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James gets out of his hotel room with a tired sigh, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he reluctantly follows Mike, Teddy, Dean, Voter, and Drew to find something to do before their game against UConn tonight.

The hotel’s hallways are empty so far. Their teammates are probably either studying, taking a nap, or playing video games—and James would absolutely be doing that if Mike and Teddy hadn’t practically snatched him out of bed because they apparently can’t stay still for the life of them.

So they get into the elevator and ride it all the way down to the lobby, where they cross paths with some staff members who barely pay them any attention as they walk across the hall and out the doors into the Connecticut February cold. It’s 3:05 p.m., and even though the sun is out, the cold still bites, making James scowl immediately.

“Seriously guys, why can’t we just stay in? It’s fucking freezing out here. Come on,” James grumbles, curling into himself as he glares at his brother and best friend.

Mike barks out a laugh that only makes James glare at him harder as his older brother turns around to look at him. “Oh come on, Jimmy, stop being such a crybaby. It’s not even that cold,” he says with a playful grin. “It’s like, what? Sixty-four degrees? Plus, we can’t stay in because we’ve got a basketball game to watch.”

James rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts while Mike digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone with an annoyingly smug expression. A second later, he flashes the screen at all of them, proudly revealing tickets for the UConn versus Villanova game that starts in less than twenty minutes.

James already knows exactly why they dragged him out here. It’s their pathetic attempt at stopping him from brooding over his breakup with his latest girlfriend—which is ridiculous because he hadn’t even liked her that much. She’d only been a rebound after his last winter fling with one of their ex-teammates, Gabe Perreault, blew up in his face. Still, apparently Mike and Teddy had decided James was one sad song away from spiraling.

Mike keeps grinning proudly while Voter leans over to look at the tickets more closely. “How the hell did you even get those?” he asks.

Mike shrugs casually, though the smug look on his face only widens. “Kai Janviriya gave them to me after they lost to us two days ago. We had a bet going.”

Dean narrows his eyes immediately, looking deeply unconvinced. “And what exactly did you bet?”

Mike only smiles wider. “You don’t need to know all that.”

“Oh, so it was definitely something stupid,” Drew snorts.

Before Mike can answer, Teddy claps his hands together loudly. “Alright, come on. We’re gonna miss the start of the game if we keep standing out here freezing our asses off.”

James lets out an exaggerated huff but reluctantly follows his friends and older brother all the way to Gampel Pavilion, where the game’s being played. By the time they get there, the entire arena is already buzzing with energy. Mike flashes all of their tickets while they pass through security, and soon enough they’re inside Gampel, surrounded by Huskies fans loudly hyping up the players waiting for introductions.

James silently takes in the atmosphere around him. The noise. The energy. The sheer devotion pouring out of every single person in the building. BC has that too, but mostly for hockey. At UConn, though, it feels different. Their culture wraps itself around every sport, even if basketball clearly sits at the center of it all considering both the men’s and women’s programs are practically generational dynasties. Still, seeing Gampel Pavilion this packed for a regular-season game is overwhelming. It feels more like March Madness than some random February matchup.

After a moment, James finally reaches their seats. He slides in beside Mike before dropping into his seat, Dean plopping down next to him with a tired huff. Only two rows separate them from the bench and the court, and that’s when James realizes they’re sitting directly behind the UConn bench. Which honestly shouldn’t surprise him considering the tickets came from a Husky player, but still.

As soon as they sit down, the player introductions begin. Villanova’s starting five gets announced first, and James sinks farther into his seat while watching them jog out onto the floor, exchanging handshakes and waving toward the stands. Then it’s UConn’s turn, and the entire arena explodes into absolute chaos.

Solo Ball gets introduced first, followed by Silas Demary Jr. Then Alex Karaban, then Braylon Mullins, before they round out the lineup with Tarris Reed Jr.

But James barely catches the end of the introductions because the second Braylon Mullins runs onto the court, his attention locks onto him completely.

And somehow, for the rest of the game, Braylon becomes the only thing James can focus on.

His friends yell beside him every time UConn scores, hyping up the players whenever someone drains a three or throws down a dunk, but James barely hears any of it. His eyes stay fixed on Mullins nearly the entire game—on the effortless way he moves across the court, on the confidence in his body language, on the way he somehow seems completely calm even in the middle of chaos.

At some point midway through the second half, during a timeout, the Huskies gather around their bench while Coach Hurley talks animatedly over the noise of the arena. James has his eyes trained on Mullins without even realizing it until Braylon suddenly looks up.

And their eyes meet. Just for a split second.

A split second that somehow stretches into something unbearably long before Braylon’s attention snaps back toward the huddle. James immediately curls in on himself, heat rushing to his cheeks so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

It was probably nothing. Obviously it was nothing. Braylon probably hadn’t even been looking athim specifically. He was probably just zoning out for a second.

Yeah. That had to be it.

But once the timeout ends and the game resumes, Braylon keeps glancing back toward where James is sitting every few minutes. Never for long. Just quick looks over his shoulder before immediately turning back toward the game. Still, every single time their eyes briefly meet again, James feels something tight twist low in his stomach.

By the end of the game, UConn wins by ten, and Braylon Mullins gets named player of the game. James and the others don’t stick around long enough to watch the full postgame celebration, though. They only have about an hour left before they need to head to pregame practice for their own hockey game.

So James walks back to the hotel with his brother and friends while the image of a sweaty Braylon Mullins leading his team to victory loops over and over in his head.

Back at the hotel, James immediately makes a beeline for his room without saying much of anything. Once inside, he changes into more comfortable clothes before throwing himself onto the bed, completely ignoring Teddy’s ongoing rant about the game through the group chat. He sets an alarm for later, rolls onto his side, and falls into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Two and a half hours later, James is back on the ice battling against the UConn Huskies in overtime. The game had turned ugly fast after Kaden Shahan opened the scoring on the power play in the first period, only for Dean to answer later during BC’s own man advantage with a shot that had practically ripped through the back of the net. Since then, the game had been nothing but hard hits, scrums after whistles, slashes hidden from the refs, and enough chirping between both benches to make the entire arena feel like it was vibrating with tension.

