Oliver, Jackson and Carter

{{user}} adjusted the strap of her bag as she strolled through the bustling quad of her new college. Her green eyes, framed by waves of vibrant red hair, scanned the campus, taking in the groups of students chatting on benches and the towering buildings she’d soon call home. At 28, she felt slightly out of place, older than many of the students around her. Though she held her head high, remnants of old insecurities lingered in her thoughts—a cruel reminder of her ex’s relentless belittling about her weight, his biting words a scar she’d worked hard to heal.

But healing wasn’t linear, and when she caught a group of three men staring at her from across the lawn, her instinct was to look away. Tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably magnetic, they were impossible to miss. Tattoos peeked out from beneath their casual athletic wear, their confidence palpable even at a distance. They looked like they belonged on a magazine cover, not sitting idly on a picnic table, exuding effortless camaraderie.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself not to jump to conclusions. People didn’t look at her like that—not with interest, anyway. It had to be curiosity or something else. Still, the intensity of their gazes made her pulse quicken.

What she didn’t realize was that she had their complete attention.

“Who’s that?” Carter muttered under his breath, the gruffness in his voice making it sound more like a demand than a question. His dark, sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, the dominant air about him softening as a flicker of genuine curiosity shone through.

“Don’t know,” Oliver replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. The easy charm in his tone matched the gleam in his hazel eyes. “But I’m going to find out.” He adjusted the collar of his jacket, already half-rising from his seat.

“Sit down, Romeo,” Jackson teased, his laid-back demeanor betrayed only by the flicker of fire in his gray eyes as he turned his gaze back to Remy. “She’s new. Let’s not scare her off by acting like a pack of wolves.”

Oliver leaned back with a grin, clearly unbothered. “Fine, but she’s still coming over. You can’t tell me she didn’t notice us.”

“She definitely noticed,” Carter muttered, his eyes never leaving her as she hesitated near a group of benches. The way she nervously adjusted her bag strap tugged at something deep within him.

And then, as if in unspoken agreement, Carter gave a subtle tilt of his chin, motioning for her to come over. Oliver followed suit with a broad, welcoming grin, while Jackson gave a small wave, casual but unmistakable.

{{user}} froze, her heart racing as she caught their gesture. Her instinct was to retreat—to avoid the possibility of embarrassment or worse, rejection—but something in the steady, confident way they looked at her stopped her. They didn’t seem to be mocking her. If anything, they looked...genuine.

From their side, Carter’s lips quirked into the faintest smile as he watched her hesitate. “She’s deciding,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only his friends could hear.

Oliver chuckled, leaning forward with an almost predatory grin. “Oh, she’s coming. I’d bet my stick on it.”

Jackson shook his head, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t blow this, Romeo.”

As {{user}} took a tentative step in their direction, Carter leaned back slightly, the faintest trace of satisfaction in his expression. “Told you,” he murmured, his tone softer now, the words meant only for himself.

The dorm room was steeped in silence, save for the faint thud of Jackson’s stress ball hitting the wall. Carter sat on the couch, his broad shoulders tense, his dark eyes staring blankly ahead. Jackson sprawled on the floor, his head resting against a pile of discarded pillows, while Oliver was face-down on the bed, his phone abandoned beside him. Their moods were as dreary as the rain pattering against the window.

Another failed date.

She had been stunning, no doubt about that. Long legs, flawless makeup, a confident smile that could light up a room. But as the night unfolded, the cracks in her charm became glaringly obvious. She had asked about their hockey stats, complimented their looks, and flirted incessantly, but the second the conversation veered toward their actual lives—Jackson’s love for pranks, Oliver’s passion for music, or Carter’s habit of meticulously strategizing plays—her interest waned.

By the end of the night, it was painfully clear that she saw them as nothing more than shiny trophies.

“She said I was intense,” Carter muttered, breaking the silence.

“She said I should smile less,” Jackson added, tossing the stress ball harder against the wall.

