Summary: Dean Di Laurentis is loud, arrogant, and has a smirk with dimple that makes you want to throw something at his face. You called him a playboy to his face. Now he won't leave you alone. You tell yourself he's just annoying you for fun and you have nothing to do with him. Until one day, you realize you're looking for him in every crowd. And that's when you know you're in trouble.
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader
Tags/warnings: Introvert girl. Enemies to lovers. Slow burn. Hurt/comfort. Hockey romance. Fluff. Mutual pining. Mild language. Suggestive theme. No explicit content. Using the word (Name).
Word count: 3.4k
Author's note: English is not my first language, let me know if there's any mistake. I haven't read the book, so I follow the tv series but not really haha. Btw, today is my birthday! Enjoy my birthday gift! 💗
This was supposed to be a one-shot, but my fingers couldn't stop typing so... here we are 🫰
"Come on, (Name)! I know you're not busy!"
You let out a soft sigh, staring at your roommate, Jules. Reference books for your class were scattered all over the bed around you, your laptop open right in front of you.
"Sorry, Jules, but I have a quiz tomorrow. I need to study," you replied.
"Aren't you bored? Studying all day long. Hey, live a little. Enjoy your college years."
"I am enjoying them." You lazily pointed toward your books with your chin.
Jules groaned in boredom. Then, out of nowhere, they flashed you a suspicious, knowing smile. You recognized that look instantly.
It was the exact expression Jules wore whenever their inner 'the fifth line social media admin' persona took over. They would do absolutely anything to get the latest hot campus gossip. Anything.
"Jules. No."
Jules chuckled. "(Name), yes."
Thirty minutes later, you were standing outside the Maxwell family summer home.
"This is a terrible idea, Jules. I should go back."
You started to turn away from the yard, but Jules grabbed your arm, holding you back.
"Hey, it's about time you got out of your room. You need to enjoy life, (Name). Don't waste your college years locked up in your room with books and mind-numbing course materials. You need a stress reliever." Jules went on a long rant, which you met with an equally long sigh.
"This isn't my scene, Jules. I don't like this kind of stuff, and you know it."
"Well, I promise you it'll be fun and nothing like you think."
"Oh, really?" You shot Jules a lazy, skeptical look.
"Just trust me, okay? It's time for you to make some new friends."
"I have friend—" you cut in, feeling defensive.
"I know, I know. But name just five friends from a different major. Someone who isn't a classmate, or your roommate—which is me." Jules challenged.
You closed your eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm only staying for a bit. If the party sucks, I'm leaving immediately."
"Deal. Let's go!" Jules linked their arm through yours, pulling you excitedly into the house.
You looked around the moment you stepped into the Maxwell summer house. It was crowded. Packed. Loud. A 'fun' kind of chaos was unfolding everywhere.
If Jules hadn't been with you, you probably would have turned right around and headed back to your quiet, cozy room. But Jules had zero intention of letting you go. They dragged you toward the living room, which connected straight to the kitchen. People were chatting, joking, playing games, and some were heavily making out. You instantly averted your eyes. That was a bit much for someone like you, who had never dated or even been close to a guy.
"Hey, you actually made it?"
A voice ahead made you look up.
"What does it look like?" Jules shot back sarcastically.
"Why so harsh on your own brother, Jules?"
The guy was John Logan. He's one of the star hockey players on campus, and also Jules's brother.
Of course you knew who he was from Jules's endless stories. Jules constantly gave you campus updates, even when you didn't ask for them.
"Wait, is this (Name)?"
You blinked in surprise when Logan mentioned your name. You had never spoken to him before, so how—oh, forget it. You were positive this was Jules's doing. But why on earth were they talking about you to Logan?
"Yep. Finally, after all this time, I managed to drag her out of her cave to enjoy life."
"Hey!" You glared at Jules, offended.
Logan laughed. "That's great. Hey, (Name), I'm Logan. Jules talks about you all the time. It's an honor to finally meet the legend who scolds this little brat whenever they skip class for their gossip account."
Jules rolled their eyes in annoyance.
You offered a small smile. "Hi, Logan. Nice to meet you. Jules talks about you a lot, too."
Logan shot his sibling a playful, curious look. "Oh, really? I hope it's good stuff." He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a mock whisper. "You know, they tend to exaggerate sometimes."
"I can hear you, dumbass," Jules snapped, looking irritated.
That made both you and Logan burst out laughing.
Gradually, the atmosphere began to feel more comfortable. Logan was warm, friendly, and easy to talk to. You no longer felt awkward or out of place.
Suddenly, the kitchen counter grew loud as two figures dressed in matching Top Gun uniforms appeared. From where you stood, you watched them effortlessly command the room's attention. Dean Di Laurentis and Beau Maxwell. Two best friends who shared the same birthday and the exact same level of fame. The star defenseman for the hockey team, and the starting quarterback for the football team.
From what you gathered, Dean seemed to be the more famous of the two, purely because he was a Briar hockey star with an endless supply of charm. Even though you didn't care about campus celebrities like Dean or Beau, you knew all about them because your classmates constantly gossiped about Dean's supposed perfection. Sitting behind them in lecture meant you could never actually focus on the professor.
Dean the handsome, Dean the sweet, the ultimate ladykiller, the perfect gentleman, and so on. Some called him a playboy and a certified heartbreaker, but his charm was undeniable.
Sometimes you wondered how these girls fell for him so easily, worshiping him like some sort of god. They completely ignored his flaws just because of his pretty face and his shamelessly flirty attitude around any woman in sight.
You, however, saw things differently. Sure, you weren't a hypocrite; you could admit Dean was gorgeous and practically flawless on the outside. But his playboy lifestyle, his lack of commitment, the casual hookups, and the endless partying? Total red flags.