And honestly? James had loved every second of it.

His lungs burn as he skates across the ice, sweat cooling unpleasantly beneath his gear while the overtime clock ticks lower and lower overhead. The crowd inside PeoplesBank Arena is deafening now, Huskies fans stomping their feet and screaming every time UConn gains possession while the small patch of Eagles fans near the glass try desperately to outshout them.

Only a couple seconds remain in overtime when Andre suddenly steals the puck along the boards before immediately whipping a pass toward James. Instinct takes over before James can even think. He catches the puck cleanly, pivots sharply to avoid an incoming hit, and sends a quick pass toward Lukas cutting through the slot.

Everything after that happens fast.

Lukas snaps the puck straight into the back of the net. The red goal light flashes instantly, and the entire arena erupts into absolute chaos.

James barely has enough time to yell before Lukas crashes into him at full speed, both of them nearly losing their balance as the Eagles bench empties onto the ice. Suddenly James is getting slammed into from every direction, his teammates shouting loud enough to make his ears ring while they pile onto Lukas near the boards. Someone grabs him around the shoulders hard enough to nearly choke him while another teammate jumps onto the celebration from behind.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Teddy screams somewhere beside him.

“SWEEP THEIR ASSES!” Mike yells right after.

James can’t stop laughing, adrenaline buzzing violently through him as he grabs Lukas by the helmet and shakes him hard. “You’re so fucking clutch, holy shit!”

Lukas only grins wildly back at him, cheeks flushed bright red from exhaustion and excitement.

The celebration eventually dies down enough for both teams to line up for handshakes, though the tension from the game still lingers heavily between everyone. Gloves slap together a little too aggressively. Some players mutter things under their breath. A couple Huskies barely even look at them while shaking hands, clearly pissed about the overtime loss.

Still, BC had officially won the series against UConn. And James can’t deny that it feels good.

By the time they finally make it back to the locker room, the entire team is riding the high of the win. Music blasts loudly through the speakers while guys yell over each other excitedly, retelling plays from overtime or chirping one another about dumb penalties from earlier in the game. Someone tosses a roll of tape across the room for no reason whatsoever while Mike and Drew nearly knock over a trash can wrestling near the stalls.

Even Coach barely bothers to stop them from celebrating. Mostly because they don’t have to travel tonight. Which means the boys are already planning a night out.

James, however, feels the exact opposite of social. The excitement from the game still crackles under his skin, but exhaustion sits even heavier in his bones now that the adrenaline is beginning to wear off. Honestly, all he wants is greasy food, a hot shower, and to FaceTime Ryan Leonard while they talk about absolutely nothing important for two hours straight.

So he strips out of his gear quickly before heading for the showers, steam immediately wrapping around him as he washes away sweat and the lingering smell of hockey equipment. By the time he gets dressed again, most of the team is already halfway ready to leave.

Soon enough everyone boards the bus back to the hotel, loud chatter immediately filling the space while guys recount the game for the hundredth time.

James doesn’t really participate.

Instead, he keeps his headphones on the entire ride, music humming softly in his ears while he stares out the window at the blurred Connecticut streets passing outside. His legs ache pleasantly from the game, exhaustion slowly settling deeper into his muscles the longer the ride goes on.

The second the bus pulls up to the hotel, James practically bolts off first and heads toward his room as quickly as possible. Once inside, he immediately kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his suit jacket before starting to unbutton his dress shirt absentmindedly.

The room door swings open only seconds later.

Mike, Teddy, and Dean all tumble inside mid-conversation, talking loudly over one another about whatever party they’re apparently trying to drag the entire team to tonight. James barely listens while continuing to undress, but eventually Dean calls his name.

“You coming with us or what?”

James shakes his head while disappearing into the bathroom. “No,” he calls back loudly. “I’m staying here. Gonna grab food, FaceTime Leno, then sleep for like twelve hours.”

“God, you’re boring,” Teddy yells immediately.

A loud smack echoes through the room before Teddy yelps dramatically.

James snorts out a laugh as he walks back out of the bathroom, already guessing Mike or Dean had smacked him upside the head.

When he reenters the room, Mike is sprawled across his bed like he pays rent there while Dean and Teddy lean against the desk near the bathroom entrance, all three of them staring at him expectantly. James rolls his eyes immediately before crouching near his travel bag to grab his pajamas.

Before he can even unzip the bag fully, Mike speaks up. “We’re going out.”

James pauses instantly. Because yeah. That definitely includes him.

And after they already dragged him to the UConn basketball game earlier, there’s absolutely no way he wants to get hauled off to some overcrowded frat party tonight too. He’s happy they won—obviously—but he’s exhausted, and the idea of standing shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of sweaty strangers while drunk college kids scream over terrible music sounds genuinely miserable right now.

So James immediately scowls at his older brother. “No chance. I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired,” Teddy replies dramatically.

“Because unlike you, I enjoy peace and quiet.”

Dean snorts loudly at that while Mike sits up straighter on the bed. “Jimmy, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“No,” James repeats flatly. “I have better things to do.”

Teddy literally bursts out laughing directly in his face. “FaceTiming Leno and rotting in bed is not better than partying with us.” He pauses before grinning wider. “Especially because the Huskies hockey team’s gonna be there for their loser parade.”

That makes James want to roll his eyes immediately.

Because honestly, only BC, BU, UConn, and Providence would willingly keep up such a humiliating tradition. Somehow over the years, all four schools had collectively agreed that after rivalry games, the losing team had to show up to whatever party or bar everyone ended up at afterward. A loser parade.

The Huskies had already suffered through one in Chestnut Hill two nights ago. And apparently now they were getting another one on home ice.

