#matthew tkachuk one shot

[tkwrites]

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck  x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together? 

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing. 

Me and you  We were a strange situation  And kissing you  Felt like Christmas Vacation  An exciting place to escape  Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday  -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one. 

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before. 

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music. 

“Do you need a towel, man?” 

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”    

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed. 

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”  

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot. 

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder. 

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide. 

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.” 

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights. 

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music. 

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it. 

“Sure,” she yelled back. 

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on. 

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter. 

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it. 

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted. 

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said. 

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her. 

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it. 

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.” 

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country. 

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it. 

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle. 

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.” 

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.” 

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.” 

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little. 

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. 

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.” 

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made. 

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said. 

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.” 

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college. 

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk. 

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion. 

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants. 

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!” 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.” 

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space. 

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.” 

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue. 

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled. 

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat. 

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.  

“Sure.” 

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake. 

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi. 

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released. 

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay. 

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin. 

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted. 

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered. 

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?” 

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer. 

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach. 

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come. 

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale. 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. 

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision. 

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling. 

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn. 

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried. 

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name. 

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside. 

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank. 

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left. 

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.   

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions. 

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother. 

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot. 

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.” 

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.” 

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd. 

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained. 

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed. 

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.” 

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home. 

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.” 

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning. 

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin. 

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together. 

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.” 

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard. 

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app. 

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over. 

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet. 

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.” 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.  

“Listen, I heard you last night.” 

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?” 

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.” 

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling. 

“Is this about that girl?” 

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -” 

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her. 

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside. 

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.” 

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.” 

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something. 

“How can we help you, darlin?” 

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?” 

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?” 

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.” 

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows. 

“Is it condemned?” 

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile. 

“Did they find out what caused it?” 

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.” 

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around. 

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t. 

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?” 

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.” 

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had. 

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?” 

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note? 

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am! 

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.” 

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.  

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts. 

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?” 

Yeah, my future, he thought. 

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -” 

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted. 

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation. 

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth. 

“Someone was just here looking for you.” 

Hope started hammering in his chest. 

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.” 

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick. 

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.” 

Now he really was going to throw up. 

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night? 

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell. 

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months. 

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books. 

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory. 

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up. 

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.” 

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team. 

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said. 

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?” 

“Another team.” 

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face. 

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it. 

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess. 

“Look him up on Insta.” 

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers. 

She messaged him, hoping. 

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder. 

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life. 

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight. 

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest. 

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it. 

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2. 

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting. 

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before. 

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be. 

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks. 

“Matthew?” 

His head shot up. 

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it. 

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer. 

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green? 

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight. 

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life. 

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.  

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot. 

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was. 

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed. 

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.” 

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.” 

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked. 

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.” 

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name. 

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood. 

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true. 

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if  her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him. 

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.” 

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit. 

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work. 

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision. 

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well. 

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?” 

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen. 

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.” 

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more. 

Josh stayed where he was. 

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?” 

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long. 

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked. 

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?” 

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.” 

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.” 

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out. 

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right? 

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.” 

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open. 

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else. 

Matthew was the last at the table. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her. 

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?” 

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away. 

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?” 

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate. 

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?” 

“Eight,” he said. 

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him. 

“All for here?” 

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.” 

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew. 

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded. 

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice. 

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at. 

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal. 

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left. 

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. 

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car. 

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?” 

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. 

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?” 

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud. 

Both guys just waited. 

“But the club caught fire.” 

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…” 

“Fucked it?” Benny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’” 

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said. 

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.” 

“Why not?” 

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.” 

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams. 

“Uh, hello?” someone asked. 

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring. 

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor. 

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?” 

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. 

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down. 

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said. 

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results. 

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes. 

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?” 

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.  

“I guess so.” 

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.” 

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer. 

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said. 

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside. 

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.” 

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.” 

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.” 

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.” 

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.” 

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was. 

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?” 

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.” 

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.” 

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed. 

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked. 

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded. 

“I’d at least give him a chance.” 

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.  

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week. 

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.” 

She giggled. 

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things. 

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed. 

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.” 

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?” 

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

 A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.” 

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced. 

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.” 

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her. 

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly. 

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.” 

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him. 

She looked instantly downcast. 

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important. 

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.” 

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them. 

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.” 

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. 

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them. 

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?” 

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.” 

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.  

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said. 

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.” 

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.” 

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?” 

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes. 

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this? 

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked. 

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?” 

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. 

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again. 

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.” 

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it. 

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps. 

“Only when I think you might come in.” 

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning. 

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra. 

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs. 

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans. 

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.” 

“Can you define that a little more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…” 

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it. 

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.” 

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink. 

God, maybe they really were made for each other. 

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast. 

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing. 

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both. 

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close. 

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him. 

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other. 

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together. 

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft. 

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs. 

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers. 

There was the passion she’d been looking for. 

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs. 

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him. 

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough. 

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.” 

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again. 

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too. 

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” 

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused. 

“Please,” she whimpered. 

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone. 

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs. 

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles. 

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her. 

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body. 

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” 

“Okay.” 

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin. 

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to. 

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. 

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning. 

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.” 

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched. 

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust. 

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps. 

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out. 

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her. 

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.” 

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times. 

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.” 

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?” 

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?” 

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool. 

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room. 

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.” 

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere. 

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to. 

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling. 

“Okay?” she asked again. 

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in. 

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation. 

 God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving. 

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another. 

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot. 

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright. 

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath. 

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.” 

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.” 

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates. 

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more. 

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.” 

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept. 

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft. 

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already. 

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him. 

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better. 

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.” 

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one. 

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak. 

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint. 

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth. 

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect? 

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan. 

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close. 

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed. 

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!” 

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again. 

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face. 

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget. 

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room. 

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.” 

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home. 

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up. 

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled. 

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark. 

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed. 

Matthew nodded. 

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed. 

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date. 

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for. 

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

[hockey-fics]

One Big Charade ~ Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Brady Tkachuk had been one of you best friends for most of your life. Matthew Tkachuk had always been the older brother of your best friend who you loved to pester. But sometime throughout the years the genuine pestering began to blur with flirtatious teasing with Matt, though you seemed to be one of the only ones who didn’t realize it. 

Word Count: ~6,400

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: Thank you to @tkachukz for the request and suggestions for this one. I made a couple little changes but I really hope you enjoy it!

You lived across the street from the Tkachuk family growing up, which was lucky for you because your mom often worked long hours and you were pawned off on any neighbours willing to take you in for the afternoon. Even luckier, you were the same age as Brady Tkachuk, who quickly became one of your closest friends growing up. 

Your after school routine usually included the Tkachuk house, or their backyard, or the park down the road. But it almost always included Brady. 

But spending that much time in the Tkachuk home meant you also spent a lot of time with -or, more accurately, around- Matthew. Matthew made his distaste for your presence known from a very young age. Not only were you the same age as his annoying younger brother, you were also a girl. At that age nothing could possibly seem worse. 

But you found Matthew’s annoyance rather amusing as a kid. You found little ways to get under his skin, pestering him relentlessly. Brady seemed to find it just as fun, the two of you giggling maniacally as you found new ways to annoy Matt. 

Half your pictures from your childhood included Brady and many of them Matt too, though those were clearly the result of parental intervention, ushering you all into the same frame. 

You would help Brady with his homework, you went to all his hockey games. He made you laugh till your stomach hurt, he taught you how to skate. He was the one who convinced you to bike down a steep hill in the forest and he was also the one who brushed the dirt out of the scrapes on your hands when you crashed. He was the brother you never had and he made your childhood much less lonely. 

As you got older you didn’t need anyone to look after you after school but that didn’t stop you from spending most of your free time with Brady at his house. Over the course of your childhood you were almost certain you had more dinners at the Tkachuk house than you had at your own house.

You remained close after graduation, through your years in university and his first few years in the NHL. You texted and called and visited whenever you could, taking advantage of holidays when you both came home and summers when you both were home for months at a time. 

Brady’s engagement came as no surprise to you. You knew about it long before it happened, being the one he ran every plan past before going through with it. Over the years you had also grown close with his girlfriend, well enough that you could help Brady put the engagement together in a way you knew she would want. 

The years had flown by so fast. Before you knew it was the night before you were flying out to Hawaii for the wedding. You were going to be a bridesmaid and you were overjoyed to be a part of such a special moment in the life of your closest friend. 

You’re sitting with the wedding party on a patio the night before the flight to Hawaii sipping a glass of sangria. The sun was beginning to set, the cool breeze was refreshing against your skin. The flight was less than 24 hours away and you were starting to feel excited energy radiating from everyone involved. 

Just as Brady says something that makes you laugh you notice another person approaching the table. Turning your head you look up, watching Matthew pull the chair beside you out from under the table, flopping down onto it. “Sorry I’m late,” he announces. 

“All good,” Brady tells him, handing him the drink menu. “How was the flight?”

“Not bad, delayed, but it was fine,” he replies, eyes focused on the menu in front of him. 

“Hey, Matt, nice to see you too,” you joke, watching him look up from the menu. 

“Sorry, yeah, hey, how’re you doing?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, angling himself to face you. 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you tell him with a playful smirk. “How’s Miami been?”

Matthew shrugs, “it’s been good.” You watch a little smirk cross Matt’s face and you narrow your eyes at him. “I see that you finally graduated.”

“Finally?” you scoff, shaking your head. “It took me one extra year, I had a job the whole time too.”

Matthew is chuckling at your defensiveness, picking up his drink menu again. “I need a drink.”

“Cause I’m so annoying to you?” you laugh, picking up your own drink and taking a sip. “The sangria is good.”

Matt turns his head, staring at you through narrowed eyes. “In what world do you think I would order…that?” he questions, gesturing to your glass. 

Giggling you reach over, roughing up his hair. “Aww, I forgot, your masculinity is too fragile to hold a wine glass.”

Matt swats your hand away, shaking his head. “You’re still very annoying,” he grumbles, closing the drink menu after making a choice. 

After a few more drinks the conversation circles back to the upcoming week. Everything from when you would arrive at the airport tomorrow to what time you would be back at the airport for the flight home was discussed that night. By the time the night was over you were quite a few glasses of sangria deep, pulling your phone out to get an Uber back to your house. Everyone but you and Matthew had already parted ways, heading home for the night. 

“I’m staying at my parent’s house,” Matthew tells you, standing beside you on the sidewalk, looking down at your phone over your shoulder. 

“Cool,” you comment, not knowing exactly what that was supposed to mean. 

Matthew reaches over your shoulder, taking your phone out of your hand. “Just Uber back with me, don’t be weird.”

Rolling your eyes you snatch your phone back. “I’m not being weird, you’re being weird.”

Matthew chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe a little,” you concur, leaning against him. 

A second later Matt steps away, letting you stumble slightly before catching you, laughing loudly. 

“You’re so mean,” you tell him, pushing his hands off your arms. Even though it was mean it also felt like home, falling back into the same patterns you had growing up. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, dummy,” Matt replies, needing to add some sort of insult to the sentiment. 

The night goes by too fast for your liking as you pull yourself out of bed at 5am. Even once you’ve made it to the airport you’re still barely awake, on autopilot through security. By the time you were in Hawaii your mood flipped entirely, you were ready for everything and anything. The next couple days are filled with wedding prep, relaxing on the beach, and enjoying plenty of drinks. 

You’re sitting on a plush, white wicker sofa overlooking the ocean on the patio of the lounge Brady had reserved for wedding guests. It was the night before the wedding and everyone was mingling amongst the excited energy. You feel the sofa cushions sink and you look over, seeing Matt sitting next to you. 

“How’s it going?” Matt ask, lifting his arm over the back of the sofa. 

“Good,” you hum, shifting sideways to face him. “How’re you feeling? Your younger brother is getting married and you’re here single,” you tease. 

“You’re single too,” Matt points out. 

Shrugging you take a sip of your wine, glancing out at the ocean. “You’ve got two years on me, you never know, in two years I could be getting married.”

“No chance,” Matt chuckles. 

Scoffing you extend your leg, playfully kicking his shin. “Don’t be such a jerk.”

“I’m not, you’ve had so many boyfriends and they never last longer than what, four month, before you’re dumping them?”

“I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

“Why haven’t you stayed with any of them?” Matt asks, his tone suddenly serious. 

Shrugging you twirl your glass around in your fingers. “I don’t know, it just didn’t feel…right. Why haven’t you ever stayed with anyone?”

“I haven’t dated a million people like you have,” Matt teases. “Haven’t had the chance to find the one yet.”

Rolling your eyes you cross one leg over the other, leaning into the corner of the sofa. “It wasn’t that many guys.”

“I know,” Matt chuckles. “I knew they weren’t right for you anyway.”

“How would you know that? You met like one of them.”

Matthew glances across the patio, to where Brady was standing, chatting with a few guests. “I have my inside sources.”

“Why would you even care anyway?”

“I really do care about you,” Matthew admits with a soft smile. “You know that, right?”

You stare over at him, a warmth filling your body. “I…yeah, I guess so,” you smile, taking a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t hurt to hear you actually say it though.”

Matt stares at you expectantly for a few seconds. “And?”

“And what?” 

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear you say it.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I care about you, Matt.”

“Thanks,” Matt says, placing his hand over his heart with a playful sense of drama. “I’ve been waiting for so long to hear that.”

“Shut up, you’re so stupid,” you joke, laughing quietly. As the conversation falls quiet you can’t help but notice the way Matt’s gaze was making your stomach fill with butterflies. Your cheeks begin to redden and you cut the mutual gaze short, looking away and taking a sip of your drink. Was Matt making you feel nervous? And how and why was Matt making you feel nervous?

“Want to get out of here for a minute?” Matt suddenly asks, drawing your attention back to him. 

“Uh,” you hum, glancing around at the gathering. You were part of the wedding party, you probably shouldn’t take off. But Matt was as well and that didn’t seem to bother him. Not to mention the fact that you had been sitting in the corner by yourself for the last hour and nobody seemed to notice your absence then. “Yeah, sure.”

Matt stands up and you follow after him, down the stairs from the patio to the cobble stone path. Stumbling slightly you try to pace your steps perfectly so your heels weren’t falling between the stones. If only Brady had picked a resort that didn’t make you feel like you needed to be so dressed up all the time. 

“Are you drunk again?” Matt teases, pausing to look back at you.

“No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. “It’s not even nine, it would be concerning to be that drunk this early.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Matt chuckles. 

“You wouldn’t be doing any better in heels,” you inform him, finally catching up with Matt on the path. 

“Then take them off, we’re going to the beach anyway.”

“Come here,” you say, reaching over and placing your hand on Matt’s shoulder. Reaching down you attempt to unbuckle the tiny silver buckle on the strap around your ankle. Wavering back and forth you clamp down tighter onto Matt’s arms, laughing softly. 

“You got it?” Matt asks, wrapping his arm around your waist as you go for attempt number two.

“Yeah, I got it,” you mutter, managing to get one shoe off before turning your attention to your other shoe. You didn’t realize how difficult it would be to ignore Matt’s hand on your waist and the strange sensation it was causing inside of you. Finally slipping the second shoe off you straighten back out, slowly pulling out of Matt’s arms. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Matt chuckles, continuing down the path beside you to the beach. “How was your last year of school?”

“Hmm?” you hum, the sudden change in topic catching you off guard. “Oh, um, it was good. Harder than the first few years, but it was pretty good overall.”

“Sorry I couldn’t come to your, uh, you know, the-.”

“Convocation ceremony?” you ask, laughing softly as Matt nods in confirmation. “That’s alright, it wasn’t that exciting anyway.”

“Well I’m proud of you…I mean, we’re all proud of you.”

Your eyes focus on the sand in front of you as you continue to walk along beside Matt, feet sinking into the soft sand, the breeze from the ocean tousling your hair. “Thanks, Matt, I appreciate that.”

You feel your fingers brush against his hand and your heart beats a little quicker. Looking up at Matt you see that he was already looking at you and you give him a soft smile, uncertain if you should step away to make sure it didn’t happen again or just let your hand fall so naturally into his. Before you have time to do anything Matt stops, lowering himself down to sit on the warm sand. 

Sitting down next to him, you pull your knees up towards your body and run your hands along your bare legs. “This is crazy,” you whisper. 

Matt turns his head, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What is?”

Brushing some sand off your hands you focus on the soft waves rolling onto the beach. “Brady…getting married. It feels like we were just twelve years old, fighting over who gets the last piece of pizza.”

Matt chuckles, throwing his arm over your shoulders and tugging you roughly into his side. “I’ll still fight you for the last slice of pizza if it’ll make you feel better.”

Giggling you scramble your way out from under his arm, giving him a playful shove for good measure on your way to sitting up straight. “Do you want to get married?”

“We haven’t even been on a date.”

Rolling your eyes you lean back onto your arms. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I do,” Matt says, his tone serious now. “Do you?”

Nodding you push a piece of your hair out of your face, finally turning to look at Matt. “Yeah, I do. I just, I don’t know…” trailing off you shake your head, looking back to the ocean. 

“What’s up? What do you mean?” Matt presses. 

Shrugging you take a deep breath, pulling your arms from behind you and leaning forward, anxiously wrapping your arms around you knees. “I don’t know, I’m 23 and I haven’t ever really even been in a serious relationship. What if, like, I’m not meant for that, you know?”

“No,” Matt says, reaching over and putting his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into his side, gently this time, running his hand along your arm. “You’re making it seem like 23 is old… and if you think there’s no hope for you then I guess I’m fucked, hey?”

Laughing you tip your head back, looking up at him. “That’s not what I meant.” Shifting closer you rest your head on his shoulder. “I think you’ll find someone.”

Matt lets out a deep breath, tugging you a little closer. “Yeah,” he mutters. 

“Okay, rude,” you comment, sitting up straighter and turning to face him, looking into his eyes. 

“What?” Matt laughs, shaking his head as he lets his arm that was once around your shoulders fall to his side. 

“You could have said I would find someone too, even if you don’t mean it, just make me feel better.”

“Relax, I know you’ll find someone. Maybe you already have.”

Rolling your eyes you settle back beside Matt, leaning into his side. “This isn’t ‘What’s Your Number?’ I’m not going back.”

Matt wraps his arm around you and your eyes land on where his hand was resting on your body. “That’s not what I’m saying,” Matt chuckles. “I’m not telling you to go back to your ex.”

“Then who? You?” you ask, laughing softly. 

Matt is quiet for a few seconds longer than you were expecting. “You’ll find someone, I promise.”

“Well, thank you,” you whisper, noticing that the orange glow from the sun had disappeared, the evening quickly rolling in. “I guess we should head back up there,” you say with a sigh. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be mingling but something about being on the beach alone with Matt felt so comfortable. 

“You sound pretty sad about that,” Matt comments. 

“I’m not,” you whisper, not making much of a move towards actually getting up and heading back to the party. “I just…I don’t know, this has been nice.”

“It has been nice…you not being a little pest for once.”

Scoffing you sit up away from him, turning your head to look into his eyes. “Don’t even, you have to admit I made your life more entertaining.” 

Matt nods in agreement, his hand landing on your thigh. You try your hardest not to look at his hand, not to acknowledge his touch even though it was taking up every ounce of your self-control not to. 

“You still do,” Matt tells you. “It’s just different now.”

“Different how?” you whisper and your eyes glance down to his lips so unconsciously you didn’t realize you had even done it till your eyes were returning to his. 

Matt shrugs, his thumb running back and forth on your bare thigh. “We’re adults now, you’re smart and funny and you don’t actually annoy me anymore.”

His comment makes you laugh and you shake your head slightly, looking down at the sand for a second. When you look back up you’re caught off guard by Matt’s sudden intensity. You watch him shift closer and your breath catches in your throat as you realize what was happening. But you don’t do anything to stop it, instead you lean closer till your lips were nearly brushing against his. Bringing your hand behind his neck you lean into the kiss, his lips soft against yours. It’s slow and gentle and you can barely register the deeper meaning of what was happening, you were just wrapped up in the feeling of it. 

Pulling back you let out a soft, uncertain breath, slowly pulling your body away from him. To say you were at a loss for words was an understatement. “I-,” you begin, glancing around, trying to figure out a few more words to string some sort of sentence together. “We, um, we should maybe go back up there, I guess.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Matt mutters, pulling himself to his feet before reaching down and grasping your hands, pulling you up to your feet. Before letting go of your hands Matt leans down, kissing you gently again. 

You’re not sure what comes over you as he pulls back but you have your arms over his shoulders a second later, leaning up and kissing him quickly. It’s eager and passionate and you’re pushing yourself closer to him as his hands land on your waist. 

“Don’t tell Brady,” is the first thing that leaves your lips when you finally pull away, watching a look of confusion cross his face. “I mean, you can tell him after, if you want. But this is his week, I don’t want something I did to take away from that.”

Matt nods, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re right.” His hand slides into yours and he nods back towards the restaurant up the beach. “We should probably be back there before everyone leaves.”

“Yeah, definitely,” you breathe out, laughing softly. It was suspicious enough for you two to disappear for a little while, it would be pretty obvious what was going on if you both left altogether in the middle of the party. 

Once you get back to the path you let go of Matt’s hand, struggling to get your shoes back on before heading back up to the patio. 

It’s Brady who approaches you first. “Where’d you two go?”

“We-,” you begin, getting cut off by Matt trying to answer as well. 

“We just went, uh…” Matt begins, glancing down at you for a second. 

“We just went for a walk on the beach, sorry for leaving, I just, um, I needed to get some air.”

Brady raises his eyebrows, glancing around the completely outdoor patio. “Air?”

“Space,” Matt chimes in. “Just a lot of people here.”

You knew that wasn’t overly convincing either, you were rarely one to say no to any type of party or gathering, especially with a bunch of people you knew and loved. 

“Right,” Brady comments. “Well anyway, we’re heading out now, want to get a good sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, too eager for the change of subject. “I’m so happy for you, Brady, it’s going to be amazing tomorrow.”

“You’re being weird,” Brady tells you bluntly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, swallowing nervously. 

“She’s drunk,” Matt chimes in. 

Reaching over you swat at Matt’s arm playfully, glaring up at him. “I’m not drunk, I’m just really happy.”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you two tomorrow morning, we’re still all going for breakfast together?” Brady asks. 

“Yeah, of course.” Leaning in you pull Brady into a quick hug. “See you tomorrow.”

You and Matt watch Brady weave his way out of the restaurant and back towards the hotel. “So you still suck at lying,” Matt comments.

“I do,” you whine, sighing loudly as you turn to face Matt. “I think I’ve gotten worse.”

“He’ll be too busy tomorrow to ask too many questions.” Matt reaches over, pulling you into a hug. “You heading up to bed now?”

“It’s only 9:30, I’m not tired.”

Matt pulls back, reaching down and taking your hand. He’s guiding you back into the hotel lobby a minute later not telling you where the two of you were going, but you didn’t care enough to ask, you were ready to let him take you anywhere. 

It doesn’t take long for you to find out where you were going as you step into Matt’s room, immediately noticing how much nicer it was than your own. “That NHL salary must be nice.”

“It’s not bad,” Matt chuckles, walking over to the edge of the bed and sitting down, watching you walk through the room to look out onto the patio. “Do you want more wine?”

“You have wine?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him. 

“I can get us wine,” Matt tells you, holding up the room service menu. 

Walking back you sit down next to Matt, leaning into him to look at the wine list with him. “What kind of wine do you like?”

“I don’t really like any,” Matt admits. “But it’s okay enough to drink.”

“Okay enough to drink,” you repeat teasingly. “How about this one?” you suggest, pointing to a pinot gris. 

“Sure.” Matt reaches for the hotel phone, calling room service and ordering the bottle of wine and the cheese platter that was the suggested accompaniment to the wine, though it was truly just a way to convince people to spend more money. 

“A cheese platter, how dignified of you, Matthew,” you tease, standing up from the edge of the bed to head back towards the patio. 

Before you can take a step away Matt has his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. “Keep laughing and I won’t share with you.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders you give him a little shrug. “I’m just here for the wine.”

“Just the wine?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, leaning down, bringing your lips close to his. “You don’t even need to be here.”

“Oh, really?” Matt teases, his lips brushing over yours. “You could get wine in your own room, you know?”

“But then I would have to pay for it,” you joke. You finally let your lips connect with his, kissing him slowly. Your fingers curl into his hair, his hands drifting around your body, touching each other in a way you never imagined would ever happen. 

“Oh, I see, you’re just using me for money,” Matt chuckles when you pull back. 

“Yeah, I am,” you joke. “I was playing the really, really long con. Hung around for fifteen years in hopes that one day you might buy me a bottle of wine.”

“See, I knew you were smart.” The sound of a knock on the door draws your attention and you step aside to let Matt answer the door. 

While Matt collects the wine and the cheese platter you make your way onto the patio, sitting down in one of the soft chairs, looking out at the night sky over the ocean. You turn your focus to Matt when he steps onto the patio, putting everything down onto the glass coffee table, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, taking a sip of the cool white wine. “Are you ready for tomorrow? Got your speech prepared?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Matt comments, leaning back into the couch on the patio. “Are you?”

“I’m nervous,” you admit, laughing softly. “I’m worried I’m going to trip when we’re walking in.”

“I would say you’ll be fine but after watching you try to walk down to the beach today I don’t know.”

“Matt,” you whine, shaking your head. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Fine, you’ll be alright, it’s not a long walk, I have faith in you.”

“Very reassuring,” you joke, sighing softly as you lean back into your chair, the warm buzz of alcohol in your system. 

“What’s your plan now?”

“Now?” you ask, sitting up straighter. Was this his way of asking you to leave?

“Yeah, you’ve graduated. Are you moving back home for good or are you going somewhere else?”

“Oh,” you hum, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t really know. I was thinking about moving somewhere new, but I don’t know where. Maybe just find a job somewhere and go from there.”

“That’s exciting.”

“Is it?” you laugh, your anxiety about it coming through loud and clear. 

“Why do you sound so scared about it?”

“Because it’s scary. I don’t know if I’m ready to move somewhere all by myself.”

“I’m sure there are places you could move where you wouldn’t be by yourself,” Matt reasons. 

“What? Like Miami?” you joke. 

Matt shrugs, taking another drink from his glass. “Would that be the worst thing?”

“We’ve kissed, what? Three times? And you’re asking me to move across the country for you,” you giggle. 

Matt chuckles, extending his arm and taking your hand.”It we make it four will you think about it?”

Following his lead you settle on the couch beside him, leaning in and kissing him gently. “No,” you whisper as you pull back from him. 

“Well I’m not asking you to, but it’s an option and I’ll be there for you.”

“You’re actually kinda sweet.”

Matt lets out a breath of laughter, pulling you a little closer. “I always have been, you were just too busy pestering me to realize it.”

“You’re such a liar,” you laugh. “You were mean to me when I was a kid.”

“Mean is pretty harsh,” Matt comments. “I cared about you when we were younger, I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well you did a pretty good job keeping that to yourself.”

A comfortable silence falls amongst the two. Matt was running his fingers up and down your arm gently. You had your head on his shoulder, your hand resting on his thigh. Eventually you pull yourself away from Matt, turning to look at him.  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, the two of you gathering the empty glasses and dishes from the table before heading inside. “Do you want a t-shirt to wear?”

Glancing down at your dress you nod in response. “That would be great.” 

Matt rifles through his suitcase, handing a t-shirt to you before beginning to unbutton his own dress shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed you pull your shoes off, tossing them to the side before standing up again. “Can you help me?” you ask, turning around and pulling your hair to the side, exposing the zipper up the back of your dress. 

“Yeah, of course.” His hands were gentle as he slides the zipper down slowly. “How’d you get it zipped up?”

“Not gracefully,” you laugh. “And I wasn’t about to let you see me struggle that bad.”

Matt places his hands on your waist after unzipping your dress, tugging you back against his body. “Are you sure that’s why?”

Sighing quietly you lean back against him. “I do like when you touch me,” you admit. 

You can hear Matt inhale sharply and you can’t help but giggle. Pulling away from him you slide your dress off your body, feeling incredibly exposed in front of him. You had been in a bikini around him many times before, but something about this felt very different. Quickly tugging the t-shirt on over your head you make your way to the large bed, leaning against the headboard as you wait for Matt to join you. 

Once a movie is decided upon you settle in beside Matt, your head on his shoulder, your arm over his chest. Despite trying to fight off the heaviness in your eyes you eventually drift to sleep before the movie was over. 

The next time you open your eyes the morning sun is shining in through the patio doors and you’re curled up under the soft blankets. Rolling over you watch Matt’s eyes open, a sleepy smile forming on his lips. “Morning,” he mumbles. 

“Morning,” you whisper, looking at the clock on the bedside table. Thankfully you still had plenty of time before you were supposed to be meeting everyone for breakfast. There was no way the two of you could lie your way out of both of you being late for breakfast. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Matt chuckles, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, how dare you,” he joked. 

“Did you like, tuck me into bed?” you question, not remembering being under the blanket at any time while you were awake. 

“Yes, but don’t make it weird.”

“Why would I make it weird?” you ask with a mischievous smirk. “You’re so sweet, just a gentle teddy bear, so caring and cute, letting me sleep in your super comfy bed, way better than my own, making sure I’m all tucked into bed,” you tease, knowing this was exactly what he was talking about. 

“Go back to your room,” Matt groans, shaking his head. 

“Fine, I will,” you tell him, climbing out of the bed and picking your dress up from the ground. 

“I didn’t mean that.”

Pulling Matt’s t-shirt off you set it on the bed, laughing at how fast he was taking his comment back. “That’s good to hear, but I really do need to go shower and get ready for breakfast.”

After a quick goodbye and a rushed shower in your own room you head to breakfast. While you definitely exchanged a few knowing looks with Matt breakfast goes by without a hitch. So does the rest of the day, through last minute wedding prep, hair and makeup, and getting dressed. By the time the ceremony was about to begin you had been so busy all day that your thoughts were not wholly wrapped up in Matthew. 

You survive the walk down the aisle without tripping and you manage to not shed enough tears to wreck your makeup while watching your best friends get married. The entire process slips by so fast, dinner and speeches being over before it felt like you even had a chance to catch your breath. 

Before you know it the dance floor is filled with people, the lights in the reception hall are dim and you finally have the chance to sneak off to the bar on your own to get yourself a drink. 

“How’re you holding up?”

Looking over you smile up at Matt, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t realize being a bridesmaid would feel like running a marathon.”

Matthew chuckles quietly, wrapping an arm around your waist as he steps closer to you at the bar. “How about we go outside? Actually get some air this time.”

After collecting your drink you follow Matt, sneaking out through a backdoor. You sit down on the stairs to the beach, Matt joining you a second later. Tipping your head to the side you rest it on Matt’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. 

“I’m tired,” you laugh, feeling Matt wrap his arm around your waist. 

“You can sleep in my much comfier bed tonight,” Matt says, using your own teasing words back at you. 

Giggling you lift your head to look at Matt, your eyes falling to his lips. Matt brings his lips to yours in response, kissing you gently. He places his hand under your leg, pulling it over his and turning your body towards him. Your fingers grasp at the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging him closer as the kiss becomes more and more intense. When you pull back to catch your breath you notice the figure standing near the door. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, clambering to your feet. “Brady,” you call as he turns to head back inside. 

“No, don’t let me stop you,” Brady comments, turning back to you as you get closer. 

“I’m sorry, we weren’t going to be out here long, I promise, it’s been like five minutes,” you assure him. 

“You two came out here five minutes ago and started making out?” 

“Yes,” you insist, feeling Matt place his hand on your lower back, standing next to you. 

“What the fuck happened in five minutes to make this happen?” Brady asks, clearly skeptical about your timeline. 

“Uh,” you begin, glancing up at Matt. “It wasn’t, I mean, this wasn’t…”

Brady raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to go on before a look of realization crosses his face. “This wasn’t the first time.”

Shaking your head your lips form a tight-lipped, nervous smile. “No,” you whisper. 

“How long have you two been fucking then?” Brady exclaims. 

“No, oh my god, we haven’t,” you defend, hearing Matt chuckle at your frantic need to get that fact straight. “We kissed yesterday and then, I don’t know, we spent last night together. But I promise we weren’t keeping it a secret for anything other than not wanting to distract from your wedding.”

Brady nods slowly, glancing back and forth from you to Matt and then back to you. “Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“What?” you mutter, arms folded over your chest. 

“Well I thought if it was going to happen it would have happened years ago, you two had weird tension growing up and I don’t even think either of you even noticed it.”

Your attention is redirected to Matt, trying to figure out if you were the only one who hadn’t picked up on any tension. From Matt’s look of confusion you knew you weren’t. “Tension?” you press forward. 

“Oh my god,” Brady groans. “Everyone but you could see it. You always said you didn’t like each other but people who don’t like each other don’t spend that much time together.”

You glance back up to Matt again, feeling like your entire childhood was being laid out in front of you in a completely different light. 

“Be honest, Matt, you’ve always had feelings for her,” Brady states, staring directly at Matthew. As Matthew opens his mouth to say something Brady cuts him off. “You did, I don’t even know what you’re going to say but you did. You pretended to be so annoyed but you hung around us like a fucking fruit fly, if you were really annoyed you would have gone and done something else.” 

“Are you mad?” you finally whisper, voice meek and anxious. 

“No,” Brady exclaims loudly. “Oh my god, no, I’m actually kinda relieved I can stop pretending that you two always hated each other. You never did and you’ve made me go along with your weird little charade of always being annoyed with each other.”

“Brady,” you say softly, throwing your arms around him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that or this or anything to make you feel weird or anything.”

Brady wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s okay, but can you both come in and enjoy the party because we’re paying a lot for it for you two to just sit out here making out.”

