was clouding your mind. you weren’t thinking clearly as you slipped the white lace over your skin.

you checked your phone for messages. there were none, so you made your way to your closet and searched for something you hadn’t thought about in ages.

although, it was still your favorite piece of clothing. and you’d never give it back to him.

even if he asked.

though, he never would. and you knew he never would.

he liked seeing you in it too much. the day you walked out wearing it was one of the worst days of his life.

you held it close to you, staring at your reflection in the mirror. because what were you doing?

here you were…in your new city. putting on his favorite set, putting on his shirt. inviting him into your safe space for what? to have sex? was it harmless? fuck no. you knew it wouldn’t be.

but as you thought about him. the broadness of his shoulders, the crook of his nose and how it felt buried in your cunt, you were throwing on the old fabric.

you debated more wine, but anymore and you’d probably throw up so you decided on some water. water with some liquid iv. you hated the taste. it was definitely not as fun as what you had just been drinking, but you were not about to miss out on what you had basically invited to your place.

your skin was crawling as you crossed your legs in anticipation and stared out the window.

when your intercom buzzed you fell off the couch. you hit the floor with a thud and you scrambled off the ground rushing to it.

“who is it?” you asked hitting the button. you knew damn well who it was.

there was a huff of annoyance and god you hated what it did to you.

“it’s me.” his voice. god his voice. you hadn’t heard it in person in so long. only just what had played on your tv or over your phone.

you felt weak in the knees as your shaky finger buzzed him in.

the minutes that took him to climb the stairs to your fifth floor apartment felt like hours.

you were slumped against the door practically panting.

how were you still this down bad for him? you swear it hadn’t been this way. you felt strangely pathetic and euphoric at the same time.

when there was a knock on the door, you jumped out of your skin.

you turned on your heels and stared at the door knob. you were trying to calm your breathing and get your hand to stop shaking so bad.

“y/n.”

your eyes fluttered shutter when he called his name and in a trance, you opened the door for him.

“nate.” you breathed.

his breath hitched in his throat as the door swung open. the sound of his name on your lips was heavenly to him.

you were standing there, cheeks flushed. no doubt from wine. he wasn’t stupid, nate knew what had driven the text to him. your hair damp and tossed to the side.

his eyes trailed down, landing on the hoodie you were wearing. his hoodie.

his number on the arm and his team’s logo on the front. no doubt his name still on the back.

nate groaned low.

but you still heard it and it went straight to your core.

your legs were bare.

“hi.” you said breathlessly.

“hey.” nate responded and pushed his way into the apartment.

you stepped aside to accommodate his size.

nate kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat. he dropped it on top of his sneakers.

“you know, i have a coat rack.” you said.

“i know.” nate replied and glanced towards the door.

you rolled your eyes and picked up his coat.

hanging it up next to yours, nate watched you. secretly, he wanted to see you do that. all this time, he longed to see his coat next to yours like it had been for all of that time.

truth be told, when you texted him. he wasn’t all that shocked. the mikko news was everywhere and he knew it would reach you. that it would bring you back to him.

but he had no idea that it would bring him here. to your new york apartment on the eve of a game after they just to lost boston.

when they got to the hotel and he was checking into his room with cale and immediately leaving after final call, cale was concerned.

all he said was your name and cale understood what that meant and shut his mouth before rolling back over in his own bed.

nate made his way down the back stairs of the hotel floor and hailed a taxi. the ride to your place he was anxious. he decided against texting you on the way.

nate didn’t want to give you the chance to back out. he’d waited too long to see you, to apologize for what had happened. for not seeing you, paying enough attention. given the chance, he’d do better.

all this time, he wondered if you had a new guy. as much as he hated it and against his better judgment, he’d asked one of the players he saw you posting a lot on the team’s social to find out if you were seeing anyone.

you weren’t. and he hated that he now knew that nate was thinking about you, but it wasn’t like people didn’t know you guys had been a thing. i mean for fuck’s sake, you were standing next to him in his cup photos.

tonight, nate was gonna talk to you. after losing mikko, fuck it. he needed to air everything out.

but when you opened the door and you were standing there in his clothes, his thoughts darkened and everything went out the window.

all he could see was his cock sliding in and out of you and he knew you had been thinking the same thing.

