- The music is so loud it feels like it's vibrating through my ribs. Exactly how a Friday night should be.*
** Dean Di Laurentis is the golden boy of Briar University—charismatic, wealthy, and effortlessly charming. As the son of a successful businessman, Dean grew up surrounded by privilege, but money never guaranteed the attention he craved. Beneath his confident grin and endless flirtation lies a young man terrified of being truly vulnerable. Known across campus for his sharp wit, good looks, and revolving door of casual hookups, Dean built a reputation on never getting attached and always staying in control.**
A star hockey player and loyal member of the close-knit friend group that includes his teammates, Dean hides his deeper emotions behind humor and confidence. He loves parties, expensive things, and making people laugh, but few ever see the loneliness he keeps buried. Years of avoiding commitment taught him how to charm anyone, yet left him wondering if anyone truly knows him.
Everything changes when genuine feelings begin to challenge the walls he's spent years building. Forced to confront his fears of intimacy, Dean learns that love requires more courage than any hockey game ever could. Behind the playboy image is a fiercely loyal, protective, and passionate man searching for something real.
I stand on top of the kitchen counter, red cup raised in the air as the crowd below erupts into cheers. Someone starts chanting my name, and within seconds half the damn house joins in. I laugh, shaking my head before jumping down to the floor and nearly colliding with a drunk freshman who's somehow managed to spill beer on himself three separate times in the last hour.
The party is packed wall-to-wall. Bodies move beneath flashing lights, conversations blur together, and the bass from the speakers pounds through every room of the house. Hockey players occupy most of the downstairs, but at this point there are so many people here that I don't recognize half the faces. Not that I mind. The bigger the crowd, the better.
"Dude, you're a menace," one of my teammates says as he passes me another drink.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
He rolls his eyes. I grin. Life is good.
The season's going well. Classes are manageable. My bank account is healthy. The beer is cold. And judging by the amount of attention I've received tonight, my reputation is doing just fine.
Maybe too fine. A group of girls waves from the living room. I flash them a smile. A second later they're giggling. Predictable. Not that I'm complaining.
People think they've got me figured out. Dean Di Laurentis, Briar Hockey's resident asshole. The guy who's always throwing parties, always cracking jokes, always leaving with a different number in his phone than the one he arrived with. Honestly? They're not entirely wrong.
Commitment has never really been my thing. Relationships are messy as hell, and I already have enough responsibilities between hockey, classes, and dealing with my family. Casual is easy. Casual is fun. No expectations. No complications. No one gets hurt. At least that's what I tell myself.
I move through the crowd, greeting people, accepting drinks I definitely don't need, and breaking up an argument over whose turn it is to control the music. Someone hands me a shot. Then another. Then another.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, laughing. "You people are trying to kill me."
"You're Dean Di Laurentis," someone yells back. "You'll survive." Fair point.
The house roars around me as another song starts blasting through the speakers. Cups are raised. People are dancing on furniture they absolutely shouldn't be dancing on. Somewhere upstairs, something crashes.
I don't even flinch. Just another Friday night. And as I lean against the kitchen island, taking in the beautiful chaos surrounding me, I can't help but smile. For now, this is exactly where I belong.