James shrugs dismissively. “Cool. Don’t really need to see UConn get embarrassed twice in one week.”

“Okay, but there’ll also be girls there,” Dean points out carefully. “Which seems useful considering your whole… situation.”

James nearly flips all three of them off right then and there. Because somehow they still won’t let the Gabe and Kaya thing die.

As if sleeping with random girls is magically going to erase the fact that Gabe Perreault had completely wrecked his ability to think straight for months. And Kaya? James had never even been in love with her to begin with, no matter how badly everyone kept acting like he was heartbroken over the breakup.

He’d moved on from Gabe weeks ago anyway. Probably? Mostly.

“Jesus Christ,” James groans, dragging both hands down his face. “I don’t need to get over anyone.”

The looks Mike, Teddy, and Dean exchange immediately make irritation flare in his chest again. Because clearly none of them believe him. And honestly, James already knows they aren’t going to leave him alone unless he agrees to go.

So eventually he sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Teddy and Mike immediately erupt into triumphant cheers, loudly high-fiving each other while Dean grins like he personally accomplished something meaningful. James only rolls his eyes harder.

“Get changed into something decent,” Mike tells him while standing up from the bed. “Me and Dean are meeting everyone downstairs in twenty.”

James only nods tiredly while Mike drags Dean out of the room with him, both of them still arguing loudly in the hallway after the door shuts.

For a second, silence settles over the room again.

Then James sighs deeply before digging through his bag and pulling out a new pair of jeans he bought a few days ago, along with a plain black t-shirt and sneakers. Across the room, Teddy changes too while humming obnoxiously under his breath.

Once dressed, James heads back into the bathroom and brushes his teeth quickly before running his fingers through his damp hair, styling it just enough so it looks effortless.

Even though he absolutely doesn’t want to be going out tonight, he already knows one thing for certain.

If Teddy picked the music for the pregame at this frat house, the night is going to be a complete disaster.

After making sure he looks decent enough, James adjusts the small cross hanging from the chain around his neck until it rests neatly between his collarbones. Then he walks back into the room and grabs the jacket he’d worn earlier to the basketball game—a plain dark blue jacket he’d bought alongside the jeans a couple days ago. Once fully dressed, he slides his wallet into his back pocket, grabs his phone off the nightstand, and sprays some cologne onto his neck and wrists before following Teddy out of their room.

On the way downstairs, they run into Aram and Voter near the elevators, the four of them heading down together while Teddy loudly complains about Mike taking forever to get ready.

“He literally started getting dressed before us,” Teddy says dramatically as the elevator doors close. “How is he still not downstairs?”

“Because your little boyfriend spends more time looking at himself than half the girls on campus,” Aram replies immediately.

James snorts while Teddy nearly doubles over laughing. “That’s actually true.”

“Fuck both of you,” Mike says the second the elevator opens onto the lobby—apparently having heard just enough of the conversation while standing there with Dean and Drew.

The whole team slowly gathers near the hotel entrance after that, everyone loud and restless now that the post-win adrenaline has fully settled into excitement for the night ahead. Eventually they split themselves into smaller groups for Ubers, and not long after, James finds himself squeezed into the backseat of one with Teddy, Aram, and Drew while music blasts quietly through the driver’s speakers.

A few minutes later, their Uber finally pulls up in front of the frat house.

James steps out of the car and immediately tilts his head back slightly to stare at the massive house looming in front of them. The entire front lawn is already overflowing with students despite how late it is, groups of people gathered around everywhere with red solo cups in hand while music pounds so loudly from inside that the bass practically vibrates through the ground beneath his sneakers.

James blinks at the sight.

Last year, when BC lost to UConn on the road, the loser parade had ended up happening at some crowded bar downtown. This is his first time actually seeing UConn’s Greek Village up close, and honestly? It looks exactly as chaotic as he expected.

As he walks between Drew and Aram toward the house, James mutters under his breath, “I can already feel the music inside my organs and we haven’t even gone in yet.”

Aram immediately rolls his eyes before slinging an arm tightly around James’ shoulders. “Jesus Christ, lighten up and enjoy yourself for once instead of whining about every little thing.”

James elbows him hard in the ribs for that while Aram lets out an offended noise, both of them nearly tripping over each other as they climb the stairs toward the open front door.

The second they cross the threshold into the frat house, the overpowering smell of alcohol crashes into James headfirst. Beer, cheap vodka, sweat, something fruity, and probably three other unidentifiable substances mix together into one overwhelming scent that makes him internally recoil.

Music blasts so loudly the walls practically shake around them while bodies pack every available inch of space inside the house. Students dance in the middle of the living room, some already visibly drunk out of their minds while others scream over the music near the kitchen island.

Aram barely gives James time to process any of it before dragging him deeper into the house toward the backyard entrance. Somewhere along the way, they run into the UConn hockey team grouped together near one corner of the room, all of them looking varying degrees of miserable after the overtime loss.

The second the Huskies spot them, Kaden visibly scowls.

And honestly? James knows exactly why.

Andre and Oskar are both carrying bags stuffed full of the Eagles’ sweaty hockey tarps for the loser parade tradition, and even James wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone tonight. Their gear absolutely reeks after overtime, the kind of smell that feels strong enough to physically crawl under someone’s skin and kill them slowly.

James watches with poorly hidden amusement while Andre and Oskar proudly start handing out jerseys to the Huskies players, who reluctantly begin pulling them over their clothes. Complaints immediately erupt from every direction.

“This is biological warfare,” one of the Huskies freshmen groans dramatically.

“Holy shit, what died in this thing?” another mutters while tugging the jersey over his head.

James barely reacts until his eyes land on Kai Janviriya standing there wearing his tarp with the most horrified expression imaginable. Kai looks like he’s approximately two seconds away from nuking both himself and the entire frat house simultaneously.