“i hate this.” nate had been taking in the contents of your apartment, the decorations. he’d seen most of them before. you hadn’t changed. but there were new things.

the blue shirt with the new lettering and new team logo.

he picked up the shirt and it looked small in his hand like a rag as he waved it at you.

“nathan.” you said.

“what?”

“it’s where i work.”

“i know. it doesn’t mean i have to like it.”

“nate—“ you started but nathan tossed the fabric to the floor and suddenly he was in your space. backing you against the kitchen island.

“why’d you put that on?” nate asked. his tone was dark and his voice low.

his hands were resting on the countertop, your body trapped between his strong arms.

your breath was caught in your throat and you felt like you were choking on your heartbeat as you tried to speak.

before, when you had put it on…you felt so bold. so brazen, but now. here, under his gaze. you felt small. and oddly his.

although he hadn’t touched you in a year, but the both of you knew that didn’t matter. you were always his. and always would be.

“what do you mean?” you finally squeaked out. you tried to sound as normal as possible, but you knew you sounded like a mouse.

nate chuckled and you resisted the urge to crumble.

“did you put it on for me? or do you wear it all the time?” nate whispered, his lips brushing slightly over the exposed skin of your skin as he dipped his head.

oh. you moaned soft and inaudible, but nate knew you, he knew your body and he knew what his presence in your tiny was doing.

just like you knew without looking down, without feeling him, what you were doing to him.

his hands left the counter and they reached for the hem of the sweatshirt.

nate tugged at one of the lose threads. there was a slight ripping sound.

your stomach lurched.

“don’t.” it felt as if your heart was being ripped with that seam. it reminded you of that year ago when everything happened. you still hadn’t healed. you had just put a bandage over everything and moved on because you wanted him. you wanted him to fix it all, but you didn’t give him that chance because you just packed up your shit and took a new job with a new team and moved to a new city.

“i’ll give you a new one.” nate whispered. his lips closer to you this time. they were hovering over yours and you felt drunker than you had before.

desperate for him. to taste him after the longest year of your life.

“promise?” you questioned. your eyes fluttered opened and to your surprise, nate was staring at you with his big blue eyes. they were cloudy and stormy. a hint of lust in them, but something you couldn’t put a name on.

“promise.” nate nodded and as the words left his mouth, you felt whole again.

you knew you’d regret it because how could this be harmless? but you threw your arms around his neck and breathed him in.

his lips were warm and rough. slightly chapped from the cold air. nate tasted like mint and maple. you smiled to yourself. he was still using that chapstick you’d found in a market back home with him.

when you’d left, the first time nate went home, he was there with sid and saw the booth again. he bought the entire inventory. it was stupid and sidney made fun of him for it, but the older forward understood. nathan was trying to hold onto any piece of you he could.

and that damn lip balm you loved so dearly was something he carried with him always. tucked away in his pocket, his suitcase, and his hockey bag.

nate was falling into you, his arms sliding around you. his body pushing your ass into the edge of the countertop.

you gasped into him and nathan was sliding his tongue into your mouth.

his hands gripped your ass and halted you onto the countertop in one motion before sliding underneath the comfort of his hoodie and squeezing your sides.

they were heavy and familiar on your skin. you loved the feeling. after all this time, he still felt so comfortable.

nate discarded your hoodie and dropped it to the kitchen floor. you felt a chill slide up your spine. your arms flooding with goosebumps.

before nate was throwing his head back, his eyes rolling.

he groaned loudly.

“my god.”

you smiled bashful. a pink tint painting your cheeks.

“what kind of man do you think i am, y/n?” nate asked as if the both of you didn’t know he wasn’t coming here for one thing and one thing only.

“the kind who’s gonna fuck me.” you replied.