Laughing you pull back, nodding in agreement to come back inside. “As long as you’re okay with me dancing with Matt.”

“Gross,” Brady teases, the three of you heading back into the reception venue. “But I’m going to find my wife so you two do whatever you want, I’ve got a wife now.”

“Yes, you do so go find her,” you tell him, letting yourself fall back into Matt’s arm. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “So you’ve always like me,” you tease, looking up at Matt. 

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Matt says, his cheeks red as he shake his head. 

Giggling you lean up, kissing him quickly. “Okay, fruit fly, let’s go dance.” 

You’re trying to walk to the dance floor when Matt wraps his hand around yours, tugging you back into his chest. “Absolutely not, you’re not calling me fruit fly,” Matt says with a breath of laughter. 

With a playful smirk you wrap your arms over his shoulders, “what are you going to do, punish me for it?”

Matt lets out a quiet groan, glancing up to the roof for a second. “Fuck, let’s go dance, we can’t keep going with this conversation.”

“Why?” you laugh, feigning innocence as you bring your lips closer to his ear. “Can’t handle thinking about it? Me and you, all alone, your hands-.”

“Stop,” Matt mutters, pulling away from you. “Don’t do this to me.”

Grabbing his hand you tug him along to the dance floor. “Then dance with me, or I’ll keep going.”

“You’re holding me hostage on this dance floor,” Matthew tells you, but the unwavering smile on his face tells you all you need to know. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, Brady ruined your little act.”

“He did,” Matt laughs softly, “but I’m kinda glad he did.”

#Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #matt tkachuk #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines

[fernandoswarcrimes]

Anti-Hero x Matthew Tkachuk

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 2.6k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Elena had always grown up to be a smart girl, well that’s what she told herself. Matthew on the other hand got older but seemed to get dumber unlike Elena. The two were inseparable growing up due to their mothers being best friends.

It was three in the morning and she found herself standing in the kitchen quietly stirring the cup of milk and honey she made. Elena hoped it would help her fall back asleep, but it was no use. Her midnights had now become her afternoons it seemed like. Anytime she closed her eyes all she saw was everyone she had ever let down staring back at her, so she figured she’d might as well get up.

She had gotten good at hiding it, disguising it as she just couldn’t sleep.

“Can’t sleep again?” Matthews' groggy voice asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. He had woken up and realized Elena wasn’t in bed so he figured she was probably in the kitchen again.

“Something like that.” Elena mumbled, not wanting to let him in on how her mind was tormenting her. It was something she never wanted the boy to know about. He would think she’s broken, unfixable, not happy.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked as he walked over to her as she took another sip of her milk. “I’ll be okay, I’ll come back to bed in a bit. I think my milk and honey will help.” Elena whispered as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head before nodding making his way back to their bedroom. She knew he had an early practice in the morning and it made her feel worse that he was awake and worried about her instead of sleeping.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Elena was a lot of things, positive, helpful, caring but she shouldn’t be left to her own devices for too long. The thoughts inside her head come with prices and vices that she didn’t want anybody knowing about she’d end up having a full fledged crisis if anybody did. This was her own problem to deal with, nobody else’s.

Not even her boyfriend.

The rain was harsh against the windows of their apartment as lightning lit up the room every few seconds. The storms would normally garner Elena a peaceful sleep but not tonight.

She doesn’t remember what started it but Matthew had been off that day. They both had been walking on eggshells around each other for the past week and it was finally about to come to light.

“I just don’t know why you're acting like this and shutting me out.” Elena said as she walked in their bedroom after him.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Matthew had muttered which caused Elena to furrow her brows at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean Matt?” She asked wanting to know what he meant by that, she had a feeling she knew but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I can’t do it anymore Elena. I’m done okay? I can’t do this if you don’t want help! It’s not fair to both of us. This relationship is supposed to be equal and you won’t let me help you, you just shut me out.” Matthew said, running his hands through his hair frustrated. He had tried helping her through whatever it was she was going through but she kept pushing him away and he didn’t have any fight left in him.

She blankly stared at him as she watched him pack a bag and give her one last look begging her to just say something or do something, explain to him what was going on but she didn’t. He then shook his head and walked out, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Elena woke up with a loud gasp as she sat up on her elbows, drenched in sweat, looking around startled. Her breathing was heavy as she recounted the nightmare she just had being pulled awake by the door slamming shut in the dream. One day if she wasn’t careful she would have to watch Matthew leave her for real because he would get tired of her brushing things off and not letting him in for the last time when she knew all he wanted to do was be there for her and help. She needed to get help.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

If it was one thing Matthew was used to, it was being a problem. Even from a young age he was dubbed as a problem child which everyone thought he’d eventually grow out of but that was asking for a miracle. He got used to it though, reveled in it even. Which didn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the league who agreed, seeing as he got dubbed one of the “shit starters” next to Konency.

It was a game against the Kings, he and Drew Doughty had been at each other's throats yet again.

Which was never a good thing.

“I don’t see how that girlfriend of yours puts up with you when you’re such a little shit. She deserves someone much more mature rather than an ignorant shit head kid like you.” Drew had muttered to him when they both bent down for the face off.

All bets were off after that comment, the older player had been in his ear all night about Elena and he had enough of it. As soon as the Puck dropped Matthew dropped his gloves and took a swing at the older player.

“You have no right to say shit about her! Or our relationship!” Matthew shouted as the refs grabbed him under the arms pulling him away from Drew who was just laughing knowing he’d easily get a reaction like that out of Matthew.

He could hear the crowd booing him as the ref guided him to the box. They were already down by three so this was just great. He sat down on the bench and threw his helmet on the ground frustrated at the fact Drew so easily got a reaction out of him. This was not how tonight’s game was supposed to go.

Matthew grabbed his bag as he got out of the car and slowly made his way to the front door, taking out his keys and unlocked the door. The winger could hear the TV slowly playing as he walked in; he sat his bag down and slipped his shoes off letting out a quiet sigh.

“Babe? You home?” Elena called out as she glanced over the back of the couch. “Yeah, I think I’m just going to shower and head to bed. It was a rough game.” Matthew replied, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading upstairs. If he didn’t look her in the eyes he wouldn’t have to see the possible look of disappointment on her face. He knew it had to be exhausting, always rooting for a guy like him, the unlikable, the problem. He wasn’t a golden boy, an underdog, or even a rookie anymore. He had solidified his place in the league and now had to live with the consequences of his own actions.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Matthew took the summer to think things over, his little brother became the captain of his team but Matthew had been stuck with the A for the last few years. He felt like he was the ugly duckling that people loved to hate. Trade rumors we’re running wild as they usually did during the summer. It’s when teams unloaded people they didn’t want for the new pick of the litter or better players they could get their hands on.

“Maybe it’s time to look at other options.” His agent told him when they had a meeting. Matthew was too much of a nuisance to be deemed captain of the flames, they wanted someone level headed and calm. Two things he clearly wasn’t so it was better that they looked for a team that would want him.

“Maybe you’re right.” Mathhew spoke with a depressed shrug as he thought it over, he had been talking to Johnny. His friend was in the same boat with the team. Feeling unwanted and misused.

“We do have an offer from Florida.” His agent spoke which piqued Matthews interest. It was a favorite place of Elena’s, he vividly remembers spending summers with her and her family down there almost every year. This could be his ticket out of Canada. He knew they weren’t gonna give him the captaincy not with how hot headed he was. It got him right in the gut when he found that out. But he wouldn’t let it get to him.

“Johnnys going to take the offer from Columbus, so if Florida’s offer is a good one then I’ll take it. I need to get out of here before they run me into the ground.” Matthew sighed knowing it was time to leave or grow to hate the sport he loved. They could kick him while he was down all they wanted but it wouldn’t kill him. He was going to show Calgary exactly what they were letting go and losing and he was going to make it everybody’s problem.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

“I’m just that good, it’s not my fault you suck at golf bro.” Matthew shrugged as he looked at his younger brother. He had switched their score sheets when Brady wasn’t looking and was lying through his teeth.

“You’d be a good congressman, you know?” Elena joked with a grin as she watched him lie straight to Brady’s face that he didn’t switch their golf scores when he had. Brady wasn’t gullible by any means but her boyfriend was just that good of a gaslighter sometimes especially when it came to Brady.

Matthew couldn’t help but smile back as he shook his head at her joke as they both walked off after Brady back to the golf cart to head to the next hole. He knew he was a good liar; it's how he got himself out of trouble sometimes.

It was later that week while on a roadie when it hit him. A nightmare that would forever haunt him.

It was another bad game that Matthew came home from. He had gotten ejected and suspended three games for getting into a bad fight. As soon as he walked in the door he noticed something was off, the tv wasn’t playing and there was a suitcase in the hall. Alarm bells started going off as he dropped his bag and called out.

“Babe?” Matthew called out as he walked through the house but stopped in the kitchen doorway when he noticed her standing by the island with her arms crossed. “Hey..” he said shakily, “what’s going on why is there a suitcase by the door? You didn’t tell me you were going on a trip.”

“Because I’m not Matthew.” Elena spoke flatly. That made him cringe slightly, she never called him Matthew, it was always Matt or Matty. “I’m leaving.” She bit out.

“What..” he whispered, it felt like he had just gotten shot.

“I'm leaving. I can’t deal with this shit anymore. It’s all the time now you can’t stay out of the box and now you’re getting suspensions? When will it end Matthew? You’re twenty five years old, no wonder Brady got the captaincy before you.” She scoffed as she picked up her keys shoving past him as she grabbed her suitcase and swung the front door open.

Matthew could only stand there in silence as he watched her leave the door slamming loudly behind her making him flinch.

The St. Louis native gasped awake from the terrible nightmare that just plagued his mind. The fear of losing Elena, his best friend, his one true love. Hockey was a big thing in his life, but Elena? Elena was the one good thing he had and he didn’t want to let her go; he'd give up hockey before that ever happened.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees…

The Panthers had made it to the playoffs. They had managed to beat the Bruins four to three in the first round, which was a shocker to most since Boston usually made it to the finals in the playoffs so to get taken out by a team like the Panthers was unheard of.

Then it was the second round where they went up against the Leafs, it was another easy four to one win. The leafs had made it further than they had in the past but they were no match for the Matthew and the run the panthers were on.

He was their saving Grace, their problem child, and they embraced it. He was the problem, it was him. Everybody agreed he was the player of the series, anytime he was on the ice it was dangerous for the other team, scoring goals, scoring in OT, you name it he was doing it with ease.

They were getting one step closer to the finals, they just had to go up against Carolina who had bested the Islanders and the Devils. It was like everyone lost their light as Florida swept them in just four straight games back to back.

The Panthers had made it to the Stanley Cup Final.

Though it wouldn’t be everything, Vegas was on a high unlike no other and all the injuries were catching up to Florida. Vegas had managed to win four games and Florida only managed to win just one. That was the end, they had lost the final. Everything had finally hit Matthew. He had been playing through the injuries wanting to help the team as much as he could, even having Brady help him get up and get dressed because he couldn’t do it himself. He had an inkling that Elena knew about the injury but hadn’t said anything knowing how stubborn he was.

Elena though, his Elena, was there when he got off the ice with open arms ready to nurse him back to health, it made him think that maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all. It was all just in his head like it was in hers, they both needed each other and would do anything for the ones they loved.

“You did so well, I’m proud of you. I truly am.” Elena spoke softly as she gently hugged him not wanting to hurt him. Thankfully Brady was there with her ready to help him back to the locker room so he could change and they could all head home. It made him think maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all.

It was him

He was the problem

and everybody oh so loudly agreed.

#imagine #nhl imagine #series #midnightsseries #midnights song drabbles #anti hero #matthew tuck #matthew tkachuk imagine #this one wasn’t my favorite #Matthew Tkachuk one shot #Matthew Tkachuk x OC #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl x OC

[raysofcrosby]

you are in love – m. tkachuk

warning(s): fluff, small angst, insinuation of smut ((barely)) and sadness<333

inspired by: you are in love by taylor swift w a lil twist<33

word count: 33,031

an: hi ya i’ve been MIA on the writing scene for a bit bc just a general plateau of inspiration but oh lookey here, what’s this??? a new fic??? buckle up besties bc i wrote this in literally four hours and crying about 80% of the time bc i was deep in my feels for over a day when i wrote it, so it’s not edited, probs wont even make any sense either but ya enjoy cool!!! also if it doesn't make any sense thats bc a lot of this was edited from what the original version was and i had to add a bunch of filler shit to make it a hockey fic vs just my personal way of letting my emotions out. so again, don't mind it, enjoy the fic, blah blah blah okay bye<333. ((an 2.0: p.s. i wrote this way before ratty's trade, but added it in the end so if the timeline doesn't add up don't attack pls bc like i said...tons of filler was added)) *italics indicate flashbacks*

You never realize how much stuff can fill a one bedroom apartment until the fifth trip to the store to buy more moving boxes because you seriously underestimated just how much you owned. That could arguably be one of the top three worst things when it comes to moving, tied with actually having to pack your stuff and shifting through what to keep and what to give away.

Luckily, Riley had all the time in the world seeing as she had no responsibilities aside from doing exactly what she was doing in this moment- packing up everything and anything she owned and managed to shove into her 744 square foot apartment she’d called home for the last two years. A mixture of memories brought from home and collected during her time here were all over the apartment, and now in a week's time, they needed to be shoved into multiple moving boxes labeled properly so she wouldn’t be going on a wild goose chase when it came to unpacking them again.

Unluckily, she was also the type of person who found herself easily distracted whenever she came across something that she’d either forgotten she’d owned altogether, or that she’d remember misplacing at one point in time and just never found. A coffee mug, and part gag gift that had “don’t speak” on it from her dad who always jokes that she’s unable and not willing to have a conversation before drinking at least half a cup of coffee– it was buried in the middle back of her cabinet with her other mugs. A swear word coloring book meant for her sister that had somehow slipped behind her bedside table. The journal her mom had gifted her her first Christmas into her masters courses when she’d mentioned how she thought about starting journaling every day as one of her New Year's resolutions.

Riley couldn’t remember the last time she had written in it, though she knew she’d kept the habit up for at least a minimum of the entirety of January, so she flipped open the journal, watching the blank pages brush by until she saw the black ink of the pen she’d always used to write in it. And in the top right corner, was the date of her last entry– March 11th.

She didn’t need to read the entry to remember what she’d written in it…but she was already here, with the journal wide open in her hands…what could it hurt to relive the memory she’d written down on that day?

“Hey, so Jacob and Bren have got pretty much everything packed up in the pod,” Claire said, walking into the now empty apartment and stopping by the bar of the kitchen island where Riley had been leaning. “Are you ready to lock it up or is there some stuff you still need to add?”

Riley looked up from the journal, shutting the hardcover journal– the front of it decorated in pink watercolor pastel and a small bouquet of yellow flowers with the phrase “through sun and rain, flowers bloom all the same” written in black cursive, the pink marking ribbon hanging outside of the lined pages instead of marking where she’d last left off like it was supposed to be.

“Um no, no,” she replied, glancing up from the journal and shaking her head as she placed the journal into the box on the counter next to her, folding the flaps properly and locking them in each other before sliding it off of the counter and holding it in her arms. “Just this box here, but I’ve got it.”

Claire nodded and turned to face what had previously been a homey living room, but was now just an empty room full of potential possibilities. “It feels weird to see this place empty again since I still remember Jacob and I helping you move in with Bren, mom and dad two years ago. I guess it’s a little sad too,” she looked at Riley, nudging her with her shoulder. “But I guess I’m proud of you for getting this job, though I will miss having you within instant bugging distance of me.”

“Gee, thanks,” Riley replied, stepping away from the counter. “Come on, let’s go put this in the pod so we can lock it up and call the company to pick it up soon.”

“Tell me that means we can get early dinner too, right? I’m absolutely starving.” Claire huffed, grabbing the keys to the apartment off of the counter and following behind Riley as they left the now empty place she once called home.

“We can,” Riley nodded, stopping just outside the door as she watched Claire lock the apartment door before they started moving down the hall and towards the elevator. “But I have one more thing I need to do before that.”

Claire’s eyebrows furrowed for only a split second before she pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s right, yeah we’ll totally make a stop before dinner. And then after that–”

“St. Louis,” Riley sighed, her thumbs rubbing against the cardboard in her hands as she nodded. “Yeah, bright and early, first flight out of here.” 

“Then you’re Boston bound once Mom and Dad get their trips down memory lane in,”  Claire smiled, looking down at her phone and typing.

For a moment as she followed behind Claire, she looked down at the box, seeing her own writing in black sharpie across one of the flabs– “Miscellaneous Junk – Riles’ room” “Did you write this on the box?”

Claire looked over her shoulder as the elevator doors opened and peered at the box, nodding her head. “Yeah, it’s just a bunch of junk from your desk isn’t it? Nothing really important is in there, just your knick knacks and stuff from your drawers.”

‘Nothing really important’ stung her harder than it probably should have because sure, she’d asked Claire to go through her desk and toss whatever was left into one box, but that was before she’d looked in and seen what was in it. Random stickers, concert lanyards, the gag gift of a gift box of glow in the dark condoms Janelle had given her– so many of the things in there fell under the junk title Claire had given the box…the ‘nothing really important’ category. But not that journal…nothing written on those lined pages was junk, everything in that journal mattered to Riley.

It took everything in her not to reach in and grab the journal from inside the box, but she didn’t want to gain her sister’s attention or want her interest to be piqued on what was within the hardcover gift. So instead, she just readjusted her grip onto the box and thought about all the ways she might be able to sneak it out without anyone noticing before they put the box into the pod, which would be shipped off to Boston, hopefully later tonight.

There were only 69 entries in that journal, there should’ve been at least 184, but the way she’d gotten swept up in life every day after March 11th, writing in that journal had slipped to the very back of her mind. But every moment of those 69 entries and the 114 days after that, all the way up to that moment on July 2nd that felt world ending, to today– July 4th…it all mattered.

DAY 12 – JANUARY 12TH, 2022 [ FIRST MEETING ]

“I have absolutely no right to be here right now,” Riley said, tugging on the top of the bodycon dress Claire had managed to squeeze her into for the night. One that was just one size too small but for some Godforsaken reason had seemed to fit her everywhere but her chest, which Claire called a blessing but she called a girl's gone wild moment waiting to happen.

“You have every right to be here,” she replied, keeping her steady pace as her heels clicked against the pavement while simultaneously digging through her small clutch for her lip gloss.

“In what dimension do I have the right to be crashing a girls night out–” Riley quickened her pace, the heels Claire also pressured her to shove her feet into for the night, almost matching her own as they clicked on the sidewalk. “Where all of the girls in question, except for me, have the same exact thing in common?”

“Which is?”

“You know exactly what it is,” she huffed, finally coming up beside her just as the two of them were met with the bouncer of the club, the bearded man who looked like he walked off of the front cover of a bodybuilding magazine, instantly waving them both through. “You’re literally all dating professional athletes…on the same team…teammates, Claire. That’s what you all have in common.”

Claire rolled her eyes, grabbing her hand as they both entered the crowded club floor and leading her in the direction of where most of her friends were. “I think you’re forgetting one thing, you also know someone here because you’re both in the same masters courses.”

“Fine, I have one thing in common with one person out of what? The twenty that are here?”

“And me, or have you all of a sudden forgotten that you’re a twin? Because if you’re still mad about me stealing your book fair money in elementary school, I think you need to see a therapist.”

Riley pulled her hand from hers, tugging up at the top of her dress again. “We’re not even twins. You’re eleven months older than me–”

“Basically making us twins,” Claire replied, pulling her forward as she came to a stop in front of a small set of stairs that led up to multiple booths. “Fourth one down, move it.”

“It’s a wonder how you ever won the friendliest in the entire class your senior year,” Riley said, sending a playful glare over her shoulder. “If only they knew the real you.”

“You’re my sister, you get both my nice side and my ‘if you take my favorite sweater out of my closet one more time without asking I’ll dump water on your head in the middle of the night to wake you up,’ side,” Claire smiled, keeping her hand on the small of Riley’s back and nuding her ahead. “Besides, you won best smile which is odd because you never smile, you old grouch.”

“Finally you two show up!” Meredith, Johnny Gaudreau’s wife, was the first one to spot them as Claire shoved Riley up to the booth where the familiar faces of the girls who were either married to or dating Flames players that Riley had gotten to know so far, were sitting in.

“Yeah, it took everything in me to convince Ri here to come out with us and to at least put a little effort into her appearance,” Claire said, greeting Meredith with a hug before moving along to greet the rest of the girls who were there.

“Ha ha, very funny, but some of us have school–”

“Oh not the school excuse,” Kelsey, the one girl out of all of them who Riley had one thing in common with, seeing they were both pursuing Masters Degrees at the University of Calgary in the Kinesiology program. “I know for a fact that we have nothing due over the weekend, not even until the end of next week. Take a break for once Riley, you’re mastering the classes, no pun intended.” She smiled, giving Riley a hug.

“See Ri?” Claire smiled over her shoulder before plopping down in a spot Meredith and Annica, who was dating Elias Lindholm, had made between them. “Now relax and have fun. You don’t even have to leave the comfort of this booth if you want.”

“Actually,” Riley replied, giving Claire a sarcastic smile. “I think I might just have some fun and wander down to the bar and get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you actually!” Kylie, who was dating Dillon Dube, chimed in, standing up from the seating.

“Me too!” Kelsey added, standing up. “Plus I wanted to tell you what Oscar’s reaction to that paper we had to turn in last week was. I swear his eyes popped out of his head when I asked him to proofread it.”

Riley laughed, walking back out of the booth as the two followed behind her. “Please, I barely understood what I wrote and I even have all the notes from class.”

The three of them maneuvered their way back down the small set of steps and then back into the crowd of the bar, Kelsey grabbing onto Riley’s hand and then presumably Kylie’s so the three wouldn’t lose one another in the crowd as Riley led them over towards the bar. Thanks to being invited along to some events by Claire, Riley knew most of the WAGs on the team, but the only one she was really on a super friendly basis with, was Kelsey. Kelsey who was born and raised in Calgary and had attended the University of Calgary for her undergraduate degree as well and had been dating Oscar for the last near two years.

The two of them, Kelsey and Riley, hadn’t made their Flames connection until Claire asked Riley if she would tag along with her to brunch with a few other girls, Claire also wanting Riley to ‘stop hiding in your room, you’re young, have fun!’ Kelsey was at brunch, recognized Riley from one of their lectures and the friendship just blossomed into study sessions, coffee trips and Kelsey also having Riley tag along to things.

“Unbelievable,” Kelsey laughed once the three of them managed to grab a space at the crowded bar. “All of the bars in the city and they go here? Knowing we were all coming out tonight?”

“What?” Kylie asked, looking at Riley for help but Riley just shrugged.

Kelsey sighed and rolled her eyes before nodding her head off to their left and then pointing. “All the way at the end of the bar.”

Riley and Kylie both looked over in the direction she was pointing, and instantly the two girls knew what and who she was talking about. There at the end of the bar and of course, all together in a big group, were a few players from the Flames. Riley could see Jacob and Dillon at the bar talking to the bartender and off behind him were Sean, Johnny, Oscar and they were sure more that weren’t in their view.

“If you guys tell me what you want, you’re more than welcome to go over there and chew their asses out a little bit,” Riley smiled, leaning against the bar.

“You don’t mind? Because like Kels said…there are so many bars here,” Kylie said, looking off at the boys.

“Not at all,” Riley replied, waving them off. “As long as you give Jacob a little hell from me for not telling my insane sister to leave me alone tonight.”

Kylie squeezed Riley’s arm as she brushed by and nodded. “We’ll be right back, don’t leave the bar without us so we don’t lose you.”

“And if any creeps sneak up, yell pterodactyl.” Kelsey noddeed, nodding her head. “It’ll scare them off.”

“Pterodactyl, got it,” Riley nodded, watching them walk away before turning back towards the bar and then shaking her head. “Pterodactyl? Where the hell did she get that from?”

The bartender walked over to her, nodding at her. “What can I get you?”

Riley opened her mouth to speak, only to realize that Kelsey and Kylie never told her what they wanted to drink…so she went with a classic. “Can I get three vodka cranberries?”

The bartender nodded and turned away to make the drinks, Riley flipped her phone over and grabbed her card from the card holder she insisted Claire let her borrow since she wasn’t carrying a purse and was stuffed into the dress.

“I hope all of those aren’t for you,” Riley heard someone say as the bartender placed two of the drinks down in front of her. “Cause that’s about three rounds I’ll miss out on buying you a drink.”

She looked to her left to see the familiar face of Matthew, one of Jacob’s teammates. A face that she’s seen obviously on ice for the games she’s attended since her sister started dating Jacob, but also at some of the team parties that Claire’s invited her to or made her tag along as her plus one. “That’s assuming I’d take your offer to let you buy me one, let alone three.”

“Ouch, tough crowd,” he replied, holding his right hand to his chest, right over his heart and rubbing against his gray t-shirt.

“Sorry,” Riley dramatically pouted as she shrugged. “Did I bruise your hockey player ego by turning down your horrible pick up line? Like seriously, does that even work?”

He moved away from the corner of the bar and came up beside her, resting his arms against it. “Who said it was a line? Maybe I was really looking forward to buying you a drink. Plus, maybe I was also sent over here to make sure no creeps are creepy towards you. You know the whole plus one, stay together thing.”

The bartender placed the last drink in front of her and Riley quickly handed over her card before looking at him with a shrug. “Looks like you failed your mission.” The bartender placed her card back down onto the bar in front of her, along with a receipt and a pen. Riley quickly scribbled her signature and a tip before sliding it across the bar and putting her card back into her phone and looking at Matthew. “Both missions actually, cause I just bought my own drink.”

Matthew rolled his eyes before looking at the bartender and nodding his head, holding up two fingers– Riley taking that as the opportunity to grab her drinks and head back towards the booth. “Hey!” She turned around to see Matthew leaning against the bar, nodding at her with a smile. “The night’s still young. That’s plenty of time for me to buy you that drink!”

“Not unless you find someone else to entertain your time and horrible pick up lines,” Riley smiled back, nodding her head for him to look behind him as a girl was just getting ready to tap him on the shoulder– her intentions for him very clear. “Just don’t use that buy you a drink one.” Riley winked and turned back towards where she was walking, carefully making her way back over to the booth where Claire and the rest of the girls were.

“Riles!” Claire cheered, holding up her empty shot glass before putting it back onto the table. “Where are Kels and Kylie?”

“You guys have some bar crashers!” Riley replied, placing the drinks that belonged to Kylie and Kelsey down onto the table, then covering them with one of the napkins that came wrapped around the cup. “Some of the guys are here and they went to go talk to them.”

“Ugh! All of the bars for a girls night out and they choose this one?” Meredith complained, rolling her eyes and finishing off her drink, then standing up. “I need another drink.”

Once she made her way out of the booth with another girl following behind, Claire took that opportunity to slide over next to Riley. “Get the sourpuss look off your face, have fun and relax, Ri!”

“I am, I’m having a ball! Lame pick up line, alcoholic drink and all!” Riley replied, leaning towards Claire so she could hear her.

“Pick up line? Who tried to pick you up?!” Claire smiled, practically beaming at the idea of Riley getting some sort of attention in the romance department. “Come up, point them out!”

“It was just one of Jacob’s teammates, it was nothing serious–”

Claire grabbed onto her arm, gripping it as her smile grew bigger. “Who! Who! You need to tell me who it was right now!”

Riley rolled her eyes, still able to see where Matthew was standing at the bar…the girl who Riley had told him about, standing next to him a little close and the two talking. She pointed out towards the bar and looked at Claire. “Him.”

She watched as Claire’s focus moved all across the bar before landing on where Riley had been pointing. Riley waited for a falter in her sister’s expression, but all stayed the same aside from Claire laughing and shaking her head. “Oh, Matthew? He’s harmless! A flirt, but a harmless one.”

“Clearly since he’s already moved on from wanting to buy me a drink and insisting on that he will,” Riley replied, turning her attention away from Matthew and the girl at the bar. “But how about we try not to shove any potential attractive male down my throat?”

“But that’s no–”

“You want me to let loose and have a good time?” Riley asked, sipping on the straw in her drink as Claire nodded. “Okay, then stop trying to pawn me off to any guy who shows a remote sense of interest.”

Claire rolled her eyes and sipped on a lighter drink that Riley knew was probably a margarita. “Did you at least think he was cute? Matthew?”

Riley sighed. “I’m not into that right now Claire, you know this. I’m not looking for–”

“A relationship, or love, or someone who will drag you out of the house on a Friday night so you can’t sit on your couch and watch One Tree Hill at night,” Claire replied, waving a hand at Riley and brushing her off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But appease me just this once…do you think he’s cute?”

Riley looked back over to the bar where she watched Matthew take two beers from the bartender before saying something to the girl and then turning around, leaving her at the bar and walking back towards the group of his teammates. “I mean…yeah, he’s cute–”

“Thank you,” Claire smiled, hugging her sister and then pulling away, clinking her cup against hers. “Now was that too hard?”

“I think I just felt a piece of my soul wither and fall off actually,” Riley smiled, taking another sip of her drink as she looked at her sister.

“Oh stop being an old hag,” Claire laughed, shoving her playfully. “You’re way too young and pretty to be so old and bitter.”

Riley laughed, shaking her head. “You do realize that made no sense, right?”

“What can I say?” Claire smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she took another sip of her drink. “The tequila’s strong.”

DAY 22 – JANUARY 22ND, 2022 [ FIRST "DATE ]

“For the love of everything that is good and holy, why the hell did you and Jacob think tonight would be a great idea for a double date?” Riley sighed, tugging the ends of her thin sweater sleeves over her hands and bunching the material in her fists before crossing her arms. “Hockey games end at an average of what? Ten o’clock? Assuming they don’t go into an overtime and a shootout.”

“Oh hush,” Claire replied, waving her off. “It was an additional half hour, it won’t kill you if you’re not in bed before midnight for one night. Besides, you’re 24 and in the prime of your youth. I think staying out for a night would do you some good.”

“Some of us have homework and class–”

“In two days, Riley. It’s a Saturday night, you have no responsibilities until Monday morning, so stop complaining.” Claire turned away from Riley, looking down towards the locker room door where Jacob and the rest of the players were set to come out of.

Technically, Claire was right. Riley didn’t have any responsibilities until Monday morning and that’s more in part to the fact that she didn’t even have any homework due, that was just something she blurted out the moment Claire asked her earlier in the day if she would come to the game tonight with her. It didn’t take much budging for Riley to say no, after all, she loved Jacob and having grown up in St. Louis, her family often went to Blues games– so she enjoyed the game as well. However, once they got to the arena and Claire spilled about how they would also be going on a double date as well, with Riley being the other participant in the other couple, the slight good mood she had came crumbling down.

Claire refused to tell her who she was being forced to go on a date with, other than it was someone that she knew of and they knew Riley would be the girl he was on a date with. Halfway through the game, only when Riley threatened to call herself an uber home did Claire tell her that the date was actually one of Jacob’s teammates– a teammate who had expressed interest to Jacob about Riley that night they were all out at the same bar, despite it being girls night. Jacob told Claire and apparently the two of them had talked for a few days, Claire even talking to the teammate before finally agreeing that she was willing to set Riley up on a double AND blind date.

Though she was of course more than willing to from the jump, just like she’s been trying to hook her up with any male she thought she was a great fit for ever since high school. And it was all the same– she’d buy into her plan, go on the date, either liking the guy or he would ruin any potential feelings within seconds by saying something super misogynistic or just overall not being her type and then she’d end the night saying bye and going home by herself.

It was actually quite a process and one that Riley's come to love, because sure, while having an occasional guy in her bed for an hour or two was nice, she was never one to want to actually share her bed. Claire says she has commitment issues, but Riley liked to think of it as not bothering to settle down for any amount of time if she knew the guy was just going to waste it.

Which of course, everytime their parents came to visit or they traveled home on Holidays, meant her love life was often the topic of discussion. But that’s what happens when Claire’s basically on her way to an engagement and Brendan, their younger brother, had finally managed to convince his long time best friend Evelyn to date him.

Riley was the black sheep her parents worried about, wondering whether or not they’d ever see her bring a boyfriend home for Christmas, walk down an aisle and eventually grace them with grandchildren.

“Look, there’s Jacob now,” Claire said, standing up straight from leaning against the wall and waving her hand up slightly in the air to catch his attention.

Riley looked up from the dull arena hall floor to see Claire’s boyfriend of a little over a year, Jacob Markstrom, walking over, half expecting to see whichever teammate the two of them decided to hook her up with for the night. Jacob was nice and their parents loved him from the moment they’d accidentally met him leaving Riley and Claire’s shared apartment when they had only been dating for four months. Riley told Claire she was going to the airport to pick up their parents and yet the moment they all walked up to the door, out came strolling the 6’6” goalie in all his Swedish and slightly hungover glory.

And much to Claire’s embarrassment and Riley’s amusement, their parents invited him out to lunch later that day and they fell in love with him. There isn’t a single text or phone call between their parents where they don’t ask how Jacob’s doing and seeing if he wanted to come over for the holiday or any other small, family event.

“Good game babe,” Claire smiled, immediately walking into the blonde’s arms and giving him a hug. “Proud of you for blocking those shots there in the shootout.”

“If only I could’ve blocked more in regulation, then we wouldn’t have needed an overtime or shootout.” Jacob replied, leaning down and kissing her, keeping his arm on the small of her. “But thank you älskling, I appreciate it.”

“Hey future brother-in-law, is there any way you could tell me who this mystery date of mine is?” Riley sighed, letting her arms drop as she stood up straight. “Claire Bear over here wouldn’t even give me a single hint aside from he’s one of your teammates.”

Jacob laughed, nodding his head and looking down at Claire. “I don’t know, I think I’ve been sworn to secrecy too. But he should’ve been right behind me,”

“I didn’t see him,” Claire shook her head, looking back behind them as more of the players started to file out in groups before looking back at Jacob. “He didn’t change his mind, did he?”