James huffs out a laugh before walking over and nudging him lightly with his shoulder. “Relax,” he says with a crooked grin. “We’ve got a whole night ahead of us.”

Slowly, surprisingly, James can feel the earlier exhaustion beginning to slip out of him little by little. The loud music, the energy buzzing through the house, the post-win adrenaline lingering under his skin—it all starts pulling him into the night despite himself.

After a while, the Huskies freshmen get sent off to grab drinks for everyone, returning a few minutes later carrying enough red solo cups to stock an entire bar. Soon enough, James has one pressed into his hand filled with some suspicious mixture that smells awful but thankfully tastes much better than expected.

Eventually Kai ends up sticking close beside him, an arm loosely wrapped around James’ waist while they navigate through the sea of dancing bodies filling the living room. Together with the rest of their teammates, they eventually squeeze through the sliding glass doors leading out into the backyard.

It’s crowded out there too, though not nearly as bad as inside.

A large fire pit crackles near the back fence, orange light flickering over groups of students gathered around it. The second the hockey teams make their way over, people immediately part for them without hesitation. Huskies players instantly start greeting people, dapping up guys and hugging girls who are all dressed up despite the cold night air.

James barely pays attention to any of it.

He mostly just nods absentmindedly whenever someone says hi while sipping from his cup. Eventually, boredom settles in enough that he starts scanning the crowd around the fire pit instead, his eyes drifting lazily over unfamiliar faces until he begins recognizing some of UConn’s basketball players scattered throughout the backyard.

Solo Ball stands near the drinks table laughing loudly about something while Tarris Reed Jr talks beside him. Nearby, Azzi Fudd and KK Arnold are huddled together under blankets near the fire while Kayleigh Heckel leans against someone’s shoulder scrolling through her phone.

And then James’ gaze catches on Braylon Mullins standing between Kayleigh and Tarris. Their eyes meet instantly. Again. James nearly chokes on his drink. And somehow Braylon mirrors him exactly, coughing hard into his own cup while Kayleigh and Tarris both start smacking his back in concern.

KK bursts out laughing immediately. “Damn, Mullins, can’t handle your liquor anymore?”

Braylon rolls his eyes before flipping her off lazily, muttering something that makes Kayleigh snort into her drink. But then Braylon looks back toward James. And James looks back too. For a second too long.

Long enough that James can physically feel the tension curling tightly in his chest before he abruptly tears his gaze away the moment Dean suddenly appears behind him, dropping his chin onto the top of James’ head while wrapping both arms around his waist like some oversized clingy koala.

James nearly startles at the contact.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dean says teasingly into his hair.

James immediately feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

Normally, Dean acting like this wouldn’t even register in his brain anymore. Dean’s always touchy, especially when he’s tired, cold, drunk, or honestly just breathing. Half the team barely notices it at this point.

But with Braylon standing right there?

Watching?

James suddenly becomes painfully aware of every point of contact between him and Dean. Of Dean’s chin resting against his head. Of the arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Of the warmth pressed against his back.

And worst of all, when James glances back toward Braylon again, the UConn guard is still looking at him.

Fuck.

James genuinely has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that.

And as the night slowly drags on, James stays planted near the fire pit with Dean practically hanging off him the entire time. The basketball players eventually drift closer too, folding themselves into the growing circle around the flames while conversations spark up here and there between hockey players, basketball players, and random students brave enough to insert themselves into the chaos.

James mostly stays quiet through all of it. Not because he has nothing to say, but because every couple of minutes his attention drifts somewhere else entirely. Toward Braylon. And apparently the feeling is mutual.

Because every time James glances up, Braylon somehow seems to already be looking at him too. Sometimes from across the fire pit while talking to Tarris. Sometimes while pretending to listen to KK roast the Huskies hockey team for their penalties earlier. Sometimes while sipping from his cup with that same unreadable expression that makes something twist low in James’ stomach every single time their eyes meet before one of them inevitably looks away first.

Eventually James starts feeling overheated.

Not because of the fire pit blazing only a few feet away from him, but because Braylon’s attention feels almost physical at this point. Like every glance keeps landing directly against his skin and staying there.

So after a while, James quietly mumbles to Dean, “I’m gonna go refill my drink. You want anything?”

Dean hums distractedly before finally loosening his grip around James’ waist. “Same thing as before.”

The second Dean lets him go, James immediately slips away through the crowd before anyone else can stop him. He squeezes past groups of students gathered around the backyard before stepping back into the frat house, the music instantly swallowing him whole again.

Bodies pack the living room shoulder to shoulder while heat and alcohol hang heavily in the air. James navigates through the crowd carefully, muttering irritated apologies every time someone slams into him accidentally while he searches for the kitchen.

It takes him a couple minutes to find it.

Compared to the rest of the house, the kitchen is slightly calmer, though there are still plenty of people lingering around. A couple are aggressively making out against the counters while another group sits around the island looking deeply miserable, like they’ve all collectively realized halfway through the night that they don’t actually want to be here.

James barely acknowledges any of them.

Instead, he squints suspiciously at the lineup of bottles and drinks scattered across the counters before eventually recreating the same horrifying concoction he and Dean had earlier—tequila, vodka, and several unidentified sweet mixers that absolutely should not work together but somehow do.

He fills Dean’s cup first before moving to refill his own.

Right as he starts pouring, someone steps beside him.

Then clears their throat softly. “Hey.”

James doesn’t even need to turn his head to know who it is.

A small smile immediately pulls at his mouth, and he ducks his head slightly lower while pretending to focus very hard on pouring his drink so Braylon hopefully won’t notice the expression spreading across his face.

“Hey,” James replies quietly.

For a second neither of them says anything.

Then Braylon casually nods back toward the backyard. “You looked pretty comfortable with that dude out there.”

James nearly fumbles the bottle straight onto the floor.

Heat rushes violently into his ears as he spins around too quickly. “Dean’s not my boyfriend,” he blurts out immediately. “He’s my best friend. He’s just—he’s touchy with literally everyone, especially me.”

