skatesnstuff

[skatesnstuff]

I heard you guys wanted the line brawl but with romantic music

[skatesnstuff]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Nico Hischier

summary: nico hischier acting as your fake boyfriend to try and get your family off your back this holiday season seems like the perfect solution - or so you thought.

14.9k

warnings: SFW! fake dating | friends to lovers | suggestive themes and dialogue | kissing | jealousy | angst | fluff | mentions of anxiety |

a/n: based off this request! is this a plot i’ve seen before? absolutely! do i eat it up every time? ABSOLUTELY! hope you guys enjoy my third fic of my christmas special—I cant believe it’s almost christmas 🎄 this was originally supposed to go up on Christmas eve, but i finished it early 😘

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"I think the only way to solve this is if I jump off the highest mountain in jersey."

bree pauses her stirring hand, glancing at you sternly over her shoulder. "don't jump off anything, y/n/n."

you let out another unsatisfied grunt, a disgruntled noise that has come out your mouth many times since you arrived at your best friend's apartment - and you've only been here an hour.

the sound of the wooden spoon scraping along the metal soup pot starts up again, bree continuing to mix her homemade chicken vegetable soup she coerced you over with.

you watch the blonde with a pout on your slightly chapped lips - but it matches the rest of your appearance, so you're not even bothered that they are dry. resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you can't help but zone out and drown in your own dreadful bubble.

you've been feeling overwhelmed and stressed since last night. it started as you'd just finished eating your sad excuse of a frozen meal dinner, beginning to queue up the next episode of stranger things - when your evening was interrupted with your mom’s call.

"mom? is anything okay?" you answer quickly, brows pulled together in a curious manner.

you can hear her gentle laughter through the grainy line. "don't sound so scared to speak to me, honey. everything is fine."

you sigh. "just wasn't expecting a late night call is all....what's up?"

"well," she singsongs, and you can practically hear her wide smile through the phone. "you remember my friend susan, right? from work?" you hum once, so your mom continues. "well she has a son named scott, and he's around your age."

"why are you telling me this?"

she tuts her tongue like it should be obvious. "they are staying at same same skii cabin resort as us this christmas! and you're still single so I want you to meet each other - get to know one another."

that has you sitting up in a hurry, she's blown wide as you take in your moms words. "mom, no i'm not going to entertain this."

"why not? he's nice and cute-" your moms familiar voice fades into the background, as you can't focus on anything but the swirl of panicked thoughts in your head.

you've been single for three years - three years since your last boyfriend cheated on you with his macdonald's co-worker. honestly his first red flag should've been working at macdonald's at his big age of 28 - you should've broke up with him right then and there.

since then, your mom has been wanting you to get back out there, and 'give her grand babies' - you try to not shutter just thinking about it. she's been trying to get you to meet a million different young men, changing between her friends kids and even random baristas she meets at her local starbucks. and honestly you're just tired of it.

you won't find the love of your life through your mom - and it seems that only you can see the logic behind that.

you'd been looking forward to the few days away from the city for christmas, especially with your boss really coming down on you about upcoming new year business proposals that were honestly out of your job description. now your extended weekend that was supposed to relaxing and festive was tainted by your mom and this mysterious scott dude.

you come back to, your mom still lengthly explaining the christmas plans and scott and everything else in between. you huff anxiously, and before your brain can stop the word vomit that is festering on your tongue, you interrupt her.

"i'm bringing someone to christmas."

the blabbering in your ear comes to a quick stop, your mom going completely silent on the line.  "who?"

you swallow, "my boyfriend."

the conversation went on for a bit longer, and you had blabbed about your fake boyfriend without giving away any type of physical details- heck you even avoided giving him a name. when your mom had asked, you told her that you didn't want to give anything away - the element of surprise much more enjoyable.

you cringe thinking back on it, closing your eyes tightly. you are so screwed.

the front door opens quickly, alerting you and bree to her boyfriends arrival. it's only a few seconds following the thud of his hockey bag hitting the hardwood floor that dougie saunters into the kitchen, hair still damp from his post-practice shower.

he looks up from his phone, finding you sitting with a frown at his kitchen island. "what's up with you?"

this time it's bree who groans out. she takes the spoon out of the soup and sets in on the countertop, spinning on her heels to look at you and her boyfriend properly—without straining her neck. "don't get her started."

you squawk. "bree! you're supposed to be consoling me."

she pouts at you, "I know - i'm sorry." bree swiftly moves towards you, wrapping her small arms over your shoulders sweetly. she smells like broth and caramel perfume, which is an oddly comforting scent. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed."

dougie peeks in the soup pot, humming softly at the sight of the various vegetables swimming among perfectly shredded meat. he turns back to you both, leaning back against the counter as he stares you down. "so are you going to tell me? or do I have to wait for you to leave, which inevitably will have bree spilling her guts."

"dougie!" your best friend screeches, eyeing her boyfriend wildly.

you all but whine, letting your eyes fall closed in pure embarrassment. "I'm screwed." you manage to mumble, one eye peeking open to look over at dougie.

he looks rather amused at your dramatics, and you kind of want to get swallowed up and never be let go. "why?"

you take a deep breath. "because....because I told my mom that I had a boyfriend and was bringing him to christmas."

dougie snorts and bree sends him a warning glare. immediately he stops, playing off the laugh with a small cough. "you don't have a boyfriend."

you eye him irritatedly. "you think I don't know that?" bree, like the most amazing and supportive friend she is, begins gently rubbing your shoulder, grounding you. you take another shaky breath, your earlier pout returning. "I just...my mom was all pushy and wanted me to meet her co-workers son and I just panicked."

bree gently pipes up. "you didn't give him a name or talk about his appearance, y/n/n - it gives you some freedom in trying to find someone. maybe you should re-download hinge and make it known in your bio that you're needing a christmas date."

you pull a face, the thought of scrolling through medacore men who don't meet your ethical standards and are most likely teetering on borderline homophobic doesn't sound appealing - like, at all. "i'm going to pretend I can't go - i'll just tell my mom something came up."

"hold on," dougie steps forward, resting his palms on the island. he looks between you and bree, his brows pulled together as he gathers his thoughts. "you didn't give your mom a name?"

you hum. "or any physical attributes."

a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and he looks rather pleased with what we thought he's conjured up in his mind. "hear me out here...what If you take nico?"

you blink once. and then you blink again.

behind you, bree gasps. "that's a good idea!"

you shake your head, clearly confused. "he's not going home for christmas?"

dougie shakes his head. "no, the schedule didn't work in his favour, and his parents can't come out for a four day break. he was telling me today he was just going to be alone at his apartment....but maybe he could go with you."

it's....its actually not a bad idea. you like nico, he's always been so kind and sweet anytime you two have been together - which, granted, was quite often. surprisingly enough, nico and dougie were really good friends, and anytime you, bree and him wanted to go out, dougie would have nico join along. it's been like that for a few years, and the dynamic between you and nico was easy.

but...."no, I can't put him through that. you know how my mom is, and she's going to be all over him! and my sister and her husband, and god I can't have my niece getting attached....I just can't."

"you can." dougie hums, pulling out his phone from his sweatpant pocket. "you're just making excuses - nico won't care if your family asks questions. he's a team player who will easily help you with all your problems." he's busy swiping on his phone, barley glancing at you as he talks. "plus, it's not like he'll be out of your life after this - I already know he will be your fake boyfriend as long as you need him to be."

"dougie, no." you sigh.

"yes."

"no."

"too late," dougie hums, "i'm face timing him right now."

you left watching in horror, dougie coming around to your and bree's side of the kitchen island. you squawk, "absolutely no - dougie don't." 

he's setting his phone up against the vase of flowers in the middle of the counter, displaying all three of you on the ringing face time screen. dougie looks at you, and grimaces. "try and look pretty. you look like a mess - c'mon."

bree smacks his arm. "dougie!"

you're not even going to disagree with him, because you do look like a mess. your hair is slicked back with your own oil - too lazy to get into the shower before coming over. your face is bare and you're in the middle of your period, with lingering hormonal pimples littering along your chin and jawbone. all that combined with your anxious eye bags, dry skin and ice cream stained pyjama shirt - well let's just say you've looked better.

your eyes widen as the sound of the call changes, indicating that nico is picking up the phone. "seriously I don't - heyyy nico." your hushed and panicked whisper towards your best friend's boyfriend quickly changes as nico hischier’s face takes over dougie’s phone screen.

"....hey?" he looks confused, and rightfully so. you're sure the last thing he expected with a call from his assistant captain was to be met with not only him, but his sheepish looking girlfriend and her hot mess best friend as well. his eyes move between the three of you, brows pulled tightly. "you guys okay?"

his accent sounds thicker through the phone, voice deeper....it's kind of comforting and as soon as your brain registers that calm feeling, it lets you spew. you begin telling nico all about your situation, but it seems that dougie and bree has the same idea, and all nico can hear is a jumbled sentence.

"y/n needs your help." dougie says, the words barley reaching nico's ears over bree's - "and she's just really stressed." that combined with your pouty lips as you tell him, "and his name is scott - like what kind of name is scott?"

you all come to a stop, eyeing nico through the phone screen. he adjusts the angle of his phone, giving you a glimpse of his location, which seems to be on his couch. "you're going to have to say that again, y/n. couldn't hear you over dougie's loud mouth."

so you tell nico everything - just you this time - starting with getting the phone call, your mom trying to set you up, your fake boyfriend lie and dougie's reason for the facetime. the entire time nico listens, not even interrupting you once as he digests the spoonfuls of information.

you sigh gently, "and dougie shouldn't of called you, nico. I really don't want to ruin your christmas by dragging you into my mess and-"

"i'll help you out." this time, nico does interrupt you, his soothing voice agreeing to the whole fake boyfriend story you'd thrown at him, cutting off the end of your lengthy ramble.

"really? why?"

he shrugs through the screen, a gentle smile beginning to pull on his face. "i'm not doing anything else. you're my friend, y/n, I want to help you out."

the relief that floods through you is ethereal, and you can already feel some of the stress leave your body. "nico, thank you...thank you, oh my god, okay I'll text you the details."

he grins. "looking forward to it."

the phone call ends just as the soup starts to bubble loudly on the stove, which has bree cursing, skipping back towards her food and turning down the burner. as she returns to stirring the mixture, she shrieks happily, glancing back at you. "no hinge needed!"

"you're welcome." dougie chimes playfully, pocketing his phone before he moves to grab three bowls from the cupboard, ready to serve some of bree’s delicious chicken vegetable soup.

although you're feeling stress free about the actual boyfriend part of finding a fake boyfriend— thanks to the devils captain— there is still the matter of having to prep nico for your family, as well as playing pretend with one another in hopes of convincing your family that you and nico are in love.

....and the stress is back, prickling under your skin in a way that has you jittery. you can only just pray nico doesn't get overwhelmed and ditch you on the side of the road on the way up to the lodge, leaving you to fend for yourself while he speeds back to the city.

bree slides the hot bowl full of soup in your direction, plopping the gold spoon into the liquid before she leaves. you thank her gently, and as you dig in into the meaty broth, you begin to create somewhat of a plan for you and your fake boyfriend.

DAY 1

you text nico after leaving bree and dougie's apartment once you had settled back at your place, assuming your usual lounging position on the living room couch. you send him the main details of your family christmas getaway like the name of the resort and it's location, as well as when you'll be leaving and how long you'll be staying.

thankfully, the devils schedule almost perfectly aligned with your families getaway, meaning that nico would be able to spend the entire holiday season with you and your family—he just has those leave early on the 25th for the boxing day game—which you can't yet decide if you're relieved about or stressed about.

regardless, three days after your impromptu facetime call on dougie's phone, you and nico are packed up in his car, backseat full luggage and various wrapped presents— all ready to head up to the ski lodge.

it’s been 5 minutes since nico pulled out of your driveway, and you still haven't said anything other than your initial greeting. the pressure of the day ahead is knawing away at you, turning your stomach into a wave pool of nerves.

the christmas music flows quietly through the speakers, providing a comforting hum in the background. nico keeps switching his gaze from the road to the side of your face, analyzing your anxious eyes as you zone out, nibbling the skin around your thumb nail.

he sighs gently and with a free hand turns the already quiet music completely off. the lack of the original taylor swift christmas song in your ears snaps you out of your daydreaming, looking over at nico with a tight pull to your eyebrows.

"why does your face look like that?"

you frown, "like what?"

"like you've just shoved your nose full of expired smelling salts," nico smirks at his own joke, glancing over at you once again. "seriously what's going on that head?"

you take a deep breath, your mouth opening and closing like a tiny fish—unsure what you want to admit. you don't want to seem ungrateful for nico‘s help by complaining, and you don't want to look stupid and embarrass yourself for being so nervous about spending christmas with your family. after a moment, you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at nico.

his flickering gaze is soft—comforting—and it has you faltering, head falling back against the head rest with a thud. "I can't lie." nico huffs a laugh, and you almost scoff at the sound. "i'm serious - I can't lie."

"technically, you're not lying."

you eyes widen comically, looking over at him wildly. "what part of this trip isn't based on a lie."

he sighs gently, fingers flicking on the cars turn signal as he approaches the highway lane. nico has always been so nonchalant in your presence, the complete opposite of you at any give moment, and honestly you're envious of that. he glances at you quickly, pulling onto the highway. "I mean, it's not like we are strangers—we're friends."

you don't say anything, too busy trying to understand what he actually means by that. nico smirks easily at you, "so we only have to pretend that we kiss and well....fuck."

you blush. "nico!"

“it’s true.” amused, he looks at you. "and, well, you can't turn ted anytime makes a suggestive comment.”

groaning, you pull your knees to your chest, creating a spot for you to hide your burning face, tucking your head between your kneecaps. "can't help it." you say, but all nico can hear is your muffled voice making no sense as you talk into your legs.

"it's okay." he reassures you lightly. "so, what's your family like? what do I need to know?" he changes the flow of topic easily, which successfully has you pulling your head up.

"well." you start, voice a pitch higher than normal—contemplating what to say. “my mom she's very.....out there. she's not shy, and her social awareness isn't very high, meaning she doesn't care about strangers or what they think of her." your eyes flicker away from the busy highway infront of you, looking over at nico to gauge his reaction.

he hums, "what else?"

you sigh, eyes finding the road once again. "she also loves me...too much I think. and she always wants what's best for me — even if she thinks that's scott."

"she sounds fun." nico's words take you by surprise, because fun usually isn't the first word that comes to mind after describing your dear mother. you quickly turn your head, but much to your surprise, nico isn't joking. he's being sincere—smiling softly. "honestly she sounds like my mom."

the mention of nico's family has you feeling a bit hallow, and you remember the only reason he's able to help you out is because he couldn't fly out to be with his family. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling the skin until it feels sore. "i'm sorry about your family, nico. I really wish it would've worked out for christmas."

he shrugs once, glancing back over at you. "it's not your fault. besides, i'm here with you, right? so my christmas is coming together." you deflate slightly, nico's sweet and almost vulnerable words leaving you feeling rather soft. "so who else will be there? besides your mom and this scott guy?"

you huff a laugh, "well I don't know how much of scott we will be seeing now that i'm bringing you, but I do know that my older sister, tammy and her husband brody will be there. along with my niece, taylor - hence the disney princess wrapping paper." you thumb over your shoulder where there are multiple oddly shaped presents, all wrapped in disney paper.

nico snickers, sending you a teasing look. "thought you were just wrapping your own gifts."

"nico!" you laugh sweetly, "you’re ridiculous."

he smiles. "okay, okay. how old is your niece?"

"she just turned 6, back in november." you hum, leaning over slightly to turn the radio back up—only at volume 2—letting the familiar jingles add to the ambiance of the snowy jersey weather.

one of nico's brows raise. "so you've got a birthday twin?"

"wha-how do you know my birthday is in november?" you're clearly baffled, looking at nico like he just told you he met your long lost twin.

he glances at you wildly. "I don't have a brick for a brain! c'mon y/n/n, just because dougie is a stupid hockey player doesn't mean I am."

a dig at your best friends boyfriend never fails to make you chuckle, and you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, keeping yourself warm. although nico was joking around, you still aren't sure how he knew the month you were born in—how he remembered when your birthday was. it's just not something you thought nico would take note of. you don't do big parties for yourself, and you don't even post to social media—bree being one of the only people to celebrate you online.

your laughter dies down gently. "i'm just suprised that you'd remember."

his lips tug downwards in the beginning of a frown. "why would I forget?" nico's eyes flicker to yours once again, holding your gaze with a soft and warm expression. you take in a shaky breath, unable to find yourself wanting to look away from nico. his words, although nothing that deep, feel like the bottom of a warm lake, heating your chest with his question. it's a bare minimum that you've yet to experience with any boyfriend, real or fake.

he clears his throat quickly, eyes flickering away from your face and back through the snowflake covered windshield. "okay, what are our rules here? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with any of this fake dating stuff."

"oh. right, ummmm-" you blink, trying to recover from the abrupt shift in conversation and shift in your heart. "well to start, any question that my family asks about us and how we met, just tell them the truth. no need to fabricate some elaborate story—especially considering i've brought you up before...god my mom is going to die when she sees you." you mumble the last part to yourself, already picturing your moms face when you tell her the nico you're dating is also your friend nico.

he doesn't hear the end of your scentence, and only nods understandably, switching lanes. "got it."

you continue, "and this relationship between us is a new thing-- i'm talking’s within the last two months new. if they ask we say that we were just testing the waters of our relationship. and that gives me an excuse of why I hadn't told my mom about us before tuesday."

"that's good" nico hums appreciatively, clearly impressed with the little plan you'd made for you both. "plus it will make us look less insane when we are all over other and acting lovey dovey. that it’s just the honey moon phase."

your belly swoops, and your eyes widen in a slight panic. "why would we be all over each other?"

nico looks almost dumbfounded at your rushed question, his brows practically touching the edge of the hockey branded beanie sitting across his forehead. "because we are supposed to be dating."

you feel a little stupid in that moment, and when the end of nico's reminder is accompanied by a teasing smile you begin to feel very embarrassed. you try not to face palm, clearing your throat. "right, duh! that makes sense then." nico nods in amusement, which really has you wanting to face palm.

wanting to get back to the earlier discussion of rules, you hum in continuation. "I think cuddling and stuff is fine, right? like we can cuddle on the couch and hold hands in town."

"if you're comfortable with that." nico says, shooting you a glance, taking in your face to try and dissect your expression—trying to find an answer on your face before you say anything.

you laugh once, and even that sounds weird—no wonder nico keeps looking at you. "why wouldn't I be?"

"you're turning red just talking about it."

you face falls. "i'm going to throw myself out of this car."

"no, no." nico chuckles. "any other rules you want to lay down?" his eyes twinkle with playfulness as he shoots you another glance. "like what about kissing?"

obviously you blush because what. you don't let yourself react in the way your body desperately wants to, instead you keep your posture the same, humming in thought. "we don't need to kiss unless absolutely necessary."

once again, your eyes fall back to the driver's side, looking at nico as you wait for his response. you watch him smirk softly, eyes still on the busy roadways as he answers. "sure."

the rest of the car ride is filled with easy conversation and multiple impromptu karaoke sessions— nico laughing anytime you turn the music up and claim that it's impossible to not sing along to a justin bieber christmas song. the easiness of the whole dynamic between you and nico has you feeling much more at ease than you'd been when he first picked you up, and the idea of bringing nico to meet your family is becoming increasingly less stressful.

that is until your mom open the door, squealing in excitement at the sight of you and nico parking in the un-shovelled driveway of the rented ski cabin—waving at you both—your stress levels start to rise back up.

you swallow nervously, the sound of the car engine shutting off setting in your ears - there's no escape now.

"hey," nico mumbles, gathering your attention. he gently reaches towards you and gives your shoulder a reassuring and grounding squeeze. "don't worry too bad. it'll be okay."

all you can muster is a nod, watching through the front windshield as you sister peeks over your moms shoulder, her perfectly styled hair blowing in the wind.

"wanna get the bags now?"

"no," you finally speak, shaking your head. "save them for later just incase we need an escape route."

he chuckles. "okay dramatic - let's go."

with another encouraging nod from the devils captain, you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting out the car along with nico. at the sight of your face, your mom screams, waving at you like a crazy woman from the porch—the woman didn't even put on a coat before coming outside, leaving the door wide open behind her. "y/n, honey! you're here!"

"i'm here." you make your way up the pathway, nico's hand providing a ghostly pressure on your lower back as he trails behind you. "merry christmas momma."

she scoops you into a tight hug, kissing the side of your head repeatedly until it feels like all her lipgloss has transferred to your hairline. "merry christmas! and oh, honey don't be rude—introduce us to this handsome man." over your shoulder, your mom catches sight of nico and his ridiculously charming smile.

he looks so relaxed and happy that you're jealous. you're also jealous that nico manages to look that good after spending 2 hours in a car—but that's not important.

you quickly wrap your arm around nico's torso, bringing yourself into his warm side. nico easily follows suit, wrapping his hoodie covered arm around your shoulders, giving you another comforting squeeze. you smile—extra big—at your mom, rubbing your free hand over nico's covered stomach. "right of course, this is nico. my boyfriend."

recognition flashes across her face, eyes darting between you and your fake boyfriend—who you are currently cuddling with on the cold porch in front of your mom, an action that is very out of the ordinary for you. you can only pray she doesn't think too hard about everything. suddenly, she gasps. "nico?! like your friend nico?"

you scrunch your nose through a faux smile, "that's the one!"

she laughs, "is that why you were so secretive over the phone? so it would be a suprise?"