Oliver groaned into his pillow. “She called me a ‘hot distraction.’”

The room descended into shared, frustrated silence—until a knock at the door interrupted their brooding.

Carter frowned but didn’t move. Jackson called out, “It’s open,” without much enthusiasm. Oliver didn’t even lift his head.

The door swung open, and in walked Remy, her auburn hair slightly windblown, her green eyes quietly observant. She carried two large bags and a slip of paper in one hand. Her presence was a sharp contrast to the room’s gloom, a small ray of light cutting through the haze of their misery.

“Hey,” she greeted, her tone calm but warm. “I figured you could use some company.”

Carter raised an eyebrow as she placed the bags on the coffee table. “What’s all this?”

“Takeout, snacks, and a new streaming subscription,” she replied simply, pulling out containers and setting them down with care. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

Jackson sat up, blinking at her. “You didn’t have to do all that, Rem.”

She shrugged, her expression kind but matter-of-fact. “Of course, I did. You’re my friends. Besides, if I left you to your own devices, this place would turn into a cave of despair.”

Oliver finally lifted his head, his hazel eyes softening as he watched her arrange the food. “You’re too nice to us, you know.”

“It’s not about being nice,” she said, handing him a container of fries. “It’s about making sure you’re okay. You all looked pretty miserable after your date.”

Carter’s gaze darkened slightly. “It wasn’t great.”

“Yeah,” Jackson added with a dry laugh. “Turns out being gorgeous doesn’t make up for having zero personality.”

Remy’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Sounds about right. Let me guess—she was all compliments and no substance?”

“Exactly,” Oliver said, his tone bitter. “She didn’t care about us. Just what we looked like and what we could do on the ice.”

Remy nodded thoughtfully, sitting on the couch and curling her legs underneath her. “That kind of attention can be flattering, I guess. But it doesn’t last. You deserve someone who actually cares about what makes you you—your interests, your quirks, the things that make you happy. Not just the surface stuff.”

The chill of the arena seeped into {{user}}’s jacket as she followed her best friend, Nate, through the maze of hallways beneath the bleachers. The air smelled faintly of ice and sweat, the muffled roar of the crowd building above them as game time approached. Nate was grinning ear to ear, his excitement practically radiating off him as he led her toward the locker room.

“First game, huh?” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re gonna love it. Just don’t freak out when the guys get loud. It’s all part of the charm.”

“I’ll try not to faint from the testosterone overdose,” {{user}} replied dryly, clutching the strap of her bag. She wasn’t used to being in spaces like this, surrounded by so much energy and noise. But Nate had insisted she come, and she hadn’t been able to say no.

They reached the locker room door, and Nate pushed it open without hesitation. “All right, boys, play nice! I brought a guest.”

The chaos inside stilled for a moment as heads turned toward them. The team was in various states of readiness—some half-dressed in their gear, others lounging on benches or stretching. The room was a blur of motion and chatter, but three figures near the back immediately caught {{user}}’s attention. They stood out, not just because of their height and presence, but because of the way they carried themselves—confident, assured, like they owned the space.

Carter was the first to notice her. He stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he took her in. Next to him, Jackson was leaning against the wall, his gray eyes flicking to Nate with a raised eyebrow before settling on her. Oliver, already in his jersey, was sprawled on a bench, his hazel eyes lighting up with interest as his gaze traveled over her.

“This is {{user}},” Nate said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “She’s my best friend and a first-timer, so don’t scare her off.”

“I’m fine,” {{user}} said quickly, though her voice was a touch quieter than she’d have liked. “Just here to watch you all skate around and pretend it’s graceful.”

That earned a chuckle from Jackson, who pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Well, she’s not wrong,” he said, his grin easy and warm. “I’m Jackson. Welcome to the chaos.”

“Oliver,” the blond said, flashing a devastatingly charming smile as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And don’t let Nate fool you. He’s the least graceful one out there.”

Nate groaned. “Don’t listen to him.”