Jacob shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, he was talking about it before the game and asking how the driving situation would work. I didn’t tell him–”

“You know what? No big deal,” Riley smiled, feeling relieved as she waved them off and dug into her purse to grab her phone. “You guys go ahead and go on the date and I’ll order myself an uber and go back to my–”

“Hey sorry I’m late, I was just giving Meredith the number of some party planner my mom knows out in Boston. I guess she wants to surprise Johnny with a party out there this summer for his birthday.”

Riley looked up from her purse to see the all too familiar face of Matthew Tkachuk, only this time he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt and some jeans like he’d been wearing at the bar. This time he was wearing a suit– a nice navy blue one at that– and had a black coat draped over his arm. Riley would be lying if she said he wasn’t cute in normal clothes, but she would be lying even more if she said seeing him dressed up in a suit made him even more attractive. She won’t even think about seeing him in full uniform, mostly because honestly, she spent the entire night barely paying attention to the game and trying to figure out who her mystery date was.

It turns out it was–

“Him?” She asked, looking at Claire. “He’s my date?”

“Uh,” Matthew chimed in, holding up a hand. “I’m kind of right here.”

Claire turned away from her and towards Matthew. “Sorry for my sister, Matt. Ri can be rude sometimes.”

Riley didn’t miss the sharp change in her tone when Claire had called her rude, and maybe she was. But it was her initial reaction and Claire knew about the bump in at the bar because Riley had told her. She’d even laughed about it– “oh Matthew? He’s harmless. A flirt, but a harmless one.”

And yet here Claire was, setting her sister up on a date with the “harmless flirt” she’d talked about only a little over a week ago.

“Sorry,” Riley replied, looking down at her purse again and bringing her phone out of it, checking the time. “Claire, can we get going? It’s getting kind of late.”

“Of course, let’s get going,” Jacob nodded, looking back at her sister before the two started to walk off, leaving just her and Matthew standing there.

“After you,” Matthew said, motioning for her to walk. Riley crossed her arms again close to her chest as she turned around to follow behind Jacob and Claire, Matthew walking beside her. “I’m sorry if you were expecting someone else.”

“What?”

Matthew nodded ahead of them towards Jacob and Claire. “You seemed like you were expecting someone else.”

Riley felt her cheeks begin to heat up as she adjusted her arms. “No, not at all. I mean, I–”

“You literally said ‘him’ and didn’t look pleased,” Matthew replied, his free hand in his pants pocket as he shrugged. “I’m not offended, I’m just apologizing if they told you something different. Jacob told me you knew.”

“I knew about the double date, and Claire only told me about it once we got to the arena and she knew I wouldn’t pay for an uber back to my apartment with the traffic.” Riley replied, looking ahead of them just as Jacob and Claire seemed to be hiding the fact they took a quick glance behind them. “So I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.”

Matthew laughed and the first thing Riley noticed was his smile. He hadn’t smiled at the bar, not a full one– just a smirky smile, which at the time she thought that maybe was his trick into getting girls to think he’d had feelings for them or was interested in them.

He has a really nice smile.

“Trust me, nothing you could say would make me feel bad,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Between the chirps between my brother and sister– hell, my parents too and then the stuff online, I’ve got some pretty thick skin.”

“Oh yeah, professional hockey player, I forgot,” Riley laughed softly, hugging her arms closer to her again as they caught up to Jacob and Claire and stepped into the garage within the Saddledome where players and employees of the team alike, parked.

“Okay so here’s the thing,” Claire said, clasping her hands together and looking up at Jacob before looking back at her and Matthew. “We forgot we promised to facetime into a call to Jacob’s family. His sister’s got some news to share and wanted everyone to be on a call.”

Riley’s jaw dropped as she stared at her sister, who conveniently was avoiding her gaze. “Claire–”

“But it’s still pretty early so you guys feel free to grab some coffee or a drink, hang out and get to know each other. Just because it’s not a double date, doesn’t mean it still can’t be a date,” Claire smiled, finally looking over in her direction only to be greeted with an ‘I know you had this planned all along’ look from her sister. “Matthew, I trust you to get my sister back to her apartment safely? Or you can just take her back to your place–”

“Claire!” Riley spoke through gritted teeth, blinking obviously at her sister who was already dragging Jacob away from them both.

“Text me in the morning! Have a good night!” Claire smiled, waving at the both of them as Jacob followed behind, he too lifted a large arm to wave his hand in the air.

Riley watched helplessly as they got into his car, turning around to face Matthew once she heard the sound of an engine start. “I am…so, so sorry for that.” She scoffed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Claire’s pretty straightforward, but I promise I had no idea she was going to do that. You really don’t have to feel obligated to take me home or anything.”

“It’s fine,” Matthew replied, shaking his head as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and holding onto his keys. “I can take you home if you want to go.”

She felt guilty, partly because she was so embarrassed to have been blatantly left there by her sister and the other half because she knew this isn’t what Matthew had signed up for at all. He was expecting a double date, a double date where the girl knew who she was going out with. He didn’t sign up for a surprise double date or to have said double date crash and then be left with possibly no date and to take his stranded date home.

“If it’s not too much?” Riley finally spoke, feeling uncomfortable with her own guilt. “I promise I don’t live too far away. I’m actually only about five minutes away from where Jacob and Claire live if you know it?”

“I know it,” he nodded, motioning again for her to start walking as he walked beside her. “Claire’s quite the host when it comes to team stuff. The Thanksgiving they held at their place this year was pretty fun. Though, you weren’t there I don’t think.”

“That’s right, I forgot she did that,” Riley nodded in reply. “I went home since I didn’t have any classes, but I remember her saying she and a few others were going to do something. But yeah, Claire’s quite the hostess. Life of the party even.”

“She’s something,” Matthew nodded, quickening his pace just a little before coming to a stop by a black Audi SUV and opening the passenger door. “I started the car once we entered the garage, so it should be warmer here.”

“Oh,” Riley was caught off guard. Despite the action itself being bottom of the barrel of what men were expected to do, Riley truly couldn’t remember the last time any date she had, had opened any door for her…not just a car door. “Thank you.”

Matthew just nodded in reply and waited for her to get into the car before he checked to make sure her feet or her purse weren’t hanging out so he could close the door. And though he could’ve taken his time to walk around, she watched him walk around the back of his car with a sort of urgency, not leaving her alone inside for long before he was opening the driver door and ducking into the car.

He fiddled with the radio for a bit before picking up an aux cord and offering it up to her. “You’re more than welcome to have the aux. I’m not all too picky with music.”

“Are you sure?” Riley asked, looking at him to see if she could spot any sign of him changing his mind.

“Absolutely, you can have it,” he said, handing the cord over.

Riley took it from his hand and plugged it into her phone, unlocking it and opening her music library. “Any requests?”

“Just whatever you want to play,” he said, looking away from her as he put his seatbelt on and then put his car into reverse.

She felt nervous sitting there in his car and she didn’t know if it was because she was sitting in the car of someone who was basically a stranger to her, or because of the kind of date setting. It took everything in her not to physically move in her seat to try to get the nerves out, so instead she just endlessly scrolled through her music library, not even picking a song.

“My family and I play this game when it comes to what songs to play, that way there’s not one person who’s picking all the songs,” she said, breaking the silence as she looked at him.

“What’s that?” He asked, sneaking a look at her before maintaining his focus on backing out of his parking spot to eventually straighten up and leave the garage.

“We each took turns picking a letter and a number. Whatever letter someone picks, you’ll scroll down to the number they picked and then that’s the song.”

“Okay, I got it,” Matthew nodded, looking at her as he pulled out of the garage. “B 163.”

Riley stared at him, blinking once or twice. “In what universe would you ever think I have 163 songs that start with the letter B?”

“I don’t know, I just went with a random mix,” he shrugged, looking at her. “So do you?”

“Maybe.” She knew she did. So she just bit back the smile that was trying to reveal her cards and looked back down at her phone, scrolling to the B’s and then starting to count.

Matthew pulled out into the street as she reached 90 and saw she was passing some pretty great songs, and made mental notes of what numbers they were…which was technically cheating, but her brother did it all the time.

158…right? Wait yeah 158…159….160….161….162….Oh no.

This could either go one of two ways– he could hear the song and enjoy it, or he could look at her like she was just a 12-year-old who never grew up and speed the entire way to drop her off at her own apartment, just so he could get her out of the car.

Wait? Isn’t that what she wanted?

Not wasting another moment, she took a deep breath and pressed the song, closing her eyes to prepare for whatever critique Matthew was going to hurl her way.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye as the piano started to play from the speakers, only giving him a second of instrumental before the vocals picked up and giving away just what song was playing.

“We’re soarin’, flyin’, there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach. If we’re tryin’, so we’re breaking free…”

“Is this High School Musical?” He smiled, looking at her as they pulled up to a stoplight.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling sheepishly as she rubbed her arm. “My music library’s kind of all over the place and sometimes I like listening to the old Disney classics.”

He laughed, nodding his head as he reached out and turned the volume dial up just a little. “I remember watching this when it came out. I was always a hockey player, but that’s when I discovered that maybe I wasn’t exactly a basketball player.”

“Oh God, why can I see you dressed up as Troy Bolton for Halloween?” Riley laughed, looking at him.

Matthew’s face scrunched up as she shook his head. “Oh hell no, never. I was always a hockey player for Halloween, never the same one unless it was my Dad. But my brother and I switched each year on who got to be him.” He looked over at her with that same smirk from the bar. “But I do know the words to the song.”

“Go on then,” Riley smiled, motioning towards the radio. “Sing it.”

Matthew cleared his throat as he turned the music down just barely, as if the difference in volume would make a difference in whether or not she’d be able to hear him sing. “We’re soarin’, flyin’, there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach. If we’re tryin’, yeah we’re breaking free–”

“Okay, no, no,” Riley laughed, reaching out and turning the volume way down as Matthew laughed. “I’m sorry, but I can not have you butchering the musical stylings of Troy and Gabriella like that.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad of a singer!”

“Yeah, it’s cute that you try.”

The car rolled to a stop as the song continued to play quietly, Matthew tapping his fingers on the top of his steering wheel and chewing the inside of his cheek as he stared ahead at the red light, waiting for it to turn green. “I normally stay up a little bit after games because it takes me some time to wind down, and the coffee shop I usually go to is on the way to your apartment…” He looked at her, and even Riley wasn’t oblivious to the nerves written all over his face. “Would you want to stop and grab something to drink maybe?”

“I could go for a hot chocolate or something,” Riley nodded, looking at him.

“Okay, cool,” Matthew smiled, looking back towards the light as it turned green and kept driving.

It turns out that the coffee shop Matthew had mentioned, was only a few blocks up ahead from where they had been. They were closing soon and Matthew asked if she would be okay with staying in the car while he went to grab their drinks, just so she didn’t have to walk out into the cold January air. He stayed nearby, making sure she locked it once he had left and then Riley watched through the passenger window as he walked into the coffee shop with the same urgency as he had when he walked around his car.

She knew of Matthew only because of living in the city of Calgary who took their hockey very seriously. Plus, her sister was dating their goalie and Riley had tagged along to some events and nights out with the girlfriends and wives of players. Most importantly, his dad was treasured back home in her hometown of St. Louis, having played there during the years where she and her family had gone to games. But never in her entire life had she crossed paths with Matthew or his family– not until she moved to Calgary, not until Claire started dating Jacob, and most definitely not until last week at the bar or this moment right now sitting in his car, waiting for him to come back with their hot drinks. 

Riley saw Matthew place money in a tip jar before turning back around with two drinks in hand. Once she saw he was at her door, she rolled the window down to take the drinks from him and placed them into the cupholder before unlocking the car so he could get back into the car. 

“So I know I said I’d take you home, but can I show you something first?” He asked, picking up one of the drinks and handing it to her. “They’re both hot chocolate by the way, so you don’t have to take this one.”

“No it’s fine,” she replied, taking the cup. “And I mean…sure? I guess I’m not really all that tired right now.”

“Cool. I promise it’s not too far, it’s actually just around the corner,” he smiled, putting the car into park and peeling into the street before continuing to drive.

She sat in the passenger seat, sipping on her hot chocolate as Matthew continued the drive, eventually pulling into the parking garage of an apartment complex that Riley had considered moving into herself shortly before moving out of her and Claire’s shared apartment. They drove up to the second level before finally finding a spot, Matthew pulling into it and putting the car into park.

“It’s just a little bit of a walk, but not much, I promise,” Matt said, looking at her before opening his car door and getting out.

Riley followed suit, making sure she had her phone, purse and hot chocolate before closing the passenger door and walking towards the end of the car. “I actually considered moving here a year ago.”

“Really?” Matthew asked, standing by the trunk and waiting for her to be beside him before they started walking. “Too bad you didn’t. Maybe we could’ve been neighbors.”

Riley snorted, shaking her head as she took a long sip of her hot chocolate. “That’s doubtful. I don’t have NHL money.”

Matthew stopped just ahead of her and stood in her way, holding out his hand and motioning for her. “Here, put this on,” he held his coat out as he nodded at her drink in her hand. “I’ll hold your drink.”

“Oh, it’s really no–”

“I’ve at least got a long sleeve shirt and a jacket on to keep me warm, you’ve got…whatever kind of sweater that is.” He moved the winter coat again, “just take it, you’ll need it I promise.”

Instead of arguing with him, Riley just sighed and nodded and handed over her hot chocolate before taking the black winter coat he’d had draped over his arm at the arena, unfolding it and putting it on, buttoning only the middle button so it wouldn’t stay open. “There, I’m a little warmer now.”

“Good, because Claire would kill me if I let you freeze to death I’m sure.” He replied, handing her back her drink before nodding his head back. “Come on, I’ll take you to what I wanted to show you.”

“As long as I’m in my own bed by midnight and you’re not going to turn me into the next inspiration for a Criminal Minds episode when they come back with their reboot, then okay.”

She walked alongside him as he scanned a key fob to get into the building, once again Matthew holding the door open for her and allowing her to walk in first before following just behind her and nodding his head to his left. “The elevator right here.”

“So what’s this thing you want to show me?” She asked, waiting for him to close the door behind him.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied, making sure the door closed behind him before walking over and nodding at the elevator button. “You should feel special because I don’t show this spot to just anyone.” He looked at her with that same playful smirk.

Riley pressed the button, signaling for the elevator to come to the floor they were on and when the double doors opened, they both walked into the elevator, Matthew pressing the close doors button as well as the button at the top of them all that had only say T. As the elevator started to move, Riley leisurely sipped on her hot chocolate, Matthew doing the same as they waited for the elevator to come to a stop.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she chimed, the words she meant to say earlier when he brought up going somewhere else instead of taking her right home, finally coming out. “I meant what I said about being back in my own bed by midnight.” 

“Relax,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “My mom raised me right, you know.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you’ve never had a one night stand? Mr. makes a million dollars a year, basically the face of a franchise and NHL player?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she brought the cup back up to her lips.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Matthew stepped towards the doors, holding his arm out in front of them and waving for her to walk through. “Actually I’m earning nine million this year,” he replied, tilting his head to the side as he took a sip of his hot chocolate and sighing. “And I’m hardly the face of a franchise, that’s Johnny. And no, I didn’t say that, just come on will you?”

She followed his directions, stepping off of the elevator and back out into the cold January air. “Where are we?” She asked, holding her hot chocolate closer to her chest as she heard the elevator doors close behind her.

“I found it when I moved in,” he said, nodding at her to follow him as he started to walk away from the elevator and down the wheelchair ramp. “The owner of the complex doesn’t advertise it when people check into living here, mainly because it has no standing on the rent.”

There were small posts that hung garden lights from around them, dimly lighting the space they were on. As Riley looked around, she noticed a different variety of lounge chairs– the kinds you could find in gardens, on front porches or even poolside. She could see off to their left, was what looked to be a small garden, though again the light that the garden lights hung around the seating area didn’t really show all that much. She could, however, see the fire pit that sat in the center of all of the chairs, letting her know that this must be some kind of hang out spot for the complex. Maybe if she had looked deeper into this complex when she was searching for a new apartment, she might’ve known about it.

“Over there’s a small community garden, I think there’s a few vegetables and spices, but really it’s only flowers. I asked the owner about it when I came up here one day after drunk pressing the wrong floor and he said he puts a place like this on all of his properties, in memory of his wife who died of breast cancer because she loved to garden.” Matthew walked away from the garden and just passed some of the chairs before coming to a stop on the other side of the rooftop, where there were no dim garden lights. “The whole terrace is supposed to be a kind of place where people can come out and relax, clear their minds, you know? But I’ve never seen anyone come up here.”

“Maybe because it’s cold,” Riley said, walking up next to him and leaning her arms against the ledge of the terrace.

Matthew rolled his eyes and rested his hot chocolate on the ledge. “You don’t say?”

“Just pointing out the obvious is all,” she smiled, taking another sip of her hot chocolate as she looked towards the other side of the terrace. “The idea of it is nice though, I like it. Plus the view,” she blew out a low whistle as she looked back out towards downtown Calgary. “It’s beautiful. I can only imagine what it looks like during the day.”

“I like it better at night,” Matthew replied, tapping his fingers against his cup as he shrugged. “It helps clear my mind a bit after games.”

“Only if you’re not going out with the boys, right?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Right,” he laughed, nodding his head as he took a sip of his hot chocolate and shrugged. “It kind of reminds me of looking out of the airplane window when you’re flying at night, you know? Seeing all the lights from the buildings in the city you’re flying over and how there’s a whole city of people who are living their lives individually. It makes you realize just how big the world is.”

Riley let a few moments of silence pass as she let her cooling down hot chocolate cup try to warm up her hands before she nodded and looked at him. “Wow…that was deep for a hockey player.”

He laughed and shook his head as he kept his eyes out towards the cityscape, opening his mouth to say something, only to pause and stand up straight from his leaning stature, pointing ahead of him. “Wait, look!”

Riley raised an eyebrow as she looked out over the city lights and out towards the far away, dark horizon. “What?”

“This is going to sound ridiculous, but I swear I saw a shooting star,” Matthew kept his gaze out ahead of him for a few more seconds before he let his hand drop and he looked at her. “Like…no bullshit it moved.”

“Orrrrr,” she dragged out, looking at him. “Maybe it was an airplane.”

“Moving that fast? Really?”

“You never know with guys like Elon Musk trying to build crazy shit and defy the inevitable every second of every day,” she replied, bringing her cup back up to her lips as she turned back towards the city.

Matthew let the silence settle between them, though she could still feel his gaze on her and his body being turned towards her as well. “You’re a lot different than your sister…”

“Says you and every other person who’s walked into our lives.” Riley shrugged, holding her cup with both hands. “Claire’s a lot more…hopeful, she likes to see the petter picture of options and I’m more–”

“Of a cynical bitch?” Riley almost choked on her sip of air, rather than hot chocolate seeing as she hadn’t tipped her cup far enough yet, and when she looked at Matthew, he was looking at her with wide eyes. “Sorry…are we not at that level of friendship yet?”

This time she laughed as she placed her cup down onto the ledge and nodded. “Actually, I was going to say the same thing.”

“So…why is that?” He asked, reaching out and gripping his fingers onto the concrete ledge as he leaned himself backwards, almost as if he was stretching his arms. “You guys are what? Only a little over a year apart?”

“You said you have a brother right?” She asked, as he nodded in reply. “Are you and your brother the same person?”

“Well…kind of?” He replied, shrugging. “But he can get a little more crazy than me. Plus he’s got that whole middle child thing going on, so he always needs to be the center of attention.”

“Hey, I’m a middle child,” Riley faked offense, reaching out and nudging his arm.

“You said it, not me.” Matthew smiled, tilting his head to the side. “But really…siblings having their individual personalities aside…you guys aren’t that far apart in age, so I guess I just figured you’d be a little bit alike, you know”

“I don’t know,” Riley took a deep breath and sighed as she shrugged her shoulders and looked at him. “Claire will say it’s because of my Junior year prom date standing me up and going to prom with his ex-girlfriend– why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” He asked, trying to fight back the knowing smirk that was already present on his face.

“Smirking,” she said, turning her body towards him and waving at his face. “You’re smirking and nodding like you just figured something out.”

“More like figured you out,” he replied, pulling himself closer to the ledge before letting go of the concrete and bringing his arms into his chest as he rested them on the ledge and leaned against them. “And I don’t think you’re as cynical as you think or want people to think you are. I just think you’re scared.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know me.”

“No,” he replied, looking over at her. “But I’d like to…get to know you.”

Riley squinted as she held her arms closer to her and leaned against the ledge, almost copying him. “Why?”

“Well for one, I think it’s cool we’re from the same city–”

“Technically state, because you’re from boujee Chesterfield.”

“And second…I think you’re funny and I definitely liked how you were at the club.”

“Ohhhh,” Riley smiled, nodding at him. “So you liked how I didn’t fall for your little pick up routine, right? Let me guess…you like the challenge?”

Matthew didn’t smile or put that smirk on like she thought he would, like most men would the moment the challenge of picking up a woman was brought up. Instead he just stuck out his bottom lip partially and shrugged. “I don’t see you as a challenge because you’re a person…but you’ve piqued my interest and I’d like to get to know you better. Plus your sister’s dating my teammate so.”

Riley turned back towards him and leaned her left arm on the railing. “Well I hate to break it to you Matthew, but I really don’t see this happening. Relationships and I don’t really do well–”

“Oh? So you admit it?” He asked, raising both eyebrows as he turned towards her. “You want a relationship?”

“I– no, that’s not–” Riley huffed in frustration as soon as she saw him smile and then rolled her eyes in an effort to keep her own smile at bay. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“I’ll let you consider this our first date,” she replied, nodding at him before curling her upper lip slightly. “Though it’s not looking too good that you spent the first near two hours of our date smashing other guys into boards, plus the extra thirty minutes of waiting after…and not to mention you didn’t even give me a puck.”

Matthew laughed, a deep, belly laugh as he head leaned back just slightly before nodding and looking at her. “Okay, so I’ll have to make the second date better then. Don’t worry, I got it.”

“Wow. Already giving up on this one that you think it’s going to end badly? What? Afraid I’ll tell my sister how bad of a kisser you are when you try to kiss me tonight?”

That stupid smirk returned as he stood himself up straight and turned to her. Riley wanted to do nothing more than to kiss it off of his stupid lips and by the way he looked at her, he knew it too. “That’s the thing, I’m not kissing you tonight. Come on, let me take you home.”

“And why not?” Riley’s eyebrows furrowed as she grabbed her hot chocolate and followed behind him back towards the chairs. “Am I not kissable?”

He laughed again, finishing off his hot chocolate before tossing it into the trashcan, holding the slot open for her as she finished what remained of hers and tossed it in as well. “Oh no, you’re definitely kissable and I’m fighting every urge right now not to kiss you.” He led them up to the elevator and he pressed the button. “But my mom always taught me not to kiss on the first date.”

Riley hugged her arms closer to her, starting to feel the Calgary chill as the wind started to pick up. If she wasn’t so cold, she was sure that the shock of his statement would be frozen all over her face. Here he was, a 24-year-old bachelor living in a city that praised the ice he skated on. He’d had one night stands, he told her that, and yet she wouldn’t…couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact Matthew Tkachuk…didn’t kiss on the first date?

“I-well..that’s…” she paused, unsure of how to play off her shock despite her already failing so miserably to do so. “Sweet.”

Matthew smiled, nodding his head. “And if you let me take you home so you don’t freeze to death, I guarantee you’ll learn more about me on our second date…and maybe get a kiss at the end of that too.”

Riley scoffed, shaking her head and standing up straight as the elevator doors opened. “I’m not cold.”

“Say that to the shivering sound of your teeth when you were doubting my shooting star,” he reached out and rested his hand on the small of her back, nudging her into the warmth of the elevator first, keeping it there as he walked into the elevator himself, removing it once they were both inside of the elevator and he pressed the button of the floor they needed to go to and her back pressed against the elevator wall.

It didn’t matter though. She felt the warmth of his hand against her skin through both his jacket and her flimsy sweater the rest of the elevator ride, the car ride back to her apartment and when she was lying in her own bed.

At 11:59.

DAY 43 – FEBRUARY 12TH, 2022 [ IT'S OFFICIAL ]

How the hell did I get here?

That’s a question Riley found herself asking herself anytime that she woke up in Matthew’s apartment. Whether that was on his couch or in his bed, she always wondered. And the question wasn’t asked in a “I got too drunk last night how the hell did I get here” way, it was more of a “how the hell did I end up waking up in the apartment of a man, most of the time not hungover or after a wild night out– but instead after receiving the text of ‘just landed, not tired, feel like coming over to watch a movie?’” Kind of way.

Only a handful of times in the last three weeks has she found herself waking up in his apartment with her head throbbing, her mouth dry from drinking and the taste of her drunken meal lingering in her morning breath. The rest of the time she’s woken up from falling asleep on the couch watching a movie or a show one of his teammates or his friends from home or his siblings suggested he watched, waking up in his bed curled up beneath his heavy comforter with her head sharing the space with his on his all-time favorite pillow.

But no matter how she ended up at his apartment or the circumstances behind how she fell asleep and where, the two things that were consistent every single time, were her wearing one of his shirts and that she always woke up with his arms wrapped around her. Unless, like this morning, he somehow woke up before her and she was greeted to an empty bed. But the smell of food and the sound of running water and pans clinking echoing from behind his closed bedroom door told her exactly where he was and what he was doing.

Riley got out of bed, turning towards the mattress and making her side of the bed up and looking up to see that he had already done it, even though he’s always made a joke at how the first thing she does when she wakes up in the morning is make the bed– even if he’s still in it. She walked over to his dresser, opening the third drawer which she knew had his gym shorts in it and pulled out a black pair before closing the drawer and then putting the shorts on, rolling the waistband once before opening his bedroom door and walking out into his apartment, immediately seeing him standing in his kitchen by the stove, his back facing her.

She walked over, feeling the cool of the wooden floor beneath her feet as she made her way through both the living room and dining room and into the kitchen, the tile even colder. She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing up on her toes to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

“Well good morning sleeping beauty,” Matt laughed, looking at her and lifting his right arm up to let her move under it so she was resting against his side. “I didn’t think you’d be getting up for another hour.”

“Mm, I smelled breakfast,” she smiled, looking up at him and leaning up to kiss him before turning back  and snuggling into his side. “Which I assume you’re making for yourself?”

“Ha ha, no,” he replied, rolling his eyes as he carefully switched the spatula from his right hand to his left and flipped the omelet. “I was actually going to surprise you with breakfast in bed. But seeing as you’re awake now, do you think you can go ahead and crack the eggs and scramble them for me so I can make mine once yours is done?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I kind of like the idea of breakfast in bed, sounds super romantic actually. Almost–” she paused as the word froze in her throat. Domesticated. ‘Almost domesticated’ is what she was going to say, but she couldn’t…wouldn’t, really.

Sure, it’s already been almost three weeks since that failed blind double date, turned…sort of first date for her and Matthew and maybe by now, especially with as often as they talked and how much time they spent together between her classes and his schedule, including just how many times post game they tagged along to a late dinner with Claire and Jacob or another player and their significant other…they never had a talk about being official. A “what are we” conversation has definitely happened, Matthew first brought it up one month in, stating that he didn’t want to just be a hook-up, but also wasn’t sure if he wanted a relationship yet and her stance was the same. The conversation ended with no solid answer, but they both decided to continue with…whatever this was anyway.

Because then, she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. A relationship was…a possibility in the cards, but at that point in time it didn’t feel like she could truly open herself up to one, especially one with him. Yet here she was, almost two months later and the word ‘domesticated’ almost came out of her mouth to describe the very action Matthew was doing– making them breakfast.

And for the first time since high school, she wanted to be in a relationship. More importantly, she wanted to be in one with him…but she’d gone along with not wanting a relationship he brought up first, so maybe it would be best to just play along with whatever they were doing until Matthew changed his mind.

And hopefully he changed his mind.

“Riles?”

“Hm?” She asked, shaking her head slightly before looking up at him.

“The eggs?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she nodded, unwrapping her arms from his waist and walking over to the fridge.

“Did I lose you there for a second?” He laughed, flipping the omelet again before picking up the pan and tilting it, letting the omelete slide onto the plate. “You kinda paused there.”

“Oh no,  just…brain fart, you know?” She laughed, grabbing two more eggs from the fridge before closing it, walking behind him and to his left where the bowl he’d previously used was. “I was just going to say that it was almost enough to make me really like you is all.”

Matthew snorted, nodding his head as he sprayed the pan again with some pam. “So what does that mean? You only like me?”

Riley looked over her right shoulder with a playful smile and shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?” He mimicked, shaking his head. “Does this mean I can cancel our having no plans and go out and catch up with the rest of the guys out at the simulated golf course today?”

She immediately turned around, eyes wide as she shook her head. “Wait no, you said we could just stay in today and relax since we’re going to that big super bowl party tomorrow,” she started to pout as he walked over to her, taking the eggs from her hands. “We were supposed to start One Tree Hill today.”

Matthew cracked an egg and dropped it into the bowel before tossing the shell into the sink, shrugging as he pouted. “Eh.”

“Matthew–” Riley barely spoke before he looked at her with that stupid smirk that always made her stomach fill with butterflies. He was never going to cancel their day in, he was only messing with her. She nudged him away, taking the remaining egg back and cracking it into the bowl. “You suck.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek while simultaneously taking the bowl from her and handing her the plate with her omelete on it. “Eat your breakfast, I’ve already got the bread in the toaster so all you’ll need to do it toast it and butter it.”

Riley walked over to the toaster, pushing down the slots and then left her plate in front of it before moving just a little way over and pulling herself up onto the counter. “So…”

She paused again as she stared at the back of him, adding the cheese and spinach into his omelete. Again, she was asking herself the same ‘how the hell did I get here?’ Question that she’s been asking herself for weeks now. How, in the actual hell, did she go from cynical, romance is gross, jokingly telling Claire and Jacob to at least warn her before they were going to kiss in her presence, never getting the big hype about rom-com movies…to this? To waking up in bed with Matthew in mornings after nights where sometimes all they did was lounge on the couch and watch a new Netflix suggestion? To knowing her way around his apartment like she did her own? She had products in his shower, his clothes were hers, she kept a pair of shoes over here, he had almond milk in the fridge for her and her favorite cereal mingled in with his own. To him making her breakfast and planning on greeting her in bed with it?

It almost felt surreal, her entire situation. How did it all happen so fast, practically In the blink of an eye– like all of the rom-com’s Claire loved to watch every weekend– and she never even noticed it?

“Sooo?” Matthew echoed, bringing her back into reality as he looked over his shoulder. “Care to finish that thought?”

“I was just going to ask if you were prepared to enjoy the amazing, legendary show of One Tree Hill? And also that you can’t watch it without me, because I need to see your reaction to the most pinnacle stuff.”

“Is it really that legendary if I’ve never heard of it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her.

Riley rolled her eyes as their pieces of toast popped up. “Considering your only interests in life when the show was on air was hockey and oh wait…hockey!” She nudged herself off of the counter and smiled at him. “I would be surprised if you have heard of it.”

“Hey, I like to think that interest in hockey paid off, hm?” He said, turning the stove off before placing his omelete onto his plate.

“All I know is that if you’re on the wrong Scott’s brother team, I don’t know if we can be friends,” she said, taking the lid off of the butter and starting to butter the pieces of toast.

“Ouch, first I’m demoted to like and now we might not be friends?” He playfully scoffed as she put the toast onto his plate and cut it. “I guess I better not mess this up huh?” He whispered into her ear before kissing her temple and then grabbing both of their plates just as she put her toast onto her own. “Now come on, we’ve got hill trees to watch.”

“Tree Hill!” She groaned, taking the butter and putting it into the fridge. “It’s called One Tree Hill!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, shooting her a smile over his shoulder. “Now come on, it’s time to start our day of relaxing.”

And they did. They had breakfast together, starting season one, episode one of One Tree Hill at 10:30 am…and almost twelve hours later and every bathroom break, pause to answer a question and door dash delivery in between…they were on season one, episode eighteen with five more episodes left of the first season.

For Riley, it was one of her personal favorite episodes– the Boy Toy charity auction episode– and despite Matthew thinking (and complaining) it was because of Nathan Scott walking out onto the stage and taking off his jacket to reveal ‘boy toy’ written across his very impressive abs– “I might not have a six pack but I’m better.” “He’s Nathan Scott…”– it was actually because of the growth Nathan shows and then the development of the lives of the other characters and the relationships.

Still…Nathan Scott shirtless also wasn’t that bad of a sight.

But right there on the couch was where they spent their entire day, lounging around in different positions unless it came to eating food, then they both sat up, but once they were done they went back down into whatever position they’d been lying in prior. And right now, the position they were lying in and had been lying in for the better half of the last two episodes since they finished dinner, had them both sharing the chaise of Matthew’s sectional sofa. Matthew was laying the full length of it, while Riley was too, except she had her head rested in his lap and her body curled up as she laid on her right side, her head resting on his right thigh where his hands had been alternating between playing with her hair or just simply running his fingers through it.

The fact that their entire day had been spent lounging around together and more specifically, that small action of him playing with her hair, wasn’t helping her brain to keep from focusing on the domestic dilemma they were in…or maybe it was just her, because Matthew looked like he had nothing going on except for everything in the moment. The dire need to know just what exactly their situation was, was bouncing around in her head so much, that she had completely missed the last five minutes of the episode, not realizing it until she felt him reach out with his right hand to grab the remote beside him.

‘What are we doing?” She asked, looking up at him.

“Um…watching the next episode of One Tree Hill?” He replied, looking confused as he paused the tv. “Unless you don’t want to?”