"yes." you say through gritted teeth, arm tightening around nico's muscular torso, grounding yourself through your white lies.

your mom beams again, hands clutched to her chest as she admires you both - granted your shivering and your toes are borderline frozen.

"it's nice to finally meet you, ms. y/l/n. i've heard so much about you." nico says easily, his accent perfectly complimenting his relaxed tone and demeanour. he removes his arm from your shoulders, and you fight the urge to pout from the lack of warmth, watching as nico puts his hand out for your mom.

she dismisses the formality, moving towards him with her arms wide open. "oh, honey, please call me ella - and i've heard so much about you, I can't believe you're finally here."

your eyes close in embarrassment, face flushing a deep pink as your mom embraces nico.

"mom, let them come in! it's freezing." your sisters honey laced voiced calls out from inside the house, and you can see her making her way back towards the front door, taylor on her hip as she easily saunters over.

your niece happily shouts as she catches sight of you, begging to be put down. tammy obliges, but tells her to wait until you get inside, not wanting a coat and shoeless toddler to walk onto the wintertime porch. behind her, your brother-in-law joins you, smiling and waving at you through the open door before pressing a kiss to your sisters head.

"yes, of course." you mom smiles, turning on her heels and walking through the door. "c'mon in you two, before you turn into ice."

too late—you think.

right before you and nico can pass the threshold into the log cabin, you mom puts her hand out, stopping you with a playful smile ghosting her face. you sister looks borderline fed up, closing her eyes at your moms actions, and brody just looks excited.

confused, you quirk a brow. "what's happening right now? you all look very weird."

you mom points up, "honey, you're under the mistletoe!" you smile falters, your eyes slowly moving up until you catch sight of the array of green mistletoe leaves dangling above you and nico. "it means you have to kiss - house and mistletoe rules."

nico laughs awkwardly beside you, warm eyes also on the festive plant.

"mom, no." you follow suit, chuckling through your discomfort as you set your sights back on your mom.

her brows pull together, a frown overtaking her face. "what, why not? just a little smooch?"

"they just got here, mom. at least let them take off their boots before you make them get to business." you sister—ever the saving grace—tries to move on from the discussion, sending you a wide eyed look behind your moms back.

you nod in thanks, "yeah. don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

"why would that be inappropriate?" she gawks. "nico doesn't mind, do you?"

"I mean-"

"i'm your child, and you just met him." you interrupt whatever people-pleasing answer nico was about to spew, looking at your mom with an expression mixed up of amusement and bewilderment.

"c'mon, y/n," brody chimes in playfully. "it's not like we are asking you to suck his-" tammy smacks her husbands chest, a warning for him to not finish that scentence. "ouch, babe!"

"little ears." your sister reminds, gesturing to your six year old niece, who is still bouncing on her heels, desperate for you to get inside so she can steal you away. "don't egg her on." tammy is talking about your mom, who is still clueless on why making you kiss your supposed boyfriend when they just meet him is a bit weird.

the whole situation is stressful and overwhelming, and you kind of just want to turn around and make a run for the car. as if nico can sense your anxiety, his grip around you—now with his arm around your waist—tightens ever so slightly, reminding you that you're okay.

you swallow nervously. "let's not make nico-"

you're interrupted by the firm press of nico's lips on your cold cheek, kissing your face gently. the action seems to momentarily silence your family, but soon you can hear your mom cheer happily, mumbling something about how she 'should've taken a picture to send to your aunt shirley'

but you’re too distracted to register anything other than the lingering kiss against your cheek, and there's no doubt that your flesh is warming right under nico's lips. he pulls away, an easy smile taking over his face—like he's not even affected.

brody snickers, "see, y/n? wasn't so hard."

it seems that everyone is satisfied after that, your mom too busy texting on her phone to stop either of you from coming inside—thank god because you're pretty sure the inside temperature has dropped 10 degrees from the door being open.

as soon as you shut the door, taylor comes skipping over, her gapped tooth smile wide as she looks up at you. surprisingly, she doesn't attack you with hugs, but instead stops in front of nico. she looks up at him curiously, her hands resting on her tiny hips. "who are you?"

her bluntness has you laughing, even more so as you take in nico's amused expression, looking down at your niece softly. he bends down to meet her level, placing his hand out infront of her. "I'm nico, i'm your aunties boyfriend. what's your name?"

he already knows her name, but the formality of it all has you melting slightly, watching the interaction with an amused look. her tiny fingers splay over his palm, doing her best at shaking nico's large hand. "i'm taylor. you’re my auntie y/n's boyfriend?" her bright eyes flicker between you and nico curiously.

"I am."

she hums. "but you're too pretty for her."

you gasp, hiding your laughter. joining nico in his crouched position, you drag your giggling niece into your chest, lightly tickling her torso. "excuse you missy!"

"I don't know, taylor. I think your auntie is actually too pretty for me."

"yeah." she shrugs lightly, finally breaking free of your tickling. taylor shuffles back towards nico, "do you want to see my stuffies?"

"you have stuffies?" nico beams, "of course I want to see them." it's instantly that taylor grabs nicos fingers, leading him through the log cabin and presumably towards whichever room she's loaded off her stuffed animals in. you can hear taylor's excited babbling all the way down the hall, accompanied by nico’s enthusiastic responses as they disappear out of sight.

"honey can you go make sure she doesn't bore him to death. I can picture the tea party now." your sister sighs, looking at her husband expectantly.

"yeah," brody then looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his expression that you have grown to recognize. already, you're rolling your eyes. "I can't believe you're fucking an nhl captain y/n. good for you."

"go!" tammy hides her laugh behind her hand, but you can still hear her amusement through the muffled sound. brody waggles his eyebrows in your direction, further teasing you as he leaves.

thankfully your mom had slipped into the kitchen in the time you and nico had been talking with your niece—saving you from facing her after your brother-in-laws ludicrous comment. you can hear brody mutter something along the lines of 'course i'll go talk to the professional athlete, fuck kinda question is that?' — but you can't be so sure.

tammy grabs onto your arms, guiding you into the large, high ceiling living room. from what you've seen of the ski lodge so far, you're very impressed. it's got that rustic christmas feel that reminds you of your childhood, with grand windows and entry ways that overlook the winter scenery. with only a 5 minute drive to the hills, the resort was practically perfect.

you let your sister plop you onto the worn leather couch, the plaid throws scrunching behind your back as they slip around. tammy immediately sits down beside you—close enough that you're touching knees—facing you with wide eyes. "what the hell."

you make a face. "what?"

she scoffs a gentle laugh, eyes darting all over your warm face. "how long have you been crushing on nico?"

"what-what do you mean?" you blush timidly. you're unsure why the question has you feeling nervous—feeling caught—because nico is just a friend. a ridiculously generous friend who immediately agreed to spend christmas with your family to help you out, and is currently playing with your niece just because she wanted him to....its fine, really.

"well you've told me and mom that he was just a friend—you've been saying that for years and now you're dating? what's that about."

"oh, right." you really need to get a hang of the whole fake boyfriend thing, because the amount of times just today you've already forgotten is just criminal, and you're practically begging to get called out. you huff a gentle laugh, tucking your loose hair behind your ear shyly. "I don't know something just....changed."

"clearly." tammy laughs brightly. "how long have you been together?"

you swallow nervously, thinking back to the discussion with nico in the car about this very question. "only a few months. we kept it secret just in case...you know—bree and dougie are the only ones who knew."

tammy nods understandably, but a disgruntled expression quickly forms on her perfectly blushed face. "i'm kind of offended you told dougie before me."

"if it makes you feel any better, dougie was the one who set us up - so I didn't technically tell him anything." the twisted truth comes easily, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for that one.

"fine. I feel a little better." tammy smiles, shifting her body so that she's tucked against your side, loungewear covered legs bent towards her chest as she relaxes into you. her blonde hair tickles your neck as she tilts her head up towards you, eyeing you with a playful undertone. "he's cute."

"hey! hit on your own man." you try and push her off of you gently, but tammy doesn't allow it, wrapping her arms around you tighter as she laughs.

"i'm just stating the obvious, y/n/n." her nickname for you has you feeling warm and fuzzy, settling back into your cuddly position. you and tammy have always been close, even with your 6 year age gap. you've always done everything together, and told one another all your secrets—so you feel guilty for not telling her about nico, even though it's not real.

"you really like him?" tammy's question is a gentle and sweet whisper, looking up at you like she just knows.

you nod, probably too fast and too enthusiastically—but thankfully tammy isn't paying attention to that, only listening to your words and watching the way your eyes change into a more relaxed and emotional state. "of course," you breathe, smiling. "I mean...he's always been really sweet and kind. always making sure I feel comfortable in a crowded room, checking in on me when he hasn't seen me in a couple days. and well, just today he's made me the most relaxed i've felt in a long time...." you trail off, clearing your throat gently. "sorry, god i'm blabbering."

tammy shakes her head softly, gently grabbing a hold of your hand. "it's okay. it's sweet."

"auntie y/n! look at nico!" the tiny and shrill voice of taylor interrupts the rather tender moment, but thankfully it allows you take take a calming breathe and let your heart rate turn back to normal. your niece skips down the hall, dragging nico behind her as they round into the living room.

the sight of nico has you stifling laughter. "oh...wow."

nico smirks, hands held out as if he was showing himself off. the princess aurora tiara nestled in his brown hair catches the setting sun, sparkling in the dimming light. that combined with the bright pink lipstick smeared around his mouth and the lime green tutu that is 5 sizes too small for a professional athlete around his hips is just too much. "handsome right?"

you hum, nodding sarcastically as he gives you and tammy a spin—showing off taylor's work. "oh yeah."

when nico faces you again, he winks—so quickly you're not even sure if it happened. it has your face warming once again, your sister nudging her pointed elbow into your side as she wordlessly teases you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

after a very amusing hour of dress up—which of course you got dragged into—you all had dinner, thanks to your mom and her random bursts of energy that allow her to cook up roast dinners every other day.

dinner went surprisingly well, and nico seemed to fit into the family dynamic nicely. it was a weight lifted off your chest as you watched him easily discuss sports with your brother in-law and excitingly answer all of your moms borderline intrusive questions. it's full of laughter and honestly you're surprised at how well everything seemingly is going—it's a relief you didn't think you'd get to experience this christmas.

after a long travel day for you and nico, you both decide to retire to bed early, leaving your sister and your mom in the living room— your mother shouting out a general explanation of which bedroom is yours as you go.

you're not sure what you were thinking, but the sight of the large bed in the middle of the room has you feeling nervous, stomach swooping at the thought of having to share a bed with nico. you suppose you believed that some part of your mom still pictured you in highschool with a boyfriend and would make you and nico sleep in separate rooms or beds.

clearly not.

the bed looks absolutely heavenly though, with lots of fluffy pillows and a nice duvet with complimenting throw blankets draped over the corner—you can't wait to sink in and pass out.

nico, who had gone and got your luggage right after dinner, drags both of your suitcases towards the dresser, the gentle click of the handle sliding back into place echoing throughout the room. he turns back to you, "I can sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable."

your eyes snap away from the luscious bedding and over to nico—he must’ve seen your blank stare. you shake your head quickly, "no - no, we are adults. i'm not going to make you sleep on the floor."

you can practically see the relief on his face and in that moment you're completely convinced that nico would've set up camp on the rug if you asked him to.

you continue, ignoring the weird flutter in your stomach. "plus my mom will probably burst in here every morning to wake us up and I don't want to make up some lie about why my boyfriend is sleeping on the floor instead of in the bed."

"of course." he chuckles, the quiet sound settling through the warmly lit bedroom comfortably. "what side do you want?"

you snicker, waving your hand as if you're trying to appear nonchalant. "oh, i'm not picky."

nico eyes you, one brows raised in question as if he can see right through your attempt at coming across easy-going—you've never even been close to that. "are you lying?"

your shoulders deflate. "yes."

he laughs again, watching as you make your way over to the left side of the bed, tossing your phone in front of the pillows as if you were marking your territory. "it's furthest from the door." you hum like it's obvious, looking at nico with timid eyes.

"sure." he hums softly, eyes lingering one yours for a moment longer before turning away.

nico has his back turned to you, digging through his carry-on in search of his toiletry bag. you watch the way his muscles move, his compression shirt giving you the perfect view of the ripples and hard work he's put into his body. you've never really noticed how in shape nico is—I mean sure you've like noticed he's got muscles because he's a professional hockey player...but you've never appreciated them like you are right now.

"y/n?"

you blink. "huh?"

nico smirks, and you instantly realize he's caught you checking him out. you blush wildly, trying your best not to collapse into an awkward puddle. "I asked if you want to use the bathroom first."

you clear your throat, "no go ahead."

he gives you another knowing smirk before disappearing into the on suite bathroom (which, holy, how nice is this place), travel toiletry bag and a new pair of sweatpants tucked under his arm. as soon as the door clicks shut, you let out a deep breath—one you hadn't realized you'd been harbouring.

thankfully you hadn't worn makeup today, knowing that you’d be travelling—the feeling of being stuck with makeup on your face during the couple hour drive here sounded like a living nightmare. so while nico is busy in the bathroom you quickly change into your christmas red striped pyjamas, shoving your dirty clothes back in your suitcase before nico can see.

the door opens again just as you locate your toothbrush, revealing nico is his team branded sweatpants and...oh he's not wearing a shirt. you swallow heavily, eyes quickly flicking over the expanse of his muscular torso. "bathrooms free." he says, easily moving towards the bed.

you nod. "yeah, thanks."

right before you can shut the door, he calls your name, stopping you in your rather frantic pursuit into the bathroom—which is lingering with the scent of nico's cologne. he smiles at you playfully. "i'll keep the bed warm."

that's it - you're going to drown yourself in the toilet.

DAY 2

you managed to not drown yourself last night—shockingly enough. after nico's fluttering eyes and stomach swooping tease last night, you'd made some stupid joke, one that you can't even remember—you're pretty sure you blacked out. you shut the bathroom door quickly, taking as many deep breathes as you felt applicable.

the entire time you'd been brushing your teeth, you just kept going through calming mantras in your head, desperately trying to grasp ahold of the shit show inside your head. thankfully the rest of the night was easy—easy because as soon as your head hit those inanely comfortable pillows you were out.

the reason for waking up this morning—like expected—was because of your mother, who loudly entered your and nico's room with a tinsel covered sweater and bright smile. "wake up love bugs. taylor wants us all to go into town and look at the trees together!"

you're then hyperaware that nico is obviously still without a shirt, and you happen to be tucked against his bare chest like your life depended on it. his peck, although it doesn't look it, is a surprisingly comfortable pillow. your body stiffen's against him, but before you can roll away, nico tightens his grip around you, keeping you in place.

"give us a few minutes." you manage to tell her, practically rigid against the devils captain. "nico isn't wearing pants." you can hear him make a noise of protest beside you, pinching your hip between his fingers.

"take your time you two!" she sing songs, leaving the room with as much pep in her step as usual. as soon as the door clicks closed, you push off nico, but he doesn't let you get too far, fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

"why'd you tell your mom i'm don't wearing pants?"

"I panicked."

"you're ridiculous—you know she's going to think we had sex now." his amusement is clear, and although it's at the expense of his dignity, nico is enjoying the humor of it all.

you shrug, slipping out of the bed. "hate to break it to you but they already think that."

through the mirror you left your bag in front of, you watch nico eye you from the back, his brows pulled curiously. "and why's that?"

"didn't you know? i'm secretly this like crazy minx who brings different boys to family trips and-" you're interrupted when nico tosses a pillow towards you, his laughter echoing throughout the room.

"get dressed freak."

—

you think one of your favourite things about being around nico is that no matter how his comments make your stomach swoop and how his gentle lingering eyes leaves your heart pounding, it's always easy to speak with him and just...be his friend.

which you suppose is normal with friends—you think?—its kind of hard to tell. you've only been close with your sister growing up, and then when you met bree in college she became your only other companion. when bree met dougie and inevitably started dating him, it opened up this new world to you; going to events and games, meeting so many people all with different personalities and backgrounds.

meeting nico was different though, because unlike the catalog of people that had come in and out of your life, nico was a constant. in the four years of knowing him, he's always managed to be that person—that friend—you felt you'd been missing. despite always playing nonchalant about your relationship with nico, dismissing him to be just a casual friend, you did really like him and cherish that friendship...and it kind of scares you.

after you moms abrupt wake up call, you and nico quickly got ready for the day, bundling in your warmest clothes to bare the chilly downtown weather—granting your nieces christmas tree browsing wishes.

the town is decorated beautifully, with stunning icicle lights dripping from every building, red ribbon wrapped around poles and pulled into bows at every corner, and the trees—filled with various sized and shaped ornaments that perfectly encapsulate the christmas season.

it feels like something out of a hallmark movie with the gentle pressure of nico's hand in yours, guiding you both behind taylor as she excitedly makes you look at everything. your sister and brody watch in amusement, very used to their daughters excitable personality. and of course your mom makes you and nico pose for hundreds of photos, because she has to 'capture the beautiful moment and the beautiful couple.'

she evens asks for you and nico to kiss—again—but just before you have to make up another excuse, brody chucks a snowball right at your chest. you immediately start hurling them back at your brother-in-law, distracting everyone from another non-kiss moment between you and nico.

after a few hours in town you all head back to the lodge, stomachs ready for some warm food to heat up that achy cold emptiness.

you place the serving tray full of freshly buttered buns in the middle of the table, next to the sour cream and shredded colby jack cheese—both necessities with your moms homemade chilli.

on the other side of the table, nico places one of the last bowls, the ceramic dishes clanking together—it's a peaceful noise, one that's often heard in kitchens. his eyes suddenly flicker towards you, and when he catches your stare a slinky smile curves at his lips. "are you judging my placement right now?"

the tease—so mundane and playful—has your smile growing, butterflies tickling the lining of your growling stomach. "never."

his gaze narrows, "well i'm definitely judging your butter abilities—that spread is so uneven."

you gasp, "think you could do better, hischier?"

"oh," he laughs, "I know I could."

you smirk, picking up one of the grapes sitting loose in the fruit bowl at the end of the counter, tossing it in nico's direction. but like the coordinated athlete he is, catches it in his mouth, chewing the crunchy grape slowly—winking at you while he chews.

"y/n," your mom looks at you over her shoulder, "do you mind just finishing adding the herbs? I gotta run upstairs quick."

"sure." you hum, making your way over to the stovetop, taking the long handled wooden stirring spoon from your mom. she thanks you with a squeeze on your arm before waltzing out of the kitchen, disappearing up the stairs.

as you begin twirling the utensil through the thick chilli, you feel nico come up next to you, his chest brushing against your arm. "why are you stirring it like that?"

you look up at him with wide eyes, your amusement clear. "you are just tearing my cooking apart today."

he laughs, "you're not cooking anything. you're simply just spreading and stirring."

a noise similar to a scoff falls from your mouth, and you tear your gaze away from nico quickly. "i'll spread something all right." you mutter with faux irritation, turning your shoulder away from him.

nico laughs again, chest rumbling against your skin. "that sounded dirty." his forearm wraps around your torso, holding you against his chest.

you're momentarily speechless with the feeling of nico touching you so intimately. your slow stirring comes to a stop, the end of the wooden spoon almost falling into the pot—but you don't notice. your head slowly falls backwards, resting just under nico's collarbone. "what are you doing?" you ask quietly, looking up at him.

nico leans down, his lips brushing against your ears. "what does it feel like i'm doing?" his breath is warm on you and you feel a static travel over your body—from your ears, down to your neck and shoulders, even reaching your toes.

"it feels like you're trying to hit on me." your words comes out breathily, barley reaching your own ears.

"maybe I am," he shrugs, and like he didn't just send your heart plummeting to your stomach, nico says, "your sister is watching us."

discreetly your eyes dance towards the large living room where you catch a glance at tammy—who is trying to not make it look obvious as she stares at you both lovingly, a cheesy smile on her face.

"so the only reason you're touching me is because of the audience?—that's a bit freaky, even for you nico."

he pinches your side lightly, which sends you squirming backwards, further into his embrace—chilli and herbs long forgotten. "i'll take any excuse to touch you, y/n."

nico looks down at you warmly, that boyish grin on his face that makes him look so warm and cuddly. you feel your face heat up at his insinuation, and you look away from his playful expression, bowing your head so you're looking back to the chilli.