Braylon stares at him for half a second before a low chuckle slips out of him. “Relax,” he says easily. “It wasn’t an accusation.”

James immediately feels stupid.

Braylon leans one elbow against the counter beside him, amusement still lingering in his expression. “I just thought it was funny.”

James rolls his eyes even while a faint smile tugs at his mouth again. “Yeah, well. Dean thinks personal space is optional.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“You have no idea.”

Braylon laughs softly again, and for some reason the sound settles warmly beneath James’ ribs.

James quickly looks back down at his drink before Braylon can notice how badly he’s starting to flush.

After another quiet beat, Braylon finally asks, “So what’s your name?”

James glances back up at him. “James. James Hagens.”

Recognition flashes immediately across Braylon’s face. “Right. Hagens.” He nods once before offering his own name. “Braylon Mullins.”

James has to physically stop himself from smiling wider at the fact that Braylon apparently thinks he doesn’t already know exactly who he is.

Instead, he just nods casually. “Nice to meet you.”

Braylon reaches for another bottle while glancing toward him again. “So which one’s yours? Number ten or eleven?” and James immediately knows he's reffering to the jerseys.

“Ten,” James answers. “Eleven’s my older brother Mike’s.”

Braylon nods thoughtfully while pouring himself some violently purple-colored drink that genuinely looks radioactive.

A few seconds pass before Braylon speaks again. “You were at the Villanova game earlier, right?”

James stills slightly.

Braylon continues before he can answer. “I thought I recognized you. Pretty sure I saw someone who looked exactly like you sitting three rows behind our bench.” He pauses briefly, eyes flicking toward James again. “Third quarter. During the timeout.”

James takes a quick sip of his drink mostly to buy himself a second before looking back up. Braylon’s already watching him carefully.

Warmth immediately spreads across James’ cheeks.

“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “That was me.”

Braylon’s mouth slowly curves upward into a smug little smirk that makes James want to simultaneously roll his eyes and stare at him forever.

Before the silence between them can stretch into something dangerous, James quickly clears his throat. “We should probably head back outside before Dean assumes I got kidnapped or something.”

Braylon snorts softly. “Probably smart.”

So together they make their way back through the frat house, carefully balancing their drinks while squeezing between crowds of people. Somehow they naturally end up walking side by side the entire way back toward the backyard.

When they return to the fire pit, conversations are already overlapping loudly around them again. James slips back beside Dean and Kai before handing Dean his refilled drink while Braylon drifts back toward the basketball players.

Apparently everyone’s talking about postseason season now.

Half the conversations revolve around Hockey East playoffs while the others spiral toward March Madness predictions now that March is only a week away. James catches fragments here and there—Tarris arguing that UConn’s making another deep tournament run, Teddy loudly insisting BC’s winning Hockey East this year, Solo talking shit about Villanova again—but honestly James barely processes most of it.

Not when Braylon keeps glancing back at him every couple minutes.

Eventually, Voter suddenly yells over everyone else, “Alright! Beer pong time for the loser parade!”

Every single Huskies hockey player immediately groans in unison.

Azzi clicks her tongue loudly before pointing accusingly toward them. “If you didn’t want a loser parade, maybe you should’ve tried not taking a million pointless penalties tonight.”

The entire fire pit explodes into laughter instantly while the UConn hockey players begin loudly complaining again. James can’t stop himself from grinning into his cup.

Then Silas suddenly announces, “Basement. BC hockey versus UConn basketball. Beer pong.”

That immediately gets everyone moving.

“And whoever wins,” Silas continues loudly while backing toward the house, “gets control of the loser parade.”

Now that gets a reaction.

Students practically flood toward the basement entrance after that, everyone suddenly desperate to witness the chaos about to happen. By the time James gets downstairs with the others, the massive basement is already packed wall to wall with people crowding around the long pong table set up in the center of the room.

Apparently half the frat wants to see whether the BC Eagles hockey team or the UConn Huskies basketball team will end up controlling the fate of UConn hockey’s loser parade tonight.

KK suddenly hops up onto the table with a grin that immediately screams trouble. “Five rounds!” she announces dramatically. “Best out of five wins. Each duo gets one game, so no ties.”

Kayleigh then points toward the Eagles. “Visitors choose first.”

That sparks immediate chaos among the hockey boys while everyone argues over pairings. Eventually the teams settle into place. Oskar and Mike volunteer first. Teddy and Aram go second. Andre and Voter take third. Lukas and Brady grab fourth. And finally Dean and James end up fifth, mostly because literally everyone knows they’re annoyingly good at beer pong together.

“You two are insurance,” Mike tells them smugly. “In case these idiots choke.”

“Fuck you,” Teddy replies immediately.

Then it’s the Huskies’ turn.

Jaylin Stewart pairs with Dwayne Koroma against Mike and Oskar. Silas and Alex Karaban step up against Teddy and Aram. Jacob Ross and Malachi Smith take Andre and Voter. Solo pairs with Jayden Ross against Lukas and Brady. And finally—Tarris and Braylon step up against Dean and James.

For some reason, the second Braylon looks across the room at him, James’ stomach flips hard enough to genuinely annoy him.

Azzi and KK immediately start filling cups with a horrifying mixture of beer and tequila while Kayleigh lines them up across both sides of the table.

The first rounds begin quickly after that.

Mike and Oskar absolutely destroy Jaylin and Dwayne in round one, forcing both basketball players to painfully chug every remaining cup while the basement erupts into cheers. Then Teddy and Aram immediately embarrass themselves by losing horribly to Silas and Alex. Half the Eagles nearly collapse laughing watching Teddy scream dramatically after having to down multiple cups in a row. Andre and Voter manage to pull BC back ahead with a win against Jacob and Malachi. But then Solo and Jayden beat Lukas and Brady in round four, tying everything up two-two.