She felt her face heat up at the bluntness of her question without any context and Matthew must have been able to tell she was embarrassed about something, because he motioned for her to move closer to him as he sat himself up against the back of the couch. Riley felt like a puppy with its tail between its legs as she pushed herself up and carefully moved so not to lean too much against his lap, and ended up laying down between him and the arm of the couch.

“Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?” He asked, nodding towards the tv. “Or did I completely misread your question?”

“I mean…I wasn’t really all that straightforward with what I meant,” she spoke nervously, her left hand resting on the material of his t-shirt and playing with the ripples in the fabric.

“I’m still not sure what we’re talking about here…” He replied, his eyebrows furrowing as he rolled the remote in his hand.

Riley took a deep breath and exhaled, pushing herself up onto her right hand as she leaned back against the arm rest. “I know…we talked about how this isn’t really an exclusive hook-up situation, but you also don’t know if you want a relationship right now and I don’t know. I have products in your bathroom, I keep an extra pair of shoes here, you’ve got some stuff at my place.”

She looked up from her twiddling hands and sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I just want to know what we are, because Claire’s got a big mouth and no doubt has told them something or referred to you as my boyfriend and I just really need to know what to tell my parents and well…everyone else when they ask…I guess?”

Matthew just stared at her and every passing second felt like it was dragging on and the longer he stayed silent, the more embarrassed she felt and wanted to play it off as if she was just sleep talking- though she knew that he wouldn’t believe it for a second.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, readjusting his posture as he tried to turn his body more towards her. “I mean…I was going to wait till after Valentine’s Day to ask if you wanted to make it more official, because I know you hate Valentine’s Day–”

“I don’t hate Valentine’s Day,” Riley scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I just think it can be super cheesy sometimes, plus the whole,” she waved her hand aimlessly, “going all out on one day of the year and putting half-assed effort into a relationship the other 364 days is dumb.”

Matthew held back a smile as he looked at her. “Wanna date?”

Her face deadpanned as she looked at the now beaming Matthew, her heart racing within her chest. “Really? You ask like that?”

“Just kidding, but I’m also dead serious,” he replied, dropping the remote in his lap as he held onto one of her hands. “I’ve been really enjoying…whatever this has been the last two months, and I know I said I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a relationship…but I’m pretty sure now that I do. So do you want to change this,” he motioned between them with his free hand before resting his left arm back over the back of the couch. “Into us dating…officially?”

Now Riley was the one who sat there staring at him, only her mouth was slightly opened and the word, though she was dying to say it, sat there frozen on the tip of her tongue. “Riles? Now would uh…be a good time to answer?”

“Yeah?” She finally replied, before nodding her head as an unsure look crossed his face. “Yes, I mean yes.”

Matthew smiled and leaned in, pressing her against the arm of the couch as he kissed her before pulling back and looking at her. “I was going to do this the whole romantic way, you know? Flowers, chocolates, take you out to a nice dinner and I know you’re not a big fan of it, but will you also be my Valentine?”

Riley playfully scoffed as she rolled her eyes, leaning forward and pressing her nose against his. “If I must.” She kissed him again before pulling away and then patting his thigh. “Now back to One Tree Hill, we’ve got four more episodes and then we’ve finished season one.”

“Four?” He sighed, leaning his head back as she crawled back between his legs, laying back to where she was before. “We’re sleeping on the couch tonight aren’t we?”

She looked back at him with a smile and shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, we have no plans until the afternoon, we���ll get some sleep.”

Matthew picked the remote back up and started the next episode before resting it back down onto the couch beside him. He reached forward, tugging on the blanket that she was using and making sure she was covered up enough before she felt him sink back down into the couch. Riley tried hard not to let the butterflies she was feeling in her stomach turn into her own self feeling antsy as she laid there thinking about the reactions of Claire and the rest of the WAGs tomorrow when they found out that Matthew and she had finally decided to date. And then she couldn’t stop her mind from spiraling about her parents, other friends, would things change between them or would the relaxing hangouts feel like more needed to be happening? All of this was so new to her. The last time she had a “boyfriend” was in seventh grade– and who really counted those? That wasn’t this– this was so different, this was–

And as if he knew she was starting to spiral inside of her own head, Matthew started to play with her hair again, alternating between running his fingers through her hair or rubbing her hair back and out of her forehead. Soon, the worried thoughts about what their current relationship would, should or could turn into and she felt her body relax into the couch and into Matthew as she watched the show on the tv in front of them. And when her body relaxed, her eyes did too and she found it hard to keep them open long enough to retain what was actually taking place.

She’d seen One Tree Hill all the way through multiple times, so she knew all about what happened in this episode. But it was the thought of experiencing it for the first time with Matthew that kept making her open her eyes despite the time in between getting longer and longer each time. But when she felt Matthew tug the blanket up just over her shoulders, brush the hair away from her face and lean down and kiss her temple, before sitting back up. She half expected him to pause the show and switch it to something else since she knew he wasn’t really all that tired.

Yet the last thing she remembered hearing was Nathan telling Haley he fell in love with her, meaning he had stuck with watching the episode even after he knew she’d stopped paying attention. And she could’ve sworn she heard the all too familiar opening of Gavin Degraw’s “I Don’t Want to Be” right before she really fell asleep, and the feeling of Matthew’s fingers still playing in her hair.

Calming the rapidness of the butterflies in her stomach’s wings…to nothing but a small flutter, leaving her feeling all warm inside.

DAY 69 – MARCH 10TH, 2022 [ ARGUMENTS AND LATE NIGHT APOLOGIES ]

In both aspects, it would be right to say that just like their relationship, things were picking up fast in their day to day lives. For Riley, the end of her final semester of college was only two some months away and she found her days filled with coffee, power naps, study sessions with her classmates or Kelsey, papers and of course, Calgary Flames home games. For Matthew, the end of the season was approaching fast and it was he and everyone of his teammate’s mission to make it into the postseason after missing out the year before. This year felt like maybe they could do it, find the redemption from the 2020 bubble playoffs where they imploded.

Yet despite the chaos going on in their lives, everything in regards to their relationship felt almost too good to be true. Riley found herself staying over at Matthew’s apartment more often than her own, and on the nights when she would leave campus late and was too tired to make the drive to his, he’d drive over to hers and stay with her. They’d cook dinner together or order take-out, talk about their days and listen as the other vented about whatever it was that was on their mind or bothering them, then they’d either watch tv and fall asleep on the couch or go find some sort of solace in a bedroom.

Tonight was going to be the same as the last two weeks as well. Riley would go to class while Matthew went to morning skate, he’d go through his daily routine while she stayed on campus for other classes and hiding away in the library to try her best to knock out her homework and get a little more of her paper down. Then she’d meet up with Claire and Kelsey at Claire’s apartment and then they’d go to Saddledome for the game. It felt like any other night, really– but Matthew was stressing, despite Riley telling him that he didn’t need to.

“We’re playing Tampa, Riles. Everyone expects them to win because they’re back to back cup champs. It’s a big game.” Was what he said anytime over the phone or in text that she told him he just needed to relax and play his game.

Kelsey had left the library an hour earlier than planned so she could go home and have a dinner with Oscar before he left for the arena. While Riley stayed back in the reserved study room, stressing over her paper when she got an email from her professor that was sent to their entire class talking about how they needed to make an office appointment with her to present a second rough draft of their oral presentation.

The most important presentation of her life that she absolutely needed to pass in order to pass her Capstone and achieve her degree.

She probably should have left then. Followed the advice that she’d been giving Matthew for the last few hours and gone to her apartment to relax. Instead, she stayed in the study room and tried to balance her focus between her paper and her presentation. Her focus was by no means balanced evenly between the two, considering she spent a nice fifteen minute break in between crying over the stress before diving back into her notes and trying to wrap up her paper…and then the yawns came, which was maybe another time she should’ve decided to go home and rest before the game.

But she did was she always did whenever she found herself getting tired while studying. She set a short alarm to wake her up in ten minutes, the perfect power nap, and then she’d finish whatever she could before she’d leave for her apartment to get dressed and then meet up with Kelsey and Claire.

Except…that’s not how it happened. Instead of waking up ten minutes later, she woke up almost two hours later to her phone vibrating against the table and her face. She fully woke up the moment the call ended, practically jumping out of her seat when she saw the time and all of the notifications that she had from Matt, Claire and Kelsey. And then she saw the time.

The game had started 30 minutes ago.

She quickly collected all of her stuff and left the study room, rushing through the library while simultaneously ordering her uber to the arena, hoping that she’d get there with time to spare. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for an uber before she was on her way to the stadium, digging through her purse for the family lanyard and ticket Matt had given her when she came home for lunch. And after begging the arena staff to let her bring her backpack in and she was willing to drop it off with security just as long as they’d let her bring it in– she was allowed to do it, but it took quite the convincing with the security managers.

By the time she reached the seats where she saw Claire, Kelsey and a few of the other WAGs sitting, she was out of breath, felt extremely disheveled and probably looked like she was crazy.

“Where the hell have you been?” Claire asked, her tone holding 

“I fell asleep in the study room, I’m sorry,” Riley replied, moving by Kelsey and sitting down between the two of them. “I just got here–”

“You missed the first two periods, but they’re getting ready to start the third so there’s still some game for you to watch.” Kelsey added, nodding towards the ice.

“How’s he doing?” Riley asked, looking at them both before looking up at the score. “And we’re winning three to one, so that’s great!”

“He’s had a few shots on goal, but other than that he got an assist on Johnny’s second goal,” Claire replied, as the arena lights started to dim. “So good, but I’m sure it’s not what he wants to be doing.”

Riley sat there and paid as best attention to the remainder of the game that she could, hoping that Matthew hadn’t noticed her lack of attendance earlier in the game and that if he did, by some slim chance then maybe he’d notice she was here now. Johnny scored another goal late in the third, getting himself a hat trick and giving the Flames an four to one lead, resulting in a Flames win the moment time ran out of the buzzer signaling the end of the game went off. She stayed with the group of women as they left their seats to make their way down to meet up with the boys. Kelsey stayed with her as she met up with one of the supervisors who had her backpack and grabbed it before finally making her way down beneath the stadium, making it just in time before any of the players made their way out of the locker room.

Jacob and Matthew both didn’t do any post-game media, so it wasn’t that long of a wait for them to come out of the locker room showered and dressed back in their suits. Despite the big win against the back-to-back Stanley Cup Champions, Matthew seemed a little more down than he usually was after a win and Riley couldn’t help but think maybe it was because he somehow knew she was late to the game, even after she promised that she would be there. She tried not to dwell too much on that thought, because she knew it was an accident but also because she didn’t want the situation to turn into something bigger just when things seemed to be going so well.

Oscar got stuck doing media, so Kelsey gave them the go ahead to leave without her since she would be waiting. The four of them walked together, making their way to the parking garage where eventually, they said their goodbyes to each other and got into their separate cars. The drive home was quiet, but Matthew, like every other time they rode in a car together, had his right hand rested on her thigh, which was the only thing keeping Riley from thinking that the car ride was quiet due to him being upset. It’d been a long day and they were both tired.

Once they reached Matthew’s apartment complex, the two of them made their way to his apartment, side by side but not hand in hand, still in silence. But over anything, at least the physical distance between them wasn’t great. Every once in a while, their shoulders would brush against each other– and it was weird that Riley was finding some sort of comfort in that since everything inside of her was telling her that clearly there was some tension that wasn’t due to the silence. Matthew stood in front of his apartment door, unlocking it and then walking in, Riley following in behind him and closing the door.

She was paying attention to what he was doing for the reason that if she was wrong, then she would take the jump and ask him if everything was okay. Because Matthew had a similar routine every time they came back to his apartment after a game. He’d hang his keys up on the wall, then walk past the kitchen and place his jacket onto the kitchen table before taking his shoes off and then walking into his room to change over. Only the moment that he tossed his keys onto the bar counter and continued to walk into his room, she knew obviously something was wrong.

Riley let some space settle between them before she followed behind him into his bedroom, staying by the door as he tossed his jacket into the hamper he often took to get dry cleaned and started undressing before walking into his closet.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, walking further into the room and standing in front of his closet where he had taken off his shoes and was taking off his suit pants.

“Everything’s fine,” he replied, draping his belt onto a hanger and stepping out of his pants, bending down to grab them.

“Are you sure?” Riley asked, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows as he took off his shirt and socks, carrying the clothes and walking out of the closet before dropping them into the respective hampers– dry cleaning and normal laundry.

“Yep,” he said, walking back by her again and going back into his closet, tugging on one of the dresser drawers. “Why?”

“You just seem off…I guess,” she replied, leaning against the closet opening.

“Nope, I’m fine,” he replied, shutting the dresser drawer and changing out of his briefs, putting on a new pair before looking at the clothes in front of him. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

It was one thing for her own brain to try and nag her about being late to his game and make her feel bad, but it was a whole nother thing for it to be Matthew to do the same. Clearly he was upset about something and was being sarcastic now that she was asking for it. And instead of arguing about it, Riley just wanted to say her piece and move on.

“If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong then that’s fine, but you don’t have to be so sarcastic with your answers.” She replied, turning away from his closet and walking out of his room and over to the kitchen table, placing her backpack down onto it and starting to unpack so she could get some more work done.

She plugged her laptop charger into the wall and sat down in her chair, just as she heard Matthew come walking out of his room, zipping up his pair of jeans, stopping by the kitchen table and looking at her and laughing dryly. “Of course you’re doing more homework.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, turning in her chair. Matthew rolled his eyes, but not before he shook his head as if to brush her off. “No, don’t just shake your head and ignore me. What’s that supposed to mean Matthew, hm?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means, Riley,” he said, motioning towards her. “These last two weeks you’ve either had your face buried in your computer, in a textbook or in a pillow passed out because you’re too tired to do anything.”

Riley felt taken aback as she sat there on the kitchen table chair, crossing her arms. “What am I supposed to do, Matthew? Ignore my responsibilities and write halfass papers and homework that I have to do in order to get my degree?”

“No, but you can take a break every once in a while,” he replied, walking back into his room and leaving the conversation. “All you care about is writing papers or studying for tests or getting a perfect grade on your homework assignments.”

“I’m sorry for caring about my grades, but I spent a lot of money to get both of my degrees so I’m not going to do a halfass job on my assignments.” Riley stood up out of her chair and walked after him, seeing him grabbing a fresh pair of socks from the dresser his tv was standing on. “Not all of us have rich parents who could easily pay for our tuition. Some of us have to work for what we want.”

Matthew shook his head again and scoffed. “You’re not getting it, Riley.”

“What am I not getting then? Please, actually give me an answer instead of some sarcastic smart ass response and tell me what you’re problem is?”

“My problem is you knew how stressed I was about this game and how much it would mean to me for you to be there and you didn’t show up until the third period.”

“I–” Riley stared at him, blinking. “How did–”

“Claire texted Jacob when you called her and said you were on your way. Said that you fell asleep in the library.” He shook his head as he brushed by her and back out of the bedroom. “You work yourself down to the bone, Riley and I get it, you want to graduate top of your class and stuff, but tonight was important and I really wanted you there.”

“It was an accident, Matthew…” she spoke, following behind him and crossing her arms, hugging them tight against her. “I was only supposed to take a quick nap–”

“You could’ve left when Kelsey did. I know you guys were studying together because Oscar said that she had left and came home so they could have dinner together.” He cut her off, putting on a pair of sneakers, tying his shoes before standing back up and looking at her. “She made it to the game on time because she probably knew it was important to him.”

Part of her couldn’t believe that they were arguing about something so small. The other part understood that he was upset on her missing most of his game…but it was an accident. He should be understanding of that, because she could’ve just gone straight home and told him she couldn't’ make it to his game. But she still tried to go and she begged with the stadium security to let her bring her bag in so she didn’t have to go back home to drop it off and come back, only to miss even more of the game.

She still tried.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Matthew. It was an accident,” she replied, standing there with her arms crossed. “And I still showed up. I could’ve gone straight home but I showed up because I knew you wanted me to be there and it was an accident. I didn’t purposely miss your game.”

“No, but you didn’t come and eat dinner with me either. You could have, but you didn’t,” he said, looking at her. “Do you realize how much time we’ve actually spent together in the last two weeks? Time where you weren’t on your computer or asleep at the table because you fell asleep working on homework? Maybe a day or two and that’s pushing it.”

It felt like they were going in circles, whatever it was that they were arguing about. She spoke, he spoke, she spoke again– round and round and no solution in sight. It was frustrating beyond belief, but she’d never been in this sort of situation before– fighting with someone she was dating, because she’d never had a relationship before…he was her first real one– so how the hell was it supposed to be handled? Did she let him complain and that was it? Just apologize and assume it was fine? Argue back and let her know that she didn’t do it intentionally? Every option that went through her mind, didn’t have a clear solution.

Which is why she ended up just arguing back with him, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I’m sorry for wanting to focus on the education I’m paying for, Matthew. I get that your hockey game was important for you, but you’ve got like twenty freaking more to make up for the one I missed. You’ve got more games and another season after this, I have this semester and then I get my degree. Of course it’s going to take my attention away, because it means a lot to me–”

“Oh, it means a lot to you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “So what am I? Chopped liver?”

This time Riley was the one to laugh in disbelief, shaking her head as she brought her hands to her temples. “I can’t even deal with you right now. Do you even hear yourself? What do you want me to do, huh? Apologize? Because I am, I’m sorry I missed two periods of your game because I overslept in my nap after stressing about my paper and my capstone oral presentation to get a degree that means everything to me and my future. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see you get your assist on Johnny’s goal or God forbid, shove someone into a board. But I had a bigger priority and at least I still tried to go, I even had to beg the damn security supervisors to hold my bag so they would let me in and I wouldn’t miss your entire game.” She exhaled heavily, looking back at the blue eyed blonde. “So no, you’re not chopped liver, but right now you’re being a jerk and I don’t know if I want to be around if you’re going to keep acting like one.”

He stood there in his spot looking at her for a few seconds more before walking back into his room and coming back out a few seconds later, now with a jacket on over his t-shirt. He walked over to the bar counter and grabbed his keys, his back still to her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going out to celebrate with some of the guys,” he said, keeping his back to her. “I wouldn’t want to bother you anymore while you do your work or make you hang around while I’m being a jerk.”

“That’s not–” she huffed, following after him as he headed towards the door. “That’s not what I–” Riley could barely get the words out before he was out the door, shutting it and locking it behind him and leaving her alone in his apartment. “Meant.”

Riley stared at his apartment door, hoping that he would come right back through it because he forgot something, because maybe then that could be another chance for them to settle their misunderstanding and not be angry at each other. But she couldn’t hear lingering footsteps on the other side of the door, nor was there any sign that someone was attempting to even unlock and open the door. She walked back over to the kitchen table, picking her phone up and unlocking it, calling Claire and bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hey Ri, what’s up?” She asked, music in the background.

“What are you doing tonight?” Riley asked, leaning against the wall, keeping her arms close to her.

“I’m going out with Jacob and the guys, we’re downtown at the bar!” She replied, slightly yelling into the phone a little bit. “Are you and Matt coming out?”

“No, well I mean, yeah,” Riley sighed, rubbing her forehead as she looked at her computer sitting there waiting for her to start working again. “He is, he just left. I…I’m tired so I’m just gonna crash here at his place.”

A few seconds passed and for a moment, Riley thought that maybe Claire hadn’t heard her. “You okay?” Big mistake number two tonight. Claire knew her well enough to be able to see through her lies even on a phone call.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Riley nodded, turning off the kitchen light and walking into Matthew’s bedroom. “Be safe tonight, have fun and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she replied, hanging up the call and then shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Today had been long and with that fight– their first ever– with Matthew, Riley found herself way too tired to sit down at the kitchen table and try to write her paper or go over her Capstone presentation. She grabbed some of the clothes that she had here before choosing one of his shirts from his year in the OHL with the London Knights as a top and made her way into the bathroom to take a shower. It was the best time to just let the stress and exhaustion wash away with the hot water and the soap. She contemplated sending Matt an ‘I’m sorry’ text, despite the fact that she had already apologized. She also contemplated calling Claire back and telling her that she had lied to her when she said she was fine, wanting to get her big sister's advice on how to deal with the situation since Claire was an expert in all things relationship.

But she did neither. Instead, after she got out of the shower, she brushed her hair and her teeth, got dressed and climbed into Matthew’s bed, turning his tv on and finding the Lifetime app she’d downloaded, clicking on Dance Moms and watching the old episodes until she found herself falling asleep.

Riley didn’t know how much time had passed or how long she’d been asleep, but she knew for a fact that she had been asleep because the cool chill from the room sweeping underneath the raised comforter and the movement of someone settling into the bed beside her had definitely woken her up. She grabbed onto the top of the comforter, tugging it back up above her shoulders as she rolled onto her left side and groaned at the disturbance.

“Riles,” Matthew whispered, placing a hand on her waist and rubbing the area softly. “Riles, are you awake?”

“No,” she mumbled, snuggling herself down into the mattress. “I’m sleeping.”

She heard him sigh as she felt him shift closer to her, the pillow she had her head resting on dipping down and then his hand moving up onto her right arm. “Can you wake up please? I want to talk…we need to talk.”

The thump of her heart against her chest when she heard those words was enough to wake her up enough for her heavy eyelids to start blinking. She reached out for her phone on the nightstand and tapped the screen to see the time. “Matthew, it’s 1:58 in the morning…this can’t wait for a few hours?”

“Actually no, it can’t,” he replied, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Please, Riles?”

Riley took a deep breath and exhaled, preparing herself for whatever this ‘we need to talk’ conversation was going to be and rolled over onto her otherside, coming face to face with Matthew. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t really having the best time,” he replied, keeping himself propped up onto his left elbow as he placed his hand back on her waist, keeping it there. “The guys kept ordering shots but I don’t know…I just didn’t feel like drinking.”

“You didn’t drink at all?” She asked, shocked.

Matthew sucked in his bottom lip as he shook his head. “Nope, I just kept having the bartender give me cups of water. I wasn’t in the mood to get drunk and celebrate, you know?”

Riley pouted, resting both of her hands beneath her pillow. “What? Are you going to say I ruined your celebration too?”

He chuckled softly, nodding his head. “I deserve that, I was a dick to you earlier and you didn’t deserve it. I know you still tried to make it to my game and I understand the pressure you’re under right now and it wasn’t fair of me to come for you like that about school.”

Still tired, Riley kept blinking and trying to comprehend what Matthew was saying. “Where’s this all coming from?”

Matthew looked at her, a nervous look on his face as he licked his lips and exhaled, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and looking at her. “I love you.” He must have seen the shocked look on her face even in the dim lighting from his tv screen because she could see his adam’s apple bob up and down with a nervous swallow. “I talked to Claire…well, more like she yelled at me–”

“I’m confused,” Riley said, starting to sit herself up.

“No, no, keep laying down,” he said, nudging her back down onto her side. “Claire asked me if you were really tired and I told her everything that happened and…well for one she chewed me a new one.”

“She tends to do that when she’s mad,” Riley nodded, keeping her focus on him.

“But she was right to do it, Riles, because she made me realize how what I said was unfair. I would have realized that by tomorrow or something…but she made me realize it sooner and then we got to talking about how this has been your dream since you were in middle school and you’ve been working your ass off ever since. And then she started doing that whole like therapist thing she does where she asks how you really feel–”

Riley laughed, tilting her head to the side. “She does that too. Pisses Brendan off more than anything.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Yeah, but uh…it works because she’s really good at it and she helped me realize that it wasn’t you being caught up in school or missing the first two periods of my game tonight that upset me, you know? It was me being so worked up about my performance and the game and then just…”

“Matt?” She asked, reaching out and resting her hand on his left bicep, squeezing it lightly and gaining his attention. “Breathe.”

He nodded, and took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m not mad about you almost missing my game, Riles. I’m a little upset you’re pushing yourself so hard on this school thing, but I understand that now, you know? But besides that, I’ve just…kind of been beating myself up inside about how I feel about you because…well…” He gulped again, looking at her. “I love you, Riles. I really do and it freaks me out because it’s only been a month and I didn’t want to scare you away or anything but I do. I love you and I’m tired of beating myself up about it and I told Claire that and she told me I needed to stop being an idiot and to come home and tell you, not her…so here I am. Stone cold sober and you don’t have to say it back, I’m not saying it to pressure you or anything but…well…yeah.”

Riley didn’t know how to reply. She’d only met Matthew officially for the first time in January. Sure, they’d been at events together, but that moment in the bar was the first time the two ever exchanged words. Then weeks after that night, they were on a set up blind date. Not too long after that, they were dating and now here he was, lying next to her in his bed and telling her that he loved her. Never in her life had she had someone who wasn’t a friend or family, tell her that they loved her. Sure, she’d had guys tell her that they liked her, but they never got to this point– this was uncharted territory.

Was familial love and relationship love the same? She knew she loved her parents and her siblings and her best friends, she recognized that feeling of love. But would it be any different for Matthew? She knew that she cared so much about him, just the same as she did her family and friends. But obviously, there was a difference and there were different ways that she cared for him than she did them. It was almost instinct for her to come over to his apartment instead of her own at the end of her day. She knew how he took his coffee and how he ate the same thing before every game. She knew where he liked to go on his days off if he wasn’t staying in bed. Whenever she felt anxious, just his touch alone could bring her at ease. Even just looking at him made her day so much bright. So does she love Matthew? Is that what all of these things that seemed to happen so fast in the last few months meant? Is that why she was absolutely terrified the first time that those three words slipped between his lips?

Yet when she looked at Matthew, that terrified feeling faded into the back, only leaving her thumping heartbeat in her chest in its wake and the temptation of saying those three words stuck on her lips. Her lips that were slowly turning up into a smile as she felt her cheeks heat up and her hand moved from his bicep up to his cheek, brushing her thumb against his beard.

“I love you too.”

DAY 108 – APRIL 18TH, 2022 [ SPONTANEOUS VACATION ]

“I can’t believe that you’ve been here for two years and you’ve never been to Banff,” Matthew laughed, shaking his head as they moved up in the line, each with a coffee from the starbucks in hand.

“I’ve always been busy,” Riley shrugged, taking a small sip of the hot coffee. “Besides, Claire was adjusting to her job and didn’t have a lot of vacation time between settling in on the weekends. Then she met Jacob and I was not third wheeling with those two.”

“Still,” he said, shaking his head. “Banff was one of the first things I did when I moved here. My mom and I came here and it’s one of my favorite places to go.”

“Oh?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrow. “Is this where you take all of your dates too?”

Matthew rolled his eyes as he bumped into her. “No, I don’t take all of my dates here, you dork. But, it’s so peaceful, you know? Just all of the nature…when you live in the city, especially back home in St. Louis, you just kind of forget about how beautiful it can be.”

“Touching,” she sighed, resting her hand over her heart. “That was so beautiful, I’m going to quote you on that for my instagram caption.”

He threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side, keeping her trapped. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you’re lucky I love you.”

“Mhhm,” she agreed, looking up at him as she stood on her tippy toes and kissed his lips softly. “So lucky.”

In an extremely rare occurrence, the Flames had the day off. A previously scheduled game was now going to be rescheduled due to an amount of covid cases on their opponents team, leaving them with no enough players to play. Meaning that Matthew and the Flames didn’t have to travel until tomorrow morning, when they’d fly to Nashville. Matthew came home from what was supposed to be him leaving for Chicago and woke her up, telling her they’d just had a quick practice and that he was free for the rest of the day and that she should get dressed because he wanted to take her somewhere fun.

Somewhere fun turned into grabbing breakfast from Tim Hortons and then Matthew driving the hour and a half from Calgary to Banff, the two of them listening to music and picking the other’s karaoke song, every so often doing a duet. It was a nice break from homework and stress, her one day off of classes where she was planning on sleeping the entire day away– she was actually being swept off to some of the prettiest mountains in Alberta, their first trip together as a couple.

Having been here plenty of times before, Riley let Matthew take the reins on what they would do. They grabbed another coffee at the Starbucks inside the building that was at  the base of the mountain before getting onto the Gondola. She was mesmerized by the sights of the snow covered ground and trees as they rode up the mountain. Never before had she seen such an amazing, jaw dropping sight and begrudgingly, she told Matthew that he was right. It was a beautiful view and one that she had been so easily to forget had existed because of how she spent a majority of her time in the city in a classroom and with her face in a computer.

They walked hand in hand down the boardwalk, stopping every so often to take pictures or to just take in the sights. Matthew had gotten stopped every so often by other people who were enjoying the view, talking to him about the season and the team and asking for a picture. Riley wasn’t bothered by it one bit and she offered to take the picture for them if they wanted. It was nice seeing Matthew in his element. He was such a people person and so outgoing and talkative, but she also knew very well that shy and quiet side of him when it was just the two of them in the apartment and lounging on the couch watching netflix. 

By the time they made it to Sanson’s peak, Riley could feel her face start to go numb from the cold and she was fully curled up into Matthew’s side as they looked out at the view. Snow was actively falling and yet she couldn’t take her focus off of the stretch of peaceful and beautiful nature in front of them. It was magical, like she was standing in the middle of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies her mom recorded for all of them to watch when they were together on Christmas break.

“It’s beautiful, Matthew,” she said, looking up at him as her head was resting against his chest. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

“Of course,” he said, kissing the top of her Flames beanie of his that she’d taken to wear. “Beautiful views for a beautiful girl.”

Riley laughed, shaking her head as she nudged him. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Jacob said the same thing when he saw that picture of us from the Super Bowl party taped up in my locker,” he smiled, shrugging. “And then I called him out for the same thing because I know he’s got a picture of him and Claire in there somewhere.”

“You have a picture of us in your locker?” She asked, blinking slowly. “Really?”

Matthew nodded. “I’ve got pictures of my parents and my grandparents and siblings too…all of the people that I love and who mean the world to me.”

“You’re such a cheeseball,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest, reveling in the feeling of his arm around her as she looked out at the winter scene.

She always teased her mom and Claire for loving those Hallmark Christmas movies so much. There was something so ridiculous about the same storyline in different movies. Boy meets girl, girl ignores boy, some weird coincidence brings them together and they find that they’ve got a lot more in common than they thought and then the feelings start and everything seems so full of happiness and love. Then, the big climax of the movie, something goes wrong, but in the end it all works out. Every movie was so different, but also so similar. It was magical, romantic and now that she had Matthew…part of her understood why they loved those movies so much or why Claire seemed to always put herself all into her relationships.

Because here, right now with Matthew holding onto her as she stared out at the mountains and the trees with the snow falling around them, Riley had never felt more at peace than she did in this very moment.

DAY 150 – MAY 30TH, 2022 [ A MOST IMPORTANT DAY ]

She’d been here before– sitting in a stuffy auditorium surrounded by hundreds of students, wearing a not so comfortable robe and shifting every so often in her chair to make sure that her butt didn’t fall asleep while she listened to the speakers talk. She had her bachelor’s degree, so she knew how a graduation ceremony would go and how long it could take, but right now everything felt so different.

Her gown wasn’t so different than the one she wore when she got her bachelor’s degree, aside from the velvet that lined the master hood. Her cap was the exact same, though this time instead of it being decorated with a nod towards her next journey to the University of Calgary like her cap had been when she received her master’s, this one was decorated with light blue scrapbook paper that covered the black of the cap, sticky flowers on the two side corners and in the middle, in white painted letters (thanks to Claire), was a quote from One Tree Hill, many she had scoured over what to pick, but one that Matthew was found.

“So for now I say goodbye to this chapter of my life and I look forward to what comes next.”

A cap that was decorated with Kelsey and Claire sitting at the kitchen table in Matthew’s apartment, Jacob, Oscar and Matthew sitting in the living room and drinking beer, relaxing and sulking slightly at the way their season had ended only four days earlier. And like she had been feeling the weeks leading up to graduation, Riley sat there feeling a sort of mourning for the community she’d be leaving behind once she went back home to St. Louis once she graduated– scared of leaving behind her friends and the unknown of her future.

It was a feeling she’d tried to hide that she was experiencing it, but one that Matthew had called her out on many times and she’d expressed to him her doubts and fears and overall worries…which is why he suggested that quote, and how easily it fit in along with all of the times he’d talked her off the edge of fear.

And while that feeling had been hanging over her the moment she woke up that morning in her own apartment, having had a sleepover with Kelsey so the two could get ready together before heading off to campus to prepare for the ceremony, once she heard them announce her name, hometown and degree and crossed the stage, the cheers of her friends and family and classmates echoing in her ears….she felt hopeful. All she could think about was meeting up with her family afterwards, seeing the smiles on their faces. She looked forward to playfully teasing her parents about wanting to take so many pictures. Sure, she’d experienced this all too familiar feeling before…only this time, there was a big difference.

She’d be greeting Matthew as well.

When the ceremony came to an end and the cheers and applause of her peers, their friends and families and faculty alike bounced off of the auditorium walls, Riley was one of the first students to make a beeline for where they were instructed to pick up their actual paper diplomas from tables set off to the side. She was fourth in line at her respective last name table, assuming the other three students were sat right on the aisle of their rows and her phone was going off, presumably her family group chat texting her on where they would meet her once she made her way outside.

With diploma in hand (well, in the leather diploma folder), Riley maneuvered her way through the crowds of students and guests who were still filed into the auditorium, eager to get outside to meet up with everyone. Her eyes were squinting the moment she stepped outside into the summer day, the cap that was still on her head providing no shade for her eyes, leaving her to shield them from the hot sun using her free hand as she tried to see if she could spot anyone familiar.

“Riles!” She heard Matthew call out, yet she didn’t see him as she looked around. “Riles, over here!” His voice was a little louder now, allowing her to figure out what direction it was at least coming from. She looked to her right to see Matthew waving his left hand in the air and walking over to her with a smile on his face. Immediately she noticed that he was wearing her favorite shirt of his– the lavender dress shirt– coupled with gray slacks and the YSL belt she jokingly teased him for wearing all of the time. 