“you’re killing me.” nate said before his hands were back on you again. exploring and touching everything he could.

his lips were more harsh this time. they weren’t soft and gentle on your lips, taking their time to memorize them again. although, he’d never forgotten. now, they were latched on to your neck and his teeth were nipping your skin. you yelped and he shushed you.

you tugged at his t-shirt and nate pulled apart from you. he was annoyed now. all he wanted was to touch you.

nate was starved and you were his meal.

nate tore his shirt from his head and threw it aggressively across the room and you watched it in surprised.

he didn’t pay attention to your surprise before he was kissing you again and his hands were cupping your ass and yanking you towards the edge of the counter.

“god i missed you. i missed this ass.” nathan said with a smack.

“nathan!” you chided.

“don’t act like you don’t love it.” nate said and kissed you again. you’d protest, but he had you there.

why did this all feel so weird? you should stop it, you thought. this was mudding the waters between the two of you, but honestly were they ever gonna be clear?

probably not. there was too much history.

so what the hell? was one night with him really the worst thing you could do?

everything in the world was going to hell. and he’d just lost one of his best friends and lost to the bruins. nate needed to let out some steam. and you were here now and with his hands on you, all you could think about was how good it was, how good he was.

and how there was no way you’d be able to walk again tomorrow and you wanted that.

nate picked you up as you were thinking. your feet touching the ground, but your weight was barely registering against the floor as nate spun you in his arms and walked towards your bedroom. his foot heavy against the door as he kicked it open.

you rolled your eyes as he tossed you on the bed. you didn’t even have a chance to scold him for it before he was crawling over you.

there was something so playful and domineering about him when you were together. it was a part of him only you got to see and god, you missed it.

nate kissed your lips before making his way down your chest. he paid extra attention to the tops of your breasts before leaning back. his hair was a mess and his pupils were blown.

nate’s chest was rising heavy and slow. you loved the sight of him.

you wanted to take a picture of nathan and place it beside your bed so you could always remember him this way.

nate’s hands were rough as he ran them along your breasts yanking at the lace and there was that ripping sound again.

“nathan!” you snapped. nate shrugged before doing the exact same thing to the matching underwear. you were completely bare now except for the leftover strands of white lace clinging for dear life.

“what?” nate shrugged.

“i can’t believe you.” you grumbled. you were so annoyed with him, but you were so wet for him. only him. which he knew.

nate looked at you smugly.

“yes, you can, y/n.” nate started, his hands rubbing circles in the tops of yours thighs as he planted both your legs on either side of his body. “which is why you wore it.”

a lump formed in your throat and as you laid there, bare chested in front of your ex boyfriend you had never felt more naked.

nathan had a way of being able to see you more than anybody else in every single way.

his hands were warm and heavy on your skin. nate’s skin was rough from all the years he spent stick handling and firing at the back of the net.

the sensation caused the hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

you gasped and bit your lip trying to be quiet, but nathan’s eyes darkened.

you didn’t even have to wait for him to explain, you knew exactly what he meant. there was no communication that had to be passed between the two of you.

that’s what happens when you spend years studying each other’s bodies.

and his was magnificent.

it was shameful how often you’d picture him after leaving, after you had to go. because you should have left the memory of him in his house, in your shared house.

but you didn’t.

there were nights when your hand would sneak lower and you’d chase a high, but nothing was as good as his fingers, his touch.

nate ruined you.

he ruined you. he’d stolen moments from you and parts of your happiness, he’d stolen countless orgasms in the months to come. but your therapist said part of you did that too.

but it was easier for you to blame it all on him. which is why you didn’t reach out till now.

and your body was teetering in anticipation. it was like every single nerve in your body was a single match waiting to be lit.

nathan’s lips pursed as he kissed the soft skin of your navel.

his bottom lip jutting out and dragging a wet stripe with it.

you moaned in response and you tried to stifle it. nathan growled against you. a warning.

his fingers dug into your hips as his weight shifted the bed while he settled between your thighs.

you were watching his movements with baited breath, your chest still.

your eyes glazed over as he placed a soft kiss on the outer lips of your pussy before delving into you like a starved man.

you shuddered as he instantly found that bundle of nerves and his nose swiped against it. god. it was like a dream.

