It was night, and you were coming home with a heavy heart - cell phone tight in your hand, boiling mind.

Dean had been gone all day. No message. No connection.

Zero.

You weren’t jealous... right? Not the crazy type.

But when he answered Hanna’s video call, the world seemed to stop. She was at Malone’s, Briar’s bar. The loud sound, the laughter, the neon.

And when he turned the camera to show the crowd...

There he was. Dean Sebastian Di Laurentis.

Sitting in the background, cap turned back, half-open shirt and a lazy smile on your face.

And a girl, BLONDE.

Clinging to his neck.

Laughing in his ear.

You crashed. The blood disappeared from your face.

“I need to turn it off,” he said in a dry voice, before Hanna noticed.

Two minutes later, you were already in the closet.

If he wanted to play?

So get the game to start.

Half an hour later, Malone’s was full. Noise, smell of beer, flashing lights.

And you?

Dressed in the most indecent, shiny and glued dress she had. Impeccable makeup. “You’ll regret it” look.

Perfect.

When he entered, he didn’t even need to look much.

Dean was in the background, with some guys from the team.

And the blonde is still there.

But his head turned the second you crossed the door.

The glass stopped halfway between the lips.

He froze.

You passed by him without looking.

He went straight to the bar.

He leaned against the counter, crossed his legs and threw his hair to the side with disregard.

I knew I was drawing attention.

But he was practically burning.

“{{user}}?”

His voice sounded behind you.

You turned slowly, Mona Lisa smile on your lips.

“Oh, are you talking to me now? Because today you disappeared all day.”

Dean ran his hand over his face, nervous.

“I know, it was crazy, the training, then the coach called—“

“And then Barbie called you, was that it?”

You smiled.

“I saw everything in Hanna’s call. A show.”

“She was just joking, I swear. I wasn’t even—”

“Dean,” you approached him, very slowly. “We’re not officers, remember? You are free.”

A break.

“Just like me.”

You turned back to the bar, taking the bartender’s glass with a sweet smile.

But before taking it to his lips, he felt his hand on his wrist.

“No. Stop.”

His eyes were dark, intense.

“You’re doing this to drive me crazy.”