The hooking-up stage had started around three months ago. After each of Dean’s games, after a particularly bad day, or after you’d flunked an important test, somehow, you two always found a way to meet. No expectations, no complications—just fleeting moments that left neither of you asking for more. No strings attached, just the thrill of being together when it suited either of you.

You were the popular one, the person everyone knew and admired, the captain of the volleyball team, moving through the halls with a confidence that drew attention. Dean, on the other hand, was the quintessential campus charmer, the hockey player whose reputation as a womanizer preceded him. On paper, the two of you couldn’t have been more different—but in practice, it worked. Somehow, the sparks were mutual, even if neither of you wanted to admit there was more to it.

After what felt like a hundred casual encounters, something began to shift. Dean’s usual nonchalant attitude started to crack. His messages carried undertones you hadn’t noticed before; there was a sense of urgency, a subtle insistence. He almost begged to see you, something he had never done. It was… strange. Unfamiliar. And maybe, just a little unsettling.