he breathed deep, taking you in, as he licked and kissed your clit.

nate’s mouth was moving in long strokes. moans we’re steadily coming from your lips and they were nathan’s favorite album.

nate pulled back his tongue disappearing from you briefly as his teeth scraped the bundle of nerves and you gasped in shock, in anguish as it startled you.

the fire was starting everywhere on your body, the matches lighting each other.

your pelvis arched off the bed as you begged for more.

nathan’s fingers kept digging into your hips as hard as he could and his pelvis was rutting against the edge of the bed for any sort of relief from the agonizing ache he felt in his dick.

nate’s tongue circled your hole before swiping upwards and finding your clit again. abruptly, two of his fingers were entering you, stretching you and your eyes grew wide as he did so.

you were louder now. your cheeks painted red and sweat forming on your chest.

nathan itched to reach up and touch your breast, but his fingers were deliciously digging into the top of your ass and he couldn’t wait to see what it looked like in the morning.

if he was still here, and he hoped he would be. nathan desperately hoped that you would let him stay the night.

he was love sick and he’d didn’t get care if everyone knew it at this point because he only wanted you knew.

having sex with his ex in a new york apartment was not going to be harmless and he knew that. but he’d gladly take a puck to the face from shea weber if it meant somehow getting you back.

and maybe you wouldn’t take him back, but he’d have this one night. to keep him company on his lonely nights on the road and at home.

“oh. nate.” you moaned and he continued eating you out like it was his last meal because it was in so many ways.

it was the last meal he wished he’d gotten before you had rightfully so walked out his life.

nate’s tongue flicked against your clit fast and rough as his fingers pumped in and out of you in tandem.

you were a mess above him, screaming his name as the fire came to a full blaze.

the word ‘nathan’ was no longer bitter on your tongue as you screamed his name, crashing like waves extinguishing the fire inside you.

the waves crashed into you so hard, you were panting gasping for air. there was pleasure written all over your face and your eyes were stormy.

nate didn’t let up though. he continued kissing, sucking, and licking. he loved tasting you.

“nate.” you whispered, it was barely audible. your voice stuck in your throat.

nate pulled his mouth from you with a smack and his fingers slid out of you slowly.

you whimpered at the loss of contact and nate finally released the one hand that was holding a vice grip on your hip bone.

nate crawled upwards till he was leaning back on his heels again.

he was unfairly wearing more clothes than you.

nate’s eyes were glazed over just like yours and his movements felt not his own like he was drunk as he brought his fingers up to his lips and sucked.

he moaned as he cleaned you off him. his breath deep and as nathan memorized all the details.

you could’ve come right there again at the sight of him.

“nate.” you whispered.

“shush, baby.” nathan said, “i know.”

and you melted. nathan stepped off the bed and his knees almost buckled out underneath him.

he prayed to god you didn’t notice, but you did.

because you were also committing everything about this night to memory. a memory that would be burned into your brain forever.

“nathan mackinnon.”

“yes?” nate cocked his head.

you lulled your head to the side so you could take him in. the sheen of sweat on his toned chest, the smooth curve of his biceps, and the crook of his nose. your eyes trailed downwards towards his waist wear his jeans hung low and the calvin klein logo was practically embedded into his skin.

you wanted to peel them off of him with your teeth.

“y/n.”

you kept staring at him, your eyes fixated there as you imagined it, watching him come undone underneath your touch.

“mmm?” you asked.

nate chuckled darkly.

“like what you see?”

your cheeks felt hot.

“fuck yeah.”

“i know.” nathan replied.

you rolled your eyes, but you still reached out to touch because you couldn’t resist him.

“ah ah.” nathan took a step away from you. his knees were still weak, but he couldn’t give into you like this because he wouldn’t last more than a second and he wanted this. no, he needed this.

he’d been thinking about this for ages.

you were his remedy.