"you're so pretty when you blush," nico mummers against your skin, pulling you back to his chest.

your blush deepens, a light laughter bubbling through your chest as you playfully push him away. "you're distracting me."

before nico can say anything else, the distant voice of your mother approaches. "and this is the kitchen! isn't it just so beautiful susan? I mean not just the lodge but the whole resort."

susan? who the hell is—oh my god.

nico watches your face drop, your eyes darting towards the kitchens entryway as the voices grow closer, this susan lady answering your mother just as enthusiastically.

he's quickly back at your side, a gentle hand brushing against your lower back. "what's wrong?" nico's question is hushed—determined.

you're honestly surprised that you can hear his whisper over the blood rushing in your ears. the rush of anxiety that pumps through your blood is overwhelming, and the reason you'd brought nico to your families christmas vacation comes trampling back. you swallow roughly, "susan...she's my moms friend and-"

"guys, this is my friend susan and her son scott!" your moms chipper tone halts your scentence, you and nico watching silently as your mom gestures to the unexpected company.

scott is...actually not that bad to look at—which is a gold star on your moms part. the dark haired man is standing merely few feet away from you as he moves to greet tammy. he's got that finance bro look to him, with a crisp button up shirt underneath his puffer vest—why men insist to wear vests inside is something you'll never understand.

he greets brody like a typical male would, bringing him in for a quick slap on the back—a smile on his face that shows his perfectly white teeth.

"y/n, honey this is scott." you mom singles you out, which of course she does, pointing towards scott with a wink in your direction.

you can feel nico stiffen against your back, his forearm snaking back around your waist. before you can think, you let your hand rest over nico's, interlocking your fingers between his resting against your torso.

"nice to meet you, y/n." he greets with a grin. "i'm scott. i've heard so much about you."

"you too, scott." you smile politely. "this is nico-"

"her boyfriend." nico finishes your scentence firmly, the hand that wasn't around your body jutting out on the other side of your body for a handshake. 

scott breathes a laugh, shaking his hand. "boyfriend, huh? lucky guy." briefly scott's eyes flicker back towards you, eyeing you with a look you can't decipher. you feel yourself shrinking further back into nico, seeking that comforting aura that is the devil's captain.

"very much so." he agrees firmly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. there's a tense moment of eye contact between the two men, almost like a wordless battle of alpha male energy—which isn't very like nico.

scott hums curiously. "you look really familiar. do I know you from somewhere?"

"must have one of those faces." nico answers modestly, shrugging his shoulders once.

tammy waltzes into the kitchen, followed by her husband who is holding taylor in his arms. hearing the tail end of the conversation, brody pipes in with a quick laugh. "he looks familiar cause he's the devils captain dude—we are in the presence of jersey royalty."

"a professional athlete?" scott questions, that curious but condescending tone still laced in his voice. "bit unstable, no? unpredictable with trades and that?"

"can be. thankfully i've been lucky enough to have been with the devils since 2017."

"lucky indeed." once again, scott's eyes flicker back to you—giving you that awkward and uncertain feeling.

sensing the tension, tammy quickly intervenes. "taylor did you want to show scott and susan your stuffies before dinner is plated?"

taylor glances towards the two guests. "no." then her tiny brown eyes move towards you and nico, and instantly she's skipping towards you both. "nico can you sit beside me at dinner?"

something prideful blooms in your chest at taylor's request and dismissal of scott and his rather uncomfortable presence. "I don't know taylor," you begin teasingly, "I wanted to sit beside nico first."

she laughs, her adorable toddler giggle like music to your ears. "how about we both sit with nico."

you hum in faux thought. "should we ask him? see what he thinks?"

"yes." she giggles.

nico, who has obviously heard the entire interaction, pretends like he was unaware of the conversation happening quite literally in front of him—he ponders the question playfully, index finger tapping against his chin. when he tells taylor that he will sit with both of you, her tiny face lights up, and you can't help the way yours does as well.

dinner is served very quickly after, brody on serving duty as he fills every bowl with a hefty amount of chilli. the dinner runs relatively smoothly, saved for a few condescending questions from scott asking about only nico. for somebody who was seemingly trying to get to know you—despite having a boyfriend—scott seems to be really interested with the man beside you rather than you yourself.

thankfully only an hour after dinner and enduring painfully boring conversation with susan and scott, they end up leaving to go back to their lodge, and that god because you desperately are ready for sleep by that point—excusing yourself and nico as you head towards the bedrooms for another much needed nights rest.

you pull the duvet back, creating enough space for you to climb in.

nico follows suit, slipping under the cool flannel sheets. "scott seems..."

you interrupt his trailing thought. "like an asshole?"

"yeah." he breathes. "truly what is that guys deal?"

"I don't know." you roll onto your side, facing nico with a huff. "I can't believe my mom still invited them to dinner. even though susan is supposedly her friends—who, by the way i've never heard of before tuesday. I thought she would've at least...I don't know, respected my boundaries? i'd that fucked up to say?"

nico shakes his head against the pillow. "no, it's not."

you groan, your irritation clear. "and then when she first introduced us and she winked at me? like hello what is that about? because as far as she's concerned i'm clearly not looking for a relationship. I brought you here for this exact reason and-"

"hey," nico breathes gently, gathering your attention by running his hand over your pyjamas sleeve covered arm. "it's okay, you're okay. I understand that you're feeling stressed and frustrated but don't get in your head about this."

you take a deep breath, nodding.

nico continues, "I don't think she had any malicious intentions with inviting them to dinner. I think she was pleasing people—like you would."

"I just wish her people pleasing didn't involve a literal walking bag of crap."

nico breathes a quiet laugh at your insult. "she just wants what's best for you, y/n—like you said. she doesn't realize that it's making you uncomfortable and she's too distracted by it all to notice that scott is 'a literal walking bag of crap.'"

your lip tugs upwards slightly.

"you should talk to her about it."

you groan, face rolling into the fluffiest part of your pillow. "I think as my boyfriend you should tell her for me."

"i'm not actually your boyfriend." he laughs.

you scoff. "way to ruin the mood."

nico's smile is barley visible through the dark bedroom, but you can still see it and the sight had you following suit, a grin taking over your face. he rest his head on his bicep, facing you. it all feels so intimate and precious that you never woke to forget it.

your heart beat feels like it's dangerously fast, making you feel the best kind of nervous. you're glad the room is dark because you blush, clearing your throat. "i'm so happy that you're here nico. I don't know what I would've done today if you weren't here."

his smile falters slightly as he swallows thickening salvia, eyes trained on your face softly through the moonlit room. "i'm happy i'm here too..with you."

DAY 3

you peer down the snow covered hill, gnawing on your lip in an unsure manner. "does it seem bigger from up here?" your hands wrap around the ski poles tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself from moving forward.

nico expertly slides in front of you, his skis bumping yours. "do you want to go back down? we can just walk back to the lodge if you're feeling scared."

you shake your head quickly. "i'm not scared...im just worried about falling on my face." truth of the matter is that you are feeling scared—scared because you actually hadn't skied since you were 10, and you'd actively avoided the actual ski part of your holiday trips by sitting in the lodge and reading whatever book you'd been into since then—but not this year.

nico wanted to get out on the hills, and even though he said that he didn't mind if you wanted to stay at the house or even in the holiday themed ski lodge, you didn't want him to feel alone out there, especially because he's doing you a favour in just being apart of your families christmas—so here you are on top of the ski hill. plus, any excuse to get away from scott, which of course your mom invited him and susan to spend the day with you all, you'd take.

"you're not going to fall on your face." nico tells you, his tone gentle as he looks down at you.

"you don't know that." you say. "what happens if my ski catches a divet in the ice and I go head over heels into the snow?"

he laughs gently. "the only reason you'll fall is because your hairs in your face—here." nico ditches his poles in the snow, and with glove covered hands he reaches towards your face. gently he tucks your hair underneath your hat, pushing away any hairs that have fallen out from your braid.

you swallow, eyes flickering over his face. "i'm a little nervous." you finally admit.

"it's okay to be nervous." nico adjusts the strap of your goggles over your pink helmet, moving it into a proper position. "it's also okay to back out."

"I don't want to back out." you huff. "I want to do it."

his lip tugs upwards in a half smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." you nod. "but you have to do it with me." you both make your way—you very cautiously—towards the edge of the slope. "i'm serious nico."

"I won't leave your side, okay? fix your knees like I showed you earlier...yup, just like that." he watches you intently, making sure you're in a proper position. nico finds your face again, an apprehensive look in his eyes. "you sure?"

"think so." you hum. "it’ll be fine." before you can decide to back out, you manually push forward until your skis take over, sliding down the first dip of the hill, sending your downward.

the sound of your skis slicing through the icy snow is a rather relaxing sound, one that has a smile breaking out on your face. the feeling of quickly moving through time, with the cool air kissing your exposed cheeks is rather freeing, and for a moment you're not thinking about anything other than yourself and nico.

you can hear nico follow suit, following your tracks within a safe distance. "good! keep your blades a little bent! like pizza." he calls to you, voice travelling through the wind whipping past your ears.

"am I doing it?!" you question loudly, eyes still casted forward as you reach the middle area of the slope, continuing the rather speedy descent down the snowy hill.

"you're doing it." nico answers proudly—a boyish chuckle following.

"oh my god!" you scream happily, "i'm doing it." you slide over a small lip on the hill, propelling slightly into the air. miraculously, you land with only a small teeter in your legs, continuing to ski downwards.

in a moment of excitement, you turn to look over your shoulder, eyes wide and full of disbelief as you find nico. "did you see that?"

his face falls. "y/n, watch out!"

as soon as nico's warnings finishes, you feel somebody slam into you, affectively sending you off balance and smacking towards the ground. you feel the snow cover your face as you land, and you groan out, eyes closing as a quick wave of pain washes over you.

"holy fuck—y/n are you okay?" the voice sounds a little distant to your ears, like they are muffled. they help you sit up, gently cradling your biceps with their hands as they pull you into a sitting position.

you squint in attempt to focus your vision, blinking quickly to clear the blur. "what?"

nico's concerned face slowly appears in your eyesight. "are you okay?"

you groan again. "I think so."

he breaths loudly—a sound of relief. his hands move from your arms and towards your face, un-clipping the helmet strap from under your chin. nico pulls the hot pink protective gear off your head, leaving you with your damp beanie and snow coated braid. "you scared me for a second there. does anything hurt?"

"not really, maybe just a little sore and bruised." you swallow gently as you watch nico as he gently moves your head from side to side, checking for external injuries. his gaze is so intense—so focused. the embarrassment and lingering pain in your limbs has you feeling emotional, and your lip trembles. "i'm sorry."

instantly, nico's eyes snap back to yours. "don't apologize." he watches the way your eyes begin to well up with tears, quickly looking around as if you're seeing how many people are watching you. immediately he knows you're feeling embarrassed on top of everything else, and he pulls you into his chest, pressing a quick kiss against your hairline over your knitted hat.

you can barley feel the kiss, but it's enough to where the gesture has you melting—melting because he wasn't doing it because somebody in your family is watching or making him…nico simply just wanted to.

"you're okay." he mumbles against your hat.

"I think I wanna walk the rest of the way." you mumble waterly, attempting to joke.

he smiles against you, "you think so?" pulling back, he meets your eyes, a boyish grin on his face. the sight instantly has you feeling better, and with a small grin you nod.

nico helps you remove your boots from the ski blades, popping open every latch and button so you're easily able to slip out of the boot slot. he follows suit with his own ski's, freeing himself of the blades hold so he's left in only the chunky boots.

a familiar voice calls your name, approaching you and nico. "shit i'm sorry." scott says, stopping in front of you with his ski's tucked under his arm. "I didn't realize it was you."

nico stiffens. "you hit her? seriously?"

"I just said sorry man." scott huffs. "no need to get all annoyed."

his brows raise is pure shock, eyes squinting accusingly in the shorter man's direction. "sorry doesn't help. what if she got seriously hurt?"

"she didn't though."

nico breathes in disbelief. "that's not the point."

scott takes a step back, "relax, dude."

"she's my girlfriend. I can't relax."

"whatever." scott looks back towards your shy face, offering you a sympathetic shrug. "sorry again y/n."

you nod once. "thanks."

that's all it takes for scott to leave again, practically jogging away from the both of you, back down the hill. he disappears behind the slope of the hill, and immediately nico is turning back to you, his expression that was only moments ago hard and strong, now soft. "he doesn't deserve your apology."

"I know." you breathe. "but I was done listening to him."

nico nods understandably, but he looks slightly worried—guilty maybe? "are you upset with me about that?"

"no. i'm glad you were here to defend me honestly. I would've crumbled under the pressure of my own need to be a people pleaser." you laugh lightly.

the ghost of a smile takes over his face. "promise?"

you nod. "help me down the hill? I need you right now—my hips a little sore."

in an instant nico is grabbing you, careful of your sore hip as he wraps an arm around your torso. "let me know if you need to stop at all, okay?"

you both begin to slowly walk down the hill, nico dragging the ski stuff behind you. "you worry too much." you tease him, gaze flickering to his face.

he breathes a laugh, not looking away from the hills. "yeah I worry cause I—" he pauses briefly, a gentle gulp following. "cause you're my friend, y/n."

"your friend?" you question his choice of words quietly—timidly.

finally, he meets your eyes. "yeah."

there's a moment then, where you're looking at one another with eyes that say a million things your mouths can't yet. you're unsure whether or not nico was about to admit to something—deeper feelings—before correcting himself, and you're not sure if you'll ever know.

but you're too scared—to anxious—to find out. because if it's not the answer you're hoping for, your christmas eve will be ruined, and your heart will be broken.

you laugh, breaking the tension. "that's not very fake boyfriend of you to say."

nico blinks once, but soon his expression changes into a more playful one, eyes twinkling with amusement. "c'mon y/n/n."

—

the warm bubbles are slightly ticklish against your skin, but it's a pleasant feeling. you sink further into the hot tub, letting the jets and heat do their job on your sore body.

as the sun started setting through the kitchen window, the pain of your earlier incident was only getting worse, and you could barley move without hissing in pain.

after the 8th groan of discomfort during jim carey's grinch, your mom suggested the hot tub. aftet all what good were you trying to put presents under the tree if you couldn't even bend over to pick them up.

the almost instant relief from the hot tub was enough to have you moaning out, submerging up to your shoulders and letting the water splash up your neck.

a beat passes and the sliding door sounds, opening into the cool night. "hey, got the presents from my car." nico stands by the entrance, peering through the dimly lit deck over in your direction.

"did you give them to tammy?" you question gently.

"I did." nico hums, gently shutting the door behind him. "you okay in there?"

"getting there." you sigh, eyes carefully watching as nico makes his way through the covered deck—no doubt the cold snow covered his feet in the slides he’d slipped on before getting the presents.

"anything you need from me?"

the nighttime pain reliever you’ve been popping since getting back from the lodge has you feeling a bit sleepy and loopy—completely erasing any kind of filter you have. you raise a brow, squinting at him through the mist coming off the water. "I want you to get in."

he laughs gently, resting his hands against the edge of the tub as he looks over at you. nico takes his lip between his teeth briefly, eyes flickering over your submerged figure. "didn't bring a bathing suit."

"nico." you whine, dragging his name out.

"you can't get upset with me," he smirks, "you didn't tell me there'd be a hot tub."

"okay, well just strip down into your underwear and get in." you breathe, "promise I won't look." you hold your hand up like your in scouts, looking up at him with most puppy-dog expression you can manage.

"y/n..." he trails off, almost like a gentle warning.

you continue. "i'll even let you have one of my three towels afterwards so you don't have walk back inside in just your underwear.”

his brows pull together. "why did you bring three towels?"

"I like to be extra warm—just get in."

a moment passes—practically watching the gears turn in nico’s head as he debates your ask. just when you think you’ll have to beg again, desperate to have nico close to you, he sighs, pushing off the edge of the hot tub. in one swift motion he pulls his hoodie off, his muscles flexing beneath his rising t-shirt, exposing nico’s hard v-line and happy trail.

you smile in satisfaction, watching as he continues to shed his clothes until he's left in just his black boxer shorts. you try your best to not stare—you really do—but when your fake boyfriend happens to be that muscular and hot, it's hard to keep your eyes away.

he quickly steps into the steaming hot tub, joining you under the water. "happy?"

you smile triumphantly. "very much. I feel better already."

"I bet you do."

a beat passes, only the sound of the running jets to be heard through the night. it's very relaxing, and with nico with you it now feels 10 times better. under the water you extend your leg until your foot gently nudges his leg—grabbing his attention. "thank you again for today. for everything, I just...i'm really happy that dougie called you for me. because I would've been too nervous to ask you myself."

his brows raise. "why would you have been nervous?”

shyly, you shrug. "I don't know, I just didn't want you to think I was...taking advantage of you or something."

"I wouldn't have thought that—I don't think that." nico moves closer to you, the warm water sloshing around slightly as he comes to a stop in the seat beside you. instinctively you turn your body towards him, eyes curious and knowing all at once.

a beat passes.

"did you know when I was a kid on christmas eve I used to convince my sister that if she didn't let me have her last advent chocolate santa wouldn't come."

you grin. "you didn't."

he laughs. "I so did. and I remember feeling like such a badass about it to. then when she found out that santa wasn't real and I was simply just conning her into an extra chocolate she lost it—and I mean lost it."

"what did she do?"

"obviously she told my parents, which was expected." nico hums. "but she also smashed my game system—like completely destroyed it with our dads hammer."

you gasp, "no."

"yeah and I cried like a baby."

you laugh gently.

nico continues. "looking back now I definitely shouldn't of been so sneaky. and now every christmas I always buy her an advent calendar as an apology."

"that's kind of cute." you coo sweetly.

his eyes soften at the sound, watching your head tilt in admiration. "you would really like her. you two are kind of similar."

you stifle a knowing laugh. "after hearing how she smashed your gaming stuff I think I have to agree—one year I sent taylor's favourite scarf for a trip in the fireplace."

nico snickers, "you little rebel."

"don't laugh," you smile. "she had taken my favourite babydoll I'd opened that christmas and covered the entire face in marker. so instead of going to my parents like I should have, I just threw her scarf right in the fire."

"damn," he breathes. "remind me not to steal your baby dolls."

"oh since then i've kept them all locked away, so you'll never find them." your eyes glisten with a playful shimmer, looking at nico teasingly. he mimics your lighthearted expression, a warm smile pulling on his lips.

your eyes wander to his exposed arm, catching sight of the familiar pattern of ink on his inner arm. "i've always like this one." slowly you reach out, tracing the tattoo with a wet finger.

"yeah?" he watches the way your touch moves over the artwork, your fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps on his skin—despite the heat from the hot tub, chills run over his body.

"yeah." you nod. "does it mean anything?"

"it's my families star signs," he points to the first one, tracing the greek symbol. "they all bleed into one another, almost like it's representing a family line."

“nico that’s…really cool.” you smile gently. "when did you get it?"

he laughs gently, a blush coating his cheekbones. "long time ago."

you snicker, eyes flickering back towards his face and away from the sentimental tattoo on his string bicep. “alright old man.”

he quirks a brows at you, amused. "we're the same age."

playfully you shush him, bringing your finger towards his plump lips in a silencing motion.

quickly, nico grabs your wrist, pulling your tiny hand away from his face. his firm yet teasing grasp around your hand sends your skin into a flurry of flames, igniting under his warm palm.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your pouty lips as if he can't decide where to look—what to do.

you lean in ever so slightly, scared that if you move too suddenly you'll wake up from a dream. nico's hold on your hand changes, fingers trailing down your wrist and off your arm.

his hand finds your slick thigh under the bubbly water, and your heart feels like it's going to jump out from your ribcage with how hard and intensely its beating. as nico's thumb begins to rub along your skin, pleasantly tickling your thigh, you think you may just die.

your hand inches towards his torso under the water, your fingernails just scraping softly against his abs—

"I should get out." nico mumbles. "I haven't packed yet and I gotta leave before 9."

you swallow the disappointment you're feeling, blinking away your emotions as you pull your hand away. "yeah. sure."

he gets out of the hot tub, and you can't even watch him as he does. nico wraps himself in one of your towels before gently looking back towards you. "i'll see you inside, okay?"

you hum in acknowledgment.

and then he leaves.

you mope in the hot tub a little bit longer than expected, and by the time you finally drag yourself back inside the only person awake is your mom.

she sits on the couch silently, finishing up some last minute wrapping of what seems like a gift for brody—some football jersey for a team you don't recognize. "feel better honey?" she asks.

you nod once. "yeah, thanks." you start to walk further into the home, towards the stairs, but your mom stops you, calling out your name quietly.

"before you go upstairs," she sighs, "I just wanted to say i'm sorry about scott. I shouldn't have even put that idea in your head when I called you and I shouldn't have invited him and susan around the that times I did. he was not only disrespectful towards you, but he was disrespectful towards nico and your relationship."

your chest warms. "thanks mom. it's okay."