Riley walked in his direction, quickening her pace the closer she got before she reached him and jumped in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and pressing her face into the side of his neck as he wrapped his left arm around her, supporting her. “Did they ditch you? I thought you were supposed to sit with Claire, Jacob and my parents?”

Matthew placed her back down onto the ground, keeping his left hand at the small of her back as he leaned down and kissed her before standing back up. “Well, when Oscar and I finally got a parking spot, Claire said some lady threw a huge fit about them saving two seats, so we ended up sitting on a whole different side of the auditorium with Kelsey’s family.”

“I’m surprised Claire didn’t throw her down the steps.”

“She sounded like she was a few seconds away from doing that when we were on the phone, but I told her it was fine and that I’d meet up with them,” he held out the bouquet of white daisies and deep pink, along with red roses and smiled. “These are for you. I know you don’t really like roses, but my mom lectured me about how I couldn’t not get my girlfriend roses on such a big day.”

“They’re beautiful, Matt,” Riley took a small whiff of the fresh flowers and looked back at him with a smile. “Thank you, and I’ll be sure to tell your mom thank you as well.”

“Please, because I’m 90 percent sure my dad stopped her from lecturing me about how roses aren’t just roses and all of the colors have different meanings…it was a lot,” he took a deep breath as he rested his hands on his hips and sighed, shaking his head. “But enough about that, let’s go find everyone!”

Riley held his hand as the two of them made their way over to the meeting spot that her family had agreed on beforehand– about halfway between the parking lot and the auditorium– and she couldn’t stop thinking about how this was going to be the moment where Matthew would meet her parents for the first time. A bad case of food poisoning mixed in with traveling had kept them from meeting Matthew when they flew in the day before what would be the last game of the Flames season. Then with end of season stuff, exit media and the chaos of upcoming graduation– there was just never a free time for them to meet.

Until now, and now, she was absolutely petrified of them meeting. She wasn’t all that sure why, because she’d seen her parents meet Jacob and both of Claire’s high school boyfriends, not to mention Brendan’s girlfriend. She knew her mom would be just as welcoming and heartfelt as Chantal was when Riley had met her and she knew that her dad would immediately play the tough guy, only to melt seconds later. She knew it, she’s seen it– and yet she was more nervous about Matthew meeting her parents than she had been about potentially tripping on stage when she walked across it.

She snuck a look at Matthew from the corner of her eye who was talking about how he and Oscar had spent all morning making sure the catering was confirmed to be delivered to Kelsey’s parents house since they were hosting the party and how he had no idea how his mom ever planned an entire party or why she enjoyed planning them so much because he was stressed only because of food that he wasn’t even in charge of cooking. She felt her nerves waver away as she zoned in on how he was swinging their conjoined hands at a comfortable pace and had his other hand snug in his pant pocket, walking with total confidence and grace that just seemed to be so infectious that it was somehow washing over her.

“Riley Anne Thompson you little genius!” Claire yelled, easily gaining their attention. She was standing straight ahead of them just a few feet away and waving her hands in the air. “Get your butts over here!”

Matthew chuckled and Riley looked up at him with a pout. “Stop it right now.”

“I just think it’s funny, you know? Your initials spell rat and everyone thinks I am one,” he squeezed her hand supportively. “Almost makes it seem like it was meant to be, hm?”

Once they got close enough, Matthew let go of Riley’s hand and nodded at her to hand him her diploma and flowers so she could hug her family. She wasted no time greeting each of her parents with a hug before moving onto her brother and then both Claire and Jacob. When the congratulations and the hugs were done, she turned around with a nervous smile and walked the small distance where Matthew had been standing and stood beside him with a proud smile.

“Mom, Dad, this is Matthew, my boyfriend” she smiled, looking away from Matthew and over to her parents. “Matthew, my mom and dad.”

“Otherwise known as Elizabeth and Michael,” her mom smiled, breaking the distance and greeting Matthew with a hug. “And we’ve heard a ton about you from Claire and Riley both. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am,” Matthew replied, hugging her before turning his attention to Riley’s dad as her mom pulled away from the hug, extending his hand out towards her dad. “And you too as well, sir.”

Riley swallowed the knot in her throat as she looked at her Dad, who, as predicted, was pulling his tough guy act with the squinty eyes and stone faced demeanor. She told Matthew not to be so polite and nervous, because she knew her Dad would see it coming from a mile away– and there they were…the slight awkward tension. She watched as her dad looked at Matthew’s hand and then back up at him before cracking a smile and reaching out to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Matthew,” her dad said, adding another pure father moment by patting Matthew’s shoulder as well. “I’m glad to see that someone was finally able to break down those walls of Riley’s. I was starting to think that thing was going to surpass the great wall of China–”

“Michael!”

“Well, you survived the meeting,” Claire whispered, resting her chin on Riley’s shoulder and trying not to stifle a laugh. “Now all you’ve got to do is survive the party.”

“It’ll be fine,” Riley replied, shrugging as she looked back at Matthew who was now making small talk with their dad and brother. “I think they love him already.”

And things were fine, totally and beyond fine. Once they caught up with Kelsey, Oscar and her family, both groups made their way back to Kelsey’s parents home only a short distance away and from the moment they pulled up to the house and as the time ticked on, the party was in full swing. Riley got a front row seat to seeing her dad and Matthew talk about who knew what, but anytime she snuck a glimpse she felt her heart swell and she couldn’t help but smile and wonder if this feeling was what he meant by when he told her how much he loved seeing her get along with his mom and sister the first time they met and she sat with them at one of his games.

She sat back in enjoyment as she watched Matthew entertain some of Kelsey’s nieces and nephews with various yard games– limbo being the one where he dramatically fell to the ground to make all of the kids giggle because “you’re so bad at this! Look, it’s not that hard!” Or when he and Oscar gave a joint “proud boyfriend” speech after the proud parents had. How he and Jacob both accepted Bredan’s challenge of eating their wings the fastest, then proceeding to win and down her water when the heat got too much. Then getting her a refill, of course.

The drinks were flowing and as the sun started to set and everyone continued to have a good time, Riley was talking to Kelsey about their next steps. Kelsey had managed to get a job with a junior hockey team as a physical trainer in Calgary, following that she passed her certification and that she was also considering getting her PhD as well, though she wasn’t all too certain about that yet. She was excited for her friend to hear about all of the set plans that she had now that they had graduated, but Riley would be lying if she said she didn’t feel totally unprepared. Sure, she looked into jobs and applied. Some were here in Calgary, others were back home in St. Louis, but she’d yet to hear back from any of them. But she wouldn’t let that get in the way of how proud and happy she was for Kelsey. Especially since earlier before graduation when she saw her mentor, they had a conversation and her mentor said she would help look around for jobs she might be interested in.

Riley took a small sip from her beer bottle and was about to reply to Kelsey’s question about if she and Matthew had any summer plans when she saw the man of the hour himself come walking over from the back porch, smiling at her and making a ‘come here’ motion with his right hand as he held his beer in his left.

“It seems that I’ve been summoned by the needy boyfriend, so I’ll be right back,” she smiled, putting her beer down into the cup holder of her lawn chair and standing up, meeting him halfway as they stood by the bonfire. “Yes?”

Matthew held out his hand and nodded at it. “Grab my hand,” he brought his bottle up to his lips as he took another sip, watching and waiting for her to grab his hand.

“Why? What’s the trick?” She asked, hesitantly reaching her hand out.

He huffed, letting his smile fall as he looked at her. “Just grab it.” Riley placed her hand on his, eyeing him suspiciously as he just smiled and held her hand before pulling her closer and wrapping his left arm around her waist, looking down at her. “Gotcha, now you’ve gotta dance with me.”

“Matthew,” Riley whined, leaning her head back as she pouted. “You know I don’t like slow dancing.”

“Yeah, but I also know that you like slow dancing when it’s with me,” he smiled, nodding at her. “Now would it kill you to act like you love me and put your other hand on me?”

Riley smiled, shrugging. “It might.”

“You’re a brat.”

“Where do you think I learned it from?” Riley replied, rolling her eyes as she rested her right hand on his arm.

“Claire,” he replied, the two of them laughing soon after before letting it fade out as they both just swayed back and forth. “Oh look, I started a trend!”

Riley looked around them and saw that Oscar had grabbed Kelsey to dance, the same with Jacob and Claire and the parents. She shook her head, looking back at him. “Maybe everyone just got tired of standing around.”

“Orrrrr,” he smiled, stepping back and twirling her unsuspectingly. “They think we’re a cute couple and it’s super romantic and they too want to be cute and romantic.”

Riley just laughed as he brought her back into him, fanning his hand out against her back. “Okay, whatever you say.”

The two of them swayed there, Riley feeling herself start to relax against Matthew’s chest and starting to focus on the sound of his heartbeat echoing inside of his chest. “So are you going to tell me what had you so upset?” Matthew spoke quietly just so they could hear.

“Hm?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed as she zoned back in. “I wasn’t upset.”

“You looked upset while talking to Kelsey. That’s why I came off of the porch and swept you off your feet with my incredible dance moves.” He leaned himself back to look at her and tilted his head to the side slightly. “So?”

Riley opened her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled, shrugging her shoulders. “We were talking about what we were going to do now that we were done with school and she was telling me about all the stuff she’s got set in stone and planned and I don’t know…I just felt,” she paused, shaking her head. “Nevermind, it’s dumb.”

“No it’s not,” he replied, looking at her. “Your feelings aren’t dumb, Riles.”

“It’ll just make me sound like I’m jealous that she’s got all these plans set in stone, and maybe part of me is because I’ve applied to five jobs and haven’t heard a single whisper of news. But I’m not jealous, not really…I’m proud of her and happy for her because she’s my friend.”

“But you wish you had some sort of plan set in stone?”

“Exactly,” she mumbled, pouting slightly as she looked over to where Kelsey and Oscar were at. “But more than anything I’m happy for her, you know?”

“You’ll hear back soon, Riles. I just know it,” Matthew said, pulling her closer to him again. “And they’ll be lucky to have you.”

Riley rolled her eyes again in a playful manner as she tried to fight back her smile. “You have to say that, you’re–”

Matthew leaned in quickly, pressing his mouth against hers and cutting her words off with a kiss, pulling back just barely before kissing her two more times, smiling more into each one before he pulled back completely, a smile on his face as he rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you work for them, Riles. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your boyfriend. I mean it. You’re a catch, got it?”

Riley smiled, nodding her head. “Go it.”

“Good,” he replied, kissing her forehead before Riley moved her head down to his chest again and he held her close once more. “It’ll all work out, Riles. Everything you want in your life…it’ll all work out. I just know it.”

She smiled as she snuggled her head further against him, taking in the smell of his cologne and closing her eyes. She could picture it so easily– her working in her dream field, coming home from a day at work to their shared apartment, more vacations in Banff, matching playoff jackets with her sister and Kelsey…a life with Matthew at home in St. Louis and in their seasonal home in Calgary. She had been filled with so much self doubt just minutes earlier, but with Matthew’s assurance, she believed it could come true.

DAY 184 – JULY 4TH [ CURRENT DAY ]

“Ri?” Claire said, her voice sounding distant. “Riley!”

“Huh, what?” Riley asked, zoning back out of her thoughts as she looked at her sister who had finally stopped shaking her shoulder.

“I said we’re here.”

Riley looked out of her back passenger window to see the all too familiar apartment building. The knot that was in her stomach was now extending up to her throat as she stared at the building that Jacob was pulled up in front of, unable to get her brain to tell her hand to reach for her door handle to open the door and let herself out.

“You don’t have to do this right now, Ri,” Claire spoke softly, resting a hand on top of hers and giving it a light squeeze. “Jacob can always do it.”

“Yeah Riley,” Jacob spoke from the driver's seat, nodding his head as he turned slightly to look at her. “I can just drop it off for you when we go back to the apartment after dinner. I’ll drop you guys off and then come back here.”

The offer was enticing and for a moment, Riley considered taking it. But only for a moment, because it wasn’t just dropping it off that she needed to do, there was something else she needed to go if she was going to survive the rest of her summer and the months that followed.

She cleared her throat, shaking her head and exhaled. “No, that’s okay I–” she turned away from the window and looked at Claire, Jacob and Brendan. “I can do it.”

Brendan looked at Claire before looking back at Riley. “Are you—“

“Yes, Brendann…I’m sure.” She pulled on her door handle and opened the door, making sure she had her purse before she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car and stepping out into the sidewalk. “I’ll be right back and please…just stay here?”

They nodded and she shut the door behind her, turning back around and staring up at the apartment building she’d been to so many times. It was hard to believe that this would be the last time that she walked through those double doors and greet the receptionist behind the counter with a smile. If she remembered correctly, Shannon would be working today. She’d come to know all of the people who worked behind the desks' names, even from the few months she’d been around. They almost became like good friends to her, so it was weird that this would also possibly be the last time she ever saw any of them again.

Nervously, she pulled on the door handle and walked into the lobby of the apartment building, seeing that no one was standing behind the desk which she was extremely grateful for since that meant no awkward conversation was needed. She quickly walked across the lobby and towards the elevators, pressing the up arrow and sighing in relief when the doors opened immediately. She walked into the elevator, shutting the door behind her and holding the key fob against the scanner that allowed the elevator to move up to the residential floors before pressing number ten. The elevator moved slowly and she crossed her arms, hugging them to her chest as she leaned against the corner thinking about the last time she’d been in this building.

Two days ago in fact, and part of her didn’t want to come back here so soon but she knew that she was leaving Calgary tomorrow morning and while she could do what she was doing simply by mail…she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It seemed so impersonal, which things had never been.

Matthew’s family had come up to Calgary to take in some of the summer sights since the season was over. Riley loved his family and how down to earth they all were. She especially loved seeing the natural chirping and playful teasing between Matthew, his brother and their dad. His brother, Brady, had brought along his girlfriend and it was a short vacation in Calgary before everyone was headed off to Greece for their annual family vacation. A vacation that Riley would be joining, and one she was hesitant to when Matthew had originally invited her along because it was a family vacation and they’d only started dating. But he had said that he was going to ask her anyway after checking with his parents, but his parents beat him to the punch when his mom had asked publicly in the family group chat if he was going to bring her along.

Riley did insist on paying for her part in the trip, but both of his parents refused to accept her part, and she bargained to at least pay for her plane ticket— which she did. They were all out to dinner when Riley had stepped out because she’d gotten a missed call from her mentor. So she excused herself from the table and went outside of the restaurant to listen to the voicemail her mentor had left behind and when she was done listening to it— she stood there in disbelief.

The job her mentor had her apply for, one that Riley thought there was no chance in the world that she could get…well, she got it. Her mentor had called her to tell her that their contact with the hospital said that she had been chosen as one of the two other applicants to be hired to fill the pediatric occupational therapist positions they had available and thought she would pass the word on before they had sent her the official email, which she would get the next morning.

It was hard to explain how excited she was about the news. It’d been a little over a month since she’d graduated College and had yet to hear back from any of the jobs she applied to and yet there she was— getting her first piece of good news from the job she never thought she’d get hired on for. And then the nerves set in— Boston. She’d obviously have to move away from St. Louis and away from Calgary. And as she made her way back to dinner, she determined that she was too nervous to share the good news with everyone at the table. Because while announcing that she got a job was good news, announcing that she would be moving states away from her boyfriend didn’t seem like it would go over as well.

So…she saved the conversation for that night as her and Matthew were getting ready to go to bed. She had settled for the night before he did, he was still walking around his room and getting stuff ready for both his move back down to St. Louis for the summer, but also making sure he had whatever stuff he’d be packing for the trip to Greece later on. By the time he got into bed, he closed his eyes and just laid there, exhaling before opening his eyes and looking at her.

“What?” He asked, head and upper back leaning against his headboard.

“Hm?” She replied, zoning back in on him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you’re staring at me.” He laughed, resting his hands on his stomach and interlocking his fingers. “I know I’m hot, but try not to get your drool all over my pillow, hm?”

Riley rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ll try not to.”

He smiled softly, lolling his head to the side and looking at her. “But really Riles, what’s up? You’ve seemed…off all night, since we got to and left dinner, actually.”

She rested her own hands on top of the comforter, twiddling with her thumbs as she thought about what she was going to say. Her immediate thought was to just tell him that she was tired, because tonight had been so, so good and fun and relaxing, she didn’t want her announcement to make it all crash down. But she knew that wouldn’t be fair to him for her to tell him any other time than now, because after all…she didn’t know when it was that she’d need to move to Boston.

“Remember the group of jobs that my mentor had me apply for? And I told you there was one that was way out of my league and I didn’t think I’d get it, but she had me apply anyway?” Riley spoke, looking at her hands.

“Yeah, did you hear back from any of them?” He sounded so nonchalant and the fact that he wouldn’t see this coming was enough for the familiar feeling of prickling tears to start to form in her eyes.

“I did, right before dinner. She called and uh, well…I got the job that I didn’t think I’d get,” she said, swallowing the knot in her throat as she looked at him. “The one in Boston…I–I got it.”

He sat himself up, a big smile on his face. “What? Riles, that's awesome!” He reached over and draped his arm over her shoulders, tugging her into him as he hugged her, pulling back and looking at her again. “I’m so proud of you, this is great! Why didn’t you say anything at dinner? That’s something to celebrate!”

Riley just stared at him, not wanting to say the words. The silence spoke what she couldn’t say and like a movie, she watched the realization dawn on him and if hearing him be so excited for her and proud of her wasn’t enough to make the burning feeling of tears in her eyes stronger, it was seeing his proud, beaming smile start to fade. Back when she had applied for jobs, most of which were either in St. Louis or Calgary, they had a conversation about what they were going to do with their relationship. Matthew had done long distance before and in his eyes, it was just something that never worked out, even if both parties tried their best to make it work.

St. Louis was one thing, but Boston was another. He lived in St. Louis three to four months out of the year. If she stayed there, things could have been easier, just like they would have been easier if she got a job in Calgary. But Boston? Sure, he had family there, but they only visited once or twice a year, many times in the summer. The summer was his time to relax at home with his friends and family, catch up on what he missed while he was in Calgary for the previous eight to nine months. It wasn’t realistic to ask of him to sacrifice any time at home, to spend his summer with her in Boston so they could have time together too.

The thought of the end had been in her mind the moment what Boston really meant had sunken in as she had walked back to their dinner table earlier.

This, her and Matthew, the last five to six months– it was done.

“Say something,” she whispered, feeling her bottom lip tremble as the tears blurred her vision. “Please?”

“Do you know when you have to be there?” He asked, clearing his throat as he tried to wipe away any sign of disappointment that she’d already seen.

Riley shook her head, sitting herself up fully and sitting criss cross applesauce, keeping her hands rested in her lap. “No, I’ll probably find out tomorrow because that’s when I’m supposed to get the official email.”

“Well, we can hold off for a few months until you have to move, right?” He nodded, clearing his throat again before taking a deep breath and exhaling, placing his left hand on top of her hands. “Unless that’s something you don’t want to do? What do you want to do, Riles?”

Oh, he must’ve seen her reaction to that suggestion. It wasn’t a bad one, but it wasn’t an eager nod…it was more of a frown, like she knew it wasn’t going to work. “I don’t know,” she spoke softly, holding onto his hand as she looked at him. “Any chance your whole view on long distance relationships changed?”

The shake of his head was subtle, but enough to send her heart plummeting in her chest. There was no holding back the tears that had been filling her eyes from falling down her face as the reality sank in. How was this the way everything was going to end? Why were these cards handled? What kind of being running the universe would put them on the other’s path and then split them to go down separate ways just when everything was going great? Neither of them wanted to end their relationship, but there was no way that would work out for them if they chose to stay in it? The hopelessness of it all felt like it was pulling her down and she was clawing at the surface for small gasps of air so she could make it through this unscathed.

“I–” he paused, clearing his throat as he kept his focus on their hands, an intense focus that Riley recognized as his attempt not to cry. He kept that same focus the first time they watched Dear John together, because she’d never seen it.

She bawled like a baby, he came close to, but was trying very, very hard not to.

“I don’t want you to not be excited about this,” he spoke slowly and clearly, trying to keep his voice clear from emotion. “Because this is big Riles, this is what you’ve been working for. And I know that right now, this…this sucks, but this is what you want to do, you know? This job…this is it.”

Riley sniffled as she reached up with her left hand and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t want to– this,” she sniffled again, shaking her head. “I don’t want this to e-end, but Matt–”

“I know,” he said, breaking his concentration on her hands and looking at her, tears in his eyes. “But I would be doing you a huge disservice if I let this continue on, because Riles…I don’t want it to end either, but I’d rather it end where we both still love each other than rather we try to stick it out and we end up hating each other because the distance doesn’t work.”

Tears continued to roll down her face as her mouth trembled. Matthew reached up with his left hand and wiped her cheeks before keeping his hand against her cheek. “I can’t even imagine a life where I don’t think you’re the greatest person in the world.”

She leaned herself over into his arms, curling up against his chest and letting him wrap his arms around her as he held her while she cried. The sobs were quiet, as she didn’t want to wake up Taryn, who was sleeping on the couch just outside of his bedroom door, but they were heavy sobs escaping from the depths of her chest she hadn’t even known existed. Sobs that were shaking her body as they exited her mouth and vibrated against his chest where she had her face pressed into his shirt. Matthew just held her, resting his cheek on top of her head and rubbing her back, letting her cry as he tried not to let her know he was crying too. But she could hear the difference in his breathing and feel the deep vibrations in his chest from him trying his best to hold in his own, small sobs.

Once they both calmed down, she pulled herself out of his arms and wiped her eyes with her hands, sniffling and looking at him. Only the moment he made eye contact with her, the waterworks were working again. “It’s just a right person wrong time, thing Riles. We’ll figure it out,” he said, reaching out and tucking hair behind her ear. “These things always work out, you’ve read enough of those books of yours to know this.”

“I love you,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes as the tears kept falling.

Matthew smiled softly, leaning in and holding his right hand at the back of her head as he kissed her forehead. “I love you too, Riles.” He rested his forehead against hers before kissing it again and then pulling back with teary eyes and his dimpled smile. “Does this mean Taryn and I are about to fifth and sixth wheel our parents and Brady and Emma’s Greece vacation?”

Riley laughed, sniffling again as she nodded. “Probably. I don’t think…I mean, Greece it wouldn’t–”

“Relax, Riles…I understand,” he nodded, his smile falling into a smaller one. “But hey, just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still try to be friends, right?”

God, hearing the word friends was so heart crushing, even if she’d known this possibility was in the running. “Does that even work?” She asked, wiping her nose. “In the movies it alway goes wrong–”

“Well, we wouldn’t try to be friends right away, because that definitely wouldn’t work,” he said, shaking his head. “But…maybe we can try to take a break for a bit from talking to each other? A month or two? Then we can try to talk on a friendly, non-romantic, I want to rip off your clothes and jump your bones, basis?”

This time Riley laughed a genuine laugh. The stomach cramping, butterflies laugh only Matthew could make her do. “You’re a dork,” she smiled, nudging him as she settled down and took a deep breath, exhaling. “But yeah…I guess we can try that. There’s no harm right? And it should be easy. We became friends before dating–”

“Well, technically I tried to make friends with you at the bar and you shut me down.”

“You were flirting with me from the start, don’t even try it,” she smiled, pointing at him before letting her hand rest back into her laugh with a sniffle. “But really, Matthew…I want to try it. Because this,” she motioned between them. “This friendship and relationship felt really special, and I don’t want to lose that.”

“It’s a deal then,” Matthew smiled, extending out his hand for her to shake. “A month with no contact whatsoever, and then we’ll come back and try to be friends, right?”

Riley looked at his hand, realizing that if she shook it, it would seal the deal on her relationship with Matthew ending. But she meant what she said, this was special and she didn’t want to lose it. So she grabbed his hand and shook it, nodding her head. “It’s a deal.”

“Great,” he smiled softly, still shaking her head.

“Great,” she replied, feeling him squeeze her hand before he let it go. She took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling the dried tears on her face and the congestion in her nose from sniffling. “I need a shower, I feel all…gross.”

Matthew tossed his blankets to the side, nodding his head. “I’ll set you out a towel and start it for you. You can toss your stuff in the hamper and–”

“Can you wash my hair for me?” She asked, getting out of bed and following him into the bathroom. “Just one last time, please? We don’t have to do anything, but–”

“Of course, Riles,” he nodded, smiling as he opened the shower door and reached in, turning the water on. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

The ding of the elevator brought Riley out of her thoughts and she looked up to see the red 10 signaled on the screen, meaning she’d finally reached the floor where Matthew’s apartment was. She stepped off of the elevator and dug into her purse to find her copy of his apartment key, grasping the red rubber spiral keychain that the key was on in her hand hard enough to where she could feel it leaving an imprint in her palm. She felt herself start to slow down as she reached his apartment, her feet feeling heavy and her heartbeat slowing in pace until she found herself face to face with his door.

She knew he wasn’t home, Jacob himself said that Matthew was out with his parents doing some sightseeing until later tonight. They’d be flying out the day after tomorrow, when Riley would already be back home in St. Louis. She was thankful that they weren’t all flying out the same day. It was awkward enough yesterday morning after she’d left before breakfast and Matthew was left to tell Taryn and then his parents, Brady and Emma alone about why she had gone and how their relationship was no more and she’d no longer be in attendance on their family vacation. She really didn’t need to have a run in on the same flight either.

Riley pulled the key out of her purse, unlocking the door and opening it. She paused in place, listening in for any sound of life within the apartment, just in case the plans had changed, but she was greeted with silence. In relief, Riley walked into the apartment and shut the door behind her, turning back to face the open apartment and standing in place. Matthew had given her some time yesterday afternoon to come by with Claire and grab the stuff she had here, so she knew nothing of hers was here– but it still felt like home.

There wasn’t a single space in this apartment that she could look at and now have some sort of memory or picture a moment that she and Matthew had shared. She slowly walked further into the apartment, bypassing the bar counter and the kitchen table where she had opted to leave what she came to leave, there. But instead, she made her way to his bedroom, not wanting it to be so public whenever it was that he came across it. At least here, he would have some privacy.

She walked over to his bed and placed her copy of his apartment key down onto the blue comforter, reaching back into her purse and pulling out an envelope with his name on it. Inside of it was a letter that she’d written to him. It talked a lot about how she was thankful that he’d come into her life and that she was sorry for ignoring him that night at the bar. It brushed over the memories that they made and how much fun she’d had in the few short months, even describing how those months felt like a lifetime in the best possible way. She had signed off with a ‘see you in a month, I promise I won’t ignore you this time when you try to be my friend’ and a smiley face followed by a simple signature of her name, ‘Riley.’ But at the very bottom of the letter was a separate sign off. A p.s. note that she felt, despite their attempts to be friends, she felt was needed.

“P.S. Thank you for showing me how I deserved to be loved. Just know that you will always be the first guy I’ve ever genuinely and rightfully loved. Love Always, Riles.”

She pulled one last thing out of her purse, the copy of ‘Dear John’ that she had bought after he made her watch the movie. As someone who almost always preferred to read the book first before watching any tv or movie adaptation, Matthew insisted that she forgo the whole process and just watch the movie with him. Little did he know, she was already ordering it off of Amazon and read it in one sitting once it arrived at her apartment. On the cover, she left a sticky note with a simple message of “now read the book, i promise it’s just as good :)” followed by a bunch of page numbers, but only two of which were highlighted, simply because they were two of her now favorite quotes that just seemed oh so fitting for their situation, ironic too since it was one of his favorite movies.

“In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, a place that I will carry with me forever and that no one can replace” and “Our story has three parts; a beginning, a middle and an end. And while that’s how all stories play out, I still can’t believe ours didn’t last forever.”

Cheesy? Sure, but she knew that he would find some appreciation for it. Once she made sure that he would be able to find them, she took a deep break and looked around the room one last time. This was where everything had come to an end, in this very room. Where she cried and cried until she fell asleep on her last night here in his arms. It should hurt her heart being in this room, but just like stepping foot into his apartment…it felt like home. A warm, fuzzy feeling was inside of her chest, trying its best to cover up the ache and the heaviness she’d been feeling nonstop since later Saturday night. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath before opening them and exhaling, taking the first step to walk out of his room and not letting herself stop and slow down to take in the apartment one last time, because then she knew she would have the hardest time trying to leave.

When she opened the door, she turned the small lock on the inside doorknob so the door would lock behind her and she paused in place. It was hard trying to convince herself not to take one last look, but she caved in, wanting to say goodbye even just in her mind to a place that’d become a safe place for her. She only allowed herself a few moments before she walked out of the apartment and shut the door behind her, making sure that it was locked. Then, she booked it like hell to the elevator, never taking another look, not even when she got into the elevator, forcing herself to stand in front of the buttons as she pressed the lobby button, her lack of having the key fob keeping her from going onto any other floor, even though she wasn’t going to.

The moment the elevator doors opened on the lobby, she kept her focus straight ahead where she could still see Jacob’s car parked out front. She bypassed the still empty receptionist desk and quickened her pace, feeling her heart race in her chest as she pushed open the door and walked out into the summer heat, the sunlight hitting her face and making her squint her eyes. Her chest was rising and falling fast as if she was suffocating with the memory she was leaving behind as she left the apartment one last time. And once she stood outside, she was able to take a deep breath, feeling her chest fully expand and deflate as she exhaled.

“Hey Ri, you good?” Brendan asked, his window rolled down as he now sat in her seat.

“Yeah,” she nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling again before turning back and looking over her shoulder at the apartment building, her eyes instantly going to where the tenth floor would be. “I think I will be.”

DAY 203 – JULY 22ND, 2022 [ TRICKED RECONCILIATION ]

“I already told you earlier” Riley said, looking at Claire and Brendan as she laid her book down onto her stomach. “I don’t want to go and you can’t make me. I’m literally 24-years-old.”

Brendan snorted, leaning in her doorway. “I told you she wouldn’t go, I don’t know why you bothered trying to–”

Claire turned around to face their younger brother, pointing at him. “Go wait in the living room, we’ll be right out.”

“Fine,” Brendan held his hands up in defense as he stood up straight and turned around and walked down the hall and eventually down the stairs and out of view, leaving just Riley and Claire there in Riley’s room.

Claire double checked to make sure he was out of sight before she closed the bedroom door behind her and then made her way over to Riley’s closet. “You’re wasting your time, Claire–”

“No, you’re wasting your time,” Claire replied, opening her closet doors and skimming through the clothes. “I know you’re still upset about the way things ended with Matthew but you leave for Boston in a month and a half and you haven’t done anything besides lay in bed and read your books since you got home from Calgary.”

“I’m not upset about Matthew,” Riley said, resting her book down and staring at Claire. “I mean sure, it’s not all sunshine and daisies, but I’ve accepted that life isn’t fair and the situation overall sucks but there’s nothing that I can do about it. I did my crying, I’ve accepted it and now I’m just going to wait until it’s time to leave for Boston and enjoy my favorite things while I do.” She picked her book back up and turned the page. “Now get your nose out of my closet and go to that party.”

“Ri, I love you a lot. You’re my sister and my best friend, we’ve spent our entire lives together. We grew up together and we know each other better than anyone else in this world. So I don’t know why you think you can pull this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit over on me. Because if anyone knows you’re not fine, it’s me.” She grabbed an off the shoulder shirt and tossed it at Riley’s feet, a pair of jeans following after and then she closed the closet and walked over to her dresser, grabbing a strapless bra and adding that onto the pile. “So get up, get dressed and meet Brendan and I out in the living room in ten minutes or so help me God, I will drag you out of bed and to the party looking exactly like this, by your hair.”

Riley sat there as she watched Claire open the bedroom door and walk through it, shutting it behind her once more. On one hand, she knew Claire was right. Her time here at home was dwindling down fast and before she knew it, she’d be in her new apartment in Boston, alone. But on the other hand, she just wanted to spend her time, especially at night, doing the things she enjoyed. Things that filled her time and preoccupied her mind from drifting off onto wondering what Matthew was doing or how their vacation to Greece went. If he was back home now or if he went off on another trip with friends.

She bookmarked her page and set the book off to the side before tossing her blankets off and getting out of bed. Grabbing the clothes Claire had set out, Riley changed over to the jeans and shirt, getting dressed into real clothes that weren’t sweatpants and a t-shirt for the first time all day. She took the time to get herself ready and looking like she hadn’t just spent so many hours locked away in her room, lying in bed and reading a book before she left her room, seeing Claire and Brendan sitting there, both looking surprised.

“Well damn, you actually did it,” he said, looking at Claire and uncrossing his arms. “Well, let’s get going, yeah?”

He walked towards the front door, Riley standing there as Claire came up beside her and draping her arm over her shoulders with a smile. “You’ll have fun tonight, Ri, I promise.”

Maybe Riley’s idea of fun and Claire’s idea of fun were close, but not the same. Sure, it was nice to see some of her friends from high school and some of Claire and Brednan’s friends too at the house of one of Riley’s friends. Their city was large, but small. Everyone here had a sixth degree relationship with someone else.

And that's something Riley should’ve remembered when she saw Matthew standing inside talking to one of her and Claire’s friends from high school. At first, she had to convince herself that it wasn’t actually him, she was just imagining it. But when he leaned his head back and laughed, she felt something squeeze around her heart, because she’d know that dimpled smile anywhere. She stopped herself from going inside to grab herself a soda, instead walking around the backyard to try and find Claire or Brendan to tell them that Matthew was here and she wanted to go home.

Yet somehow, they were nowhere to be found and she was left to figure it out herself. She texted their sibling group chat, sending an ‘SOS, need to talk’ message before sitting herself down on the edge of the pool and rolling her pant legs up as high as she could before dipping her feet into the cool water. It was only a little over a week away before their one month of not seeing each other or talking was to come to an end. Then they could try to be friends again, but the feeling inside of her chest and her racing heart was telling her that a month wasn’t enough.

That maybe they would need more time, or God forbid, not be able to be friends at all.