“nate.” you whined like a brat. his brat.

nate unbuttoned his jeans and kicked himself out of his pants.

your eyes immediately took to the black underwear clad against his skin.

his thighs rock solid, his ass perfectly sculpted as he slid the fabric off too.

you were practically drooling as his cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach.

nate’s tip was enlarged and red. nate was throbbing as he stalked towards you.

“i missed you.” nate said as he climbed back onto your bed. his legs on either side of your body.

“i missed you.” you replied. a moment of vulnerability between the two of you as locked eyes.

“especially your superstar dick.” you said after a few moments of silence.

“of course you’d say that, y/n.” nathan laughed light heartedly. his smile reaching his eyes. you hadn’t seen them do that in forever.

“what? it’s true.” you shrugged.

nate shook his head and kissed you, deeply.

his hands roaming all over you as he swallowed your breaths and moans.

your fingers tugged at his hair strands and nails scrapped down his back.

nate’s dick was resting hard between your thighs, prodding near where you needed it most.

you tried to hook your leg over his, a move he knew all too well, but he wasn’t gonna let it happen tonight because if you did, he’d be finishing inside your mouth and not where he really wanted to which he couldn’t have. not after waiting for so long.

“nate.” you muttered against his lips.

“y/n.”

“nate. let me—“

“no.” nate snapped.

“please.”

“i. won’t. make. it.” nate said in between kisses.

you nodded and relented as nate looked to you.

“i need you.” you said and nate kissed you harder.

his hands moving between the two of you. taking himself in his hand, he pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing himself through your slick.

nate smacked his tip against your swollen and worn clit.

you gasped.

lining himself up with your entrance, nate kept his eyes on yours as you watched him enter you. his hips thrust up in one motion and suddenly you were full of him.

there were twinges of pain as you adjusted to the size of him, but you were so turned on and needed to have more of him.

nate pulled out and then pushed into you roughly.

your back arched up off the mattress as he fucked into you.

nathan was above you, painted in the shadows of city light through the windows as he pulled your body closer to his. your head resting against the pillow, lulling to the side in pleasure.

your hands bunching up the sheets as nate’s hips snapped into your pelvis.

your moans and the dirty sounds of your body meeting for the first time in months were the only sounds in your apartment.

nate grunted above you as you shut your eyes and focused on that second wave of bliss.

your hand snaking down to find your clit. your thumb circling in tandem with his rough thrusts.

“god you’re so beautiful.” nathan said from above you.

you moaned.

“sprawled out like this, just for me. even after all this time. it’s just for me. wearing my set. my sweatshirt. it’s me.”

you moaned again in response.

“say it.” nate demanded.

“it’s you.” you muttered.

“speak up, y/n.” nate growled.

“it’s you!” you shouted. “it’s you, nate. it’s only you.” you were a mess underneath him practically crying as nerves began shooting all over you.

the knot was still building in your stomach, but at the same time the wave was hitting you and the sensation was too much.

your pussy’s walls fluttering around him, pulling him in harder and deeper.

nate faltered in his thrusts and let out his own moan.

and that’s what sent you over the edge.

you came with a shout of his name as he continued fucking into you chasing his own relief.

“god, i love you.” nate said as he buried himself deep inside of you, his thighs cramping as he sputtered.

the warmth of him coating your inside walls. nate’s breath was strangled as he collapsed on top of you, panting.

your eyes were wide because the realization suddenly hit you. the blissful high making you drunk, leaving your body as his statement rushed over you.

it was more raw and numbing than anything the two of you had just done in the past two hours.

god, i love you.

did he really just say that?

was it one of those things that guys just say when they get laid? no. it was never something nate said during sex.

nathan wasn’t romantic. and everyone knew it. he only said i love you every so often out loud, but you knew he did love you.

there were moments when he’d make you a cup of coffee and leave it for you by bed before sneaking out for early morning skate.

or when he’d listen to your favorite music over and over again despite not loving it.

nathan would frequent a local book store and constantly book out a new book for you to read and tell him every thing about.

or how he would sit and listen to all your work presentations for hours despite not knowing anything about the specialization you were in, but he’d support you no matter what.

those were moments when he showed his love the most.