"but I already invited them for breakfast after presents tomorrow—honestly susan is kind of a bitch and the last thing I need is for her to fuck me over to corporate because I didn't have her and her asshole son over for breakfast."

you snort, which has your mom joining in on the hughes laughter. you're truly not upset about that, and if anything the whole thing is so authentically your mom that you're almost glad she invited them.

just when you think she's done, your mom continues with a twinkle in her eyes. "I must say y/n, I've never seen you happier or more comfortable in a relationship that what i'm seeing when you're with nico. honey I don't know why it took you so long to realize there was something more between you because nico is special."

you feel tears well up in your eyes, a million unsure emotions coming to a tilt in your throat. you nod. "yeah. he is."

DAY 4

"do you really have to go?" taylor's tiny voice wobbles with emotion slightly, looking up at nico with her wide animated eyes.

he crouches down to her level, soft gaze unwavering. "unfortunately. I have to work tomorrow.”

"okayyyy." she pouts. "maybe next time you can bring your stuffies for the tea party."

"that's a great idea." he grins at the way your jives face lights up, already giddy at the thought of the next party.

your mom suddenly cooes, moving towards the front door where nico stands with his suitcase. she frowns at him, "honey thank you so much for coming, you've been wonderful."

he stands to his full height, embracing your mom as he wraps her arms around him in a familiar hug. "thank you for having me."

you watch silently, gnawing the skin around your thumb anxiously. you'd been dreading this since you were awoken at 7 by your niece for presents, and saying goodbye to nico today was weighing on you heavily—even with the lingering unspoken words from last nights abrupt departure.

"safe driving, nico." tammy smiles towards him kindly.

brody chimes in, "yeah man, can't have you going down. the devils need you."

your fake boyfriend laughs gently, nodding. "i'll try my best to get home in one piece." then nico's eyes flicker towards you, a soft yet sad expression pulling at his face. he takes a deep breathe, plastering on a bigger smile. "i'll see you when you're home."

you nod, your own forced smile on. "i'll see you then, nico." there’s an unspoken meaning with the goodbye—one that feels permanent and you hate it. with one more emotional glance in your direction nico waves goodbye to your family….and then he leaves.

the hallow feeling that runs through your bones is almost painful, your eyes trained on the spot he was just standing. a million feelings run through you at once—hurt, anger, confusion, warmth, guilt. it's all one big stressful ball, but yet somehow through all that you know there's real feelings for your friend there, ones that have been making your heart run ramped and your stomach flip around with butterflies for years.

"hey," scott's quiet voice interrupts your thoughts, looking over at you with flirtatious eyes. "if things with lover boy don't work out, ill be here." you’d honestly forgot him and susan were here, arriving just after taylor had tore through all her presents for breakfast.

it had you rushing to open your present from nico—because of course he bought you a present—his jersey and a handbag you’d been wanting for years. a handbag that only taylor knew you loved, meaning that he talked to your best friend to get you the perfect christmas gift.

and yeah…you really like nico hischier.

blinking out of your thoughts, you properly turn and face scott. "that will never happen."

you look around the room at your family, who have now all resumed their normal routine throughout the home. taylor’s making your brother-in-law open every new toy so she could play with them, while your mom and susan busy themselves in the kitchen, talking while the kettle boils for another round of coffee.

you catch tammy's eyes and she nods—knowingly. you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, and a tiny smile begins to pull at your lips. "i'll be right back." you mutter, and before you even realize what you're doing, you slip on somebodies slides, leaving out the front door.

the wind blows right though your gingerbread pyjamas, the cold biting against your skin—but you don't care as the only thing you can think about is him. "nico!"

the sound of your voice has him pausing, rounding from the back of his vehicle where he was loading his suitcase in. nico’s brows pull together tightly, looking and feeling rather confused as you hurriedly make your way towards him—merely slipping out of your shoes as you hit a patch of ice.

"what are you doing?" he questions.

"don't go." you words a rushed, looking up at him with a shy confidence in your eyes.

nico sighs quietly. "I don't really have a choice."

you shake your head, eyes closing in frustration. "I know - fuck don't don't go just stay...for a second."

"what are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I like you - like really like you." finally you break, looking towards nico with nothing but vulnerability on your face. "and I think deep down I always knew that, but something about this weekend...watching you interact with my family and seeing how much they like you—it's amplified everything to 100."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying your best at keeping your voice steady as you continue. "and I really didn't think i'd be chasing after a guy in my pyjamas this weekend, but here I am. because you're not just some guy, nico. you're the guy. and I can't let you leave without saying that because I don't think i'll ever have the courage to say it again."

nico swallows. "I can't believe you just told me that." he pauses, a small laugh bubbling past his lips. "and right when I have to leave. because now I really want to stay."

you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding, relief rushing over you body at his words.

he continues. "I like you so much it's not even funny."

"you do?" you question shyly.

"yes." nico takes a step towards you, now close enough to reach out and touch. "you're my favourite."

"favourite what?" you whisper.

"everything." he reaches out, gently taking ahold of your face between his cold palms. his thumbs stoke along your cheeks comfortingly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as his gaze moves towards your lips. "what was the rule about kissing again?"

you inhale sharply, your own eyes watching nico's lips inch closer and closer towards yours. "only if absolutely necessary."

"thought so." nico's words are mumbled between you, lips brushing against yours before he finally closes the gap, connecting your mouths in a much desired kiss.

in that moment it's hard to think about anything other than the skillful and practiced kisses nico is giving you, his hand nestled at the base of your skull as he holds you to him, but one thing you do know is that you should've done this fake boyfriend thing years ago.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[skatesnstuff]

yeah okay. def did not have to put my phone down for a minute to scream at this

hey guys. welcome back

[skatesnstuff]

my life and bank account are yours if you can please write some sort of jamie fluff 🙏 I check his tag on the daily im so desperate 🙏🙏🙏 topic can be up to you I'm just so jamie deprived I need anything I can get

i got u babes, here’s a little jamie blurb that i have written on the spot

-

meeting jamie’s mom wasn’t exactly how you planned spending your three month anniversary with jamie. his parents knew about you but they had yet to meet you. with the mom’s trip for the flyers, that just so happen to be the same week of your three month anniversary with jamie, it was perfect in his eyes to allow you to meet his mom.

jamie and you probably wouldn’t consider your relationship as serious at this stage but meeting parents, despite it just being one, was a new step in your relationship.

jamie set the reservation, a nice restaurant, you knew he would treat his mom and you to dinner somewhere nice. you met the two at the restaurant, standing outside waiting in a nice cocktail dress that met the standards for the restaurant and a jacket that was most likely (definitely) jamie’s.

“hi,” you smiled at him, giving the two a small wave as jamie took quick strides to you. he gave you the softest, most gentle kiss ever, before putting a bouquet of flowers into your hands. “happy 3 months,” he mumbled.

you cleared your throat and prayed your burning cheeks would go away. “hi,” you swallowed, stepping back to introduce yourself to his mom, “i’m y/n.”

you offered a hand and she shook it. “it’s nice to finally meet the girl that has had jamie here so anxious all day. he spent twenty minutes picking out the flowers.”

“mom,” he whined, slightly embarrassed. “he’s a sweet guy.” jamie’s cheeks turned pink. “so can we go inside and eat and stop talking about me? please?” jamie asked ushering the two of you to the door.

“let me get to know your girlfriend jam!” his mom said laughing, walking next to you happily.

[skatesnstuff]

day by day, year after year

summary: time flies when you're having fun, and summers on the lake fly by all too fast.

request: yes. CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS. SUMMER FIC.

warnings: honestly there's a big chunk o smut in this like I took it as friends to LOVERS ok it's not all smut tho promise ; If you're not into smut you could honestly scroll past it and still enjoy the fic!! nico hischier is portrayed as a little shit in this (baseless) ; lil bit of insecure!quinn. ; sort of au bc hockey is mentioned but not as biblically accurate as I like to be ; big summer friend group vibes ; barely edited i am sorry in advance :(

smut below the cut. minors dni also just a note for everyone: pls don’t allow fictional media to create false expectations for u.

word count: 20k

Summer in Michigan was hot, which was why your mother insisted on buying a house on the lake. Everything one could possibly need was in arms reach; the chain grocery store a 5 minute drive away; a liquor and corner store even closer. With your parents away on an extended trip, the lake house was all yours and your girlfriends'.

You're all laying on towels across the dock, sunbathing, and when you feel like it, taking a dip in the cool water. The neighbours hadn't made it back to the lake just yet, which explained why the water was so still. No boats or jet ski’s disturbing the surface.

“D’you know when those boys will be here?” your friend, Julie, asked as she turned onto her back. 

“Who, the Hughes?” You clarified, though you knew damn well who she meant. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking towards the dock closest to yours. It was close enough to swim to, but certainly not in one breath. “No, why?” 

“Oh, come on. You have eyes.” Mila wiggles her eyebrows. Your girlfriends shared wide smiles. You blushed, a specific Hughes coming to mind.

“Who are you kidding? You are so hot for Quinn Hughes,” Chelsea rolls her eyes and grins.

“Good, stay in your lane!” Julie says before she jumps over the side of the dock. She, along with the rest of your friends, could run a Jack Hughes fan club. They absolutely fawned over him. Whatever it was they thought you were doing over the oldest Hughes boy, they were doing tenfold to poor Jack. It had always been that way, though.

Maybe it was because Quinn was so quiet. 

Maybe it was because Jack was so easy to like. 

Maybe it was because Luke was just a little too young.

You don't argue, because there are parts of you these girls know better than you know yourself. You hold them close to your heart, so close they could see right into it. You close your eyes when you turn over onto your back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin.

.

.

.

You're all but ten years old the year your parents buy the lake house. It's a pretty pale blue with white trimming, with no need for renovations, which your dad likes, and it has a jacuzzi, which your mom likes. You stand outside on the big patio, trying to figure out what you like about the house. It looks onto the lake below, where you see a couple of boats and jet skis cutting through the otherwise calm water. The sun is high and it makes everything sparkle.

"Hey!" You hear someone call and you look around. "Come around!" You follow the sound, around to where the balcony wraps around the side of the house. "Over here!" Through the trees you see a boy waving both arms above his head. He barely clears the handrail, so he climbs up over it. 

You're terrified for him. It's a long way down, maybe four stories if you consider the land sloping towards the water. There's another boy there, though, one that you can see clearly over the railing. He's maybe your height, and you hope he's got a tight grip on the smaller one. "You should tell your parents you want to live here." 

"Yeah? Why?" You call back, straining to rest your chin on the bannister, a front row seat if he were to fall. 

"'Cause we're here!" The little boy flashes a big smile, and you can see that he's missing a couple teeth. The boy next to him waves and gives you a matching smile. You want to tell them that your parents already bought the place, you'll be here every summer, when another boy comes into view through the small clearing in the trees.

"What are you guys yelling about out here? Jack! Get him down from there!" He rushes forward and yanks the small boy back inside the confines of the patio. The first boy is grumbling, and the second one is laughing, dragging him away. The third one looks through the tree branches, sees you, and yells, "Sorry about that!" 

You don't meet them again until your dad calls you and your mom out onto the dock one random afternoon. The new boat he placed on order had finally arrived, and he had invited the neighbours to help roll it into the lake. 

"You're not supposed to be pushing the boat," the same small boy says to you when you follow your dad to where the boat is still attached to his truck. Your mom chats with theirs over on the dock.

"Why not?" you question, crossing your arms.

"You're a girl. You can sit on the boat, but you shouldn't be doing the boat work," he tells you in a bossy tone you don't like. Up close, the gap between his missing teeth is a lot bigger. You look at your dad, who is busy chatting with theirs. 

"She's got arms, she can push if she wants to." The other one says, giving his younger brother a nudge. The third boy is standing with your dads, as if he was part of their conversation.

"Honey, have you met the Hughes?" Your dad waves the three of you over. "This is Mr. Hughes and his sons, Quinn, Jack, and Luke." Your dad introduces you before you can tell him that, yes, you've met.

"These boys help me with our boat every year. Real good at taking care of her, 'specially Quinn here," Mr. Hughes puts a hand on the third boy's shoulder. You wonder if he's squinting like that because it's so sunny. No one else is. "You can stay up by the truck and control the wench, we'll get the work done down here. Little lady, do you want to sit in the boat when we get it into the water?" Mr. Hughes asks you, and your dad tilts his head, letting you make your own decision. Pettiness fully bloomed at the age of ten, you glare daggers at a smug looking Luke. 

"I want to help push." 

Luke scoffs. Jack laughs. Quinn doesn't say anything at all. 

Your dad rewards their work by taking everyone out on the lake in the new boat. You sit beside your mom, who sits beside their mom. Luke is nestled in Mrs. Hughes' side. Jack and Quinn are up at the front of the boat with your dads. They let the two older boys take turns 'driving the boat.' The sky is every shade used to describe love, the sun kissing the water in the distance. The wind whipping through the boat is warm. You didn't know it, blowing raspberries across the boat at little Luke Hughes, but he would turn out to be right. 

You would come back to the lake, year after year, because they were here.

.

You’re running around your front yard, ‘helping’ your mom plant flowers along the perimeter, when you see your neighbours come out from their front door. They drag big bags and load their car. “Why do you have skates in the summer?” You ask, and stare accusingly at Quinn, who holds a pair in his hands. 

“Gonna go play hockey!” Luke yells, jumping out from behind him.

“Hockey? You can’t play hockey,” you say, little voice dripping with pettiness, “My dad watches hockey. You’re way too short.” Luke hated that.

“Don’t listen to her champ- she was watching Sid the Kid. She doesn’t know the first thing about hockey.” Mr. Hughes notices him and comes over, happily greeting each other.

“Why don’t you two come along?” Mr. Hughes asks your dad, “You can help run the drills and the scrimmage, I can explain the game a bit to her. Come hang out.” Your dad looks to your mom, who gives him two thumbs up. 

You sit in a cold rink with your dad’s zip up hoodie over your shoulders. You didn’t have any of the right clothes to be inside an ice rink in July. It was freezing. You didn’t know places like this existed in the summer. Your dad puts on a pair of skates and is on the ice, with everyone else. One thing was clear when you saw the neighbours’ kids skating around with the other kids; they were good skaters. Everyone was skating but they were skating fast, stopping fast, and skating backwards really well. Your dad acquires a whistle, and is preparing everyone for puck drop. 

Mr. Hughes tells you what that is, and why everyone is standing where they are. There’s a reason for everything. Certain players need to know what this is for themselves as well as someone else, their check. A good player knows all the reasons for anyone on the ice- has to know why their guy wants to be on that side of him, needs to know why he can’t let that happen. “Watch Quinn,” He points out his son near the net. Quinn skates back, boxes his check out in front of his own net, forcing the other guy to the outside corner.

A good player pays attention to the zones, can tell how fast a puck is moving as it’s coming. The lines are important: your side, the “neutral” zone, and their side. You want to be in their side as much as possible, but there are rules to going about doing so. “Look at what Jack’s going to do,” he points him out for you, he’s the one coming off the bench.  The moment he does, he taps his stick to the ice. As soon as he receives the pass he steps over the big blue line, and Lukey flies by him headed right to the other goalie. Jack gives it to Luke, who puts it in the net. 

“It’s really more of a winter sport,” Mr. Hughes admits to you, “but they enjoy it way too much to hang their skates in the summer.” You spend the rest of the afternoon going back and forth with Mr. Hughes on the bleachers.

.

.

.

You're eleven when you first hear the phrase, 'raised by women.' You hear it at the country club, sitting under the shade of the golf cart with your mom and others, playing caddies for a day.  

"What little gentlemen those Hughes boys are turning out to be," Mrs. Hischier says, sipping from a straw in a glass. You look over, and sure enough, out of all the boys they're the only ones with their shirts still tucked, though Luke is pushing it.

"That's what happens when you're raised by women."

"You mean raised by the woman. El, what's your secret?" Your mom bumps shoulders with her. They're close- neighbours, boat seat buddies, and occasionally each other's summer babysitters. Mrs. Hughes laughs, doesn't take credit, tells them her husband does a lot, too. 

You look out to the dads and boys, each gripping metal clubs. You've sat through enough courses to know the rotation. It'd be Mr. Zegras, then Trevor; Mr. Hischier, Luca, then Nico; Mr. Tkachuk, Matthew, and then Brady; Mr. Hughes, then Quinn, then Jack, and then Luke. Your dad's turn is between Brady Tkachuk and Mr. Hughes. You want to swing too, want to stand in the sun and hit a little ball with all your might. A loud crack makes you jump out of your thoughts, and your eyes settle on Quinn's follow through.

You're eleven when you make a friend out of Quinn Hughes. In middle school you're taught a lot outside of classrooms. It's a boy vs girl world. Boys are brash and brazen and aggressive. Why would anyone ever want a boy? But come summer, it was three boys you'd be stuck with. 

You ask Quinn because you can't ask Luke- he's not even that good. Jack is out of the question. He's your age and boys your age are gross. Quinn is older, taller, wiser, at least, you think he is. You walk down their deck, where he's standing with his parents by their boat. 

"Hello," you say politely, with all the niceties your mother taught you, "Can I play golf with you?" His parents look at each other, pretending to talk about the boat as they listen in on you.

"Huh? Why?" Quinn faces you fully with somewhat of a frown on his face. You've known him for a summer, seen him enough times to know he just looks like that. He doesn't tell you no, doesn't tell you girls can't. He's raised by a woman, after all.

"I wanna be good," you say, "and I think you're good." 

He grins at the compliment- the biggest you've seen him smile. Says, "Okay," with a tug of his mom's dress. 

"I think that's a wonderful idea, I'll put you two down for the junior driving range." Her eyes sparkle with something other than the reflection of the sun on the water.

.

.

.

You're thirteen the year you realize Jack is pretty. It's the first year your parents let you invite friends to the lake house. You're only allowed to bring two so you choose Julie and Megan. Julie's a no-brainer, she's your best friend. You invite Megan because she's the most popular girl in school. You think it's a good idea until you're stuck with her for three months. She's always on her phone, complaining about anything she can to anyone who will listen. Still, you try and enjoy your summer. Maybe she'll get her parents to pick her up a week early.

You and Julie are sitting in floaties, chatting and keeping close to the dock, where Megan sunbathes on a towel on her phone. A call of your name has you turning your head towards the familiar sound. Every year, they sound a little different, little changes in the pitch of their voices. You’d recognize them all the same.

You see Jack waving at you from their dock, but you know it wasn't his voice you heard. Your eyes narrow and scan up their deck. Where's Luke? The words are there on your tongue, but before you even open your mouth Julie shrieks as she's yanked underwater. Megan scrambles to her feet in panic, away from the edge of the water, clutching her phone to her chest. Jack jumps in like a lifeguard on duty, swimming towards the group of you.

When Luke and Julie surface they are both red in the face. Julie is gasping for air and Jack helps her get to the ladder up your dock. "Luke, you're the biggest idiot I have ever met." You tell him, watching him grab onto Julie's abandoned floatie. 

"Odds were 50-50," he snaps at you, clearly embarrassed. He follows you, swimming back to shore. He hoists both floaties onto the deck and follows you out of the water. 

"Are you okay, Jules?" You kneel down next to her, and rub her back as she tries to control her heaving. Jack stands, casting some shade on her, and Megan is quick to stand by his side. She adds to the shadow cast on Julie, but her eyes are on Jack.

"I'm okay!" she assures you with a cheerful voice, despite her coughing, "Just surprised me- is all." Your leg shoots out to kick Luke, who was standing uselessly. 

"Ow- I'm sorry," he bends down next to you to apologize sincerely, "I meant to drown that," he refers to you, tone absolutely dripping, and you can't stop yourself from laughing. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, give him a side hug. 

"It's nice to see you, too, Lukey." He drops the act, hugs you back. You both help Julie to her feet, and you're about to greet Jack properly when you notice someone else already has. Luke clears his throat, and Jack looks up. He moves forward to hug you, too.

"Hey, Sunshine," he calls you by a name you are only known by here, on this lake. "Who're your friends?"

You remember during your third summer in Michigan, the three brothers were going through their WWE phase. Every morning, they'd yell at you from their dock or their patio at the top of their lungs: 'Hey Sunshine! Can you hear the cannons? Kapow!' and flex and pose ridiculously. They never dared to do it again the following summers, but the nickname stuck and would always remind you. 

"This is Julie and Megan," you introduce everyone, "And this is Jack and Luke. They're from next door. They're usually a blast when Luke's not attempting murder," you stick a sharp elbow into his side. "Where's Quinn?" 

"He's working on the boat with dad. Should be ready by this afternoon," Luke reports excitedly.

"And why aren't you two aren't helping?" You cross your arms. 

"We saw you and wanted to say hi," Jack shrugs innocently, "Do you guys want to come boating when it's ready? 

"Yes," Megan answered quickly for the three of you. It was probably the most interest in doing anything she had expressed all summer. You were just happy she was getting involved instead of moping about bad cell service. 

You're thirteen the year you realize Jack is pretty.  It's not Megan and her googly eyes and lingering touches on his arm. No, that was all normal for Megan. Julie says his name a little too much, stares at him a little too long. You're staring at him too, across the boat. It's something between a squint and a glare, scrutinizing. You don't see it. You see brown curls that stick to his forehead with sweat and lake water. Your friends are much more interested in talking to Jack than you, which you don't like but don't fight either, and move up the boat.