“Hey…” She felt her pulse in her throat as she looked up to see Matthew standing there to her left, his hands buried deep into his shorts pockets.

“Hey,” she replied, smiling softly as she motioned for him to take a seat. “You can sit…if you want.”

She watched as he hesitated for a moment before nodding and taking his hands out of his pockets and sitting himself down next to her, taking his flip flops off and placing them down next to her before putting his feet into the pool. They sat there in silence for a few moments, the party in the background filling the silence between them.

“How was the trip to Greece?” She asked, breaking the silence and swallowing the knot in her throat. “I saw the pictures…but how was it?”

“Good, it was good, a lot of fun,” he nodded, holding his bud light in his hand. “It would’ve been a lot more fun with you there, but you know…it was still a good time. How have you been?”

“Good,” she nodded, looking at him and shrugging. “Just a lot of shifting through stuff. My mom’s trying to get rid of half of my things, I think she’s planning on turning my bedroom into a craft room or something.”

“Mom’s tried that with Brady’s room a couple of times,” he laughed softly. “Said we’ve shared a room before, we can share one again.”

“You might not have to worry about that longer though, I saw he and Emma got engaged. I wanted to text him and congratulate him, but…you know.”

“Yeah, it’s about time too. I swear they’re practically married though,” he laughed, taking a sip of his beer. “I’ll tell them you said congratulations though.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, playing with her hands in her lap and kicking her feet in the water.

Matthew finished his drink and cleared his throat, looking at the can and then at her. “Would you want to come with me to get a refill? So we can keep catching up and I won't lose you in the crowd?”

Something inside of her told her maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but it was greatly overshadowed by the feeling of missing him for the last twenty days. “Yeah, okay,” she smiled and nodded her head.

Matthew stood himself up and reached his hand out to help her stand up too. He held her hand for a few seconds longer even after she was standing up, but then he let go and the two of them made their way into the house. Over the music they talked about what they’d been up to since they last saw each other. Matthew had gone into more detail about the Greece vacation, the sights they saw, the food and drink, renting a boat for a day and how clear the water had been. He told her that she would’ve loved it and she agreed, she would have. She told him that she wished she would’ve gone.

One of their mutual friends, which turned out to be one of her friends from high school’s brother, who was a friend of Matt’s, tried to get them to join in on some drinking game which had everyone already playing, giggling and laughing as they watched two people trying to down their drinks faster than the other. But Matthew just grabbed her hand and led her away from the group so they’d stop trying to lure them in. When they finally stopped walking, they found themselves in one of the few quiet rooms in the house– a room that looked like it was a guest room.

Riley would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing and her body temperature wasn’t rising at the mere fact that she was alone in a bedroom with Matthew for the first time in months. But like he always did, he was able to bring her at ease but just…talking. They talked about her move to Boston, how she found an apartment and was set to move in in late August, early September. How she had started to talk to the two other co-workers she was hired on the same job announcement with and that they seemed like really nice people. He told her again, just how happy he was and proud he was of her for getting the job and that he knew she’d do great things.

It felt like no time between them had passed at all and they were both sitting on the bed, laughing and talking like they hadn’t broken up and were doing a horrible job at trying to be friends– when the tension that they had was still so heavy and clear, that it was hard not to notice. So maybe that’s why after the laughter had simmered down, she leaned in and kissed him before quickly pulling back, ready to apologize.

And maybe that’s why, instead of letting her apologize and agreeing that it wasn’t the best idea, Matthew cupped her face and leaned back in, kissing her back.

They both knew that what they were doing wasn’t the best idea. This would set them back again on their journey to being friends. With each layer of clothing that was removed, it was another chip away at the shield she had put up to protect her heart and herself after their break up. She would once again have that aching, open wound she’d need to nurse back to health once it was all said and done.

For right now though, she didn’t care. Because all she’s wanted since that night in his apartment, was to have one more night or day or hour or minute to be in his arms. To kiss him again. And now that she was here, in this moment and getting what her heart had been wishing for the last three weeks…she never wanted it to end.

But it had to, and when they laid there together after it was all over– just like before, it felt like nothing had changed. He had his arm draped over her and she was curled into his side and laying her head on his chest. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be, right here…just us.’ She thought and kept repeating that thought in her head, even as there was that aching feeling in her chest that knew it wasn’t going to last.

Riley wasn’t sure of how long they laid there for, not long enough for the party to be over because they could still here the muffled sounds of music and the guests from the other side of the locked door. But long enough to where she knew that if they didn’t leave the room now, their lack of presence would be noted by those who knew of their relationship. So she was the first one who made the move to get up out of bed and start to get dressed, Matthew following soon after her as they didn’t speak. And suddenly she found herself regretting her choice to get dressed, because laying there in silence was so much better than getting dressed in silence.

“Oh…” he said, picking up her shirt which had soaked up the remainder of his beer that had been spilled at some point while they were undressing. “You can’t wear this, it reeks of beer. Here,” he took off his shirt, an old London Knights one she’d worn time and time before as a pajama shirt. “You can wear mine.”

“Thanks,” she said, putting on his shirt and then taking her beer soaked shirt from him balling it up and shoving it in her purse.

“Riles…” God she missed hearing him call her that, it was her favorite thing in the world she’d come to find. But right now, she wished he was calling her anything else. “I…maybe we just got a little too ahead of ourselves with this…trying to be friends, you know?”

She could feel the tears burn in her eyes as she choked them back, trying not to let the knot in her throat stop her from taking deep controlled breaths. “Mhhm.”

“It’s just…it’s too soon and then this,” he shook his head, exhaling. “I don’t regret this at all, Riles. Because I love you, I do. But I don’t, I’m not sure if I can be your friend and love you at the same time.”

Riley just nodded again, making the first move towards the door as he followed behind. “I get it, I do.”

“So maybe,” he took another deep breath and exhaled, putting his hands in his pockets again. “Maybe, it’s going to take a lot longer…and maybe we shouldn’t–”

“Matthew, please,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t need to say it, I understand what you’re saying, I promise. Thank you for everything, and I don’t regret this either and I love you.” She felt the knot in her throat choke her for a second before she cleared it and nodded, turning away from him. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

He nodded, and reached around her, unlocking the door and opening it before stepping aside and letting her leave the room. She heard the door close behind her soon after, probably to let himself wait a bit before he left the room as to avoid any speculation, though that was going to be hard considering he was left shirtless and she was wearing his shirt. She made her way outside after not seeing Claire or Brendan anywhere in the living room and kitchen, eventually catching sight of Brendan standing off by the jacuzzi. She walked over as fast as her feet would take her, clutching her purse and her shirt against her and fighting like hell to keep the tears from falling.

“Hey Ri,” Brendan smiled, his smile falling once she got closer. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” she spoke softly, Brendan ushering her off to the side and away from friends so they could speak privately. “Matthew’s here a-and I just want to go home.”

“Of course he’s here,” he said, looking confused. “Didn’t Claire tell you he was going to be here?”

She looked at him, confused and taken aback when she felt a pair of arms around her shoulders and someone resting their chin on her shoulder. “Hi little sister, are you having fun?” Claire smiled, letting her arms fall to the side when Riley stepped out of them. “What’s wrong?”

“You knew he was going to be here?” Riley asked, her bottom lip trembling.

Claire’s smile falling into a frown told Riley everything that she needed to know. “Wow,” she huffed, shaking her head. “Out of everyone, I thought that you would understand how it would make me feel to see him again. I told– I cried to you about everything and you…” she stopped, sniffling and shaking her head again. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll drop you off and come back,” Brendan said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder before looking at Claire and walking with Riley as they left the poolside area of the backyard and through a backyard fence.

When they made it to the front of the house, Brendan dug into his pockets to grab the keys and as they made their way to the car, Riley spotted Matthew getting into the backseat of what she presumed to be an uber. And soon she realized, as she watched the uber slowly drive away…that this was how life was going to be from now on. No more Matthew. And just like the uber had drifted off into the distance and out of view, he too would eventually fade from her thoughts.

And the peace he brought would go along with him.

DAY 244 – SEPTEMBER 1ST, 2022 [ A PEACEFUL REALIZATION ] *EPILOGUE*

“Well Riley, I have to say that your apartment looks quite nice,” her dad smiled, taking a look around the living room and the furniture they’d set up to make the 800 square foot apartment feel a little more homey.

“Thanks, Dad,” she laughed, sitting on one of the bar stools at her counter. “But I meant it when I said you guys can’t stay here tonight. You’ve stayed here the last two nights helping me set up, but now it’s time for me to spend my first night alone in my apartment.”

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Brendan teased, resting his hands on her shoulders. 

In the 41 days since that night when she’d last seen Matthew…a lot had changed. For the first two weeks, she and Claire were at odds. It didn’t help that Claire had also gone off to Sweden to visit Jacob’s family for a week, but when she came back, she had apologized to Riley for what she had done. Telling her that her reasoning was that she knew how much she’d missed Matthew and she knew that Matthew had missed her too– and that maybe, if they’d gotten back together that they would be able to see a new solution through.

All she wanted was for her sister to feel better again, she wanted the best for her little sister and though she went about it the wrong way, she was still sorry for doing it and hiding Matthew’s attendance at the party from her. She spent the rest of August spending at much time with her family in between packing and sending emails to work to set up and confirm her first day and what she’d need to bring.

She was nervous to be moving from home, but at the same time she was excited. This was something she had worked for her entire life and she was finally on the journey to reaching it. It was something new and unknown, but that adventure made it nerve wracking…and thanks to Matthew, she’d learned that sometimes, those nerves when you’re about to do something for the first time…were just excitement hiding in the wings.

Her family and Jacob had tagged along to help her drive to Boston at the end of August and have spent the last three days with her, helping her unpack and set up her apartment. Tomorrow afternoon, they’d be flying back home and she’d be in the city of Boston all alone. But tonight, tonight was going to be her first night in her apartment alone– and she was both looking forward to it and hating it at the same time.

“Okay, so we’ll go get in the car so we can go to dinner,” Claire said, as their parents and Brendnan made their way to the front door. “Do you mind waiting for Jacob when he comes out of the bathroom?”

“Not at all, we’ll be right down there,” Riley smiled, waving them off as she spun herself on her barstool.

Shortly after, Jacob came walking out of the bathroom, looking around confused. “Did they leave us?”

“They’re just in the car,” Riley said, hopping off the stool. “But since I’ve got you here, I thought I’d ask…how the convo with our parents go?”

He smiled, nodding his head as they left her apartment. “Really good, they loved the ring. Said that Claire would love it too.”

“I told you she would,” Riley smiled, bumping into him as she looked her apartment behind them. “You sure you’re ready to be a part of the family? I mean…have you met us?”

“I have and you guys are great,” he laughed, bumping her back.

A little bit after their trip to Sweden, Jacob had facetimed Riley asking if he could get her opinion on something. And when she answered, he showed that he was at a jewelry store in Sweden, where he was staying with family a little longer and said that he was wanting to pick out an engagement ring for Claire, but wanted a little insight onto which she might like. She helped him pick it out and when he came into St. Louis the night before they drove up to Boston, he sat their parents down and asked for their permission to marry Claire.

Things had been so hectic that Riley hadn’t been able to get Jacob alone long enough to ask him how it had all gone, but now that they had a little bit of time, she took full advantage of it.

“Is the plan still the same?”

“Mhhm,” Jacob nodded, a fond smile on his face. “I’m going to take her to Lake Louise when we get back to Calgary, just where we went on our first date and then I’m going to ask her. Hopefully she says yes.”

“She’ll definitely say yes,” Riley smiled, nodding her head. “She really loves you.”

“Thanks, Riley, that means a lot,” he replied, the elevator doors opening into the lobby and them walking out. “And I know you guys had a bit of a falling out, but she loves you a lot and never meant to hurt your feelings. You know her, she just…wants everyone to be happy and puts it on herself to make sure they are.”

Riley nodded, sucking in her lips at the mention of their falling out. She felt nervous, but she knew that the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away until she asked, because she knew that the two of them were still in touch. “So…do you know how he’s doing? I haven’t really kept up with the hockey stuff because…you know.”

“He’s good,” Jacob replied, hesitating himself as he took a deep breath and Riley knew he was unsure if he wanted to answer. “He’s excited about going to Florida–”

“FLORIDA?” She asked, eyes wide. “What? Since when?”

“Um…maybe end of July? Right around the time you and Claire had your falling out. He got traded to the Panthers.”

Riley remembered him mentioning about how he and his agent were in talks with the Flames about his contract, but he seemed so hesitant to talk about it and not in the mood too, like something was bothering him and she knew she didn’t want to push further about it so she didn’t. She had no idea that days later he’d be traded.

“Wow, that’s…big,” she said, crossing her arms. “Is he Captain?”

“No, but I don’t doubt he’ll work his way up to it…you know Chucky. He’s really excited to be down there since he’s got an old teammate who plays for them. I think it’ll be a good change for him.”

Riley nodded, not continuing the conversation as they walked out of the apartment building and found her parents rental car, getting inside.

She tried not to let the news be forefront in her brain for the rest of dinner. This was her last night with her family and she wanted to soak up every second of it, especially since she knew that in just short of a week, Claire and Jacob would be back in Calgary and engaged. She knew she was going to miss having them just right there in the same room and knew she’d have to adjust to them being a phone call away instead. She was successful in turning her focus towards them, and by the end of dinner when they dropped her off at her apartment building, her stomach was hurting from laughing so hard.

It was the first time she’d laughed that hard since her break up with Matthew.

There was no fighting from keeping him out of her mind as she made her way into the elevator and the heavy metal slowly climbed the stories to her apartment floor– floor number ten, go figure. But she held it off until she was in the safety of her own apartment, letting the emotions flow out of her as she leaned against the door and sighed.

The silence was loud as she moved through her new apartment, trying to adjust to the layout. She walked over to her keurig, filling it up and placing a mug onto it to make herself something hot to drink. While she waited, she walked back to her room and got undressed, switching over into some pajama pants and an all too-familiar shirt that she’d tried to give back before she left, but allowed herself to keep it since it had been in her possession for weeks, and she knew for a fact that if she even tried to return it, she’d be told to keep it.

It had slowly turned into her favorite shirt the way that the cotton had been washed and dried so many times that the green and white in the Knights logo had started to crack and the material was soft against her skin.

She put on her slippers and walked back out of her room, over to the kitchen where she could see the steam rising from her Banff souvenir mug. Picking it up, she walked back out of the kitchen and over to her balcony door, sliding it open before walking out into the cool night air and shutting the door just barely behind her. She sat down in her chair, taking in the sight of the city lights all around her and the sounds of the traffic and people walking below brought her ease.

Riley brought out her phone, unlocking it and opening her instagram app. Typing in his username, she brought up Matthew’s profile and allowed herself to scroll through his pictures. The last time she’d seen it, it was before their meet up at the party when he’d posted pictures of the Greece trip. Matthew wasn’t one for posting on social media too much, so in that time, he’d only posted four things. One was a tribute video to his time in Calgary, another was a picture of him sitting at a press conference with the Florida Panthers logo behind him, wearing a polo and his dimpled smile. Another was a photo montage of what looked like a boys golfing trip, which Riley laughed at because of course. And his most recent, just a few weeks prior, was an action shot of him in the white and red panthers uniform. It was a far stretch from his red with Calgary…but it fit him well.

Out of habit, she found herself looking up at the sky, seeing the stars that the city lights hadn’t managed to outshine and when she blinked…for a split second…she thought she saw a shooting star.

As the thought passed, she smiled to herself and took a sip of her hot chocolate, looking at the mug once she was finished and leaned further back into her chair. Shortly after their run in at the party, she unfollowed him on instagram as a way to try and cleanse him from her life. A way to make the transition easier for her. But what Riley had discovered was that this was how life was going to be from now on. Sure, there was no more Matthew in her day to day life, no more random texts or facetime calls or phone calls, not even an instagram comment or a snapchat. But there was no cleansing him out of her life.

He left a big mark on her and in her life. He was the first boy she had ever loved and who loved her back, who taught her what it felt like to be loved. He was special, important. She could never push him out of her life. So while he was here for just a short while and gone in a flash, just like a shooting star…he was always going to be there in her memories.

And one day, she’d have to come to terms with that, but for now…it was just nice to think back and smile on the memories anytime a little piece of him popped up in her daily life.

He was everywhere and that was okay, because he had loved her and she loved him too and one could never easily forget it.

#again this is a fic i wasn't even sure i was going to post #just bc its kinda self indulgent when i wrote it ((and it was never a hockey fic)) #so a lot of editing and adding shit went into it #but just know that yk this fic stemmed from me trying to basically come to terms w a break up and it was my healthy way #of getting my emotions and feelings out!!!! #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk oneshot #florida panthers one shot #florida panthers writing #florida panthers imagine #florida panthers oneshot #nhl writing #nhl one shot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey writing #hockey one shot #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #florida panthers fic

[tkachuckycheese]

on the line

summary: when the flames season comes to an end, you’re confronted with the emotions of your break-up with matthew, in more ways than one. 

word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda angsty, mentions of kissing 

note: my first fic on hockeyblr, also my first one in years since my 1d fanfic days (lol)!! basically, this is a combo of my emotions from the flames elimination from the playoffs last night AND the potential of matthew having played his last game as a flame........... but let’s not talk more about it. there is maybe a more smutty addition to this but we shall have to seeeee..... let me know your thoughts friends, i would love to hear them!

~

You’re clutching the red jersey so tightly you're certain the seams are coming apart. You might not even be breathing. You sucked in a breath when the overtime goal was scored, and you haven’t been able to let it out quite yet. 

You pace up and down your living room, back and forth, from the couch to the kitchen. You wish you’d gone to the game with the girls, because at least you’d have someone to calm you down. Many of them had asked you to, but you were worried you’d run into him. If you were there now, you would be able to know if he was okay. You could comfort him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and everything was going to be okay. 

On your TV, they show the team giving the fans one last final salute before heading off the ice. He’s the first one down the tunnel, moving so fast and with his head tipped down that the cameras can’t catch him. But you don’t need to see his face to know what it looks like. He left everything on the ice tonight, and this is going to be a big deal for him. This is soul crushing for him. He’s going to be a fucking mess. Despite what happened between the two of you, your heart breaks for him. 

Is this my fault? 

You hate yourself for even contemplating that question. He made you break up with him. He is responsible for his own failures, and for your broken heart. Maybe karma decided to take this moment to unleash all the hurt and pain you wished on him when you broke up. But if he hadn’t decided your relationship was an “unnecessary distraction”, then there would be no reason for karma to kick his ass. Despite the fact that he had reached out many times since the break-up, asking to talk and saying he missed you, you hadn’t responded. Your emotional capacity had reached its limit, and you were still putting the pieces of yourself that he had broken back together.

You sigh and head into the kitchen, busying yourself with making dinner. Your diet had been shit since the breakup and now that you were trying to get through this instead of wallowing in the pain, you were trying to make a conscious effort. 

A couple hours later, you were on the couch, still trying to convince yourself to change the channel, but you just couldn’t. It was like a train wreck. The highlight reel had played through multiple times already, with the panel discussing each and every hit and miss from the playoff series. The general consensus seemed to be that he, in particular, beared a lot of the responsibility for the team’s loss and playoff elimination. You roll your eyes at the panelists’ opinions of him, while simultaneously wishing you could smack him and hug him at the same time. But you’ll get to do neither because you’re not in his life anymore. 

They’d switched to discussing a different series, and you were about to rewind and watch the highlights again to indulge your heart’s masochistic tendencies when the doorbell rings. Your heart skips and you immediately mute the television. You try to listen to the front door for who it could be, especially since it’s late and you’re not expecting anyone. 

It rings again. 

You stand up and walk gingerly towards the front hall. Your floorboards creak and you flinch–as if the serial killer on the other side of the door can hear it and has started sharpening his machete. 

“Y/N, it’s me.” 

You gasp. Because it can’t be. But when you go on your tiptoes and look through the peephole, there he is. Well, there’s the top of his curly head of hair. He tips his head up for a second and you glimpse those deep grey eyes and full mouth. 

Holy shit. 

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. There’s nothing about this that’s good, you remind your pounding heart as you open the door. He’s slouched over, but as soon as his eyes land on mine, he pulls himself up to almost his full height. Maybe it’s the pain of defeat makes it impossible to get that slump out of his broad shoulders entirely, and really, you can’t fault him for that. 

You fight to hold his gaze. It’s hard because it’s so angry–and desperate. You’ve never seen him look like this, not in the last seven years you’ve known him, not when you broke up, not ever. And because you’re still so completely in love with him, it hurts to look at him. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Matthew, what are you doing here?” you ask without letting him inside. “Don’t you have post-game stuff you need to do?” 

“It’s all done. The series is done. The season is done,” he replies, flicking his eyes to the ground and back up to yours. “Can I please come in?” 

“Why?”

“Because.” 

He’s wearing a pair of training paints and a Flames hoodie. It’s pulled tight across his wide chest. His hair is still wet from the shower. The whole team probably didn’t bother with suits after the game. They probably just wanted to get the fuck out of there. And he came straight to you. 

“Because why?” You countered harshly. 

“Let me in, Y/N.” 

It’s not a question. He doesn’t really ask anyone for anything. He tells them. Matthew’’s always got to be in charge and no one ever denies that. 

You tighten your grip on the door and move to shut it in his face, but he steps right into it. His palm makes a loud smacking sound against the wood, and then he’s pushing. Hard. You lose your grip on the door and it flings open. He steps over the threshold and right up into you. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Matthew grabs your face roughly in his big hands and forces his mouth over yours. You pound his shoulder with your fist and wedge your hand in between you to try to pry you apart, but you can’t break his hold on you. It’s like a sparrow tangling with an eagle.

His tongue sweeps right into your mouth and you think briefly about biting down on it, but it feels so damn good. You grab the fabric of his hoodie and ball it up in your hand. He starts walking backward, pushing you back into the living room. The side of the archway clips your shoulder, but he keeps pushing. When your legs hit the back of the sofa and you lose your balance, you shove him harder and this time Matthew takes a step away. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream. 

“I’m showing you I still care the only way left to show you,” Matthew says, his voice strained and loud. “I’ve tried calling, texting, I’ve used social fucking media and so now here I am. Physically showing you.” 

You storm past him, back into the hall to the open door. He turns to keep his eyes on you but doesn’t move to follow. He may be stunned and angry, but he’s still not going anywhere. You reach out and wrap your hand around the door again. “I told you, I’m no one’s silly little distraction or fling. You don’t get to come in here like a petulant child and just claim me like a consolation ribbon after you lose at hockey.” 

His body is rigid, his shoulders creeping up to his earlobes the longer you rant, getting more and more tense. But you don’t care. You’re not in his life anymore. 

“Y/N, I think about it every single day, how messed up it all was, how much I fucked up. I don’t like myself since you left. I never should have made you leave like that.” 

You try to take a breath, but it’s ragged. “Matthew, you’re just emotional over the end of your season.” 

“I did everything I could for this fucking team.” His voice is low and deep and shaky with rage. 

“Yeah. You did. So let it go,” you reply tersely. “They lost in spite of you, Matthew, not because of you.” 

He doesn’t answer. He walks towards you, his shoulders slumped in defeat again. This time, he stops a polite distance from you and keeps his hands to himself. 

“I just can’t handle the fucking pressure. I can’t carry this team, and I can’t keep putting this brave face on. I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, and you know it’s nothing he’s ever said to anyone else and nothing that he ever will. 

His dark eyes meet yours. They’re so sad they make your heart ache. He takes a few steps towards the door, and as he does, he chokes out, “I am so sorry.” 

As he steps through the door, you put a hand on his shoulder and flick your wrist, causing the door to fly from your hand and slam shut. “You try to control everything and when you can’t, when something knocks you on your ass unexpectedly, you give up or hide. You’re a coward.” 

His chest tightens under your hand. “I was a coward. I’ve been one this entire time, but I’ve been trying to change. I fucked up, but I’m still trying. But I need you. I need you because you make me want to be better.” 

“You need me?” you repeat. God, you wanted to believe it, you really did. You had read his pleading texts, listened to the voicemails, even seen the Instagram post he’d made of a photo of the two of you, simply captioned “Miss this girl.” You’re just so scared to trust him again. You know he can’t do anything else to get you back. You had both walked out on each other, but neither of you had truly moved on. 

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe Matthew or you have to let him go. 

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him. 

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.” 

#matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames writing #calgary flames one shot #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl fic

[jackhues]

that's going to be us - matthew tkachuk

notes: i hope you guys like this, seventh fic for 'it's the most wonderful time of the year' celly :))

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

part of naqia's end of the year celly!

gif not mine

"i cannot believe i let you talk me into this," matthew muttered. "i mean, i skate for a living. and now you've got me doing it in my free time."

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics, pulling him along.

it was finally outdoor skating season, which meant it was the perfect time to drag your boyfriend along and show off your moves. you grew up figure skating, but decided not to follow through with the sport professionally.

it began to feel like a competition at that point, it took the joy of skating away. but after you left, you began to fall in love with it again. and you also loved being able to show matthew up on the ice.

even though he 'skated for a living', you were able to do circles around him on your skates.

"it's the season of joy and wonder," you nudged his shoulder. "you can at least act like you want to be here."

"i do want to be here," he told you. "not necessarily at the odr, but i want to be where you are. and since you love outdoor skating, i want to be here with you."

you blushed, swatting his arm. "matthew, you need to stop being all sweet and stuff. you already got me."

matthew smirked at the sight of the ring on your finger, "well it doesn't mean i'm going to stop anytime soon. and you knew that when you said yes to me."

you sighed, choosing not to respond to his point.

you stepped onto the ice once the line ahead of you was finally gone, holding a hand out for matthew. he took your hand, stepping onto the ice and skating next to you.

around you, the two of you watched couples, and friends skating and laughing at each other. you watched parents teach their children how to get up and how to skate. you watched it all with a soft smile on your face, remembering your own childhood.

your dad had helped you get on the ice the first time, and you had fallen in love immediately. you taught your friends as they grew older, and while they didn't love it as much as you, they still saw why you loved it.

you'd almost grown up in this outdoor rink, and now being able to go back here with your fiancé felt beyond special to you.

"why do i have a feeling that's going to be us one day?"

you blinked out of your thoughts, following matthew's line of view.

two parents were trying to help their kids skate. one of their kids, the oldest one, was going in circles around the parents. the youngest child was being held by his mom, taking small steps and grinning. meanwhile, the dad was trying to convince the middle child to get up from the ice. it looked like she'd fallen and decided to just on her bottom for the rest of the time.

you smiled a little at the sight, knowing all of them had big grins on their faces. if that was going to be you and matthew, you'd take it. you'd take that life any day.

"i have a feeling that's going to be us too," you agreed. "just one thing."

"yeah?"

"we're only having two kids," you said. "if they outnumber us, we're never going to get our way."

#naqia's end of the year celly! #naqia writes! #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk fluff #matthew tkachuk x y/n #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk fics #florida panthers x reader #nhl one shot #nhl fic #hockey #hockey fic #hockey x reader #hockey x you

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

there’s nothing better than scouring your docs to see if you have any unfinished pieces of writing (too many) and then coming across something you have NO recollection of writing whatsoever and then reading it and literally smiling the entire time

#my multi chapter unfinished sidney crosby fic that idk what to keep writing for #but there’s also the unfinished multi chapter of mitch marner based on tis the damn season #and a really long mat barzal wedding one #a couple of one shots with nico #and Mat again as well as Matthew tkachuk #I just need inspiration and DESPERATELY #I also have extensive ideas for an Ethan edwards kind of tutoring one as well

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you’re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It’s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You’re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #RI #andi's coping mechanism

[goodnightoilcountry]

jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

* updated thursday 25 april 2024 *

weekly note: so, i've sadly had to remove summaries of each fic to make way for new fics. i'm going to think of a solution to work around this, but whatever i do, this will still remain the masterlist for my fic recs!

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - sunkissed: pt 1, pt 2 & pt 3 (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - all the pretty girls (pyotr kotchetkov) by @unluckyhoneybee

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites

monday morning (nathan mackinnon) by @matthewtkachuk

colorado (for the first time) (nathan mackinnon) by @withwritersblock

FLORIDA PANTHERS

subtle (matthew tkachuk) by @hockey-hoe-24-7 word count: 3.1k

you say you hate me (matthew tkachuk) by @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

all for you (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and one time matty did it for you): pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (matthew tkachuk) by @comphersjost

4 times you fake a relationship + 1 time you didn't (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

4 times you didn;t find the one + 1 time you did (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

homecoming (matthew tkachuk) by @doc-pickles

NEW JERSEY DEVS

gin, tonic, and tequila shots (jack hughes) by @hockey-fics

stay the night (jack hughes) by @eyesthatroll

everybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush (jack hughes) by @sunkissed-zegras

invisible string (luke hughes) by @hugshughes

tidal wave (luke hughes) by @babydollmarauders

drops of jupiter: pt 1 & pt 2 (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

breakable heaven series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanide

hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium

second best (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanideA

my heart's racing, and it isn't the exercise (luke hughes) by @sunnyskiesscareme

head start (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

first rule of fight club (jack hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

valentines (nico hischier) by @hischierdevils

reaching out (jack hughes) by @bedsyandco

clumsy (jack hughes) by @babydollmarauders

a walk down memory lane (jack hughes) by @letsgetrowdy43

lover of mine (nico hischier) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

you're not the one (nico hischier) by @ladylooch

moth to a flame (jack hughes & trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey

when the party's finally over: pt 1 & pt2 (jack hughes) by @itsjusthockey

NEW - off limits: pt 1 & pt 2 (nico hischier) by @hischierhoney

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

five times everyone knew mat loved you & the one time mat realized himself (mathew barzal) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

bad luck charm (mathew barzal) by @matwith1t

show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks

to all the girls you've loved before: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6 (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

it's nice to have a friend (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

we've come so far baby (mathew barzal) by @mendeshoney

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

lucky (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did (quinn hughes) by @mrsensitive

5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts

NEW - home (brock boeser) by @bedsyandco

NEW - nothing but love (quinn hughes) by @starry-hughes

NEW - can i be close to you? (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

#nhl imagine #nhl fic rec #nhl fic #hockey imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #seth jarvis fic #seth jarvis imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine

[haddonfieldwhore]

jealousy, jealousy - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: it takes a bit of help from your friends for matthew to admit his feelings for you

warnings: language, drinking (don’t drive impaired!), implied smut, jealous matty (duh)

word count: 1.3k

“dude, we’re supposed to be celebrating, why do you look so grumpy?” carter asked matthew, who swirled the ice around in his drink as he stared across the bar. carter followed his gaze, his eyes landing on you and a tall guy with dark hair, the man obviously flirting with you as you stared up at him with a smile. “oh, i get it.”

“get what?” matthew snapped.

“you’re jealous that she’s talking to him and not you.”

“i am not jealous. but she’s supposed to be celebrating with us, not ditching us for some guy who’s staring at her like she’s a piece of meat.” matthew scowled, finishing his drink in one gulp and placing the empty glass down on the table with a thud. carter laughed, shaking his head slightly at his friend and leaned over to sam bennett.

“see, jealous,” he whispered, and matthew shot him a glare, but didn’t say anything as he got up and walked over the bar to get another drink.

“i don’t know what to tell you, he’s been in love with her for years. he just doesn’t realize it,” sam told him, taking a sip of his drink.

“she doesn’t realize it either,” nick laughed.

“maybe they just need a little push,” carter suggested.

“is that a good idea?” nick asked, unsure of what carter was planning.

“whatever he has in mind, probably not,” sam grumbled. “just don’t piss chucky off too much, okay? if we want this win streak to keep going we need you in one piece,” he joked, patting verhaeghe on the shoulder. he gave a nod in response, finishing his drink before looking over at you.

“perfect timing. wish me luck,” he said, watching as the guy who had been hitting on you walked away, leaving you all alone.

carter strolled over to you, and you greeted your friend with a smile, feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol, but not quite drunk yet.

“hey.”

“hey,” he replied. “you wanna dance?”

“sure,” you laughed, dragging him into the sea of bodies on the dance floor. his hands rested on your hips as you danced around, having the time of your life. you were oblivious to the pair of blue eyes locked on you, while carter could feel them burning a whole in him.

“what’s he doing?” he asked sam as he sat back down at their table.

“i think they call it dancing,” he teased. “why do you care so much?”

“i don’t.”

“bullshit,” nick disagreed, and matthew rolled his eyes.

“if you want to dance with her, just ask her,” sam suggested. matthew sipped his drink in silence, his eyes watching the way carter was touching you, spinning you around until you were face to face.

he thought about the way that carter could probably smell your perfume, a mix of amber and sandalwood, and he bet he could even feel your breath on his lips. he bet he was thinking about kissing you, and the idea of it made him furious, his hand clutching his glass so tight he thought it might break.

“chucky -“

“what?” he snapped, looking at sam.

“you like her.”

“we’re friends-“

“bullshit.”

“so what if i did? she doesn’t feel the same.”

“how do you know?” nick asked.

“she’s never said anything,” matthew shrugged.

“neither have you,” sam pointed out, and matthew sighed. maybe he was right.

“it doesn’t matter. it looks like i’ve missed my shot,” matthew sipped his drink, watching you and carter dance; mostly watching you.

“i wouldn’t give up so easily if i were you,” sam replied, and matthew hoped he was right.

the guys watched with a smile as matthew got up and walked over to you and carter. he looked like he wanted to punch verhaeghe in the face, instead they watched as you greeted him with the biggest smile they had seen from you all night.

“mind if i take over for a bit?” matthew asked, and carter stepped back, patting him on the back as he walked by, heading back to the table.

“that was a risky move, swaggy,” sam laughed as he sat back down.

“yeah, i think he’ll forgive me though,” he smiled as they all looked over at you and matthew.

“so you seem to have found your groove again, goals in the last three games? nice work matty.”