Which leaves only one final matchup left. Dean and James. Against Tarris and Braylon. And judging by the way the entire basement suddenly gets louder, everyone already knows this last round is about to get ugly.

James steps up toward the table with Dean practically looming over his shoulder while, across from them, Braylon and Tarris move into position on the other side. Around them, the entire basement buzzes loudly with anticipation, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder around the table while students chant over one another excitedly.

KK and Azzi refill the cups with matching evil smirks on their faces, pouring together alcohol combinations that genuinely look radioactive under the basement lights. Honestly, James should probably be concerned considering the current states of some of their teammates after only a couple rounds.

But he isn’t.

Because the second he looks up, Braylon is already staring right back at him with that annoyingly confident smile again.

And suddenly James only cares about winning.

“Don’t choke, Hagens!” Solo yells from somewhere in the crowd.

“Worry about your own team!” Dean immediately fires back.

Then the round starts. And somehow it turns into the closest game of the night almost immediately.

Every time James sinks a shot, Braylon answers with one of his own. Tarris lands one from the edge of the table only for Dean to immediately retaliate with another. Cups disappear one after another while the crowd grows progressively louder with every turn.

And James absolutely refuses to lose to UConn.

Especially not to Braylon.

A couple shots get missed here and there, forcing them all to down more disgusting mixtures while the basement erupts into cheers every single time someone fumbles. The alcohol burning through James’ system starts making his entire body feel warmer by the minute, his head pleasantly fuzzy around the edges while confidence settles heavily beneath his skin.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, James starts subtly flirting with Braylon purely to throw him off his game. At least that’s what he tells himself.

“C’mon, Mullins,” James drawls lazily after Braylon barely misses a cup. “Thought basketball players had hand-eye coordination.”

Braylon immediately scoffs. “Still doing better than your ugly ass jump shot earlier.”

James gasps dramatically. “That was one time.”

“One terrible time.”

The crowd around them bursts into laughter while Dean nearly collapses against James’ shoulder wheezing.

“You gonna let him disrespect you like that?” Tarris asks Braylon loudly.

“Nah,” Braylon replies without taking his eyes off James. “I’m about to humble him.”

Something hot twists sharply low in James’ stomach at that.

Eventually the game narrows down to its final cups.

James steps forward first for BC’s turn, rolling his shoulders once before focusing carefully. The basement goes noticeably quieter around him while everyone watches. Then James flicks the ball forward. It arcs perfectly through the air before dropping straight into the cup.

The Eagles immediately explode into screaming.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Teddy screeches loud enough to probably rupture eardrums.

Now all eyes shift toward Braylon. Because everyone knows exactly what this means. If Braylon misses, the game’s over and BC wins. If he makes it, another round gets added and the chaos continues.

Tarris starts hyping him up immediately beside the table. “You got this, bro. Don’t sell right now.”

Braylon grabs the ball while rolling his neck once, clearly trying to focus despite the entire basement screaming around him.

And James—drunk enough to make questionable decisions but still fully aware of what he’s doing—decides right then that he’s absolutely going to ruin Braylon’s concentration.

So while Braylon lines up his shot, James deliberately lets his gaze soften. His smirk turns slow and lazy as he drags his tongue briefly across his bottom lip before letting his eyes travel very obviously down Braylon’s body. Over his broad shoulders. Down the lean lines of his chest beneath the tight black hoodie. Lower.

When James finally looks back up again, Braylon is already staring directly at him. And flushing. Hard.

James tilts his head slightly to the side after that because he knows what his eyes can do to people when he wants them to. He’s known for years.

Braylon’s grip visibly tightens around the ping pong ball. Then he takes the shot. And misses completely.

The basement erupts into absolute fucking chaos.

The Eagles practically launch themselves at Dean and James immediately while Huskies basketball players groan dramatically around the table. Someone nearly knocks over half the cups in the process of tackling James into a group hug while Teddy screams incoherently somewhere near his ear.

James laughs breathlessly while being crushed between teammates, adrenaline and alcohol making his head spin pleasantly. Over everyone’s shoulders, he catches sight of the Huskies side of the table looking thoroughly disgusted by the loss.

Well—everyone except the women’s basketball players. Because Azzi, KK, and Kayleigh are openly dying laughing at the men’s team.

“You folded for a hockey player,” KK tells Braylon between cackles.

“Actually tragic,” Azzi adds immediately.

"Such a fucking loser move rook." Kayleigh says while laughing so hard, Silas has to hold her upright.

Braylon rubs a hand over his face while groaning dramatically. “Alright, damn.”

Still, despite clearly being embarrassed, he apologizes quietly to Tarris and the rest of his teammates. But they immediately wave him off.

“Bro, you’re a freshman,” Tarris tells him. “You handled that way better than I would’ve.”

“Yeah, Hagens was out there looking at you like he wanted to ruin your life,” Solo adds.

James immediately nearly chokes on air.

Thankfully the room descends into chaos again before anyone can notice his reaction because now the Eagles officially get to start the Huskies hockey team’s loser parade punishment.

And they take that responsibility seriously.

Within minutes, the basement devolves into complete madness. The Huskies hockey players get forced into chugging disgusting drinks one after another while students film everything on their phones. At some point Teddy makes one of the freshmen stand on a chair and sing Party in the U.S.A. while everyone screams along terribly off-key.

James laughs so hard his stomach hurts.

Eventually, though, attention shifts back toward the basketball team since BC won control over their drinks too.

That’s when James gets an idea.

With an empty solo cup in hand, he starts wandering around the makeshift drink table grabbing literally every alcohol bottle he can find. Vodka. Tequila. Rum. Something blue. Something pink. Something that genuinely smells like battery acid.

Then he dumps Hawaiian Punch and strawberry passion juice over all of it.

The final result turns an alarming purple color.

James stares at it proudly despite having absolutely no clue whether the drink is even survivable.