"Can I try?" You ask Quinn, who was holding the wheel, and he steps aside, one hand on the wheel until you get both of yours on. Your dads are sitting behind you, talking through every sport under the sun. The four of you have all had your chance at the wheel before; the day you're all eligible, they'll take you to get your license. They'd love nothing more than to sit in the back with their feet up one day, or go golfing instead of chaperoning a boat day.

"Keep it straight," Quinn says, pulling the wheel ever so slightly. He lets go of the wheel again and you don't say anything. Among the three brothers, Quinn had the least to say. You preferred silence with Quinn over radio silence from your friends. You breathe deeply, enjoying the soft hum of the motor over the chatter in the background. "I think Megan likes Jack." 

You give him a sideways look, "Uh huh." 

"Does that bother you?" 

Your eyebrows furrow, and you turn your head to look at him fully. "When did you become so chatty?" 

He reaches out to straighten the boat again. He shrugs, ever so neutral. Out of the three, he's the hardest to get to, the hardest to bother. "You seem bothered by it," he says, "Otherwise, you'd be back there." 

"I just want to get some practice in," You weren't all that bothered, you tell yourself, yet you refuse to even look over your shoulder. If anything, he's what's annoying you now, "I'm gonna get my license so I can drive around without them, whenever I want." 

"I'm gonna get mine first," he tells you, and it's probably true. After a moment he adds something that is definitely true, "I think Megan likes Jack more than you." 

You laugh. Hearing him say it makes you feel better, somehow. You feel seen; he validates your frustration. "I think so, too."

"Don't worry, it's always like that with Jack," Quinn says, an attempt to comfort you. He gives you another shrug accompanied by a small smile, and for the first time he looks bothered. It's his eyes that give him away, blue not like a clear day, but blue like the centre of a hurricane. You smile back. The boat hums beneath you. 

.

.

.

You're fourteen when Quinn gets in your head. It's not even summer, though you're counting down the days. It'll be exactly three months and four days until summer vacation, three months and two days before you make it back to the lake. You sit in art class with Julie, across from two boys on the basketball team, when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

Quinn: Heyy 

You show Julie under the table and she raises an eyebrow, "What does he want?" You shrug, staring at your text chat. You can't even swipe because it's so short. The only previous messages are from last summer.

Quinn: Hey sunshine it's quinn 

hey!! ty I'll save ur number :)

You're reading it over when he sends another.

Quinn: Sorry, that was Luke

haha, ok. how's jack and lukey?

He doesn't reply, and you have never focused on a text chat so much in your life. You check your phone throughout the day, throughout the week, but he never lights up your phone. By the weekend you think to let it go. It's not like he has anything to text you about. And he's older, they're always saying it only gets harder. He's probably busy doing his homework, like you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and it's a text from a boy but not the one you want.

.

Megan isn’t invited back the next summer. Quinn’s got his boat license, as he said he would, and it’s the first time you guys are out on the boat unsupervised. He drives down the water, picking up friends along the lake. You and Julie are comfortable in the back, and Jack and Luke are up front with Quinn, who always takes his role too seriously. 

“Quinnnn, you’re the man,” Nico daps him up into a hug when he boards the boat. He looks down the boat, greets you and Julie. Nico is the same age as Quinn, and he drives too- only he doesn’t actually have his license. He’s too lazy to get it, and he'll get away with it for as long as he can. “Jack, where’s your friend? You know, the one.” He makes a face, which makes the whole boat snicker. He imitates Megan clinging to Jack’s arm, and quickly gets shoved off. “God, what’s her name?” He snaps his fingers, as if it would help him. He gives up, tapping Quinn, “Yo, pull over on your left here.” 

Nico was probably Jack’s best friend, outside of his brothers. He’s a class clown and a loose cannon. He’s annoying, and crass, and loud, and terribly easy to like. He's everything Quinn isn't. He gives Luke pointers on picking up girls like they're trade secrets. Like Jack, he's easy on the eyes. You think that's why he gets away with all the stuff he does, charms his way out of anything. They're a devastating duo on the lake for sure. 

He brings Luke up the random dock and disappears up the stairs. They return quickly, faster than you can suggest leaving them. They have two pretty girls in tow, who you recognize from the country club. Luke 's ears are red but he's grinning. You can see Quinn roll his eyes from where you sit at the back of the boat. Nico introduces Chelsea and Mila, and everyone except Quinn finds themselves at the back of the boat. You stare at his back until Jack's voice reels you back in. The conversation is something to do with how certain finishes make docks less slippery. It's nothing interesting, but you suspect Jack could read a telephone book and someone would listen. Even Chelsea and Mila pretend to for a bit.

Chelsea was slender with sharp features, like a supermodel with the height to match. She was easily the tallest person on the boat, clearing even Quinn, who had grown a lot since the previous summer. Mila had a rounder, friendlier face, and was only up to Chelsea's shoulders. You learned that Chelsea liked writing poetry and Mila's goal in life was to become a cat lady. It was hard to believe they weren't sisters, but best friends, like you and Julie.

Nico quickly grows bored of the lack of attention, and lucky for him, Quinn picks up Trevor, and then Matthew and Brady, who board with a bag of ice and a pack of fruit sodas for the cooler.

Matthew gives Quinn a break from driving, and he joins the back of the boat for the first time since setting sail. He leans on the edge of the boat, and you get everyone to squish in, so that he can sit on the cushions, too. "Thanks," he mutters, and sinks down next to you. 

You know why he's not sitting on the side with the guys- he doesn't like Nico. He doesn't say much, seated next to you, but he would say even less if he were sitting over there. For Nico was everything that Quinn wasn't; all chatty and charming. 

Your thigh rests over his ever so slightly, and you're made hyper aware of how hot his body runs. He leans back and you sit forward. He's still like stone, and you almost forget he's there, with your back half turned to him while you're in conversation with the girls. He doesn't sit for long, and heads back to the wheel, talking quietly with the older Tkachuk brother. His absence makes you feel cold. The surface of the boat is hot to the touch with the sun beating down on it. 

The same group, the same night, gathered in the basement of the Hughes house. It was decidedly the biggest and their parents were the most accommodating. Your parents didn't mind if you and Julie were out at night, as long as you were close by. It certainly helped that they knew the Hughes personally.

Matthew opts out of the sleepover, claiming that 'he's too old for this,' and 'he's got better things to do', like calling his girlfriend. That left the ten of you, a mix of sitting and laying down in the Hughes' big comfy basement. The couch downstairs was even bigger than the one upstairs in the living room, you could all fit side by side. But why would you when there were bean bags and floor cushions that were just as comfortable. 

You'd outplayed the board games and grew tired of the video games, and it had gotten to that hour of the night, where you would all sneak out to the lake and lay on the grass under the stars. You couldn't imagine doing any of this with anyone else- it was still very boys vs girls back home, and middle school boys were decidedly gross. 

Nico reminds you that he's gross, too. "Hey Lukey, who would you rather see topless? Julie or Mila?" 

The question cuts through the peaceful silence, and you hear someone sigh. The energy shifts, though no one moves, breaths held. 

"Uhh, probably Julie." Luke answers awkwardly, but recovers fast, "Trevor: would you rather kiss five 10/10s, or french two 5/10's?"

You close your eyes as Trevor dissects the question and explains his thought process over something that would never actually happen. "... 5 is pretty good overall. I'm frenching the 5's. Higher possibility of getting to the next base.” You hear hands clap, likely Trevor and Nico high-fiving; for what, you have no idea. It's not like it would ever happen.

"Hey, Sunshine, whose bed would you rather sleep in? Jack or Luke?" Trevor asks you, and you hear coughing from Jack on your right. Luke is eagerly waiting for your answer.

“You know there are three of them, right?” You say to Trevor. 

Nico laughs like a dog barks. “Quinn wouldn’t let you in his bed even if you begged him,” He makes you frown in the dark. Trevor snickers, and the group laughs lazily, because Nico is just so funny.

“Mmm, I think I have to go with Lukey." You think before speaking, "Julie, who would you rather go swimming with, Jack or Benji?"

"Who the hell is Benji? Nah, keep it local," Nico cuts in while Julie thinks. You don't know what she's thinking about. She'll say Jack every time.

"Fine," you bite back at him, starting to get annoyed, "Jack or Brady?"

"And swimming? You can do better than that, c'mon now. Make it interesting at least."

"Since when are there so many rules to Would You Rather?" Chelsea speaks up in your defence. You feel her warm hand on your wrist; you don't have to face him alone. Nico's replies are grumbles. 

"Jack?" It comes out like a question, as if she's unsure, as if she forgot what the original question was.

"I said choose someone other than Jack," Nico snaps. 

"Dude, relax," Jack says, and when Jack says that you know Nico's getting wound up. He knows Nico, knows the ebbs and flows of his temper. It's getting tense now. Softly, he says, "Just go, Julie."

'Chelsea, if you had to choose, who would you rather see naked? Trevor or Brady?' Uhhh, Brady. Sure.

'Brady, would you rather shower with Sunny or Mila?' Sunny. Sorry Mila.

'Z, would you rather have Chelsea or Mila sit in your lap?' Mila, definitely, Mila.

'Sunshine, would you rather Netflix and chill with Quinn or Nico?'

You think about it. You're not sure what you're thinking about, because you'd rather drink a cup of lake water than be anywhere close to Nico Hischier. You're so familiar with Quinn that despite the night you can see his face, clear in your mind. You're silent for maybe a little too long.

"Are you actually thinking about it?" Nico's voice is provoking. It seems like he's calmed down, anger turning into shit eating mischief. 

"Quinn," you say, jaw tight, controlling your own. But you've been petty since the age of ten, "Easily, Quinn."

"It's not like it would ever happen." Nico mutters. He's good at that, saying things under his breath for everyone to hear.

When Jack tells Nico to calm down, it's because he's getting out of hand.

When Quinn tells Nico to calm down, it's a warning.

"Move on, dude." Quinn doesn't like Nico, not really. You're not fond of Nico either, as fun and funny as he could be. It'd be two summers later that he'd give you a good reason.

.

.

.

Of course it's Jack that brings a girlfriend back to the lake first. Her name is Lola and her hair is a pretty shade of light brown so close to blonde, you're surprised it's natural. You learn that she's really good at wakeboarding. She's funny like Luke, and cute like Mila. She's sweet like you and easy to talk to, like Julie. Julie tries not to like her. But like Nico, she's hard to hate. 

You're fifteen and meeting a girl like Lola makes you acutely aware of how your shirts fit a little tighter in the chest, and how your tummy folds when you sit down. She looks good in anything she puts on. You were never shy about being in your bathing suit before, but this summer you keep your tshirt on for as long as reasonably possible. Because you're fifteen and now you care what people think of you; want boys to like you, look at you the way Jack looks at Lola. 

You were thirteen when you realized Jack is pretty. You're fifteen and you see what Megan saw in your friends. There had to be something in the lake water, because the boys back home don't look anything like they do. They changed every year, bit by bit, sure. But now Luke towers over you, curly hair like the cutest puppy in the pet shop, and Trevor's face is so much sharper, and Brady is as big as he is tall. Quinn looks so fluffy with his hair grown out, and his voice officially dropped. Not that he used it all that much, though he was grumbling about needing a haircut. 

"Don't," you tell him quietly, as quietly as he said it. You're helping him with the boat, or more accurately, he's helping you with yours. Your dad is flying in late, and ever neighbourly, Mr. Hughes sends his best (and really only) boater for your assistance. 

If he heard you, which he did, he doesn't say anything. The only indication that he did might've been in his eyebrows, which raised for less than a moment. He's focused on checking the oil, the engine, you're not really sure, honestly. You're just cleaning the dust off everything. "You finally getting your license this year?" 

"With any luck, yeah." You want to keep him talking now that he’s opened up, "Any tips?" 

"Uhh," he stops what he's doing, doesn't quite look at you. Maybe he's thinking. He's not good with his words so, "I can show you, after this?" 

"Oh." Your eyes widen, surprised by how much you want that. Before you can reply, you hear shouts of your names.

"Morning!" Julie stretches both arms up to the sky, having just woken up. It’s nearly noon. She looks small on your back deck. You wave at her, and she makes her way down the stairs. You hear Quinn sigh softly, and if you weren't paying so much attention to him and his voice you would have missed it. You have maybe thirty seconds before she makes it to the boat. 

"Later, yeah?"

He's quiet, and as Julie approaches he says on a deep exhale, "Yeah, okay." 

Julie puts both hands on the boat, using them to help push her feet up off the dock for a few swings. "How's she lookin'?" she asks, peering over at what Quinn's got his hands on (she doesn't know either.) 

"What?" Quinn asks, a bit too fast. His ears are red as he all but glares at your best friend. Julie squints at him, squints at you.

"The boat?" she deadpans. "When'll she be ready?" 

"Soon," you answer for Quinn, who's retreating back into his shell. “We can probably take it out later this afternoon. I think Quinn said we need to check the… propellers.” 

“Okay…” Julie says slowly, “Sounds boring. I’m gonna go eat breakfast with your mom. She says lunch is ready whenever you’re ready, by the way.”

You both watch her disappear up the deck, and Quinn turns to you, “The propellers are fine? We turned them on earlier.” 

“I know,” you say, even though you really didn’t, “c’mon, I thought you were going to show me stuff?” You look up at him and turn the key to the boat to start the engine. He laughs, eyes widening as he catches up with your train of thought, takes the wheel from you and quickly pulls away from the dock. 

There's not much to driving a boat on a lake, but he tells you what they'll ask of you on the exam, and goes through the motions with you. The two of you drive through every inch of Lake Bloomington, Quinn talking more than you had ever heard him in all your years of knowing him. You like the sound of him, want him to talk to you forever. So you keep him talking. 

You ask him and he tells you. He tells you about his goals in life and when they’ll happen, not if. He tells you he’s not one to dwell on dreams. He’ll play in the NHL someday soon. You didn’t realize it was that serious for him, for any of the Hughes, but you tell him not to forget about you when he’s famous. You’re only partially joking. He tells you how he’ll pay off the lake house mortgage for his parents the moment he can. In his own way, he tells you he'll always be here, on this lake.

.

Jack asks you to take care of Lola while he’s out at the rink with the boys. You have Julie, Chelsea, Mila, and Lola over, and you’re lounging around the patio set on your back deck, the trees fanning you with a gentle breeze every now and then. 

“Yeah, I want one like that, with its face all squished,” Lola is showing Mila a video of a cat on Instagram. They get along well. You got along well with her, too. And as much as she didn’t want to, so did Julie. 

“So, are you guys in relationships, too?” Lola asks, turning a lazy day into an official girls day, hot gossip and all. “I’d be surprised if none of you are.” 

“Chelsea just broke up with her boyfriend,” Mila says, and if they weren’t best friends it would have been jarring to hear it from anyone other than Chelsea. 

“Good for you, girl,” Lola fist bumps Chelsea across the table. “Guys don’t deserve girls, honestly.” 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you with Jack?” Mila asks. You try not to engage her as much, though you want to. Julie is your friend first. 

“I am,” she smiles with a nonchalant shrug. She blushes, shows her love for him on her cheeks. “I just mean, you guys are so awesome to be around. Wars were fought over women, y’know? Boys are lucky to be around you. They don’t always deserve it, though. Chelsea knows what I mean.” 

And you look at Chelsea, who cries into Mila’s shoulder. When she catches her breath, she tells all about her ex. She’s a writer, so she makes you fall in love with him too, drives you through from start to finish, takes you along the bends. She has such a way with words that you’re all crying by the end of it. 

When Jack retrieves Lola it’s half past five. Chelsea’s mom picks the last two up not long after. After dinner, you and Julie lay in the grass by the water. The sun sets extra slowly that day. 

You don’t need to look at Julie to know she’s crying. You put an arm around her, squeeze her tight, rub her back. “I hate that I like her.” She struggles to get the words out. “I hate it so much.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “me too.” You hated how she was your age but so much cooler, prettier, wiser. You hated how she made knee length jean shorts look good. You hated how her hair was always perfect, even after wiping out on the water. You hated seeing your best friend cry. 

She looks up from your shoulder when she feels you tense up. She lets out a small sob when she sees Jack and Lola, sitting on the Hughes’ dock, feet in the water. She stands and bolts up your patio stairs with tears flying off her face. She dodges Quinn on her way up. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask when he reaches you. He ducks down, crawls behind some foliage and motions you to come with. 

“Your dad let me in,” he says, but it’s not his regular quiet. He’s being sneaky quiet. 

“Okay, that’s how you got here. What are you doing?” 

“Spying on Jack, obviously. Are you staying or leaving?” He looks up at you and you feel bad that your first thought isn’t Julie, but you know her well enough that she’ll need time to calm down before you can talk to her again anyways. You make yourself small next to him, leaning towards him to peek around the trees in your way. 

They’re laughing, and you note the way Jack’s hand rests on the deck, one arm crossed behind her. Not quite around her yet, but he fixes that quickly. He reaches sideways and hugs her to him. She lays her head on his shoulder and he doesn’t let go. The clouds are pink and they cradle the sun, casting the loveliest light over the lake. It’s picture perfect, their silhouettes on the dock and the setting sun. 

As you spy on Jack and Lola watching the sunset, it dawns on you that you’re watching the sunset with Quinn.

.

.

.

You're sixteen when your parents let you have a boyfriend, and you're surprised they like him enough to invite him to the lake that summer. He gets well along with Julie, who insists on inviting a friend of her own so she's not third wheeling all summer. You tell her that the gang will still be there, it's not like she's stuck with the two of you. Your parents seem more understanding than you, and let her bring Olivia. You like Olivia too, so of course you're excited to bring more friends to the lake.

Your boyfriend, Jason, is the first guy from school that asked you to hang out and didn't make it weird. He's got a pretty face, is tall and fills out his tshirts with his broad shoulders. He's nice to you and nice to your friends and that's kind of all you look for in a guy at sixteen. Jason Robertson is popular in your middle school and he's popular on the lake, too. Maybe that's why Nico doesn't like him.

To Julie's joy, Lola is no longer in the picture. Olivia and Quinn get along well. You're surprised that he drops his resting bitch face when he talks to her. You suspect the only reason she's not going for Jack is because she knows Julie is. Jason sits in the driver's seat behind you, and you're perched on his knee as you drive your dad's boat down the lake. His arm holds you like a seatbelt, and he chats easily with Trevor, Chelsea, and Mila who are nearby. The only person Jason hasn't had much time with is Quinn, which is fine, because he always seems to be talking to Olivia. Since when does he talk so much? 

"Eyes on the road, yeah?" Jason says, chin on your bare shoulder. His hand covers yours and pulls the boat back on path. His voice is the same pitch as Quinn's, and it's among the things you like about him. You hum absently, used to him being so close to you.

"I can take over, Sunshine?" Nico offers out of nowhere. He doesn't like you, but he seems to like Jason even less, hates him enough to be nice to you. He calls you by your nickname every chance he gets- something Jason doesn't have for you. Nico holds it over him like it's his. You have the right mind to tell him off, but you're not in your right mind. You were out on the lake with all your best friends, and you were getting annoyed, and for once it wasn't because of Nico. 

"Yeah, fine," you let go of the wheel irresponsibly, walking away from Jason. He's fine to be left alone, after all, everyone else likes him. You walk to the back of the boat where they're wakeboarding and sit down next to Julie in the corner. She's next to Jack, her usual spot, and immediately notices you fuming. She turns to you, asks if you're okay with her eyes. You give her a nod, close your eyes and throw your head back on the seat. The Michigan sun is hot, uncomfortably so.

The Hughes installed a pool table in the basement, so of course all summer long there is a running tournament. There's a leaderboard on the mantle, keeping score. In an attempt to climb the standings, Nico gets alcohol involved. Brady convinces Matthew to boot, who only agrees if he stays to supervise. He sets you guys up with beer pong and drinks a bottle in front of the TV, playing Super Smash Bros. with Jack, Julie, and Mila. It's hard to get Quinn and Luke away from the pool table. It's hard to get Olivia away from Quinn. 

You don't like the taste of beer so you're really avoiding losing. Trevor cheers on Nico and Chelsea across the table, and Brady helps you and Jason catch stray ping pong balls. Jason's on the basketball team, so you figure he'd be good at this, and he is. 

It could be that he's drunk from drinking all the times Chelsea didn't want to. It could be because Jason's name is still above his on the chalkboard. It could also be because he just lost beer pong to him. Nico didn't like your boyfriend Jason, and he was being so nice to you to spite him that you almost forgot how awful he could be. 

Nico whips a ping pong ball at him, misses. "Could it be more obvious that she doesn't even fucking like you, dude?" He's not yelling, but he might as well have been, the way the room falls silent. "She's been into Quinn since like, the sixth grade. Everyone here knows you're a cuck." Jack comes quickly, and you feel Jason breathing heavy beside you, until he's not. He leaves through the basement door, and you don't realize you're crying until Julie grabs you, wipes your face with her thumbs. 