“are you saying i sucked?” he asked with a smile, his hands on your waist as he held you close to him, your bodies almost flush against eachother as you looked up at him.

“i didn’t say that,” you laughed. “you were still better than most of the players in the league. now you’re just playing like your old self again.”

“yeah, it feels good,” he smiled, happy to be meeting people’s expectations again; not that he really cared what most of them thought. but he had to admit, hearing it from you made him feel pretty damn good.

“carter must be in a good mood, he never wants to dance,” you laughed, and matthew bit his tongue so he wouldn’t say something rude.

“yeah, the win streak has us all in pretty good spirits,” he said instead, inhaling the scent of your perfume and watching the way your necklace sparkled in the lights.

“you looked upset earlier,” you commented, thinking back to the look on his face when he was sat at the table. “is something bothering you?”

“no, it’s-“ he took a deep breath. “i was just….”

“what is it matty?” you asked, staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, a concerned look on your face as your hand reached up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

“fuck it,” he mumbled, before leaning down at pressing his lips to yours. you were stunned at first, but quickly kissed back, tugging on his hair gently as he pulled you closer, your other hand resting on his chest.

“he actually did it,” nick laughed back at their table, and he clinked his glass against sam and carters as they laughed at their friend.

“took him long enough,” sam shook his head with a smile. “even back in calgary he had a thing for her.”

when you separated for air, you stared up at matthew, waiting for an explanation.

“i’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

“so what you were trying to say is that you were jealous?” you teased playfully, and he blushed lightly.

“i-“ he sighed. “yeah alright; i was.”

“why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“i didn’t know if you felt the same way,” he shrugged, his fingers playing with the hem of your top, and you leaned up to kiss him again.

“well, now that you know… are we gonna stand here all night or are you gonna take me home?” you asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

“you sure?” he asked, a gleam in his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“i mean, if you’d rather stay here with the guys we can-“

“fuck that, let’s go,” he smiled as he dragged you by your wrist gently but quickly towards the door. your table laughed as you guys walked by without a word, and carter was pleased that his plan had worked.

matthews hand didn’t leave your thigh the whole drive to his place as you sat in the passenger seat, pleading with him to not run every red light to get you home faster.

“relax,” you laughed, as he leaned over to kiss you while he tapped his fingers against your thigh impatiently, waiting for the light to go green. “we have two whole days before your next game.”

“good,” he smiled, kissing you one more time as the light changed, and the car rolled forward.

“cause you’re not going anywhere.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

#nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl players #real person fiction #hockey #hockey fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matty tkachuk #tkachuk #florida #panthers #florida panthers fic

[tkwrites]

Love sometimes means fulfilling fantasies - Matthew Tkachuk x ofc

Photos from Pinterest

Title: Love sometimes means fulfilling fantasies

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Matthew Tkachuk x Original female character 

Warnings: smut (18+ only), oral (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), lots of teasing, mentions of a past, bad semi-controlling relationship.

Summary: When Matthew admits he wants to be bossed around by his girlfriend, she decides to surprise him after a long stint away from home.

Word count: 8500 

Comments: This was inspired by a very intense dream I had a while ago. It’s been in my drafts for more than 2 months as I’ve tried to get it right - trying to find the right balance between smut and story. I originally started this with Quinn and Sarah in mind, but almost instantly realized this wasn't their story. 

I think Matthew is adorable, and thought he would be a perfect fit for it. I thought about this post a lot while I was writing it. 

This is so long and way more smutty than anything I’ve ever posted for others to read. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Love sometimes means fulfilling fantasies

The moment he walked in the house, his eyes were drawn to the bedroom light filtering across the kitchen. Sophie had tried to stay up for him. She did this occasionally, and every time, he would find her in bed, asleep with her glasses still on and a book open on her chest. 

Smiling at the prospect, he set down his bag and shed the raincoat he hadn't bothered to take off in the car. 

“Bedroom. Now.” 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when her voice came from somewhere behind him. 

He turned to find her, but she rebuked him before he saw anything. "I didn't say you could look, Matthew." 

His body responded immediately. Fuck, that's hot. 

More than a month before, she had asked if he had any fantasies he wanted to explore. He admitted that he wanted to be… not dominated - he didn't want to be tied down or anything - but he wanted to be ordered around. The image of Sophie, assertive and demanding, taking pleasure from his body was the subject of many of his dreams. 

It had been so long since that conversation, he'd nearly forgotten about his hushed, “I think about you bossing me around all the time.” 

"Bedroom. Now," she repeated. 

He rushed to get there, leaving his things strewn on the mudroom floor. 

Upon arriving home, he had leaned into his fatigue, prepared to fall into bed, tucking his desire away until morning. This was a totally different welcome than the one he'd been expecting. Adrenaline coursed into his veins banishing the fatigue all together. 

The click of heels followed him through the house, a kind of suspenseful music that ticked to the beat of his heart. 

She was even wearing heels? She never wore heels at home. 

“I hope you're getting undressed,” she said in a sing-songy voice when he got to the bedroom. 

He jumped to obey.  

“Leave your pants on, though.”

He had to redo the zipper, not an easy task with his erection testing the limits of his boxers. He told himself it would be worth it as he re-buttoned his pants. 

The buttons on his shirt nearly popped off in his desperation to get out of it as he toed off his shoes. He didn't like to be barefoot nearly ever, but it was an ick of hers for him to be in bed with only socks on, so he removed them before tossing everything into the closet. 

“Very good,” she said, appearing in the doorway, wearing a dark red robe and black heels with complicated looking straps around her ankles. 

Rooted to the spot and unable to look away, Matthew devoured each deliberate, slow movement as she stalked closer to him. Lace winked at him from between the lapels of her robe. It made him ravenous to see what exactly was under all that silk. 

He started to salivate as his mind caught on to the reality that he would only need to pull the sash at her waist and she would be nearly naked. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her.

“Tell me, Matthew, did you expect this?”

He shook his head. He could hardly believe it was even happening. She even had her hair down and curled. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

She wrinkled her nose, breaking character. A relieved smile spread over his face. He knew this was a character, but having it confirmed that his sweet, funny Sophie was still in there put him more at ease. 

“Not ma'am,” she said, “that makes me sound old. Miss?” she mused, “that's not much better.”

“Mistress,” he supplied. 

She cut her eyes at him, “is that what you call me when you dream about this?”

“N-no,” he stammered.

“What do you call me then?” she asked, placing her hand on his bare chest. 

Gulping, he barely bit back a moan at the skin to skin contact.  

“What do you call me when you dream about being bossed around, Matthew?” she repeated, voice quiet and seductive in his ear as she moved even closer. The silk of her robe brushed against his arm. 

“Sophie,” he said. This time, his voice was a moan. 

His confession hit her full force. He wasn't just interested in being bossed around - he was interested in being bossed around by her. She expected this fantasy to be farther from reality.

“Let's try this again,” she said, mostly for herself. “Matthew, do you like what I'm wearing?”

“Yes.”  

“Yes?” 

“Yes, Sophie.” 

“Good,” she praised, trailing her hand around his rib cage. “Kiss me.”

He pounced like a starved man, catching her mouth in a kiss that was all at once passionate and consuming. 

When his hand ran up the smooth fabric covering her back, he felt it through his whole body.

Taking control, she coaxed his tongue into her mouth and sucked. He was instantly transported back to the first time she'd done this same thing after their second date. His legs still turned to putty. It felt so good every time. She tugged on his hair and he let out noise he never made with anyone else. 

This was a side of Sophie he'd never seen at home. 

It often came out in other places when decisions needed to be made. She always had a quiet confidence about her, but when a crisis happened, or no one was stepping up to make decisions, she, as she called it, “put on her boss pants and got shit done."

The first time she'd done it, they'd been on vacation with some friends and missed their boat back to the hotel. He'd been embarrassingly turned on by the way she had taken control, calming everyone down and ordering him to call the hotel concierge so they could get some directions. After that, he doubled his efforts, trying to convince her to give him a chance as more than a friend. 

Now that the bossy side of her was finally directed at him in their bedroom, he couldn't get enough. 

She broke away and kissed her way up to his ear. “Am I doing okay?” she asked softly.  

Okay? She practically had him on his knees. It was so unfair for this to come right after a road trip. He was already starving for her, and now she was teasing.  

“Yes,” he panted.

She took a step back from him, “Do you want to see what I have on underneath?”

He nodded, seconds away from actually dropping to his knees to beg for her. It had been seven long days since he'd had her, and this situation had him ready to do whatever he needed to to please her. 

“Go ahead,” she said, letting her arms fall open to give him free access.

His hands lept to the tie, which fell away easily. His eyes widened as he pushed the silk off her shoulders and it pooled at her elbows.

“Do you like it?” she asked, letting the silk flutter onto the floor. 

She wore a black lace bra that made her boobs look incredible with, it looked like, matching cheeky panties, just like she knew he liked. 

Saliva pooled under his tongue. Oh God. He was fucked. 

"Matthew, do you like it?" she asked again, throwing in a twirl for good measure. 

Catching his first glimpse of her ass, the lace riding half way up her cheeks, his knees nearly buckled. She was so damn sexy. 

His over eager nod had him feeling like some kind of cartoon character - too fast and exaggerated. 

The whole time she had been devising this plan, Sophie had imagined his reaction to this lingerie. She knew he would like it. Looking at him now, with his blown pupils and fingers flexing at his sides, she found she wanted to tease him just a little bit more. 

Turning her back to him, she bent down to unlatch her right shoe. 

His groan was the stuff dreams were made of.

His hand caressed over her left hip, and she batted it away. 

“I didn't give you permission to touch,” she said, standing straight as she turned around, only one of the three right straps undone. 

A desperate sound escaped his throat, and he forced himself to ask, “can I please touch you, Sophie?” 

Tapping an index finger on her lips, she pretended to think. “I'm not sure you've earned that, yet.” 

The shock that covered his face was almost instantly replaced by competitive determination. “What do I need to do?” he asked, his voice sounding like it'd been raked over hot coals. 

“Let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself for at least one shoe, yeah?” 

Matthew hated and loved this idea with every fiber of his being. Sophie didn't usually tease. Now that she was, he found he only wanted more.

Once he agreed, she turned around again - because of course she did - and bent over, showcasing the natural flexibility every woman in his family was envious of. She was going to kill him. Or slowly drive him insane. Or perhaps both. 

Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets and fisted them to keep them from developing a mind of their own. 

With the fiddly straps undone, she decided it was enough. His breathing was getting more and more ragged, which had her so turned on, she could feel her desire soaking her little lace panties. 

Raising to a flat back position, she glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to ask again?” 

He swallowed visibly, “can I please touch you?” 

“Yes.” 

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and she watched his fingers flex and contract as if they'd been fisted so tightly, he needed to bring blood back into them. 

He reached for her. 

“But-” he stopped immediately, letting out a little whine. “You can't take anything off.” 

Nodding quickly, he agreed. He just needed his hands on her.

She bent over again, and his hands caressed her soft hips. 

“Fuck, Sophie.” After all that, touching her felt like it's own reward. 

With the other buckles undone she stood, making sure to toss her hair back into his face when she did. 

He grunted, pulling her against him so she could feel what she was doing to him. 

"What do you want?" she asked, one hand slipping around the back of his neck as she kicked off her shoes. 

With the heels gone, Matthew reveled in having his normal sized girlfriend back. "I want whatever you want to give me."

Turning in his embrace, one of her eyebrows rose. "Whatever I want to give you?" she repeated, trailing her fingers from his waistband to his nipple, which she circled delicately. 

Nodding, he made a sort of muffled, whining, affermatory noise. 

"What if I want to give you what you want?"

“That's not…uh, I, uh,”  a jumble of gibberish fell out of his mouth. He was having a hard time focusing enough to form coherent words, still trying to reconcile the Sophie in front of him with the one he'd expected to find. Meanwhile, her finger still circled the sensitive nub, sending so much electricity shooting between his legs, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this hard in his life. 

Her mouth brushed against his ear before she asked again, "what do you want, Matthew?” Gently taking the lobe between her teeth, she nibbled 

The way she kept saying his name coupled with how she was touching him made his brain short circuit into primitive, caveman thinking. "I want to make you come."

"How?"

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to be telling him what to do, not the other way around. 

Taking a deep breath, he paused to make his thoughts coherent before telling her, "you tell me. You're supposed to be the one ordering me around."

Sophie blushed. She knew he wanted her assertive and bossy, but neither of those were things she could just pull out at the drop of a hat - especially in the bedroom. It was one thing to tease him by dangling what she knew he wanted just out of reach. It was something totally different to order him around like he was some kind of pet. She'd been trying to circumnavigate around her discomfort by ordering him to tell her what he wanted. It was a cop out and she knew it. 

"You promise this is okay?" she asked, letting nerves shake her voice. 

This was fantasy brought to life in a way he'd never expected. Looking into her eyes, he brought her hand to the front of his trousers so she could feel how he strained against the zipper. "More than okay. Tell me what you want me to do." 

Standing straight, she steeled herself and tried not to let her voice warble. "I want your mouth," she said.

There was no shock in his face, only a deepening desire as his eyes grew darker.

Oh. 

This wasn't just for her. 

He wanted it. 

He liked it. 

A force she'd never felt before flowed down her spine, filling her with conviction. Leaning into that newfound power, she added, "and I want to be on top." 

She'd fantasized about it for so long, but had never been brave enough to tell him. 

“Gladly,” he rasped, mind already racing with images and ideas. 

For his part, Matthew wanted to give her any and every experience she wanted, but knew she wouldn't ask for the things she felt were more risqué as part of their normal, everyday life.

He hoped this fantasy of his might kill two birds with one stone.

Unable to look away, his breath locked in his chest as she hooked her thumbs in her panties, easing the sides down. 

"Do you want to -" she stopped herself, before swallowing and starting again. "Matthew?"

“Yeah?” 

"I want you to take off my lingerie."

Getting orders from her was even hotter than he dreamed it would be. He was going to start drooling here if he wasn't careful.

Back to her in a flash, he slid his fingers to the clasp of her bra. Palms skimming over her breasts, he eased the fabric off. "You're so fucking beautiful," he said, letting the lace drop to the ground. 

Glancing into her face, voice gruff, he asked, “can I use my mouth on you here?”

She nodded, letting out a breathy, “yes.”

As his mouth went to her breasts, licking and kissing, his hands swept over her hips so he could take large handfuls of her ass in those damn underwear. 

Her mind began to spin. Not only from his talented mouth, now laving at one of her nipples, but because of her plan. She wanted him in her mouth before they made love. She needed to rethink her strategy to make sure he had enough time to recover.

His hands slowly slid up to her waistband, relishing the texture of the lace contrasted against her smooth, warm skin. 

“Stop,” she ordered before he could push her underwear off.

He pulled his mouth away, but didn't take his hands off of her. 

When she went to his neck, leaving open mouthed, wet kisses, his fingers curled into the flesh of her hips. His head tipped to give her more access.  

Sophie could never spend enough time with her mouth and hands on Matthew. “You smell so good,” she purred, continuing her exploration onto his collar bone. 

The feeling of her mouth on him while her hands slowly slid down his back had him too entranced to respond with more than a grunt. 

She licked the divot between his clavicle and the round swell of his shoulder before cupping his rear to pull him flush to her body.

Fireworks popped and flashed between them as Matthew rocked his hips into her, desperate to soothe his aching lust. He wanted her so much. He’d wanted her when he parked the car, resigned to the fact that he would have to wait until the next morning. Now, she was against him with her beautiful body, wearing the sexiest pair of underwear he’d ever seen. He let his fingers trace the lace pattern at the edge and smiled when she shuddered. 

Her mouth continued its exploration, winding down his chest, pausing to flick her tongue over the nipple she had neglected. 

He moaned, eyes flaring wide when she lowered to her knees in front of him.

“I changed my mind.” 

Looking up, she traced a feather light touch from his belly button to the button of his pants and smiled when his muscles flexed and jumped.

“I'm going to blow you before you use that pretty mouth on me.”

He swore. This was a kind of torturous heaven where she was slowly driving him mad before giving him what he needed. He never wanted her to stop. 

Working the button of his pants, then the zipper torturously slow, she purred, “you're going to come in my mouth, okay, Matthew?”

His breathing hitched, his voice nearly cracking as he agreed, “yes, Sophie.” 

He rarely let her finish him that way. He loved her mouth, but past girlfriends hadn't liked it, so he tended to avoid the issue. Besides, given the choice, he would rather come inside her. He never would have guessed she missed it. 

Peeling his boxer briefs down, Sophie leaned into the alter ego she kept caged within her own thoughts. “Good boy,” she praised. 

 God, hearing that should not make him shiver with anticipation and pleasure as much as it did. He flushed at having pleased her.

As he stepped out of his pants, he wondered if she might let him sit down. It had been so long since he'd come in her mouth, he wasn't totally sure he'd stay upright, especially tonight. Before he could ask, she was running her hands over his legs. 

Sophie tsked. “These thighs,” she all but moaned reverently. Obligingly, the muscles in question flexed under her palms. 

Apparently, she was letting everything she'd ever fantasized about bubble up to the surface as if her propriety had sloughed off along with her lingerie. 

The next thing he knew, she was licking his leg from the knee all the way up to the v line, which she kissed and tongued liberally. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. She'd never worshiped his body like this. He knew she found him attractive, but this was something totally different. It made his stomach clench and his head feel light.

Every brush of her tongue, every kiss from her lips made him twitch. She was so close to where he wanted her. Knowing she wanted him to come in her mouth made it worse until he was simmering and heady with impatience. 

She pulled away so slowly, he swore he could feel every millimeter of her lips lifting from him. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally getting her mouth. It melted into a whine when she passed over to begin the same torture on the other leg. He was so close to the pleasure she was promising, but she was holding off. 

“Please Sophie,” he begged. He would do anything to feel her.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she said, smiling up at him through her lashes as she guided him past her lips. 

He had to close his eyes to stop himself from exploding at the sight alone. 

She pulled off nearly as soon as she'd started, “do you like it, Matthew?”

He almost said something snarky, like, I would if I could feel it, but thought better of it. The Sophie in front of him was a different creature than usual, and he didn't want to upset her. He had no doubt she wouldn’t hesitate to punish him for his sass, and he couldn’t take that on top of everything else. 

Instead, he leaned into the shy, genuine part of himself. “Yes, Sophie.” 

Finally, she took him in her mouth, swallowing all she could comfortably fit and using her hand on the rest. 

Sinking his fingers into her hair, he tried to steady himself without leaning too much weight on her. 

“You feel so good.” 

With seven days away and twenty minutes of blissful torture built up in his system, he knew it wouldn’t take much to tip him over the edge. Still, when the tell tale signs rushed in so soon, even he was surprised. He needed to tell her in case she changed her mind.

“Soph, ’m gonna come,” he said urgently.

Her mouth lifted off of him completely. “You’re such a good boy, Matthew,” she purred, slowly skimming her fingertips down his throbbing cock, “giving me what I want.” 

Eyes rolling back, he practically growled. He’d always wanted her to order him around but never imagined her praising him like this. He wanted more and more, again and again.

She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, and he moaned, thrusting softly into her mouth. 

His orgasm reared anew fast enough to give him whiplash. 

She hummed as she pulled him over the edge and the vibrations rippled through his body, making every muscle stutter. 

When she slid her mouth off him, she paused to make sure he was looking her in the face before she swallowed. 

"Holy shit." He stumbled back and sank onto the bed, legs losing the battle to stay upright. He'd hoped she would be a little more liberated, but this was beyond any of his expectations. "Fuck, Soph, that was so hot." 

Bringing him nearly to his knees with her mouth alone made her feel like she could do anything. It was just the confidence boost she needed. A feeling of immense self satisfaction filled her.

Crawling over to him, she used his knees for balance as she stood.

Matthew wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her stomach, needing to feel her close as he came down. 

"I love you," he said, mouth against her skin. It felt important to tell her. Not just because of the blow job - which, God, did he love her for - but because he loved all of her. He loved her for her willingness to fulfill this fantasy. It was so much better than anything he'd imagined. 

"I love you, too." 

She threaded her fingers into his curly hair and his eyes fluttered shut. 

Soaking in the tender moment, he let himself catch his breath before pressing kisses to her stomach. 

“I swear, I thought about eating you out every night I was gone.” 

“Really?" She sounded more surprised than he would like. 

He nodded, tongue darting over his lips as he looked up at her. “I love getting you off and I know you like oral best.”

“I mean…You don't mind the smell?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. 

“Do you really think I would put myself through it so often if I didn't like it?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.  

“I don't know,” she said with a shrug. “I thought maybe it was something you just put up with to get to the good part.”

“It's all the good part with you Soph.”

She chuffed a little laugh. 

“I love the way you taste. I crave it when I've been away too long.”

The way her cheeks flushed made him want to please her even more. 

"Are you ready to sit on my face?" he teased, assuming she found the phrase crass. 

Even while rolling her eyes, she nodded. 

The uncertain feelings that were nearly always stewing in her finally broke to the surface for the first time that night. "We don't have to do it that way."

"No," he reprimanded gently, flexing his grip so she couldn't pull away. "If this is something you want, you deserve to get it. I'm fine with it."

Her teeth worried at her lower lip, "you're sure?"

"Yes," he said fervently. "I want to make you feel good, and if this is how you want it, I want to do it for you."

"I just," she paused to sigh a breath through her nose. "I don't want to suffocate you or something."

He laughed. 

"I'm serious, Matthew."

"It'll be fine, Sophie."

"How do you know?"

"I've done it before, and it was fine." 

She looked unconvinced, and like she was about to argue another point he knew wouldn’t make any difference. He cut in before she could bring it up. "If it'll make you feel better, I can let you know if I can't breathe."

She pursed her lips, barely keeping in her worry about being bigger than any of the women he'd dated before. That would bring on a whole lecture about how it wasn't true, and her weight didn't matter to him - he just wanted her to be happy and healthy.

Most of the time, she was able to put off the comparison and agree with him, but this felt like a case where that factor should be taken into consideration. 

In the end, the thing that kept her quiet were memories of the sad, wounded, puppy look he got in his eyes when she talked disparagingly about her body. 

"It would make me feel better," she said instead. 

"Done." 

Hooking his fingers into her panties, he started easing them down. 

Goosebumps rippled over her skin and her nipples tightened. 

Letting the lace fall the rest of the way down, he licked one of the tender buds into his mouth. He lay back, pulling her with him. Her core was hot and wet against his thigh as she draped over him.

His hands and mouth on her, and his care and willingness to fulfill her fantasies had her outrageously turned on. She rutted against his thigh a few times in an attempt to pacify her lust.

He moaned, flexing the muscle on instinct. She gasped, deciding instantly that getting herself off on his thigh was definitely going onto her fantasy wishlist. 

For now, though, she couldn't be deterred from the opportunity at hand. She moved onto the bed and he scrambled up to lay his head on the pillows. 

He got comfortable before motioning her over. "Here," he said, voice husky, but gentle, "you can hold onto the headboard here."

Heat raced onto her cheeks. 

"Come on," he said, reaching for her. "It's been too long. I can't wait to taste you."

Letting him pull her into position, her heart was already pounding against her ribs as if it might try to break out of her chest. 

Matthew had dreamed of this before - Sophie, all lovely and lush above him while he worshiped her with his mouth. The reality of it was so much better than anything he had imagined. 

"You're so beautiful," he said, running his hands up and down her thighs. 

She blushed, but accepted the compliment, "thank you."

He continued to admire her, waiting until she was ready. 

"You promise you'll tell me if you can't breathe?"

"Yes, I promise," he assured. "I'll tap your hip like this."

She nodded. 

"Now, come here." 

Wrapping his large hands over her hips, he guided her to his mouth. The sound she let out when he made contact was music to his ears. 

It was so much better than she'd anticipated. Perhaps it was just the thrill of a fantasy becoming reality that had her nervous system in overdrive, but something about this - the position, the way his mouth worked on her clit and the way he huffed against her had her synapses snapping. 

As it turned out, she may have been right to worry. Not because of her imagined fear that she was bigger than other women he'd dated, but because Matthew was so competitively intense and wanted to make her come so badly, he would put off breathing until his body demanded oxygen. The reality that he couldn’t just tilt his head to pull in a quick breath hit him full force after a few minutes. 

Although he'd had no intention of using the signal, he tapped her hip twice when his lungs started to burn.

She lifted up, but he stopped her before she got more than an inch away. His tongue kept working, circling her sensitive bud, even as she felt him drag in heavy, deep breaths.

She shuddered as cool air pulled across her heated skin.

Pulling her back down, he latched his mouth back onto her, sucking and stroking. 

"Matthew."

He would never get over the way she moaned his name.

"Matthew, put your tongue inside me." 

Where had that come from? She'd read about it before, but never had any desire to feel it. She got off from clitoral stimulation, so what would that bring to the table? 

With the reality that was Matthew working his magic, and her newfound ability to call the shots, she found she needed his mouth in every way possible. 

He groaned and felt her shudder above him. He was never getting over this. He was never getting over her going after what she wanted. Never getting over experiencing her like this. 

A new wave of pleasure ripped through her when he shifted to accommodate her request. She didn’t think this could get any better. 

Sophie clung to the headboard. "That feels so good," she whined.

He kept thrusting his tongue into her, hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. She filled his senses completely, leaving no room for anything else, and he wouldn't have it any other way.  

"Oh!" she moaned loudly when he adjusted his angle slightly, bringing the straight bridge of his nose against her clit.

Fire whipped up her spine. "Right there! Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop."

He was never stopping - not until she was satisfied a million times over. 

Head thrown back, she panted in rhythm with his ministrations. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. 

Her thighs trembled around him and he knew she was close. Putting off breathing for a bit longer, he continued urging her up the peak he knew she was so close to cresting. 

Mouth open, she tried to let him know she was coming. Instead, her body took over, letting out a keening noise she'd never heard herself make before. 

Her core fluttered around his tongue and Matthew moaned. He loved this part: the point when he knew he'd won over her body and pushed her over the edge into bliss. 

Forcing her hips up just enough, he sucked in a few deep breaths before wrapping his lips around her clit, flicking it with his tongue.  

Time tilted and her body felt weightless as her high rolled into another. 

“Oh my god.” 

He kept going, and she kept coming. One of her hands abandoned its post balancing on the headboard to fist into his curls. He groaned, just like she knew he would.

The first time he went down on her, he told her she could pull his hair if she wanted. She'd been so surprised at the way he had moaned into her, intensifying his efforts when she had. 

Easing off when pleasure started to bleed into pain, she lifted herself up. He licked his lips and pulled in some heavy breaths. 

Chest heaving, Sophie tried to swing her leg over so she could sit next to him. 

"One more," he moaned, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs to keep her over him. "Let me give you one more."

He hadn't prepared himself for that to be the last one. There was no way he could be done with this scenario. With her pleasure engulfing every one of his senses, he just couldn't be done. It was too intoxicating. 

"Please," he said as if he might die without it. 

Twist her arm, she couldn't resist. Matthew was the only man Sophie had ever been with who put so much emphasis on her pleasure, let alone enjoyed getting her off. 

As soon as she started lowering her hips back down, he leaned up and licked a thick stripe through her. 

Her legs quivered. "I'm -" she had to pause and take a deep breath, "Matt, I'm sensitive," she said, looking down at him. 

He winked and coaxed her with long, languid strokes of his tongue. Watching her face intently, he made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure to not cause pain. 

Her hips began to move of their own volition, seeking. 

"Oh, God," she breathed, "Matthew."

If he died right then, he thought, he would die a happy man. 

Come on, he urged silently, come for me. 

As if she were reading his mind, she let out a long, low moan, and trembled above him, core pulsing against his mouth.

He feasted on her, drinking in every movement, every sensation. He could never get enough of her pleasure. 

This time, when she went to move off of him, he helped her. 

She sat heavily against the headboard, gulping in air. "Oh my God." Reaching for him without looking, her hand landed on his chest with a gentle smack. "That was amazing.”

Covering her hand with his own, he entwined their fingers before wiping his face with his other hand. 

After catching her breath, she moved to lay beside him. "Seriously," she said, settling on her side, one arm bent under her head as a pillow, "that was…I don't even have words for how good that was." 

He blushed. "I'm glad you liked it." Her praise, bereft of any teasing, had him feeling shy. 

“Liked it?” she repeated, giggling. “That was the most intense high I’ve ever felt. I don't think I’ve ever come that many times in a row.” 

Pride swelled in his chest. He reached for her and pulled her on top of him. Threading his fingers into her hair, he guided her down to a kiss.

She could taste herself on his mouth, which was arousing in a way she always felt shouldn't be.

His big hands explored, leaving fiery trails on her skin. When he cupped her breasts, she arched against him with a groan. The overstimulation had dissipated and was replaced by a steadily increasing hum of pleasure. 

His mouth and hands ignited her desire again. How was it possible to want someone this much? She wanted him in ways she didn’t know she’d ever want a man again. 

"I want you to take me from behind," she said, lips whispering against his. 

Matthew pulled back into the pillow to look at her face. "Are you sure?"

A while after they started sleeping together, he asked her what she liked. "Any position we can be face to face,” she'd said. “Smith only wanted it from behind the last few months. Every time I would initiate, he'd end up flipping me over. It made me feel so, like… unpretty, you know? Like he couldn't even stand to look at me."

It had broken Matthew's heart. How could anyone not want to look at her? He wanted to look at her all the time. 

Because of that, he always made sure to initiate cowgirl, missionary or any other position where they could be face to face. He never wanted her to feel like he didn't want her. 

"Yes," she said, sitting up. "I know you'd never turn me around just to fantasize about someone else."

"Never," he agreed, emphatically. 

She'd never felt like this with a man before - so full to the brim with love and trust. "So, tonight, strictly for the sake pleasure, I want you to fuck me from behind."

This was another thing she never said, opting instead for sex or making love. She always said fucking was too vulgar of a word for what they were doing.

Hearing it from her mouth now woke a primal side of himself he hadn't felt since he was much younger. 

They never fucked, they made love. He didn't miss it, but the prospect of trying something new with her excited him beyond belief. 

“Where do you want me?”

The power humming beneath her skin shifted into a higher gear, giving her the jumpstart to move off of him. 

“On your knees,” she said. 

He obeyed, then watched, entranced, as she got into the position she wanted. On hands and knees, and then lowered to her forearms so her back sloped down. 

Turning her back to him felt so different than it had with Smith. There was nothing compromising about this with Matthew. She wasn’t embarrassed, or worried her face wasn’t pretty enough, or feeling like she was giving something up just to keep him close. 

“Okay,” she said. 

He moved behind her, skimming both hands up her legs and over the curvature of her sides like a priceless piece of art. He wanted to remember every second of this. 

The trust she felt for and from Matthew allowed her to be in her body more. She could feel the bed dip as he moved, feel the sheets brush against her pebbled nipples. Her skin buzzed with anticipation of his touch. She felt safe and giddy. When was the last time she’d ever felt giddy while on her knees? 

“Can you lift your hips a little more?” he asked, voice gentle.

She did and he bit his lip. He rarely fantasized about this. He preferred to see her face when they were together too, but this? This was a teenage wet dream come to life - made better with love, devotion and trust. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, stopping himself from running his fingers through her just so he could taste her sweet nectar again.

Sophie’s thoughts raced with possibilities - all the times she’d read about this - knowing Matthew would try anything she wanted at least once. 

“Slide over my clit,” she said.

A moan escaped his throat as he glided through her. He never would have done this on his own. Now, he never wanted to stop.

“How does it feel?” she asked. If she couldn’t see him, she needed him to tell her. 

“So good,” he grunted. “You’re so smooth.” 

She shifted her angle so the head of his cock brushed over her clit with each stroke. 

The fire in her belly raged into an inferno. 

“I need you inside me.”

He was going to die before the night was over. Hearing her say these things, hearing how much she wanted him, like she just couldn’t wait - he’d never wanted to please someone more in his entire life. 

Easing into her, he exhaled deeply, noting the way her back arched to change the angle of penetration. 

“Okay,” she said, gently pushing her hips back to give him permission to move. 

He started slow and soft, which was not at all what she wanted.

After a few slick thrusts, she told him what she did want, “harder.”

He picked up the pace, but it wasn't enough.

“Harder.”

Biting his lip, he increased again. 

She still wanted more. 

“Fuck me harder.” It came out more of a demand than a request. She was too caught up in the moment to feel bad about it.

Shit. 

Fuck. 

Goddamn. 

How was he supposed to just take this and not explode the second those orders came out of her mouth? 

“Matthew, please.”

Her begging shattered the controlled softness he usually restrained himself with. She wanted harder? He'd give her harder.

He snapped his hips to hers.

She cried out, back arching.

The sound of his skin meeting hers, the feeling of the sheets brushing her nipples as she was pitched forward, then pushed herself back, and his panting and grunting behind her made her feel feral in the best way, like she just wanted to swallow him whole. 

She pushed back to meet every thrust and he had to tip his head back. He wanted to wait. He had to.

Her entire body trembled with the need for release.

“Touch me,” she begged. She needed it so much, she felt like she might just set the whole house on fire. 

His left hand slid around her hip to stroke her. 

She moaned. It had never felt like this with Smith. This was… this was… this was a symphony. Every part working together to make something more beautiful than they could alone. 

That rhythm sustained her for a while before she was begging again, “more. Please give me more.” She was so, so close. 

Tenderly, he drummed two fingers on her clit, desperate to send her over the edge. 

Back bowing as pleasure streaked through her body, she shouted, “Fuck, Matthew! Yes!” 

There were a few delicious moments where Sophie was floating between being stretched to her limit and falling apart completely. 

The pressure finally exploded and her muscles locked around him.

Matthew gasped her name, right hand squeezing her hip to keep the tenuous grasp he had on his control. The idea he was clinging to helped him wait as he worked her through her orgasm. 

Joints blissfully liquefied, she collapsed onto her stomach.