the downfall was that as the seasons after winning the cup got more difficult and they had early exists, his focus centered.

he forgot you. he became obsessed with trying to perfect his passes and face offs. dragging himself to practice hours before everyone else and coming home later than everyone else.

nights making dinner for him and then you’d sit for hours waiting as he stayed at the rink obsessively skating and watching tape.

it got bad again. you reached out to sid and he said he knew. he had been talking to him about it, but there was nothing the two of you could do. it was like last time.

and when he forgot your birthday and your anniversary it wasn’t that big of a deal to you.

but one of the biggest things coming up in your life, a memory of someone in your life you missed dearly that he never got to meet that you wished he had, you knew you’d always come second.

you hoped you were wrong. but even sid had texted you about it. and so did landy and ej.

three of his best friends remembering the day you were hurting the most and your boyfriend wasn’t.

so that’s when the job offer that had been sitting your email inbox that you dismissed instantly suddenly became enticing.

and you left.

and now you were here.

having sex with your ex in your new york apartment.

you could feel yourself a mess, obsessed with him again.

why did you think it would be harmless?

because he was your nathan.

and no matter how much time passed, he’d always be your nathan.

and you know that you’re losing your mind, but you were back in his arms. back where you started.

“y/n.” nathan said.

“i gotta go to the bathroom.” you said and pushed him off you before running to the bathroom and locking yourself in there.

nate laid there in your bed shocked at himself.

what the hell just happened? what did he do? what did he say? why did he say that?

“y/n. can we talk?” nathan said his feet heavy on the hardwood floor.

you could see the shadow of him from underneath the door.

“yeah.” your breath was shaky. you said from behind the door.

“i didn’t mean it.” nate said. fuck. why did he say that? he did mean it! what was he doing now?

you sniffled. he didn’t mean it?

“you didn’t mean it?” you asked a little dejectedly and nate slumped against the door, his forehead hitting the door.

“no. fuck. y/n. i.”

you opened the door and nate fell forwards abruptly, his face smacking the bathroom tile floor.

“oh my god! nate!” you shrieked and dropped to the floor as he groaned.

nathan shot up from the ground.

“i’m good.” nathan said with a bloody smile.

“oh my god, you’re bleeding.” you said and rushed to get a towel.

you yanked at the towel rack hanging over his head and it came crashing down bumping into on the way down to clatter against the floor.

“oh my god. i’m sorry.” you gasped in shock.

“wow.” nathan said.

“what?” you asked as you held the white wash cloth up to his nose and watched in horror as it became a mix of red and white.

“i can’t believe i just went from eating you out to this.” nate gestured between the two of you.

you smacked his chest.

nathan laughed so loudly then. it was deep guttural and his chest vibrated.

“i knew we’d regret this.” you mumbled.

“what?” nate asked. his laugh disappearing from his cheeks and his eyes becoming sad again.

“this, we shouldn’t have done, this. whatever it was.” you rambled.

“you really believe that?” nate searched your eyes.

“isn’t that what you just said?”

“what? no.” nate defended.

“you said ‘i didn’t mean it’ as in you don’t love me.”

“what? no! fuck, y/n. i love you. i love you more than anything. do you really think i don’t?”

“i don’t know.” you looked to the floor as you tried not to focus on his eyes or the blood on the towel.

nate winced as his thumbs found your chin and forced you to look at him.

“y/n. i never stopped loving you. the day you left was the worst day of my life. and i’ve been worse off without you.”

you stayed silent.

“i want to love you again.” you said quietly.

that felt like a gut punch to nate.

“you don’t love me anymore.” nate said.

“no. i mean, i do love you nathan. but i have spent so much time trying to unlove you and remove you from my heart. you really hurt me.”

“i know. i didn’t see you. and i promise that will never happen again.”

“are you sure? i’ve seen the standings.”

“okay, don’t bring that up, we’re getting better.” nathan chuckled, but there was a tone to his edge.

“how would this even work?” you whispered.

“i don’t know. but starting out you never wear those colors again.” nate’s eyes flicked towards the t-shirt he had discarded on the floor so distastefully.