You hate the quiet, the room dead silent aside from Jack speaking to Nico in a hushed fury. You hate the way Olivia stares at you, eyes wide next to Quinn. Above all, you hate that Nico reads you for everyone like a children’s book at story time. 

Julie’s now talking to you, but it's like you’re underwater, you can’t make out a thing. You look at Nico, who’s arguing with Jack. Behind him you see Quinn, who puts his cue stick down, lays it on the table. 

“So I’m just supposed to let him walk all over me? Get real,” Nico snaps, and takes a shove at Jack. Trevor grabs Nico’s shoulder and pulls him back. Nico looks at you, his gaze as hot as his words are cold, “I’m not even wrong, am I?” 

“Nico, you ruin everything.” You scream at him and take off through the same door as Jason. Your voice cracks at the end, all the hurt for them to hear. You’ve never been this upset before, not at home, and certainly not at the lake. This was your happy place. 

Julie doesn’t run after you, and stops Luke from doing so. She knows you, knows you need to calm down before anyone can talk to you. She looks at Nico like he shot you, and he groans, rubs his hands over his face. He fears he's done more damage than it was worth. It's not his fault you were in the crossfire.

You cross through the trees between your houses, look up and see the light in Jason’s room on. He’s talking on the phone. You can’t face him, can’t face your parents right now, not with how much you’re crying. You sneak down the steps towards the lake. It’s very dark, the moon and stars covered by clouds that begin to cry with you. 

The rain is cold, yet the night is warm. It doesn’t rain often in the summertime, but when it does it pours. You like the way it feels, soaking your hair and your tshirt. Your tears run warm down your face, the only evidence you’re still crying. You sit there, mesmerized by the feeling of water falling from the sky and your eyes.

“Julie said you weren’t in your room.” You don’t need to look at him to know. There was only one person who had ever sat here with you. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“How’d you know?” Your voice doesn't sound like your own, weak and hoarse. Quinn lowers himself to the ground, sits down next to you. Every breath feels like a sob.

“Lucky guess.” You feel him shrug. This is the most he’s spoken to you all summer. The realization makes you cry even more. You’re soaked, and soon he will be too. You feel him place something over your shoulders, pull the hood gently over your head. You look over at him, now just in his t-shirt. His eyes look back at you softly, the ghost of a smile across his face. He leans back on his hands, one arm crosses behind you.

Jason's parents fly him back home the next day. You dread September but decide to make the most of what's left of your summer vacation. Quinn's driving the boat around, and it's just the six of you today. You notice that Olivia keeps her distance, instead lets Luke entertain her. He's entertaining, for sure. 

"What are you doing?" Julie calls up to Quinn, slight alarm in her voice. You notice him slowing into a dock on the left, connected to the Hischier's house. Nico's standing there, as if he was expecting it. He's got his hands in his pockets and from where you're sitting you can see an ugly bruise around his eye forming. Quinn doesn't reply, just looks at you and calls you over with a tilt of his head. You do so, and everyone follows to the front of the boat, wanting to hear what he has to say. 

"I'm sorry," he says, and for the first time, you think he actually feels bad about what he's done. The black eye certainly couldn't feel good. Quinn stays in the drivers' seat. He knows you can face Nico on your own. If anything happens, you have Luke and Jack by your side. 

"Yeah? For what?" Your words are dull when you want them to be sharp. You're mad but you don't hate him like you want to. You grew up with him, and he's made you laugh a million times. It's hard to hate guys like Nico.

"For making you cry," he says gently, and you know it's the truth. He apologizes for what he's sorry for, because he's not sorry about what he said to Jason, not sorry for driving him away. "It wasn't cool and..." Nico's eyes drift from yours for a moment, behind you, to Quinn, "...I know it's not true." He lets out a weak laugh, "I mean, you and Quinn-"

You stop him before he can make things worse for himself, point to your own eye and ask, "That hurt?" 

"Yeah, fuck me. Like, every time I blink." he whines. 

"Good,” you say, and hear Quinn laugh. It's beneath the sound of the water swishing against the boat, but your ears are so tuned to him; you wouldn't miss such a pretty sound.

"We good, then?" 

"We're good." Quinn quickly peels away from the platform and drives around in a tight circle, makes the water come up and spray Nico, who's left standing on the dock. He yells and cusses at the boat, but he laughs as much as you do. You wave at him getting smaller in the distance. He flips you off, and you give it right back with a smile. 

You walk over to Quinn, lean against the wall behind the drivers seat, while his brothers and your friends return to the comfy cushions at the back of the boat. “Thanks, Q,” you make his nickname even shorter. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make it weird, but you know he heard you. You know by the way the tops of his ears turn pink and his shoulders roll back. He looks up at you over his shoulder quickly. The moment felt like an hour, his eyes look through you like you're made of glass. You blinked and he was looking forward, driving responsibly.

.

.

.

You're seventeen when Julie stops holding out for Jack. She's probably still his biggest fan, but she's not hung up on him like she used to be. She goes to homecoming with a guy that smiles just like him. You don't go with anyone, for once. Neither does Jason. He's kind, kinder than you deserve, when he doesn't let anyone say anything bad about you when people gossip about your breakup. 

You sit on the bleachers with the other dateless kids, scrolling on your phone. It's homecoming for Jack and Quinn, too. You open Quinn's story after seeing Jack post from the dance floor. The night feels even lonelier, seeing him repost a girl's story. There are no words, no emojis, it's just him in a suit, with his arm around a girl in a hot pink dress. She seems really close to him. He's holding her really close to him. You wonder if he'll bring her back to the lake, if you'll ever meet her. You wonder if he felt this way when you introduced them to Jason.

You're nervous for the Hughes to arrive this year- they come from Toronto, a little farther, travel a little longer. Luke texts you like a warning. They'll arrive this evening, Quin'll have the boat ready by tomorrow, they can't wait to see you. You tell him to help this time, and maybe he might. Your dad got the boat all ready, and you sit next to it, alone on your dock. It's 6:00pm and the sun is still high enough to light the sky. You feel footsteps ripple across the wood, more so than you hear them. You look over your shoulder, surprised to see Quinn coming down towards you. 

His face is slimmer though his cheeks are still full. His hair is shorter than you prefer, but still fluffy, like you like. Before you know it, the sun starts its descent, and he's in front of you, and you're breaking your neck to look up at him from where you sit. "Hey," you look back at his house, see the lights turn on one by one, "What're you doing here?" He belongs on this lake, so that's not what you're asking. "Shouldn't you be unpacking?" 

"Saw you and wanted to say hi," he shrugs, taking his hands out of his pockets. You've heard it before, though you can't quite remember when he stirs your thoughts like this. You smile and stand up to greet him properly. He's taller, you tilt your chin up ever so slightly, feel your eyes raise to meet his. He's actually pretty lanky, though it's not so obvious when he's next to Luke.

"Wanna take her for a spin?" You hop up onto your dad's boat, knowing he'll follow. He belongs on this lake. He has his drivers license now, he updates you, as he drives the boat down the lake. He's always been this way; first to the finish line. He's a high achiever, however nonchalant he is about it. You congratulate him, joke that he should help you get yours too, like he did your boat license. Whoever @abbeeclarke is, she doesn't make an appearance at the lake house. He doesn't mention her once, and neither do you. You let it go and avoid wearing hot pink. 

You’re seventeen when you’re down bad for Quinn Hughes. You get it. You get his appeal. He’s stoic and gloomy and he’s all sharp edges. He looks like a question waiting for an answer, but you know if asked, he'll tell. He’s someone you want to like you. You like seeing the drastic change in his face when he sees you coming his way. How he relaxes, leans back; how he smiles small and wide. His shoulders shake when he laughs. You like when you exchange glances cross the boat, or the basement; you like the way his gaze makes it feels like it’s just you and him. 

From playing Would You Rather in the grass to beer pong in the Hughes' basement, the stakes only get higher. After all, a game is only fun when someone has something to lose. You watch Mila spin the bottle. It lands on Trevor who practically drags her to the closet, and closes the door before anyone can even start the timer.

Everyone picks up a Wii remote- readying up for another round of Mario Kart. You learn that three laps across three maps take about seven minutes to complete. You're in second, until you blue shell Quinn for first. He doesn't lose often, grumbles to you, "You sure you need driving lessons?" 

You laugh, the alcohol in you swaying you off balance, and you straighten yourself with a hand on his bicep. Chelsea pours shots for everyone who doesn't make top three. The glasses hit the table the same time Trevor and Mila come out of the closet, giggling and wiping their mouths.

The group circles up around the bottle again. Quinn spins and you sit on your knees, watching it slow to a stop. It lands on Chelsea, and you can't help but see how much she looks like that girl on Quinn's Instagram. Chelsea doesn't move, looks across the circle to Quinn, and you beside him. Her eyes flicker to yours, and you can't make out what she's saying with her eyes. She doesn't move. 

"Pass," Quinn pours himself two as per the rules of the game, using your shot glass for the second. The group isn't quiet about it, the exception created for the Hughes' sake on the odd chance a player lands on their sibling. It's never used to pass just for the sake of passing. "I'm calling it a night," he says, doesn't look at you when he leaves up the stairs. You hear the basement door shut at the top, and that's when you realize you're staring after him. 

"Fuckin' buzzkill, eh?" Nico huffs, changes the game. "Chelsea, truth or dare?" We move away from the bottle on the floor, settling into the conversation pit. 

"Truth," Chelsea's smart. Nico's dares aren’t worth hearing. You all know each other well enough. When Nico's asking, it's more like Truth or Drink. 

"Boo. Did you want to go in the closet with Quinn?" 

"Not really." She does it again, looks at you. She smiles, says evenly, "Sunshine, truth or dare?"

"Dare." You're drunk.

"Sneak into Quinn's room." Chelsea's words give the night new energy. This game, on par with Would You Rather, is interesting now that the stakes are raised. Trevor and Brady's eyebrows raise, and they drop their conversation, turn their heads towards the game.

"That's all?" You're drunk. You have to be. 

"Come back with the shirt he was wearing, to prove you did," she adds, and they jeer you to your feet.

"It was a Leafs' shirt," Luke clarifies for everyone. You look at Julie, who shakes the bottle of Absolut watermelon. You can always back out, you just have to drink. Rules are rules.

Jack distracts her with a hand over hers, setting the bottle back on the table. He nods for you to go with a mischievous grin, "Quinn's is the one next to the bathroom." 

Bedrooms were off limits, always has been. No matter how much your parents liked the Hughes boys and no matter how much their parents trusted you. It's why the Hughes renovated their whole basement for you crazy kids. You take the stairs step by step, hearing Nico grumbling about, 'I swear to god...'

You know the Hughes' house well, what with all grabbing emergency towels and helping Mrs. Hughes pack boat lunch, and all the times your parents dropped you off on date night; you've become familiar with it's halls and creaky steps over the years. All the bedrooms are on the second floor, which is uncharted territory for you. Identical white doors, you choose the right one thanks to Jack. You don't knock- it'd be too loud, with his parents' room at the other end of the hall. There's no light under their door, which makes sense as it's half past one. You open the door quickly, step in, and rest your back on the other side of the door. You don't want to get caught in his room, but you don't want to get caught in the hall outside of it either. 

Quinn's room is exactly what you expected, not that you spend much time thinking about it. It's dark, but your eyes adjust within a few breaths. There are posters of athletes on his wall, hockey sticks sitting in the corner. There are clothes all across the floor. The laundry bin by his closet isn't even full but there are clothes spilling out of it, like he just missed the basket. There are random bottles of water scattered like easter eggs, the floor, his bedside table, his windowsill. His window is open, and it's strikingly cold. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Luke," you hear Quinn groan from his bed. He's under the covers, facing the wall where Sidney Crosby stares back at him. 

"It's- It's me," you whisper, press yourself against the door even more. He stills, silent, then sits. The blanket rustles as he jolts up. There's a girl in his room. He's eighteen and there's a girl in his room and that girl is you. 

He gets out from under the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The moon beyond his bedroom window casts light on the right side of his face. Your breath hitches when you meet his eyes. He doesn't kick you out, doesn't get angry. He asks if you're okay. "Come here," he says, urges you forward, "I can't hear you." 

You cross the room towards him, maybe four steps, and sit at the very edge of his bed. Not too close, not close at all, in fact. Not enough to make it weird, you hope. You tell him your mission. "I need that shirt." 

He grabs a handful of his shirt, the one he's wearing, "Has to be this one?" he questions, watches you swallow and nod silently. He wonders who put you up to this, wonders who he has to thank tomorrow. Because he smiles at you, backlit by the moon. You're glowing, each stray strand of your messy hair frames you like a halo. "I'll take it off, if you take off yours." 

What? The question doesn't make it past your throat. The same Quinn who passed on making out in a closet, now trying to get you topless in his bedroom. On his bed. He's drunk, you tell yourself, drunk out of his mind. He has to be.

He doesn't hesitate for a moment, pulls his shirt over his head. It's nothing you haven't seen before- he's shirtless half the summer, soft abs on display. But it makes sense for him to be shirtless on the water. Not here in front of you, in his sweatpants with his hair all soft and messy. The moonlight casts shadows across his face that remind you he's older, he's got a whole year on you. You try to remind yourself he's the same Quinn that tries to carry all the groceries in one run, the same Quinn that helps your dad with the grill, and you with the boat. He's familiar, face impossibly unreadable but you know where to look for answers. His eyes, ghostly in the night, are having fun. He's having fun with you. He holds his shirt out to you, eggs you on, "I'll trade you." 

Your fingers find the bottom of your own, and you begin to pull it up, slow because you're unsure. He thinks you're slow because you're a tease, audibly exhaling when you finally get it past your neck. The room is way too cold to be in sweat shorts and a bralette, but it's his words that makes you shiver. “Damn,” it falls softly from his lips. He's seen you in a bikini before, sees it all the time, but his eyes fall in a way they never would in the daylight. You lean forward to put your shirt in his other hand. He tosses it across the room, and when you reach for his blue Toronto Maple Leafs shirt, he drops it before you even feel the fabric.

He pulls you forward to him, and you struggle to keep your yelp of surprise in. Your hand grabs his bare shoulder and pushes him down on his back. He puts his hands on your hips, helps steady you as if he wasn't the one who knocked you off balance in the first place. He watches your face closely, a few centimetres above his, as he tests the water; a hand on the back of your knee adjust you so that he's in between them. His hand stays on the back of your thigh, searing. He's got you right where he wants you. 

"Tell me to stop and I will." Is the last thing he says before he pulls your lips, and your hips, down on his. You'd be lying if you said you never thought about what his kisses would be like. Despite every opportunity, the bottle never landed on Quinn. Kissing him now, you fear you'd never be able to stop thinking about it.

He's thorough with his lips on yours and a hand in your hair. The hand on your hip guides you over his lap. You've never been kissed or held or wanted quite like this before. You feel him want you through his sweatpants, feel him want you on his tongue. He's minty, having must have brushed his teeth, but his breaths come in puffs of watermelon. You exhale a whine when his mouth leaves yours in favour for your cheek, then your neck. You don’t realize your hips are moving on their own until his hands are on your breasts, pushing them together for him. He kisses soft skin above your bralette, the thin fabric doing little to hide you. He squeezes hard enough to make you moan out. 

You both freeze for one moment, two moments- making sure no doors open, no lights turn on in the hall. 

He brings your attention back to him, bites hard on the inside of your breast, then soothes it with a suck that slowly starts to hurt more than the bite. You whimper, and he stops, looks up at you. He sits up and you sit up with him, straddling him properly now, sitting on your knees on either side of him. You use them as leverage to ride his lap more diligently. His hands grab your ass, fingers slip up under the hem of your sweat shorts. He squeezes softly and pulls, spreading you apart, creating a better slot for him to thrust against. You feel the difference immediately, melting into his chest, head over his shoulder. Everything about him is hot; the warmth from his body, his soft groans, how he looks at you through the hair that falls over his eyes.

He kisses you, different than the first, completely overwhelms you with him. All you can focus on is the drag of his hard cock against you, the position so perfectly right. It’s enough to get you off, chase something you don't know how to catch, and you moan freely into his mouth. You ride his lap eagerly, and if you were sober you might've been embarrassed showing him how much you want him. 

“Be quiet for me,” he whispers as he pulls your head back, exposes your neck to him. He kisses, kisses, bites, then sucks. Not too high, nowhere too obvious. He still wants your dad to like him. He doesn’t want to get caught, and he doesn’t want to stop, and you’re gonna make him cum in his pants if he keeps listening to you. You whimper under erratic breaths; he’s so incredibly hard under you. Once he's satisfied he's given your tits the attention they deserve, he flips you over, lays you down in his double bed. He holds himself over you with one arm by your head, and his hand by your side. Your legs wrap around him, keeping him there, and he can't keep the smile off his face, looking at you. 

Because it's you in his bed. It's you, eyes half lidded and shirtless and wanting him as much as he wants you. It's you, lips as soft as he always thought they'd be, kisses sweeter than he could dream. It's you, all marked up because of him. You pull him back to earth with a tiny tug on the garter of his sweatpants. He shakes his head, pecks to your lips. It's too short, he notes, as you follow after him, back arching as he pulls away. He comes back down to give you a deeper one, because he'll do nothing if not satisfy you.

"I'll take mine off if you take off yours," you whisper to him, slip a finger in the waistband of not his sweatpants, but his boxers. You tug at the clothes he has left. He swallows thickly, because he wants nothing more.

"Can't." It's the first time he sounds as affected as you feel. He closes his eyes, so he doesn't have to see you pout. Not that it matters, he's memorized every expression you've ever worn. "I... I don't have any condoms on me."

You remember that he's raised by a woman, and you're glad but it doesn't keep you from sighing softly. You remove your hand from his pants, bring your arms up around his neck. Your legs tighten around him, bring him back down against you. You wonder if he's aware of how wet you are through your shorts. He doesn't move, doesn't take things further, though you can see the want in his eyes. He's got more self control than you do, you'll give him that. Your hips move against him slowly, calves pushing him into you as hard as you please. You look him in the eyes when you tell him, "I don't care." 

He watches you, blue eyes flicker over every detail of your face before he speaks, "You're drunk." 

"I don't want you to stop." 

His head drops down to your shoulder, lays a kiss there. He's strained, groans into your skin, "You're an angel."

"Please, Quinn." 

"Can't," he repeats, and he sounds even less convincing than the first time. He hugs you, drops his body to yours, envelops you for a moment. Your hips still under his weight, but you don't find it in you to complain. You want this part of him, too. He rolls off you to the lay on his side, holds you to him. His thumb rubs the soft skin at your hip, dips under your shorts. His touch is so comforting, you almost let it distract you. 

"I want it to be you." You're making things really hard. You're making him really hard.

You feel his hand slip under your shorts, and you're absolutely shut up. At first he's a little off target, but he's quick to find you where you need him, hot and wet, wetter than his dreams. You wonder if it's his first time too, as he runs a fingertip against you softly, too soft. He feels how much you want him, his finger dips inside despite the wet fabric of your panties. Your thighs fall open, give him access to all of you. 

"Fuck," he mutters, and leans down to catch your parted lips. He wonders if it's your first time, when he slips his tongue in your mouth as he pushes your panties aside. His finger slips in so easily, you're so wet for him. He pulls away, breathless, and lays his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight as he feels inside you, soft and squishy and squeezing. He pulls back, drags along your walls in a way you need more of. Your hips lift, chase his hand, and he pushes back in, slow and firm, pressing your hips into the mattress. He sees your mouth fall open and he's quick to cover your mouth with his other hand, muffles the lustful sob that falls from your lips. 

"Shh," he tuts, picks up the pace, which makes it worse. You're being louder than his palm can silence, and it makes him panic and loop his thumb in your mouth, pressing on your tongue. Your lips close around it, and he feels your moans vibrate as you start to suck it. He comes to the realization that he's probably going to cum in his pants tonight, but it feels good. You feel so good around his fingers. Your hands grip his forearm and his hand stutters. He adds a second finger, and your pussy grips them in a way that makes it hard to move, but he persists. You seem to like it when his palm is flush against you, so he does just that. The hand hooked into your mouth cups your face, and you lean into his touch, sucking quietly. Your eyes flutter open, and he almost lets himself go with way you're looking at him. You've got one hand gripping his straining forearm, and bring your other up to gently hold his palm to your face, like you're cherishing his touch. The arm you grip is getting tired, his wrist not used to being in this angle, but he's a high achiever, always has been. 

"Quinn, I-" you try to say with his thumb in your mouth, but you're falling apart in his hands. He can feel it, hear it the way you're gushing around his fingers. "Oh, god," your back arches, presses the fabric of your bralette against his chest. He sees you through it, fingers pump steadily until you finally still in his arms. You curl up in his chest, and he wipes his fingers on his sheets before wrapping his arms around you. It's quiet now, your breaths the loudest sound in the room. You catch your breath before he does and move to straddle him again. He lays on his back, stretches his arms before putting his hands firm on your waist. He has a dopey smile on his face, smirks up at you and holds you still, doesn't let you try anything. "Quinn," you whine, thinking you were getting somewhere with him. 