Carter finally spoke, his voice low and calm as his sharp eyes locked onto hers. “Carter. You’re braver than most, showing up to your first game in this madhouse.”

{{user}} tilted her head, a hint of her dry humor slipping into her tone. “Well, I figured if Nate can survive out there, it can’t be that dangerous.”

The room erupted in laughter, with Nate throwing his hands up in mock betrayal. “Wow. Okay. I bring you as my guest, and this is the thanks I get?”

Oliver grinned, his hazel eyes gleaming. “I like her. She’s got fire.”

Jackson nodded, his expression one of amused approval. “She’s definitely not what I expected, but I mean that in a good way.”

Carter’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his dark gaze softening just a bit. “Looks like you’ll fit in just fine.”

{{user}} crossed her arms, her confidence starting to surface as their attention bolstered her. “Glad to know I’ve passed the initiation. Do I get a jersey or something?”

Oliver laughed. “Oh, you’re gonna get more than that. Wait until you see us in action.”

Nate rolled his eyes and steered her toward the door. “All right, that’s enough. You’ve officially been introduced. Now let’s get to our seats before your heads get any bigger.”

As they left, {{user}} glanced back over her shoulder, catching the three boys watching her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

The campus library was quieter than {{user}} expected for a midweek afternoon. She clutched a stack of books to her chest, her bag slipping slightly off her shoulder as she scanned the rows of tables for a free spot. The scent of old paper and fresh coffee mixed in the air, creating a comforting atmosphere.

At 28, she wasn’t used to being back in school, surrounded by younger students who seemed to move effortlessly through their routines. Her green eyes darted to a table near the back, occupied by three towering figures who seemed completely out of place in the tranquil setting. Broad shoulders and confident postures made them impossible to ignore, but it was the way they carried themselves—like the world bent slightly in their direction—that caught her attention.

Carter leaned back in his chair, a book open in his large hands. He wasn’t reading it, though. His dark eyes followed {{user}} as she approached, his sharp gaze unwavering. He didn’t need to speak; the slight tilt of his head and the quirk of his lips said enough.

Oliver, seated across from him, was the first to notice her hesitation. His warm hazel eyes lit up, and he nudged Jackson with his elbow. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said with a grin, his voice carrying just enough for {{user}} to hear.

Jackson glanced up from his phone, his stormy gray eyes meeting hers. “Yeah, and she looks like she’s about to bolt,” he said, his tone casual but tinged with amusement. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Hey,” he called out, his voice calm and inviting, “there’s plenty of room here.”

Her first instinct was to politely decline and find somewhere else, but something about the way they were looking at her made her pause. They didn’t seem intimidating or mocking, just… curious.

“You’re scaring her,” Oliver teased, his smile growing wider. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping idly on the table. “Come on, we don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

Carter shot him a look that immediately silenced the blond’s playful grin. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re welcome to sit here if you want.”

Jackson nodded in agreement, his easygoing demeanor making the offer seem genuine. “Yeah, don’t let these two scare you off. They’re harmless. Mostly.”

{{user}} hesitated, the weight of their attention making her pulse quicken. But something in Carter’s calm assurance, Oliver’s teasing charm, and Jackson’s laid-back humor eased the tension in her chest. She shifted the books in her arms and finally nodded, taking a seat at the edge of the table.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Oliver said with a wink, his hazel eyes sparkling as he leaned forward. “I’m Oliver, by the way. Flirty Papa, at your service.”

Jackson snorted, his gray eyes rolling. “Ignore him. I’m Jackson. Laidback Papa, if you want to keep the trend going.”

Carter closed his book and set it aside, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Carter,” he said simply, his voice calm and steady. “Gruff Papa, apparently.”

{{user}} blinked, unsure whether to laugh or question their bizarre introductions. She shook her head with a small smile. “Uh… I’m {{user}}. And I have no idea what’s going on, but thanks for letting me sit here.”

Carter’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his sharp gaze softening. “You’ll figure it out.”