Thankful for the break, he sat back on his haunches and took some time to steady himself as she came down. 

“Can you turn over?” he asked once her breathing slowed a bit. “I want to see your face when I come.”

Although she'd asked him to fuck her from behind, he knew she'd want to see him - to know she was the one making him feel this way. 

She was - and he needed her to know. 

Sophie nearly choked out a sob. Matthew, her sweet Matthew. He could be a pest, even to her when he wanted to tease, and especially when competition was involved, whether it be playing some silly game or the incessant need he had to win at everything: cleaning or chopping or the morning race to the bathroom. 

When it really counted, though, he was unfailingly polite and courteous and always looking out for her. 

The sheets briefly clung to her damp skin as she rolled over and looked up at him. His chest expanded and contracted rapidly with every panted breath. His skin was flushed, his curls tight with sweat. He was the most handsome thing she'd ever seen.  

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” she asked, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Everything,” he said, nuzzling his stubbled jaw into her palm. Had he known this was coming, he would have shaved. “You're perfect for me, Sophie.”

She blinked a few times to make the tears she could feel behind her eyes stay there. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I love you, too.”

When he entered her again, slowly, he didn't close his eyes, though his lids grew heavy. He didn't want to miss a single second of this. 

Sophie let out a little yelp of surprise when he flipped them over. 

“I want to watch you come on my cock,” he said, holding her hips. “That's the only thing I want from tonight.”

While she was supposed to be giving the orders, she was happy to comply with this request, even though she was sore from her previous orgasms. 

She adjusted to get the right angle, and let out a stuttered little moan when he caressed against her g spot. Apparently, the best way to find it was to orgasm five times in a row. 

It wasn’t long before she began to fatigue. They’d been going for so long already, and she wasn’t used to using her muscles in short bursts of energy over and over again like he was. 

Leaning forward, trying to find a comfortable position, she winced as her clit brushed his pelvis. Pain flared, and she backed off, thighs and hips protesting the movement.

“I know, Soph,” he said.

He didn’t know really, but he knew how sensitive he got after an orgasm. If she was feeling anything like that, he definitely needed to make a change. 

Leaning back would probably be the most comfortable position for her. He straightened his knees a little more and guided her to recline against his legs. 

Sophie sighed contentedly, feeling the pain ebb off and pleasure start to thrum through her again. She swayed her hips from side to side, “so good, Matthew.” 

A small thrill zinged through him. He let out a relieved sigh and began rocking into her. 

She moaned and threw her head back, exposing the long column of her throat. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

This was a more gentle high than the one she’d just crested. It built up slowly, making her whole body feel warm and sated. 

By the time her orgasm did come, she was relaxed with the pleasure of it, glad her pelvic muscles did their work on their own. She was too blissed to direct any traffic. 

Matthew moaned when she constricted around him. It was such a stark contrast to the soft feel of them rocking together. That sudden shift sent him over the edge - spilling into her with his hands on her hips and her name on his tongue. 

Sophie slumped against Matthew's legs, gulping air. “Oh my God,” she said. 

“Yeah.”

She knew she should get up to use the bathroom, but was too exhausted to move. 

Finally, it became more uncomfortable to keep the position she was in than it would be to get out of it. 

Matthew's eyes flew open when she lifted up. He caught the wince that flashed across her face and his hands flew to help her. 

“Thanks,” she said, sliding off the edge of the bed with wobbly legs. 

Sophie's hips may as well have been made of jello as she stumbled to the bathroom. She felt stretched in ways she hadn't in a long time. It wasn’t totally unpleasant, but it was new.

When she opened the door, she found Matthew on the other side, looking down at her with concern in his blue eyes. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm just a bit sore.” She gave him a cheeky smile and a wink, “we haven't gone that many rounds in a night since Tahiti.” 

He laughed, but felt it was a shame they hadn't done that for more than six months. The season was taking too much of a toll. 

“Do you want to take a bath? That'll help with some of the soreness.”

“I'd like that.”

He handed her the robe she'd been wearing and started the tap on the large tub. 

As it filled, he lifted her onto the counter. “I'm sorry we haven't done that more,” he said. “I've been gone too much.”

“You don't need to apologize, Matthew. You're always present when you're home and I haven't felt neglected.” 

“How are you so understanding?” he asked. 

“I'm in this relationship too. I see how hard you work, and I know you see how hard I work. Plus, I don't need five orgasms a night to feel loved. You know that.” She paused before thoughtfully adding, “I don't think I'd survive.” 

He laughed, feeling, not for the first time, that this was his favorite thing about Sophie. She was beautiful and funny and sweet, but her willingness to understand his life and meet him halfway meant more than all that. 

“I saw you had the day off tomorrow, so I moved my meetings so we could spend the day together. And I just kept thinking I had enough time that I could fulfill your fantasy tonight.”

“I still can't believe you did that.” He said, bending down to rest his forehead on her shoulder, “when you bent over to take off your shoes, I swear I almost came in my pants.” 

“That sound you made was straight out of a porno.”

Straightening to look into her face, one eyebrow raised, he asked, “how would you know?”

“I don't live under a rock,” she teased, shoving his shoulder. 

He laughed, and a moment passed where Sophie admired him. 

“So it was okay?” she asked.

Matthew had to bite his cheek to keep from teasing her about possibly being deaf and blind. “You couldn't tell?”

“I mean, I could but I just wanted to be sure you got everything you wanted.”

He tipped her chin up to meet her gaze, “Soph, you know our sex life wasn't lacking before, right? This was just icing on the cake.” 

The unsure smile she gave him twisted his heart. “Have you been walking around for the past month thinking that I’ve been unsatisfied?” 

“No, not really. I know you like what we have, I just started to worry. Like, do you want me to be more aggressive in the bedroom all the time?” 

“Aggressive?” he repeated, “no. But I wouldn’t mind you telling me what you want more often. Like sliding over your clit? I never would have done that on my own, and we both really liked it.” 

She nodded, “I’m just so…” she took a deep breath. “With Smith, it always seemed I was lacking in something, you know?” 

If Matthew ever met Smith, he was going to punch him right in the face for hurting Sophie the way he did. She hadn’t even been able to end it on her terms. When she’d tried, he announced he was seeing someone else before she could get all the words out.

After they broke up, it took Matthew four months to convince her he was a good enough guy for her to even consider the idea they could be more than friends. 

He shut off the water before turning back to cup her cheeks, “Soph, I love you, and I love what we have. I’m sorry Smith hurt you, but I’m not him.”

“I know that,” she sniffed and slid off the counter.

Gathering her against him, kissing her hair, he murmured, “I love you, Sophie. You know I’ll tell you if I need something. Can you trust that if I don’t things are good?”

Matthew couldn’t be farther from Smith. Sometimes, she wondered how exactly she’d ended up in this relationship with a man that was so perfect for her. 

“Yeah,” she said into his neck. 

“Good.” 

He gently pushed the robe off. His heart still beat a little faster at her exposed skin, despite what they had just been doing. “You ready for that bath?” 

“You’re not coming?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

She nodded.

He scrambled out of his boxers and climbed into the tub before reaching for her so she could sit between his legs. 

Leaning back on him, she sighed contentedly. 

“I love you, Matthew,” she said, one hand raising to thread her fingers into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, “I'm so glad we found each other.” 

Letting the tips of his fingers trace memories on her skin, he recalled all the times he’d touched her. 

“I love you too, Sophie,” he said, wrapping his arms around her to bring her even closer - to shut out the world and everything that had or could hurt her. “You bring so much joy into my life and I don't want to do any part of it without you.” 

Deciding to trust what he said was true, she relaxed into him, letting the warm water soak away her pain until nothing more than a pleasant ache between her thighs remained. 

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk x ofc #nhl fanfiction #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #nhl imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot

[hockey-fics]

Then Everything Changed - Matthew Tkachuk

ft. Brady (platonically)

You said goodbye and didn’t ask all the questions you wanted to ask. What does this mean? Does it mean anything? What are we? Are we going to tell anyone?

Word Count: ~4,000

Warnings: drinking

A/N: The ending is pretty bad on this one, I'll admit that. I've been struggling with writing recently so hopefully it's still an enjoyable read!

You met Brady in kindergarten. One afternoon early in the school year he tried to take a book from you and you yelled so loudly your teacher was at your side just a second later. The punishment for both of you was to share the book, which you initially despised the thought of. But it took barely twenty minutes for you and Brady to be laughing and talking as if you hadn’t been screaming at him just moments before. 

You spent a lot of time on the playground together during recess and lunch. Before long you were going to his house and he was coming over to yours. In the process your families grew close as well, your parents finding new friendship with Keith and Chantal. 

Through the years you spent more and more time with Brady, and not always because of your own choices. Going to the Tkachuk family home for dinners with your parents became a frequent occurrence, as was having them over to your own house for dinner. 

You had never thought of Brady as anything more than a friend. In fact, you often thought of him as more of a brother. He would taunt you and tease you but he would be the first to stand up for you when anyone else did it. You trusted him with everything and anything yet you knew he would be the first person to make fun of you for your menial teenage problems. You were in the stands of almost every single one of Brady’s home games, cheering him on at every step of his hockey development. 

No matter how much both you and Brady would deny feelings for each other you were subjected to near constant teasing from your families. You weren’t allowed to be behind closed doors together, despite insisting you would never want to do anything sexual with Brady. When you would go out alone, to the a movie or a restaurant, you wouldn’t hear the end of the comments about it being a date. When prom rolled around neither of you had dates so you went together, as friends, of course, but that only served to add fuel to the fire. 

It wasn’t Brady that you had feelings for you. It wasn’t him, yet everyone was so close to the truth. It was Matthew who you had feelings for. You were fourteen when you realized. You were supposed to be meeting Brady at his house on your way to go bowling with a few other friends. When you got there Brady hadn’t gotten home from an afternoon practice. But Matt was there and he let you in. You sat on the couch while he played video games and you tried to understand the game, hoping that it would impress him. You weren’t sure what he said to you that day but you do remember the way it made your heart race and your cheeks flush. It was that day that you realized your families had been so, so wrong about who you had feelings for. 

Your families remained close through the years. Everyone was on their own journey but that didn’t stop you from spending as much time as you could together when everyone was back in town. 

You never expected anything to happen between you and Matt. By the time you graduated high school Matt was already in Calgary playing for the Flames. Every time you saw each other it seemed to be in the presence of at least one sibling or parent. Siblings and parents who insisted that it was you and Brady who you were supposed to be flirting with, not even considering the possibility of you having feelings for Matt. 

Everything changed one evening in October in 2018. Matt was in St. Louis, playing a game against the Blues. He asked if you wanted to come to the game and you said yes without a moment of hesitation. It wasn’t often that you got to see him or Brady play anymore, with both of them so far from the arenas you used to spend hours in watching them play growing up. They lost the game that night, but that didn’t stop Matt from texting asking if you wanted to come out with him and a few other for drinks after. 

When you showed up to the bar that night something felt different. Brady wasn’t around to be the link between you and Matt. Your parents weren’t there to see you use the fake ID your friend got for you for your nineteenth birthday. There were no comments being made about you and Brady. It was just you and Matt and a group of people who didn’t know the history. 

So you had a few drinks and then a few more. You stuck by Matt’s side and didn’t say anything when he slipped his arm around your waist. You didn’t pull back when he leaned in closer than necessary to talk to you and you didn’t stop him from taking your hand at the end of the night to guide you out and into the Uber that was waiting outside for you. When you got to your apartment you didn’t bat an eye when he got out with you, letting him follow you inside. And when he finally kissed you that night in the dim light of the kitchen you kissed him back without hesitation, your hands grasping at him with five years of built up feelings. 

He left early the next morning to get back to the hotel and onto the bus to continue on with the road trip. You wished it had been as easy as you made it seem. You said goodbye and didn’t ask all the questions you wanted to ask. What does this mean? Does it mean anything? What are we? Are we going to tell anyone? You kept it together till he was long gone and then you let yourself fall into a mess on the couch, mind swirling with frantic thoughts that you didn’t know how to slow. 

Nothing came from that night. At least not until Christmas of that year. You were having friends over for a pre-Christmas celebration on the 23rd. Brady wasn’t in town yet but Matt was. You extended the invitation, half expecting him to say no. But he turned up at your door in his ugliest Christmas sweater with drinks in one hand and a White Elephant present in the other. He stayed the whole night, fitting in easily with your friends. When everyone was beginning to trickle out of your apartment at the end of the night Matt hung around, exchanging glances with you that you were certain were holding some sort of meaning. It didn’t take long for you to realize you were right, when the last of your friends left and Matt had you pressed against the closed front door, his lips on yours. You let it happen again, knowing the turmoil it put you in the last time you slept with him. But in that moment it didn’t matter. 

Things continued on in the same fashion for years. Summers and Christmas breaks and any other chance to see each other. You would sneak away when you could, away from the prying eyes of your families and their speculations. Questions were never asked and answers were never given. You didn’t know what any of meant, didn’t know if you had a right to feel jealous when you thought of Matt being with other women when he went back home. But when he was there with you it didn’t matter so much, your mind forgetting about those thoughts during the moments with him. 

August 2023

“Do you want a coffee?”

Pulling your headphones out you look up at Matt, waiting for him to repeat himself. You watch him shake his head, chuckling to himself. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Are you buying?” you joke, smiling up at him from where you were sitting in the slightly uncomfortable airport seat. 

“Just get up,” Matt mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re not just going to get it for me?” Sighing you push your suitcase towards Brady, sitting a couple seats down from you. “Will you watch my stuff while I go get coffee with Matt? He needs a babysitter.”

“If you get me one too,” Brady tells you, barely looking up from his phone. 

“Fine,” you huff, standing up you follow Matt down the corridor of the airport. You remain in silence till you’re standing in front of the coffee kiosk, not that you were surprised, it was barely 6 in the morning. After ordering your own coffee you order one for Brady, Matt swooping in to order his own and pay for all three. 

“So how’s this going to work?” Matt asks suddenly as you walk to the end of the kiosk to wait for the drinks. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you turn your attention to Matt, folding your arms over your chest. “How’s what going to work?”

“Us,” Matt says with a shrug.

“What us, Matt?” you whisper, glancing around nervously. “It’s not a big deal, just be normal.”

Matt nods slowly, parting his lips to say something before being interrupted by the barista calling his name. Spinning around he takes his drink from her with a quiet thanks. Taking your own drink and Brady’s you follow after Matt who was walking noticeably faster. Back at your gate you hand Brady his coffee, seeing Taryn and Chantal had gotten back from getting breakfast. At least the increase in people allowed some of the tension between you and Matt to dissipate. 

It takes what feels like forever to board the plane, shuffling slowly to your seat next to Brady. You fall back asleep quickly, the caffeine in the coffee doing nothing to combat the meager 3 hours of sleep you got the night before. When you wake up again Brady is gently shaking you. Inhaling a sharp breath you pull your head off of Brady’s shoulder, sleepily glancing around the plane. 

“Sorry,” you mumble tiredly, realizing the plane was already landing. It was only a four hour flight but you sure hadn’t meant to use Brady as a pillow for the entire trip. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Brady chuckles. “At least you won’t be cranky all afternoon now.”

“I’m never cranky,” you defend with a giggle that says everything anyone needed to know. You did have a bit of a track record of getting cranky if you didn’t get enough sleep. “I can’t wait to get off this plane.”

“You haven’t even been awake for any of it, why are you complaining?”

“I’m not complaining,” you tell him with a yawn. “I’m just excited to get to the resort. Did we decide if we were going to the beach or the pool this afternoon?”

“I don’t think so,” Brady replies with a shrug. 

Leaning across the aisle you tap Matt’s arm, getting his attention. You watch him pull his headphones off, looking over at you with a cold stare. “Did we, um, are we going to the pool or beach today?”

“Don’t know,” Matt mutters, quickly pulling his headphones back on and looking away from you again. 

Your eyes don’t leave him immediately, stunned by his dismissive response. Sure you were asleep for the last four hours but what could possibly have happened in the span of a few hours to warrant that response? You try to shake it off, put it out of your mind for the time being. From the plane to the airport to the resort you focus on Brady, making conversation to distract yourself from the sinking feeling your exchange with Matt had left you with. 

Your room is across from Matt and Brady’s room that they agreed to share, just down the hall from the rooms occupied by everyone else on the trip. After changing out of your less than summery airplane outfit you text Matt, asking him to come over. You needed to figure out what was going on before you drove yourself crazy trying to make up an answer. He’s at your door just a few minutes later. 

“Hey,” you whisper. “Is something wrong?”

Matt walks into your room, leaning against the desk by the patio, his eyes focused on something unseen to you on the carpet in front of him. “No.”

“Okay,” you mumble, walking closer, slowly, hesitantly. “Are you sure? Because you’re kind of being a dick.”

“I am?” Matt snaps, whipping his head up to look at you. 

Flinching at his sudden change in demeanour you fold your arms over your chest. “Yes?” 

“Why does it even matter? I mean, it’s not a big deal, we don’t need to spend time together.”

“What are you even talking about, Matt?” you exclaim, shaking your head in helpless confusion.  

“I’m talking about you being all cuddly with Brady right in front of me. Your parents even got some cute pictures…maybe you can show them at your wedding.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laughing coldly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. My parents have spent the last like twenty years basically planning your wedding with my brother and you’re not going anything to stop it even though we’ve been fucking for five fucking years.”

“What do you want me to do, Matt? I’ve spent my whole life telling everyone that I don’t have feelings for him, it’s not my fault that nobody wants to listen to me.”

“Something,” Matt exclaims. “Anything, I don’t know, but it feels pretty shitty just having to sit around while they talk about you two like that.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know what to do though, he’s my best friend, I’m not going to stop spending time with him because it makes you jealous.”

“That’s not-,” Matt begins before letting out an annoyed sigh. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know that.” 

You’re silent for a few minutes, trying to wrack your brain for something to say. Before you have the chance Matt is heading for the door, leaving your room without another word. After gathering a few of your things you head across the hallway, knocking on the hotel room door across from you. 

“What do you want?” Matt mutters after pulling the door open. 

“Where’s Brady?”

“Of course.” Matt steps to the side, opening the door further to let you step inside. 

“Stop,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You’re being an asshole.”

“Just go talk to your boyfriend,” Matt whispers, nodding towards the other side of the room where Brady was rifling through his suitcase for something. 

Rolling your eyes you walk across the room, plopping down on the bed next to Brady’s suitcase. “Are we going to the pool?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Brady replies, pulling a white t-shirt from his suitcase. “I think one of the pools has a swim-up bar.”

“You know me so well,” you tell him, laughing quietly. You watch him pull the hoodie he was still wearing from the flight off, tossing it onto the bed. Quickly averting your gaze your eyes meet with Matt, noticing the way his jaw was clenched, glaring in your direction. Sighing you keep your eyes off of Brady, despite having seen him in much less many times in your life. 

After everyone is ready you head down to the pool, tugging your clothes off to leave you in the blue bikini you had bought just days before the trip. When you turn around to face the pool you notice Matt staring, his gaze dipping much lower than your eyes. Rolling your eyes you walk in his direction, glancing over your shoulder to make sure everyone was preoccupied behind you before reaching out and resting your fingers on Matt’s bare torso. “If you’re going to look at me like that you really need to start being nicer to me.”

A shaky breath leaves Matt’s lips as he reaches down, his hand folding over your fingers and pushing them off his body. “I’m not doing this with you.” He turns around a second later, sitting down on one of the empty lounge chairs nearby, pulling his phone out and not so much as glancing in your direction again. 

A few minutes later you’re getting into the pool with Brady and Taryn, trying to make the most of the trip even if Matt was making that difficult. At the swim-up bar you order a shot and a cocktail, a recipe to begin forgetting about the conflict with Matt as quickly as possible. The three of you remain in the pool through a few more drinks before finding a few empty lounge chairs, not for a moment running out of things to talk about, especially once the alcohol hits your system. 

The afternoon slips by quickly, leading to dinner at one of the restaurants on the resort. You’re fighting to seem sober as you stare at the menu, reading the words printed on it though you’re not really processing them. 

“You okay?” Brady asks. 

Turning your head you look over at him, nodding quickly before giggling. “There’s too many choices.”

“Have another margarita, this could be a really fun dinner,” Brady teases. 

“Shut up,” you whine, looking back down at the menu. “I’m getting the tacos.”

“Good choice,” Brady tells you with a chuckle. 

Closing the menu you reach for your glass of water, your eyes locking with Matt where he was sitting across the table from you. “Are you having a good time, Matt?”

“Yup, a great time,” he mutters, picking up his drink and finishing the rest of it in one large gulp. 

Rolling your eyes you take a sip of your water before focusing on the conversation that the rest of the table was involved in. By the time dinner is over the evening had turned to night and your parents as well as Chantal and Keith head back to their rooms. After a quick discussion the rest of you decide to head to the lounge for a few more drinks. You order another margarita, finding a table with Brady, Taryn, and Matt. You talk for awhile, Matt choosing to ignore you most of the time. 

When you head to the bar for another drink Matt leaves the table as well, disappearing somewhere into the dimly lit lounge. You order a margarita, leaning against the bar while you wait for it. As you do your eyes scan down the length of the bar, stopping when you see Matt. Matt and a woman you didn’t recognize. Matt and a woman who was laughing a little too hard at whatever he was saying. Matt and a woman who suddenly had her hand on his forearm, smiling up at him with a look that you’re sure you’d given Matt a number of times yourself. Swallowing heavily you take the drink the bartender had placed in front of you, weaving your way down the bar towards Matt. 

“Sorry,” you say, aiming it towards the woman beside Matt. “Can we um, can we talk?” you ask Matt. 

“I’m kinda busy,” Matt mutters, his eyes falling to the drink he was holding on the bar. 

“Matt,” you whisper, your voice wavering. “Please.”

Matt turns his head, his eyes softening when he looks at you. “Okay,” he tells you, sliding off the barstool he was sitting on. “It was nice to meet you,” Matt tells the woman he was talking to. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he adds before turning and placing his hand on your lower back. He guides you around the bar and out into the quiet evening. 

You stare up at him, both of you silent, uncertain. You try to think of something to say but you didn’t know what you should say. Should you apologize for pulling him away from another woman? Should you tell him that your feelings for him were far beyond casual? Should you offer to tell everyone the truth? Before you can say anything Matt is pulling you closer, leaning down and kissing you. He tastes like rum and his hands are firm on your body. Your own hands slide up over his chest, arms resting on his shoulders. “Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips. 

Matt agrees quickly, taking your hand and letting you pull him through the resort and back to your hotel room. You don’t exchange any words, not on the way there and not in your room. You let your actions speak for you, letting Matt pull your clothes off, stumbling through the room and onto the bed. You don’t get much further before there’s a pounding at your door. Scrambling to your feet you tug on enough clothes to answer it, opening just enough to the see Brady standing in the hallway. 

“What the hell?” he exclaims. “You just left? We couldn’t find you anywhere. Do you know how worried I was?” 

“I-,” you begin, stunned by the panicky look on Brady’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think it was a big deal, I just…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Brady breathes out, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, think I need to get some sleep.”

Brady nods, reaching over and pulling you into a hug. “Goodnight,” he whispers. 

“Goodnight, Brady,” you tell him, waiting for him to head into his room before shutting your own door. Sighing quietly you head back to the bed, flopping down next to Matt, the mood very different after the interruption. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen when you hear those words. Turning your head you focus on Matt, your breathing shaky. “What?”

“I love you,” Matt repeats, reaching over and sliding his hand into yours. You’re certain he’s drunk but his words are sincere. He’s sitting up a couple minutes later, climbing off your bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

You watch him leave your room, pulling your legs up to your chest, frozen in place while you let his words truly sink in. Love. He loved you. Those words play in your mind, over and over till you’re curled up in your bed, trying desperately to fall to asleep. Eventually sleep takes over and you don’t wake till your vibrating phone tugs you out of your slumber. Fumbling through the blankets on the bed you turn the screen to your eyes, pressing answer on the call from Brady. 

“Good morning,” Brady says with a chuckle, knowing that he had woken you up. “We’re down at the buffet for breakfast if you want to get out of bed and join us.”

“I’ll be down soon,” you mumble tiredly. After getting ready as fast as your tired, hungover body could handle you find your way to the buffet. There’s a spot next to Matt and you hover around the entrance to the restaurant, your mind swirling with thoughts again. Slowly you approach the table, sinking down into the seat beside Matt. 

“Good morning,” Matt says, his voice quiet, uncertain. It’s obvious he’s unsure about where he stood with you after his confession the night before. 

Leaning closer you bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him in and kissing him gently. “I love you too,” you whisper, quiet enough that you’re sure he’s the only one that will be able to hear you. 

When you pull back the table is silent, surprised glances being exchanged and you reach over, grasping Matt’s hand. “Hold on,” Brady mutters, shaking his head. “What is going on?”

Your cheeks flush with warmth, looking over at Matt. “I don’t know,” you admit. “What is going on, Matt?”

“Maybe if we had that conversation back at the airport I would know,” Matt teases. 

“Airport?” Brady exclaims. “How long has this been going on?”

Your cheeks flush deeper, looking over at Matt. “Since, um, like Matt’s third year in Calgary.”

“Holy shit,” Taryn mutters, eyes darting back and forth from you to Matt. “All those years thinking you and Brady were going to be together.”

“Definitely time to move on from that,” you announce, hoping that everyone would get the message loud and clear. You feel Matt run his finger over the back of your hand and you squeeze his hand gently, reassuringly.

There were still many unanswered questions but at least now you were comfortable in knowing that you would get the answers you were looking for. 

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk fic #matt tkachuk #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey blurb

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked. 

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it. 

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.” 

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games. 

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena. 

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer. 

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up. 

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.” 

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you. 

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you. 

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile. 

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.” 

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x y/n

[raysofcrosby]

it’s the way that being at a beach house for a week finally really put me in the mood to try and write my tkachuk bros fic thats inspired by the summer i turned pretty trilogy 🤪 i posted a brief excerpt from it before, but no longer like how it is— so we’ll forget it exists ((but if you're dying to read it, you can find it here)). HOWEVER, i did decide to revamp the masterlist cover, so here it is beneath the cut!!

the trilogy is going to be three fics under one masterlist!! so basically just how tsitp is three books. and i think i've got an idea so far for the titles, so each book cover is under the cut as well. hopefully i can get to writing soon, bc ngl im kinda excited about this 🥰

book one — cruel summer

book two — right where you left me

book three — invisible string

#and yes-- all three titles are taylor swift songs #bc you cannot tell me that tsitp is not taylor swift coded #and plus all these songs were perf #between the lines trilogy #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk writing #Matthew tkachuk fic #Matthew tkachuk one shot #brady tkachuk writing #brady tkachuk fic #brady tkachuk one shot #brady tkachuk imagine #nhl one shot #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl imagine #matthew tkachuk oneshot #brady tkachuk oneshot #nhl oneshot

[tkachuckycheese]

on the line - part two

read part one here!

summary: matthew shows up post-breakup, post playoff series loss at your apartment.... what will you do? 

word count: 1.1k 

warnings: EXTRA smutty lmao (use protection kids) 

note: here’s part two/continuation of my sadness about the flames getting eliminated early (yes clearly still not over it almost a month later). let me know what you think :))) 

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe him or you have to let him go. 

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him. 

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.” 

His eyes meet yours as he reaches up and grabs your face again. This time, you don’t fight him. His mouth lands on yours and you slip your tongue past his beautiful lips. He holds your head with one hand, tangling his fingers in your hair and grabbing your ass with the other. He squeezes so hard it’ll leave a mark and then he bends his massive thighs, wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. His tongue never leaves your mouth. 

You’ve missed this–the way he dominates you. The way he manhandles you. 

You wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you into the living room, right up to the couch and then he lays you down on it. Hovering above, he reaches over his head, pulls his hoodie off and drops it to the floor as he crawls on top. You spread your legs to make room. The minute he settles down between them, he dips his hips and pushes into you. His hard-on grinds your body, rubbing your slit through your clothes. 

He pushes a hand into the couch beside your head, lifting his body up just enough to stare down at you as he snakes his hand in between you and grabs hold of the waist of your sweatpants. In one strong movement, without you even lifting a muscle, he yanks them all the way down to your knees. His eyes, narrowed, hold firmly onto yours as his hand moves to the front of your underwear and slowly shove inside. 

You’re soaking wet. He smiles and swipes his index and middle finger through the mess before pressing them in. You can’t help but arch your back in pleasure. 

“Matthew,” you accidentally whisper his name. 

“You still taste delicious?” he asks as you dig your nails into his scalp and he pulls his fingers out of you. You watch his long tongue slip from between his lips and lip the juices off his fingertips. He smiles again. “God, I missed how you taste.” 

You pull yourself up and tug his pants down over his muscular butt. He roughly pushes you back down into the couch and shoves your shirt up to your neck. You’re not wearing a bra, which is good because he probably would’ve just ripped it off. He goes right for your nipple, swirling his tongue around it twice before nipping it hard. As he moves to assault the other nipple, his hand moves into his underwear and he frees his hard, thick cock. 

Your body isn’t used to him anymore. But you want him so badly, you don’t care. He pushes into you and you make a sound you can’t even begin to decipher at that moment and fight to keep your eyes open. His eyes roll back into his head and his cheeks begin to flush. You bend your knees on either side of his hips and squeeze your pussy hard. You’re determined to make him struggle more than any fucking hockey game. 

He whimpers. Literally fucking whimpers. 

“Don’t,” he warms. “I won’t hold on.” 

You squeeze down hard again as he swings hard into your hips, his balls slapping your ass. The vein in his neck throbs and you can see the fire in his eyes. 

“Y/N. Fuck. No,” he demands. He drops his whole body onto you. It’s like being hit with a two-hundred-pound sand bag. The air whooshes out of your lungs. He curls his face into your neck, just below your ear. “Baby, please.” 

The emotion in his plea–the fact that he’s begging at all– forces the air out of your lungs again. 

“I’ve missed this. I need you. Please.” 

You relax your core and gently wrap your arms around his back. Holding him to you, you kiss his shoulder and slowly rock your hips. He exhales loudly, a mix of pleasure and relief, and matches his thrusts to your rhythm. Your eyes flutter close as you concentrate on the perfect way he fills you up. He remembers exactly how to tilt his hips, exactly where you like it. 

“Again. Harder,” you demand. 

He does it again. Harder. You can’t catch your breath. Your pussy quivers. He’s on one elbow now and his eyes are wide open. They’re filled with lust and love. That has to be love. Because you love him. 

He looks down between the two of you. “Let me make you come. Please. I want to make you…” 

He pushes his cock deep and hard into you and grinds his pelvis into your clit. Keeping himself pressed right against you, he starts hammering with short and hard thrusts. The friction is both too much and not enough. You arch your back and rub yourself into his pubic bone. Your fingers claw at his back as the orgasm ripples through you. 

“Matthew,” his name slips from your lips once again in a ragged whisper. “Oh god, yes.” 

He pushes harder until your head bumps the arm of the couch accidentally. Then he pulls himself up and with one more thrust, he swears at the top of his lungs and explodes inside of you. He seems to come forever, his body jerking and his hips twitching as he collapses on top of you. 

Half an hour passes and you don’t move. You keep your arms around his back but snake your fingers up to run them through his curls. 

“I just can’t believe I lost. I really, truly lost,” he whispers finally. 

“It’s not the end of your hockey career. You guys will win again,” you advise him. 

He lifts his head. His eyes are confused. “I wasn’t talking about hockey. I’m talking about us.” 

You take a deep breath to make room for the swell of your heart roaring back to life in your chest. 

“Concentrate on getting your team to win next year,” you tell him as you traces his lips with your finger. “Because that’s the only thing you’ve lost.” 

You reach up to pull him in for another kiss.

#matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #calgary flames fic #calgary flames imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic

[jackhues]

it's the most wonderful time of the year! celly

starting NOV/25/23- JAN/1/23 i'll be posting a special fic every few days for a different person! this is a little gift to all of you for following me, and showing love to my fics <33

they will be based off of different christmas prompts -- i will write one fic per player, for about 15 players. send in any players you want to see + prompts, and i'll write about them if they're not already on the list! i won't be answering the asks, but i'll update the list as it goes on!

prompts: 📱 ─ 3 times you spent christmas apart + 1 time you spent it together : sidney crosby🍪 ─ baking sugar cookies together : mitch marner 🛖 ─ building a gingerbread house together : arber xhekaj ✨ ─ putting the christmas decorations up on november first : quinn hughes ⛄ ─ having a snow day together : william nylander 🎄 ─ leaving the christmas lights up until january : jack hughes ⛸️ ─ going outdoor skating together : matthew tkachuk 👚 ─ go on a date in matching christmas sweaters : auston matthews 🏔️ ─ going back home with them : nico hischier 🌨️ ─ getting caught in a snow storm : jamie drysdale 🌿 ─ kiss under the mistletoe : brendan brisson 🎥 ─ spend the day watching christmas movies : luke hughes 💃 ─ dance in the middle of the night to christmas music : mat barzal 🌲─ decorate the tree together : anthony beauvillier ❄️ ─ go to the winter festival together : braden schneider

tagging some moots below the cut to boost <3

@cherrysodadevils , @cuttergauthier , @hischierdevils , @bradenschneider , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @moldenhauers , @eminems-skittles , @starry-hughes , @jimothystu , @lifeofpriya , @lam-ila , @waveridersunflower , @babydollmarauders , @starsandhughes , @hischierhaze , @matthewkniesys , @luvhughes43 , @whatashameshespuckedinthehead , @lvrzegras <33

#naqia's end of the year celly! #<- that's the tag #sidney crosby #jack hughes #quinn hughes #william nylander #auston matthews #mitch marner #jamie drysdale #arber xhekaj #matthew tkachuk #nico hischier #hockey one shot #hockey fic #nhl one shot #nhl fic