Then he walks straight over to Braylon.

“Special delivery,” James says sweetly while handing him the cup with a deeply evil grin.

Braylon looks down at the drink immediately with visible horror. “What the fuck is that?”

James shrugs innocently. “A special.”

“You trying to kill me?”

“Maybe a little.”

Braylon cautiously leans down to sniff the drink before physically recoiling so dramatically that James bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Braylon mutters, staring at the cup like it personally offended him. “That smells illegal.”

Around them, several basketball players are already suffering through their own horrifying drinks while Kayleigh points accusingly toward Braylon.

“Stop being a pussy and drink it,” she calls out. “Or I’ll make you do it myself.”

Braylon immediately flips her off without looking away from the cup. Then finally he reaches for it. His fingers brush against James’ as he takes it from him. The contact lasts maybe half a second. But electricity shoots violently up James’ arm anyway, hot enough to make his breath catch slightly before he quickly pulls his hand back once he’s sure Braylon has the cup securely.

Braylon stares down into the horrifying purple liquid one last time before muttering a curse under his breath. Then he sighs dramatically, takes a deep breath and tips his head back.

James genuinely wasn’t expecting him to drink the entire thing in one go.

But Braylon does exactly that. Fast enough to give James whiplash while his eyes helplessly track the stray drops slipping from the corner of Braylon’s mouth down toward his chin.

The sight sends heat flooding through James so quickly it almost hurts.

Braylon finishes the drink with a loud curse before crushing the solo cup in one hand and dragging the back of his wrist across his mouth to wipe away the remaining drops.

The entire basement explodes into cheers instantly, people screaming Braylon’s name loudly enough to shake the walls. But James barely hears any of it, because his brain has completely short-circuited. So badly, in fact, that he doesn’t even realize he’s openly staring at Braylon’s mouth until Braylon suddenly looks down at him—height difference even more ridiculous up close with Braylon towering over him at six-six while James barely reaches five-eleven.

And the second their eyes meet again, something inside James completely panics.

Before he can even think, his body moves automatically.

James abruptly turns and bolts out of the basement.

He barely registers the confused shouting behind him while he rushes up the stairs two at a time, shoving through people crowding the hallway as he tries desperately to find somewhere quieter. Somewhere with air. Somewhere away from Braylon and his stupid lips and stupid eyes and the terrifying way James suddenly wants—

“James!”

Braylon’s voice echoes behind him.

James keeps moving anyway.

He storms up another staircase toward the upper floors of the house, heart hammering violently against his ribs while the music downstairs grows slightly muffled with distance.

But even through the haze in his head, James still hears footsteps following after him.

And Braylon calling his name again.

James barrels through the upstairs hallways almost blindly, shoving random doors open hard enough to startle whoever’s inside before immediately backing out again. Somewhere behind him, the music from downstairs still pounds through the walls, but up here it’s muffled enough that his thoughts suddenly feel way too loud.

His heart is beating so violently against his ribs it almost hurts.

He pushes open another door.

This room is empty.

Thank God.

James slips inside quickly before slamming the door shut behind him, chest heaving slightly as he presses his back against the wood. The room is dark aside from faint colored lights bleeding in through the curtains from outside, enough for him to vaguely make out the outline of a bed and a dresser.

For a second, silence settles around him. Then the bedroom door opens again. James’ stomach drops immediately.

Braylon steps inside before quietly shutting the door behind himself, and the second James sees him, he groans under his breath. “Fuck, I forgot to lock it.”

Braylon doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he takes one careful step toward James before visibly hesitating, like he’s trying to figure out whether approaching him is a good idea or not. Eventually he stops only a few feet away, close enough that James can see the concern lingering faintly across his face even through the dim lighting.

Neither of them speaks at first.

They just stand there breathing slightly too hard in the darkness.

Finally, Braylon breaks the silence softly. “Why’d you leave like that?”

James immediately shakes his head so fast he nearly gives himself another whiplash injury. “I—” He opens his mouth again before immediately shutting it because honestly? He has absolutely no idea how to explain whatever the hell is happening inside his brain right now.

Braylon stays very still while watching him carefully. Then after another beat, he asks quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”

James’ head snaps up immediately. “No.” He shakes his head again. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what happened?”

James lets out a frustrated noise while dragging both hands down his face. “I’m the problem.”

Braylon’s eyebrows pull together in obvious confusion. “What does that even mean?”

And somehow that question cracks something open inside James completely.

Because suddenly words start tumbling out of him in one long half-drunken spiral before he can stop himself.

“It means I’m confused, okay?” James blurts out while pacing once across the room before turning back toward Braylon again. “And you can’t keep looking at me like that because you’re making everything complicated.”

Braylon blinks slowly. “Complicated how?”

“Because you’re…” James gestures vaguely toward him in frustration. “You’re you. With your stupid handsome face and your dumb hot little smirk and your really pretty eyes.”

Braylon’s mouth twitches immediately.

But James keeps going, entirely too far gone now to stop himself.

“And your eyes aren’t even fair, by the way,” he rambles. “They’re all gray-blue and—whatever. And every time you look at me I feel all weird and tingly like some idiot having his first crush in high school.”

At this point Braylon is very obviously fighting a smile.

Meanwhile James is still spiraling.

“And you’re wrecking my plans,” he says dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Like, completely wrecking them. In less than twelve hours, which honestly feels a little rude.”

That finally makes Braylon fully smirk. Slow and amused and dangerously pretty.

“What plans?” he asks carefully.

James groans loudly before dragging a hand through his hair. “My plans to not fall for anyone for a while,” he admits. “Men, women, literally anybody. I needed a break from all that relationship stuff because it’s exhausting and messy and now you’re making it difficult.”

Braylon hums softly at that. Then before James can properly process it, Braylon closes the remaining distance between them.

Suddenly he’s standing directly in front of James, close enough that their bodies are almost touching and James can feel warmth radiating off him.