“that’s my job.” you rolled your eyes.

“i hate it.”

“there are lots of things you hate, nathan.”

“but not you.” nathan said.

“not me.” you smiled.

and leaned into kiss him, but stopped short.

“we should really get you to a doctor.” you said and helped him get up even though nathan was twice your size.

nate pulled the bloodied rag back to the reveal the cut in his nose and there was already a bruise forming across his cheek.

“i can’t go to just any doctor.” nathan said.

“well, you need to get it looked at.”

“you’re looking at it.”

“nathan.” you said sternly.

“alright, i’ll get doc to look at it first thing.”

“no. now, you need to go now.”

“now?”

“yes. now.” you said.

“what about us?”

“i’ll see you after the game tomorrow.” you whispered into his chest and kissed him there.

nate felt like your lips had been seared into him on his peck.

“fine.” nate sighed and you watched as he got dressed so slowly to stall time.

despite his injury, nate kissed you hard and deep.

he pulled back wincing, his face swelling already. your fingers brushed across the purple bruise forming.

“i’m so sorry.”

“why? you didn’t do it.” nate deflected.

“i’m still sorry.”

“i’d take a beating if it meant getting the chance to talk to you.”

you giggled, “you look like you did.”

“that’s what i’m gonna tell people.” nate said.

you laughed.

“get out of here, superstar.” you pushed him out the threshold and he held the ice pack you handed to him to his face.

“see you tomorrow, baby.” nate said and he loved that sentence. he never thought he would say it again.

—

“i’m not quite sure, mose. but you’re right it does seem like nathan mackinnon is sporting quite the bruise under his right eye and across his nose.” ryker said as the camera trailed nathan as he skated across the ice.

it waited for him to turn to showcase the dark purple and blue that had spread across his face.

“seems like 29 is well enough to play today, but i did not see any incidents that would cause that in last night’s game ryker.”

“me either, mose. it’s good to see him on the ice.”

“i agree, hopefully the nate and the rest of the avs will be able to capitalize after the loss—“ the broadcast trailed off after erik had gotten what he wanted.

a screenshot of nathan’s face. there was something he’d seen on twitter about it, so he tuned in to see what everyone was talking about and there it was the giant bruise his friend was sporting.

erik was slightly concerned for nathan as he texted the groupchat with a select few guys.

—

nate’s phone buzzed on your nightstand as he nuzzled his neck into your shoulder.

“are you gonna get that?” you asked.

“no.” nate said.

“why not?” you asked.

“because i’m comfy.” nate murmured.

you reached over.

your lips curled into a smile.

“turn it off, it’s bright.” nate pulled you into his body, twisting his arms around you tighter.

“it’s from ej.” you said seeing the text message.

“what does that fucker want?” nate asked.

and you swiped up to see what erik had said, the phone unlocking with ease.

erik johnson: sent an attachment

erik: did you ride the subway alone or something?

gabriel landeskog: he wouldn’t tell me what happened

tyson barrie: damn

cale makar: he said y/n happened

erik: oh my god y/n punched him?! i would have paid to see that

cale: i don’t think that’s what happened.

erik: questioned cale makar’s message

mikko rantanen: since when does y/n talk nate?

cale: since you were traded :/

mikko: disliked cale makar’s messaged

“oh my god tell them to fuck off.” nate said reading over your shoulder.

you laughed.

“that’s all you slugger.” you said and dropped the phone for him to take, but nate didn’t move and it him in the face.

“ow!” nate said as it made contact with the bruise.

nathan mackinnon: y/n smacked me in the face with my phone after sex

nathan: thanks mikko

nate hit send and showed you the message.

“nathan!” you yelled incredulously at him and he laughed as he pulled you into him.

“my face hurts.”

“i don’t care.” you huffed trying to get away from him, but you weren’t really struggling.

the phone on the nightstand was buzzing so much that it started to slide towards the edge before it clattered to the floor and continued making noise underneath the bed.

“i hate you.” you muttered in defiance as nathan tried to kiss you.

“no, you love me.” nathan corrected.

—