He sits up, leans back against his headboard, and you follow, inch ever closer. "We're not fucking tonight," he tells you, and before the words can break your heart he touches his forehead to yours, "I want you," he assures you, "God, I want you so bad," he confesses, and your hips thrust on impulse. He chuckles, and his arms wrap around you again, pulls you into a hug that you fear you’ll never stop craving. "If you still want it tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow, then." You say, before he can convince himself otherwise. 

He smiles small, presses a kiss to your forehead, repeats, "Tomorrow, then." You nod, feeling mutually understood. You swing your leg over, get off his lap. "Where're you going?" he asks when you stand from the bed.

"Home?" You're trying to find your shirt from the floor in the dark.

"You sleep over all the time," he tries to reason. 

"Yeah, downstairs with everyone else," You stop searching to look at him, laying in his bed. Shirtless, messier than he was before. You forget where you're going with your argument. "I'm not supposed to be here." He sighs, knows you're right, despite everything he wants. He gets up from his bed, and you feel small when he walks over and hands you a shirt, his grumbly silhouette daunting in dark. He pulls a hoodie over his head. "Where are you going?"

"At least let me walk you home." He looks over his shoulder at you from his closet. He walks back to you, puts a hoodie in your hands. "It's cold," he mutters, seemingly back to his stoic self again, but he always looks at you softly. The two of you escape from his room, and escape down the stairs. You can hear Brady and Nico snoring behind the closed door leading to the basement. You leave through the back, and he leads with his hands in his pockets. Your face is hot thinking about them and the way they felt on you tonight. The night breeze cools your skin. You think back to when you held his hand to your face, wonder what your hand would feel like in his. 

Between your dock and his, he doesn't take his hands out of his pockets once. He doesn't reach for your hand, he doesn't even brush his arm to yours. He keeps his distance and you're painfully aware of the space between you. You should have taken it as a warning sign.

The next day you're driving your dads’ boat, dropping everyone back home because apparently you had 'drank the least.'

Julie had stumbled home before you woke up, and was surprised to see you in your bed. She gave you a weird look when on possibly the hottest day of the year you stepped out in a tshirt, but was way too hungover to ask questions. She helped you lug a cooler full of gatorade and ice onto the boat before sitting and texting the rest of them to hurry up, if they wanted a ride home. She opted to stay home to sleep, like Luke and Jack likely were. You wonder if Quinn will be the boy who cried hangover.

You hear the soft thumps of rubber on wood, the telltale sound of your friends marching down the steps. If you didn't know any better, you were witnessing the walk of shame. You would definitely be a part of it, had you not left the night early. You smiled, waved at Quinn, who waved back, herding the sorry teens down the dock. 

You met them at the side, and the two of you ensured everyone got on the boat safely. Quinn sat beside Trevor and Brady, while simultaneously boxing Nico in from walking right off the side. Chelsea and Mila held each other, slumped peacefully. You move the boat slowly up the lake. It's just past noon and the sun is at it's highest point. 

Occasionally you feel Quinn's eyes on your back, but his current task is too important to walk away from. Your swimsuit tie is visible at the nape of your neck, but you keep your dark grey t-shirt on. If Brady walks into the lake right now, Quinn didn't know how he was going to get him back in the boat. He's honestly out of breath, glad that Nico passed out in the middle of the boat, hopefully of exhaustion and nothing else. He's panting when you pull over at your first stop, Trevor’s house. Quinn walks him all the way up to his back deck, the blonde slumped against him the whole time. He did the same with Nico, and then you helped him with Chelsea and Mila. 

You hand him a gatorade when he returns to the boat alone after dropping off Brady. "Do you want to switch? I can drive back," he offers, and you move to let him take the wheel. He reaches around you, trapping you between him and the wheel, and you hold your breath. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he turns the boat around, puts the boat in 9MPH, just has to keep the wheel straight until you see your house. He keeps one hand on the wheel and wraps the other around you, slips his hand under up your t-shirt. Your hands are on the wheel uselessly, purely decorative at this point. You find yourself arching, pressing back into him when his hand grips your breast, groping you in broad daylight. He had sailed a bit further into the lake, farther from the docks and parked boats on the side. "Angel, what's with the shirt?" With the hand under your shirt he tugs the collar down, finds what he’s looking for.

He groans deeply, looking at the dark hickeys across your chest, "What's the matter?" He pulls up your shirt, looks over your shoulder when he lifts it over your bikini top, the love bites on display for him "Don't want them to know you're all mine?" His lips land on your neck, threatening to give you one for all to see. He presses his erection to the swell of your ass and you moan out. He takes the opportunity to stuff the hem of your tshirt into your mouth. It serves two purposes; it keeps your body in full view for him, and muffles the draw of attention your utterly pornographic moans are. 

"Both hands on the wheel, right angel? Keep the boat straight," he tells you. It's not hard, and it shouldn't be as hard as it is when he's grinding against you, rubbing his length between your bathing suit and his shorts. His fingers slip under the strings of your bikini bottoms, just so he can grip your hips and feel the skin unobstructed. He can barely keep his eyes off your marked up tits and occasionally one hand will come up and show them some love. He sits down on the drivers' seat, pulling you down with him. It's easier to rub against him, sitting on his lap like this. The angle has him dragging along your clit and the friction of his shorts on your thighs have you blushing and sweating.

“You still want this?” he asks you, breathing so attractively jagged. 

“Kind of unfair to ask,” you look over your shoulder at him, “when you’ve got me like this, don't you think?” He chuckles, puts a hand on the wheel and straightens the boat while you continue to grind on him as you please. You subconsciously trace the length of him, gauge his size. 

“I want it,” he tells you, low and honest, “Can you blame a guy for trying to convince you?” To your surprise, he pushes you down his lap, closer to his knee, holds you still there. “Tonight, then?” You groan. He's teasing you. 

He definitely didn't expect you to place two hands on his knee and start riding his thigh. He must have underestimated how close you were, and if you turned your head to look at him you would have seen his eyes widen in the realization that he can make you cum again, right here and now.

"Holy shit, Sunshine," he groans, and your heart flutters, remember who you are and who he is. Jack and Luke's older brother. The high achiever. The best driving instructor on the lake. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants again," he leans forward, presses his chest to your back, whispers softly in your ear, "Fuck." 

You drag yourself across his thigh at a steady pace, the sheen of sweat building on you glimmered in the sunlight. You're lucky he's gagged you with your own shirt, because his hand had moved from your breast to the top of your swimsuit bottoms, and let himself in. He was pleasantly surprised with how wet you were, your swimsuit doing its job at absorbing liquid. He lubricated his fingers with your honey and laid his hand to your front. You wonder if he knew, or if the stutter of your hips gave you away, but he found your clit and began to pet it, back and forth, firm and fast. He turned the boat quickly, facing away from the houses and shut off the engine. He wasn't that much of of risk taker. 

His free hand snakes up your breast, gives it a feel before slotting his wrist in between them, reaching up to pull you back into him by your throat. His grip isn't tight, but it's firm enough to hold you in place, back to his chest. It's harder for you to ride his thigh at the angle he's forced you into, but his fingers never leave your clit, now rubbing you in circles. "Is this how bad you want it?" he laughs in your ear, "Tell me you want it." All you could do is whimper and nod frantically, chasing your finish line. He smiles, and the hand on your throat helps take the shirt from your mouth. Your shirt falls down over his arm, wrinkly and damp. He turns your head to him, tilts your mouth up to meet his. 

"I want it," You say agains his lips. You lay your head back onto his shoulder, tell Quinn, "I want you." 

He looks at your face for what feels like hours, as he gropes your tits lazily, not letting up on his attention to your clit. You rub on his thigh erratically, his grip on your throat doing wonders to hide your desperate whines. "Oh, Angel, you're killin' me. You have no idea how much I want to be inside you right now," Quinn had never sounded so needy in his life, "Need you to want it."

"Q..." He quickly thinks to turn the engine on, hopefully mask the sound of you letting go. For the second time in the last twelve hours, you're breathing heavily against each other. "So..." you start, swinging your leg over so that you were sitting properly in his lap, "Tonight, then?" You lift your tshirt to wipe the sweat from the back of your neck. 

He catches one last glimpse at your hickey covered tits and makes note to rub a few out before he sees you later. 

They say the hottest day of the summer tends to feel like the longest. It surely did, as the group lounged in and around the Hischier house pool, still recovering from the night before. The Hughes had a pool, too, but Nico's had better shading and seating all around.

You lay on a shaded couch with Julie, Mila, and Chelsea while the boys sat in and along the pool. Luke and Brady drifted on large floaties, and the rest of the guys either sat on the stairs or just had their feet in the water. The gathering needed no scheduling, it was an unspoken rule of the lake that every recovery day is a pool day. Quinn's got his back to you, and you're burning holes into him with the way you're staring. 

"You alright, Sunny?" Julie waves her hand in your face. You don't want to say anything yet, not until there's something to tell. Until then, you can't tell her that Quinn's acting weird, and part of it is because he's not acting weird at all. He's being so normal and it frustrates you. 

"Yeah, I'm good," you assure her, finally redirecting your attention and looking at her. 

"You're like, glowing," she says, though there's not much energy in her voice. She's hungover after all. She looks and sounds suspicious of you, if anything. Or maybe she's just suffering.

"Thank you?" You try to smile your way out of admitting anything. You'll tell her after tonight, get the whole story. 

"Why don't we get in the pool?" Mila suggests already tying up her hair.

"I'm good here," you say quickly, "I don't want to get my hair wet today." Your friends look at you oddly, but don't push. They leave you on your own with a splash as they enter the water. You're not left alone for long, as Luke hops over the back of the couch to land next to you. 

"Hey, Sunshine," he says, and just off his tone you know he knows something. It has to do with the way he can't keep his voice even to save his life. Could just be puberty... Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms over your chest. 

"Hi Lukey," your voice is dripping with suspicion.

"How'd mission impossible go last night?" he asks, glances at you and then his eyes bounce off everyone in the pool. Luke Hughes was probably the most shit-eating person you had ever met, and so far he was playing it very cool. 

"What'd he tell you?" you deadpan quietly. There's panic in your voice and in your eyes, while his glow with mischief. 

"Nothin'," Luke Hughes was certainly the most shit-eating person you had ever met, "Why, is there somethin' to tell?" 

Your face heats up, as if it the heat wasn't already unbearable in a tshirt. You were in the shade and the air was warm. "Shut up, Luke," you strike his arm with a fist and he feigns injury. Another body drops onto the couch, a little wet for your liking. The cushion starts to soak up the added pool water, and you inch away from Trevor and closer to Luke, who's at least dry. 

"What's the deal, Sunshine?" Trevor's arm hangs over the back of the couch, "You're wearing more clothes than you have all summer." Of course he'd notice. He tugs at the collar of your cropped tshirt, and it hikes up a bit, the hem just lifting to show a bit of under boob. Thankfully you're still wearing your swimsuit despite having no plans to actually swim today, and probably for the next few days.

"Fuck off, Z," Luke swats his hand. Maybe he does know something, but you could care less in the moment, tugging your shirt down hard. Trevor raises his hands in apology when Quinn sits down on the other side of Luke. He doesn't look happy, though when does he ever, and you can't tell if he's glaring at you or Trevor. Deciding that you're not going to stick around and find out, you get up to get yourself a drink.

"Sunshine, can you bring the cooler down when you get back?" Nico calls from the pool when he sees you're heading inside. You wave your hand, letting him know you will. It's cool inside the Hischier house; they have air conditioning, after all. You feel your sweat drying two steps past the door. You kick off your shoes and head straight to the fridge, sighing happily as the cold air rushes you when you open it. You grab a cold can and press it to your cheek before cracking it open and quenching your thirst. 

"Man, it's cold in here," Quinn says, coming through the door. You tense up, not in the mood to engage him right now. You turn around, ready to give him an earful, when he sets down the cooler by your feet. "Nico forgot that he had brought it down already, just needs a a refill," Quinn explains, already opening a bag of ice and pouring it in. You put your drink down and help him by dropping some beverages from the fridge into the ice filled cooler. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do you, despite having a lot in your head. Do you even like me? 

The refrigerator door closes and this time it’s your thoughts that chill you, enough to make you shiver. Because he never once said he likes you. Sure, he said he wanted you, but at seventeen you knew those two things weren’t one and the same.

The hickeys start to feel like plain bruises, your chest aching at the realization. Through all his gloominess, you liked him. You liked him when he had braces. You liked him through every bad haircut. You liked him in the summer rain, under the hot Michigan sun, and in the seasons when he was nowhere near. But he was a pearl, and you were still trying to figure out how to shuck an oyster. 

It went against every standard you held yourself to. But you like him, so you sneak out to meet him by his dad’s boat, late into the night. He stands on his dock at one in the morning, hands in his pockets.

Do you like me? The question is there, on the tip of your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to ask, ruin whatever could happen between you. He takes your hand, helps you onto the boat, and with the engine low, drives across to the quiet side of the lake and turns it off.

It's so quiet you can hear the water lapping at the side of the boat, and the distinct lack of energy lines you found in the city. The houses along the lake had all gone dark, save for any garden or outdoor lights. They join the stars, twinkling in the dark of night. 

He's laid out what looks like every one of his moms blankets at the back of the boat and sits back on pillows you recognize from his couch. He pats the blanket next to him, but you move to straddle his lap, instead. His hands immediately find your hips, but his lips don't meet yours as fast as you expected them to. They part, asks you, "Are you sure about this?" 

How can he ask that? When he's gone through all this trouble, already made you finish twice, and hasn't gotten a thing in return? How can he ask that, when it's so painfully obvious that you like him? That you've always wanted him; from the moment you knew how to want a boy, you wanted him. You think about telling him you've never been more sure of anything in your life. You also consider lying, tell him you just don't want to be a virgin anymore. But he knows you well, knows every tell you have. Not trusting your own voice, all you do is nod, lean in, and press your lips to his, hips rolling.

"Just say the word and we stop." He gives you an out, but the moment his tongue is in your mouth it doesn't cross your mind once. 

Getting the condom on was trickier than you thought it would be, at least in the dark, lit only by the moon and stars. You both laughed when you rolled it on the wrong way, rendering it useless. He's glad Matthew gave him three, and the two of you manage to figure it out. He confesses that it's his first time actually having sex, and you're surprised and elated that he's doing it with you. You tell him he's your first, too, and you see the relief wash over his face. 

You warn him not to leave any more marks on you, the existing ones will take long enough to fade. There wasn't much of the summer left, and it would be cooling down soon, but even you know how unusual it is for you to be covering up so much. He's got a dirty mouth, low groans of mine, mine, mine all across your skin. He kisses each healing hickey. You follow with soft moans of your own; yours, yours, I want to be yours. He fucks you slow and sweet and you feel like you might be. 

You lay with your head on his bicep, both coming down from the summit. The stars blink back at you, and with your leg hooked over his torso, you reach down and pet his cock back to life. He's eighteen, just fucked for the first time, and he doesn't know when he'll get the chance to again, so of course he's getting hard. You've moved from his side to between his legs; of course he's getting hard. It's you, of course he's hard. He runs his hand through his hair, adjusts so he has a better view of you, not that it matters because as soon as you take him into your mouth, his head falls back against the cushions. 

The warm summer air envelopes the both of you like a blanket. You're lying naked on the lake you both grew up on. He fills two condoms and you think he's finally spent, holding you like a teaspoon, until you feel his dick get heavier against your inner thigh. You make no move when he reaches down, runs the tip of him along your slit, sopping wet from multiple orgasms. He threatens to dip in with each pass; up, down, up, down. 

"Can I?" he asks, completely void of all rational thought. His breaths are hot in your ear and while you want nothing more than for him to fuck you raw, “I just want to be inside you...  No moving, and I won't cum… Honestly, I think I'm out." He makes you giggle, and you scoot your hips back, push him in yourself. You both sigh contentedly, and he hugs you close, snugs his head in the crook of your neck. 

.

You wake when the sun breaks the horizon. Thankfully the morning light wakes you up early, before any other boats hit the lake. You're definitely suspiciously parked, out in no mans land.

Quinn's arm is around your waist, and with each sway of the boat, he gets harder inside you. His grip around you tightens, and you start to squirm against him. "Fuck, baby, stop moving..." He groans, and it's his morning voice that sets you off. You turn your head, look over you shoulder, and you want him all over again, moving your hips in time with the rocking of the boat to get yourself off on him. He tries to keep you still, but can't even control the way his hips move desperately against yours. 

He doesn't pull out, as irresponsible as it is, he doesn't want to. He cums inside of you, and you like it so much you cum, too. Your hips slow to a stop, and your eyes widen when you feel the mess between your thighs. You scramble to sit up, unintentionally giving him a great view of his cum dripping out of you. As scared as you are, with the way he's looking at you, you finally feel like you're his.

Early that afternoon, you're in the passenger's seat of the Hughes' family car, while he drives to the nearest grocery store. Under the guise of helping pick up last minute items for the barbeque your parents were hosting tonight, you were running to the pharmacy to pick up Plan B. 

It's Quinn that walks up to the counter and finds you in the drinks aisle with a box in his hand. Your mom texted you a list, so you do end up filling a cart with Quinn. Neither of you are too chatty this morning, nerves both high hoping there were no consequences to recent actions. You're surprised to hear your name called down the aisle, and it’s the Tkachuk brothers that find you two. 

"Yo, fancy seeing you two here," Brady says, daps up Quinn and Matthew does the same. 

"Just pickin' stuff up for my mom for tonight," you tell them honestly, but you don't miss the way Matthew's eyes flicker between you and Quinn. Quinn is really good at being neutral. 

"Nice, so're we." Brady shows you his basket full of fruit and cheese. 

"You're coming over later, yeah?" You try to hold a normal conversation with Brady while Matthew and Quinn have a silent one of their own. Matthew's grin turns shit eating when he catches wind of the little blue box sitting in your cart. 

"Yeah, we'll see you then?" You're relieved when Brady takes it upon himself to walk away, taking Matthew with him. The older Tkachuk whistles low as he departs, patting Quinn on the shoulder as he goes. You whack the same arm. 

"You told Matthew?" You whisper furiously, pushing the cart down the aisle. 

"I never told him it was you," he cards a hand through his hair, looks down and looks at you as he does. An unfair, fail safe move; It should be illegal to take your breath the way he does. "Who do you think gave me the condoms?"

.

The barbeque at yours is probably the last time your families will all gather this summer, parents and kids all in one place that isn’t the country club. Your mom takes great pride in being a gracious host. You’re in the kitchen, helping her finish a couple platters. You look up out the window and see your dad handing Quinn a beer over the grill. Your parents didn’t mind giving you kids a drink or two, as long as it was low in percentage and no one was driving. He brings the bottle to his lips and finds you through the glass, sends you a big smile.

“Honey?” Your mom calls, “Are you coming?” She glances at Quinn out the window, tries to keep her smile to herself by bringing one dish to the table. You follow her out to the deck and set one down, too. The cropped tank top you’re wearing has a high neckline, keeping you safe from suspicion.

You’re surrounded by friends and family on perhaps the nicest evening on the lake. The pretty patio lights your mom had your dad set up switched on; the sun now far enough that the solar panels couldn’t read its rays. You hold a plate for Quinn to take things off the grill and set it down on the table once it fills up. There's a long table in the middle of your patio, you and your mom had set up together complete with a tablecloth and floral details. As soon as the meat starts to hit the table, the guests flock to a seat. 

Off the conversations of your parents, you realize that Quinn will be applying to colleges next year. Trevor is going to follow Brady to Boston, and Nico's going to try his hand at the hockey leagues back home in Switzerland. He's confident that he'll be able to catch a scout's eye from across the water. Chelsea got into UCLA, and Quinn wants to go to one with a good hockey program, after all, he has a big dream to achieve. He sits beside you, but hearing him talk about it makes the gap between you feel even bigger. You wonder if it shows on your face, because once glance at you and you feel his hand on your knee under the tablecloth. His touch is warm and assuring, but does nothing to settle your thoughts, only distracts you momentarily.

At the end of the night, you and Quinn sneak away, down the dock towards the lake. If anyone notices, they let the two of you go. You both did lots to prep and set up the night, the other kids can help bring things inside. You stop before the dock, on the grass; your usual spot. Knowing you're out of sight, sitting in the grass under the stars, he takes your hand in his. He's touched you all sorts of ways in the last three days, but you like this the most. He looks through you like glass, holds you like you'll shatter. "What's the matter, Angel? You seem bothered." 

"I shouldn't be," you confess, "I guess... I feel like you're leaving me behind?" 

Quinn hums, nodding slowly, thinking before he speaks. "It's harder to leave the lake this year, for me for sure." It's hard for me to leave you. 

"I just mean, when you go to college and all..." Where does this leave us?