The proximity instantly sends panic skittering through James again. He instinctively tries leaning back to create some space between them, but Braylon moves faster.

One of his hands slides around the back of James’ neck while the other settles firmly against his waist, tugging him forward until their bodies press together completely.

Then Braylon kisses him.

James freezes instantly.

For half a second, his brain completely shuts off at the feeling of Braylon’s lips against his. Warm and soft and real.

Then Braylon’s mouth starts moving gently against his, turning the still press of their lips into an actual kiss, and suddenly James’ brain roars violently back to life.

A quiet sound slips out of him before he can stop it.

He melts almost immediately into Braylon’s hold, his entire body going warm and loose as the kiss deepens slowly between them.

Instinctively, James fists the front of Braylon’s hoodie tightly just to pull him closer, and the low sound Braylon makes in response goes straight through him. A second later Braylon brushes his tongue against James’ bottom lip before gently catching it between his teeth, coaxing him open.

James lets him in without hesitation.

And God.

The kiss immediately turns deeper, slower, fuller in a way that makes James feel dizzy. Braylon kisses him like he’s trying to understand him through it. Like he’s trying to say something without words.

It feels nothing like kissing Gabe had felt months ago.

Nothing like Kaya either.

Because this doesn’t feel like someone trying to take something from him. It feels like the exact opposite. Like they’re both standing in the middle of something terrifying and choosing it anyway.

Eventually they pull apart breathlessly, foreheads almost brushing while both of them try to catch their breath. But neither of them moves away. If anything, James clings even harder to Braylon afterward while mumbling a quiet curse beneath his breath. “You’re a really good kisser,” he mutters against Braylon’s chest.

Braylon chuckles softly before resting his chin on top of James’ head. “Did I wreck your plans then?”

James stays quiet for a second while considering it.

Then eventually he buries his face farther into Braylon’s chest and mumbles, “Yeah. You definitely wrecked them.” A pause. “But I’m kinda glad you did.”

The hum Braylon lets out afterward sounds deeply satisfied, enough to make heat immediately creep back into James’ face again.

They stay like that for a couple more quiet minutes, wrapped around each other while the distant bass downstairs shakes faintly through the floorboards.

Then suddenly James’ phone starts ringing loudly in his pocket.

Both of them flinch apart instantly.

James groans dramatically while scrambling for his phone, nearly dropping it twice before finally answering Mike’s call.

“What?” he says breathlessly.

“Where the fuck are you?” Mike immediately asks. “We’re leaving soon.”

James clears his throat quickly while avoiding Braylon’s gaze. “I just came upstairs for air.”

“Well get your ass downstairs because it’s almost three and we’re heading out.”

James sighs heavily. “Yeah, okay. I’m coming.”

Once the call ends, he shoves his phone back into his pocket before finally looking up at Braylon again.

For a second neither of them says anything.

Then James quietly says, “I should go.”

Braylon nods once. “Yeah. I know.”

James starts toward the door reluctantly, but before he can grab the handle, Braylon catches his wrist and tugs him gently back.

When James turns around again, Braylon worries briefly at his bottom lip before asking, “Can I...uhm...get your number?”

The question hits James embarrassingly hard.

He almost smiles so wide it hurts.

Instead, he nods quickly while Braylon hands over his unlocked phone. James types his number in before giving it back.

Immediately, Braylon presses call with a playful grin. “Just making sure you didn’t give me a fake number.”

James rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at his mouth.

“And now you’ve got mine too,” Braylon adds casually.

James glances down at the new contact notification lighting up his phone screen before looking back up again. “Don’t leak my number.”

Braylon snorts softly. “I wouldn’t do that even for enough money to retire my whole family.” He tilts his head slightly before adding, “I wanna keep you to myself.”

James immediately flushes bright red. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Braylon just laughs quietly while James shoves at his chest weakly.

A second later James’ phone starts vibrating nonstop again, probably from Dean and Teddy spamming him now.

Which means it’s definitely time to go.

Braylon notices too because his expression softens slightly before he says, “Bye, James.”

And before James can overthink himself into chickening out, he rises onto his tiptoes and quickly kisses Braylon once on the lips. Then once on the cheek.

Braylon looks genuinely stunned afterward.

James grins despite himself before immediately turning and bolting from the room.

He races down the stairs two at a time, squeezing through crowded hallways before finally shoving his way back outside into the freezing February air.

The cold hits him instantly.

So does the sight of his teammates all standing near the curb at nearly 2:45 in the morning waiting for their Ubers.

James stumbles down the porch steps slightly breathless and very smiley. Oskar and Drew immediately narrow their eyes at him suspiciously but thankfully stay quiet. Mike, Dean, Teddy, and Voter absolutely do not.

“What took you so long?” Dean demands immediately.

“And why are you smiling like that?” Teddy adds.

“Wait—are you drunk drunk?” Voter asks suspiciously.

James only shrugs innocently. “I was getting air.”

“Bullshit,” Mike says instantly.

Before they can interrogate him further, though, multiple Ubers finally pull up along the curb one after another, forcing everyone to split into smaller groups.

James ends up squeezed into the backseat beside Dean on the drive back to the hotel while Teddy loudly argues with Mike in the front seat about music.

Outside the windows, Connecticut glows softly beneath the dark February sky while exhaustion finally begins settling heavily back into James’ bones now that the adrenaline from the night is fading.

Beside him, Dean eventually nudges his shoulder lightly. “You okay?” he asks quieter this time.

James looks down at the still-open text thread on his phone.

Unknown Number:

You made me drink battery acid tonight.

A second message appears almost immediately after.

Unknown Number:

Worth it though.

James feels warmth spread slowly through his chest again before he locks his phone with a helpless smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he murmurs softly while leaning his head back against the seat. “I think I am.”

And somewhere across campus, tucked away inside one of his teammates' car heading back through Storrs, Braylon Mullins is probably smiling too.