"I see." His thumb strokes the knuckles of your hand. "I..."  like you but can't be in a relationship right now. He starts but doesn't finish, knows it's the wrong thing to say, so he tries to think of the right one. There are a lot of things in the way right now. He knows he should just be honest, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared out of his mind to say what he actually wants to say. "I'll miss you," he says, "I miss you every time, actually... remember when I said Luke texted you on my phone?"

It feels like ages ago, but you'd never forget the way your heart skipped in art class in the eighth grade. But you're petty, always have been, "The time you left me on read?" 

"Did I?" he chuckles under your glare, scratches the back of his neck bashfully. "I'm sorry, Angel," his arm comes around you, hugs you to him, "Well, it was me. I wanted to talk to you, just didn't want to talk about Jack and Luke and... I didn't know how to get any further with you. Can I text you?" 

Your heart is like a stone skipping over water, your breaths shallow. "Okay..."

"Just okay?" he teases, leans down and brushes his nose to your cheek. 

"Okay," you playfully shove him, "I'd like that." If you were being honest with yourself, you didn't want to be in a long distance relationship during your senior year. Whatever it is that you have with Quinn would have to remain at the lake for the time being. And you would have to be okay with that.

.

The week passes by so quickly. It's Friday and you're sad, because all your friends are leaving, one by one. 

Q ♡ : Good morning, beautiful. 

Quinn texts incite both joy and anger in you. He's so painfully boyfriend material, and each morning he reminds you. 

Morning 

Q ♡ : Can you meet me at our spot? 

Our spot. You have to remind yourself it's not happening. He's not going to get down on one knee, he's not going to ask you to be his girlfriend, he's not going to do anything of the sort. He's going to pack up his parents' car in a few hours and drive off to the airport and fly home and apply to a college far away and you won't see or hear from him until next summer. 

Q ♡ : I want to see you before I go

I'll be there in 5? 

Quinn's already there when you get to the grassy area just off your deck steps. Our spot. He's holding something covered in plastic wrap in his hand, with a little shovel at his feet. He sees you. 

"What do you have there?" 

"Something for future you," he hands it to you, lets you hold it in your hands. It's a box, wound tightly with plastic wrap. 

"Future me?" 

"Yup." He's pretty excited about whatever's inside, beaming as you turn it every which way. "I'm gonna bury it right here, at our spot. Next summer, you get to dig it up." 

"What's stopping me from opening it right now?" 

"Well, for one, a shit ton of plastic wrap. Second of all, me," he swipes it from you, and starts to dig a relatively deep hole in the ground. You crouch down, watching him work with his hands that you like so much, "and third, you won't." He drops the box in and you help him fill the hole. Your dirt covered hand brushes his, and he stops to smile at you. 

"Do I have dirt on my face or something?" 

"No, not yet." Before you can ask, he brings a hand to your face, and pulls you in. You fear it's the last kiss you'll ever share; a lot can change in a year. It's enough for you to set aside the thought of dirt on your face and kiss him back. His kiss is slow and lingering, and he barely pulls away when he does, resting his forehead against yours. 

.

.

.

You find out Quinn got accepted into the kinesiology program at the University of Michigan, not through him but through Instagram. You text him congratulations and he tells you it's because they had the nicest rink. He's so close to the lake, you joke about meeting him there during his reading break. He leaves you on read and you wish you never said anything. 

You complain to Julie, because she always knows when something is wrong. You’re in her bedroom, laying across the foot of her bed while she sits on her vanity chair. You have to tell her everything, she’s your best friend. Maybe not everything. Maybe you don’t mention that you fucked on the boat that she rides every summer. 

“Girl, you gotta get your mind off him.” She’s sorting her makeup brushes, talking to you through the mirror. “He texts you just to ghost you and that’s not fair! He doesn’t get to have you just when it’s convenient for him.”

She’s right, so you let her take you to the basketball team’s party that weekend. You play beer pong with Jason Robertson, for old times sake, and Julie captures it on her Instagram story. There’s no bad blood between you anymore, and the two of you dominate the table that night. 

Quinn texts you for the first time in three weeks and you leave him on read. 

Q ♡ : Angel, I’m missing you extra

Q ♡ : Are you mad at me? 

.

.

.

Quinn is nineteen when he gets drafted for the Vancouver Canucks. He’s surrounded by family and he’s got 91 notifications and he can’t help but notice that not one of them is from you. 

.

You’re eighteen the first summer you spend without Quinn. He’s busy in Vancouver, getting to know the city and his new teammates. 

Julie takes it upon herself to make it the best summer ever. She pulls you from the depths of your own despair, and gets you back on your feet. Tells you the world doesn’t revolve around Quinn Hughes, and neither should yours. As much as she likes Quinn, she hates the way he has you moping around. 

Our spot, he called it. You don’t find yourself there once that summer. 

.

.

.

Quinn is twenty the next time you see him. He’s got the makings of a beard, he fills out his tshirts, and he looks as stoic and haggard as ever. He calls to you from his porch. 

“Hey, Sunshine.” You didn’t think his voice could get any deeper. It’s hoarse from being used more than he’s used to. You sit up from where you lay across a patio chair, rush embarrassingly quickly to where you can see him through the trees.

“Quinn?” You hate the way you feel; your heart betrays every thought in your mind. 

“I missed you,” he leans against the bannister, “Come over later tonight?” 

His invitation is nothing like you think it is. You and Julie descend the steps of the Hughes’ basement to a room full of faces, both familiar and not. Quinn comes to greet you while Julie makes her way to Jack, who’s surrounded by girls. 

“How’ve you been?” He doesn’t hug you like Luke does. He keeps his distance, one hand on a red solo cup and the other in his pocket. “Did you bring Jason?”

“I didn’t. What’s with the small talk?” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, attempt to close yourself off to him.

He leans down ever so slightly, still doesn’t touch you once, “Nothin’ small about it,” he says, low in your ear. His confidence is new to you, and while your mind is still figuring out if you like it, there are butterflies in your stomach that certainly do. A lot has changed over the years. He pulls away, “Let me introduce you.” 

You find out he’s only invited two guys from his college team. It’s Nico and Trevor that brought all the ladies, and are grumbling about it when they’re all interested in Jack. You giggle when they tell you, because there’s nothing that makes you laugh quite like Nico not getting what he wants. Quinn smiles softly at the familiar sound, and offers to get you something to drink. He hands you a watermelon vodka sprite and you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. Running his hands through his hair, the backwards baseball cap, each lick of his lips. 

The girls that don’t get Jack’s attention quickly decide that they’d gladly take any of the Hughes. You have the right mind to tell these college girls that Luke’s only seventeen, until you remind yourself that you have no ground to stand on. You were seventeen once, too. 

You were seventeen when Quinn first put his hands on you, you’re reminded of it when is hand finds your hip. You stare at him over the rim of your cup as he talks to the friends he introduced you to. His arm around you is loose, and while you want nothing more than to take a step closer, you don’t. 

A girl comes up and asks him to be her beer pong partner, points behind her where Trevor and Mila are setting up the table. He glances at you with a look you’ve never seen on him before, and excuses himself to follow after her. Now your hip is cold and it has nothing to do with how short your crop top is. 

You find Chelsea and Julie at the other end of the couch.

“You two are peas in a pod, you know that?” You and Julie are seemingly in the same boat, and Chelsea is all but amused.

“What are you jealous about?” Julie snaps at you, “You’ve had him in your pocket for the last how many years?” You rub your face with your hands, because that was then. Right now, he's playing beer pong with a girl you fear he finds much prettier than you.

“You know he’s only doing this because he saw you playing pong with your ex on Julie’s story, right?” Chelsea says. 

“Huh?” Julie drawls, words extended by alcohol, “That was like, months ago.” 

“You’ll probably remember this months later, too,” Chelsea’s eyes flicker to Jack, talking with a girl seated in his lap. Julie rubs her eyes, too.

“Whatever, I am so done with Jack Hughes.” You watch her storm off towards the pool table, and from where you sit, you see that Jack notices her bad mood, too. You pray that he gets up and follows her, and he does. You always want what you can’t have, and you hope Julie hasn’t closed her heart off to Jack just yet. 

“So, he’s doing all this just to make me jealous?” You ask Chelsea, eyes on the brown haired boy tossing ping pong balls across a table. 

“Mhm, fight fire with fire no?” she follows your line of sight, “Were you not doing the same when you decided to play with Jason?”

You don’t say anything because there’s nothing more to say. She’s absolutely right that you had Quinn in your head and your heart, however bitterly at the time. Your eyes widen, and you scramble to your feet. “I gotta go,” you rush out the side exit before Chelsea can respond. She doesn’t miss the way Quinn looks at his phone and leaves mid game, following after you only five minutes later. She’s a poet and hopeless romantic; she‘ll notice every glance and touch. Chelsea smiles softly to herself and takes Quinn’s place against Mila and Trevor. 

Meet me at our spot. 

“You never dug it up,” he’s breathing heavily when he gets there, as if he ran to you, “I thought you forgot.”

“I did, and I didn’t,” you say, defences up again. “Why didn’t you text me?” 

“You’re the one who stopped texting me,” he responds fast, looking at you incredulously, then question for question, punch for punch, “Why didn’t you dig it up?” 

“I didn’t want to,” your voice is cold, freezes over what you really want to say. I didn't want to do it alone. 

The look on Quinn’s face almost made you take it all back. He takes a step back from you, like you struck him. “Well, it’ll be here when you want it,” his tone doesn’t match yours. It’s soft and sad and he’s already walking away. 

The taste of watermelon is bitter on your tongue as you walk home alone. 

Julie stumbles home around half past one and passes out quickly. You’ve been lying in bed for hours trying to sleep, but your mind just keeps racing. Are they sleeping over at the Hughes? All those pretty girls? 

You check you phone for the time, see a text from Quinn from an hour ago.

Q ♡ : I’m sorry

Q ♡ : Let’s dig it up together

He could always see right through you. 

.

.

.

It’s four in the morning when you meet Quinn at your spot. He’s got a shovel in hand, the same one he used to bury it. This time, he hugs you when he sees you and you hug him tightly back, breathing him in. “I’m sorry, Angel,” he speaks into the top of your head, “I shouldn’t have held anything against you…” 

“I’m sorry, too,” you look up at him, keep him close, “I should’ve texted you back those times. I should’ve called.” 

“You were busy,” he shook his head, “I understand.” 

“I’ll never be too busy for you,” you tell him earnestly, and his gaze visibly softens, and the two of you get to digging. Quinn dusts the box off and begins unravelling all the plastic. Dawn breaks the night sky when he hands you the small box. You shake it to your ear, but don’t hear anything. He’s avoiding eye contact with you now, sits down in the grass and leans back on his hands. “Go on, open it.”

A year late too late, you open up the box to find a small, folded piece of paper. 

Thank you for seeing me when no one else does. When I’m with you, I lack nothing. You mean everything to me. I’ll never be the loudest guy in the room, but if you let me, I’ll never shut up about how much I love you. 

“Don’t laugh, I literally had Chelsea proof-read it.” He’s forcing himself to watch your reaction, turns his face when you look at him. He falls back in the grass, doesn’t expect you to throw yourself at him the way you do. Your arms around his neck, you kiss him with all your heart. 

“Nico is gonna lose his mind,” you giggle, pull away a couple millimetres, “Because I really have loved you all this time.” 

He sits up, brings you with him, and kisses you as the sun starts to rise. “God knows, I’ve loved you for so long.” 

.

You’re nineteen the summer you’re head over heels for Quinn. You tell your parents and they’re not surprised in the slightest. Your friends all claim to have known for years. Nico tries to take credit for setting you guys up. You sneak off to watch the sunset with Quinn all the time. He takes you on late night drives and even tours you through his old college campus. You’re his just as much as he is yours. 

Quinn’s debuted in the big leagues, and he’s on track for the Calder Award. You care a lot more about hockey, now that your boyfriend plays professionally. You watch all his games no matter where you are, and he always makes sure to see you when he’s playing in your city. 

Long distance is hard, but the two of you make it work. It’s a lot of long, late calls, post office problems, and good morning and good night texts, but not a day goes by that Quinn doesn’t make you feel loved. 

When he’s with you, he can finally drop his shoulders, feel the connective tissue between his joints just release. He’ll never know rest like the relaxation he feels when he’s with you. And while his life is now in the city of Vancouver, his heart remains on a lake in Michigan. He’ll return to it, year after year, because that’s where he knows you’ll be.

.

.

.

You’re twenty-two when he asks you to move in with him. You’re at the driving range, hitting a little white ball with all your might.

“I’m in my second year at NYU,” you shake your head, though you can’t help daydreaming of the idea of waking up next to him every day. He leans against the pillar, dropping you golf balls in between swings. You push it around on the green, centring it on the patch of turf where you like it.

“UBC has a good program you can transfer into. With your transcript, there’s no way you don’t get in,” he presses on, “And… I’m gonna be captain next year… please, baby, I need you.”

He looks at you with his stupid puppy dog eyes, runs his hand through his hair. That’s all it takes for you to cave. “Fine, only if I make the transfer. Don’t get your hopes up.” 

You swing and it flies close to the sun.

.

.

.

Quinn is twenty-three when his home becomes yours. His lack of things is compensated by your abundance of personal touches. Cute couch cushions and bedsheets, stuffed animals, and house plants.

On a good day, on a bad day, on days that were just plain long. He comes home and melts in your arms every time. What a privilege it is to be loved by you. 

He no longer counts the days till summer.

[skatesnstuff]

me after today:

[skatesnstuff]

absolutely baffled duckling

[skatesnstuff]

[skatesnstuff]

bro really said ‘once a flame always a flame’ especially when we’re talking about the edmonton oilers

and in true matthew tkachuk fashion

[skatesnstuff]

i literally have never once in my life cheered for the florida panthers but i actually could not physically stop myself from smiling when the final buzzer went

as a flames fan it’s SO SATISFYING and fucking hilarious to see edmonton lose and i will not be sorry about it 😀😀

[skatesnstuff]

THE PROPHECY HAS BEEN FULFILLED

[skatesnstuff]

Shit talk him all you want, Matthew tkachuk is a Stanley cup champ and you can’t take that away

[skatesnstuff]

Congratulations to the Florida Panthers, 2023-24 Stanley Cup Champions

[skatesnstuff]

Via Kayleigh tiktok | 5.5.2024 pt.2

[skatesnstuff]

Only women would look at a 6’7 New York Rangers right wing with 71 penalty minutes in 6 minutes of play across 17 games and think…

That right there.

That’s a whole baby girl.

[skatesnstuff]

sportsnet you did not have to do Quinn like that🥹

[skatesnstuff]

into you | ryan leonard

word count: 1.43k

summary: all you want to know is if ryan's into you.

warnings: drinking, cursing, touching? nothing explicit though, kissing

notes: based on 'into you' by ariana grande. okay so i wrote this mostly in a single evening and it seemed to get me out of a writing slump so i hope you guys enjoy!

I'm so into you, I can barely breathe And all I wanna do is to fall in deep But close ain't close enough 'til we cross the line, So name a game to play, and I'll roll the dice.

You adjusted the bottom of your dress, pulling it down a little more so that you didn’t accidentally expose yourself. You step into the bustling environment, scanning the room for your friends. You come up empty, only spotting two different couples dry-humping each other and a very intense game of pong happening in the middle of the room. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now if not for the fact that Ryan specifically asked you to come. And it’s hard to say no to Ryan…

“Oh, there’s a party at Michaels frat tonight. Come with?” Ryan asked, throwing an arm around the back of your chair.

“Gross, I hate frats.” You groan.

“Yeah but you like to party with me so…” Ryan says, giving you a cheeky grin.

God, it was hard to say no to Ryan. His boyish grin and the twinkle in his eyes that accompanied it had you weak in the knees. When his eyes lock with yours, you feel your breath leave your lungs. His presence alone had the power to render you speechless. You’re so into him to the point it almost hurts. A sweet dull ache.

“Fine.” You cave. Ryan responds by leaning over to you and pressing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you out of your brief daydream and into a strong frame. “Hi.” He says softly into your ear.

You instantly recognize the voice as Ryan’s, stopping you from elbowing what you thought was a handsy frat brother in the stomach. When you turn to face him, Ryan nearly groans out loud when he sees your outfit. Your legs looked endless in your black mini-skirt, and Ryan knew he’d have to force himself to keep his eyes off your chest behind a tight black t-shirt. God, you looked good. So good. Your cheeks burn as his eyes trace your figure.

“You look great.” Ryan says, a lazy grin on his lips.

You fight off a wide grin that threatens your own. “Thank you.”

You consistently found yourselves close to crossing the line, teetering on the edge of friendship. But never had either of you worked up the courage to cross said line. Your connection was a dance, a delicate balance of shared jokes, shared moments, and the lingering touches that left them both wondering. You yearned to cross the line, waiting for the moment that Ryan would make a move.

Oh, baby, look what you started, the temperature's rising in here Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move Before I make a move.

“C’mon, the boys are back here.” Ryan says, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards the back of the house.

You arrive in a living area, spotting Ryan’s teammates scattered on two couches. The pair of you sit down in empty spots, squeezing next to each other so that your legs are pressed up against one another.

Ryan seamlessly joined the boys’ conversation as they discussed hockey. You found yourself half listening in on their argument, which consisted of whether or not the President's Trophy curse is real. Mid-sentence, Ryan’s hand finds its way onto your knee, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your heart raced as you glanced down at his calloused fingers resting lightly on your skin, the contrast between their rough texture and the softness of your knee sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the ongoing conversation around you, your mind was solely focused on the physical contact. He began to trace gentle, rhythmic circles on the inside of your knee, your mind turning to mush. His hand lingered there for a moment before his touch ventured higher. With each inch slowly gained, your mind raced with questions, a manic but silent dialogue echoing in your thoughts.

Was this the moment you had been waiting for? Was this the culmination of all the unspoken pining the pair of you had shamelessly done? Or was this just a continuation of the dance the two of you had been doing?

Every fiber of your being yearned for clarity, for resolution, for an end to the game of push and pull that had consumed your relationship. You wanted nothing more than to be done with the tiptoeing and the skirting around the edges of what could be.

So, baby, come light me up, and, baby, I'll let you on it A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it A little less conversation and a little more touch my body 'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you.

Ryan’s hand squeezing your knee pulls you out of your thoughts, and back to the present moment. Your eyes flicked to his face, meeting his expecting gaze.

“Did I miss something?” You ask, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “I kind of spaced out for a second.”

Ryan’s chuckle washes over you, his boyish smile appearing on his lips and melting away the lingering unease. “It’s okay,” Ryan reassures you. “I just asked if you wanted something to drink.”

“Oh, sorry,” You reply, a blush creeping on your cheeks. “Uh, sure. I’ll come with you though.”

Standing up, Ryan extends a hand, helping you up from the couch. He tells his friends the two of you will be right back, leading you to the kitchen with a delicate hand on your back. His hand sits dangerously low on your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine despite the oppressive heat in the house due to the amount of people.

Stepping into the kitchen, you find yourself alone with Ryan for the first time this evening. The atmosphere shifts, the ambient noise of the party fading into the background.

“What are you feeling?” He asks, motioning to the supply of alcohol on the counter.

“Are you playing bartender?” You ask, teasingly.

“Yeah, sit back. I’m great at this.” He says, supplying a wink. You chuckle softly, hopping up onto the counter.

“Alright, since you’re so great at this… I’ll let you pick my drink.” You say.

You watch as Ryan grabs two cups, pouring tequila and orange juice into both of them, before handing you one of them. “That’s it?” You ask.

“Babe, it’s a frat house, what did you expect a frozen margarita?” Ryan teases, slotting himself between your legs. The use of a pet name as well as the feeling of his hand back on your knee make your heart skip a beat.

You fall into conversation, telling each other random stories from throughout the week. You find yourselves talking seamlessly, punctuated by shared laughter. With each refill of your drink, you feel the inhibition that had been weighing on you slip away and be replaced by liquid courage.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you reach out, running a hand through Ryan’s dark locks. The conversation comes to a standstill as he eyes your face, locking in on the playful grin on your lips.

“Why haven’t you made a move?” You ask. Your words hang in the air between you two like a dare.

It isn’t until Ryan suddenly straightens up and your hand falls from his hair, that you realize how close he’d gotten. His brow furrows, Ryan’s expression briefly clouding with uncertainty. He stays silent so you continue, wanting answers.

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to make a move.” You say, a little chuckle slipping off your tongue. “And I can’t wait anymore. I need to know. I need to know if you’re into me.”

Without a word, he closes the distance between the two of you, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth is warm, lips firm as they kiss yours. You don’t hesitate to melt into him, tasting the tequila and orange juice on his lips. His hands land on your thighs, gripping them tightly. A soft whimper leaves your lips when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and then slides inside your mouth.

For a heartbeat, everything else ceases to exist and it’s just you and Ryan stranded in a moment in time. Every sense of yours feels heightened. The heat of his body pressing against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

The kiss finally breaks, the both of you out of breath from the shared moment of passion. Ryan’s soft eyes stay locked on yours as he brings a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek.

“I’m so fucking into you.” He says softly.