People probably thought you were old-fashioned or had impossibly high standards, especially given your single status and lack of dating experience.
But you made a conscious effort to stay far away from guys like Dean or another famous players.
So, when the music pumped louder and the crowd swarmed the living room to dance, you immediately slipped away to find a quieter spot. Logan and Jules had already wandered off when some friends approached them. Though Jules originally wanted you to come along, you turned them down, promising to wait right there.
Thud!
And now, you deeply regretted it. You had found a safe haven to remain invisible—sitting on the bottom steps of the staircase—only for someone with zero situational awareness to trip right over your feet.
Actually, make that two someone.
Dean and a girl were so busy making out that they didn't even look where they were going. They're crashed right in front of you because he hadn't noticed you while trying to guide her up the stairs.
"Are you okay, sweetheart? Let me help you." Dean looked down at the girl with a soft, apologetic gaze, kissing her gently after pulling her to her feet.
You were just about to apologize, feeling a bit guilty that your extended legs had caused them to trip.
"What, were you so jealous that you had to trip her? Hm... I haven't seen you around before."
That accusation swallowed your apology whole, replaced instantly by a wave of pure anger.
"First of all, use your eyes to look where you're going. I've been sitting here the entire time. Second of all, I'm not jealous. And third, lose the massive ego because you're nothing but a playboy who uses women, lacks commitment, and only cares about a good time and sex. So don't flat-out assume every single girl is just going to fall easily into your lap! You arrogant jerk!"
You stood up, deliberately brushing your shoulder against his as you stormed out. You were absolutely furious and deeply insulted.The guy didn't even know you, yet he had the nerve to accuse you of being jealous enough to hurt the girl he was with. Unbelievable. It made your blood boil.
"According to the course plan I presented at the beginning of the semester, we will be dividing into groups for the midterm project. The class representative will organize the groups. Once finalized, please submit the roster by this afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Krieeet!
Every head turned toward the classroom door.
"Oh, look, our favorite athlete has finally decided to join us."
"Sorry, Professor. Practice ran late." Dean Di Laurentis walked in, wearing a completely unapologetic smirk.
"Remind me again, why did you transfer into my class?" your History professor asked dryly.
"Because... I was told to find a class schedule that didn't conflict with hockey practice?" Dean replied, his tone teasingly inquisitive.
"And why are you late today, Mr. Di Laurentis? Just because you are one of the campus's star athletes, do not expect special treatment for your lack of discipline in my classroom."
"Um... my bad, Prof. Won't happen again." Dean smiled, giving a playful mock salute.
Having been checked out the second you heard his voice, you chose to focus entirely on the group assignments the class rep was dropping into the group chat.
Wait.
Your eyes snapped over to the class representative sitting behind you, your jaw dropping in disbelief. The groups had been generated randomly, and by some cruel twist of cosmic fate, you were paired with the exact guy who had sent your temper flaring just two days ago.
"Hey, I need to switch groups," you whispered urgently to your classmate.
"Sorry, (Name), but I ran a randomizer to keep it fair. And... honestly, you shouldn't switch. Every other girl in here is practically dying of jealousy right now."
You lowered your voice to a harsh whisper. "Exactly. That's why I want out. Anyone can take my spot."
"Can't do it, (Name). I already emailed the roster to the professor."
"You are evil." You stared at your friend-slash-class-rep with pure betrayal.
She just let out a quiet giggle. "What's the big deal anyway? Come on... shouldn't you be thrilled? It's not every day you get a free pass to talk to Briar's star hockey player."
"Don't mock me. You know I can't stand drama, especially the kind that follows Di Laurentis around."
"Did you miss me? Is that why you keep saying my name?"
You and your friend looked up to find Dean standing right over your desk, leaning down with a cocky grin.
"In your dreams. I wouldn't even waste a nightmare on you," you shot back coldly.
"Ouch. You're breaking my heart, you know. But it's fine, I know you're actually crazy about me and just trying to play hard to get." Dean smirked, radiating pure, unadulterated confidence.
The sheer audacity left you completely speechless. The guy in front of you was clearly delusional, his ego skyrocketing past the atmosphere.
Then, without waiting for an invitation, Dean slid into the empty seat right next to you. "So, it's (Name), right? Destined to be partners. Wait, did you request to be in my group? Wow, you move fast quietly, don't you?"
You could only stare at him like he was an alien, actively suppressing the urge to curse him out or strangle him right then and there.
Dean unlocked his phone and slid it across your desk. You looked from his face to the screen and back again.
Dean chuckled, his deep dimples showing on full display. "We need to discuss this group project, don't we? So, give me your number."
You stared at it for a few seconds before finally picking up his phone and typing something out.
"An email address?" Dean looked at you, utterly bewildered.
"Are you so busy playing hockey and partying that you don't know what an email is?" you asked sarcastically.
"Of course I know. But—"
"If you need to reach me, use that. Or don't. I don't care." You packed your things at lightning speed just as the professor dismissed the class, and swept out the door without looking back.
- - - -
"Thanks, Logan. How much do I owe you?"
"Don't worry about it."
"No, no way. You went out of your way to fix the plumbing in Jules' and my room. A simple thank you definitely isn't enough." You watched Logan as he packed away his tools.
"Seriously, (Name), it's fine. I'm just helping out Jules and their roommate."
You sighed. "Fine. But in that case, you have to let me buy you lunch."
Logan looked up at you and laughed. "Okay, deal. But I get to pick the place."
"Good. Let's go!"
True to his word, Logan brought you straight to Malone's.
"Hey, Allie!"
"Hey, (Name)! Wow, look at you, actually out with a friend for once." Allie, who was working her shift as a waitress, grinned at you and then at Logan, who was walking right behind you.
You laughed. "This is Logan, my roommate's older brother. Oh, by the way, we're ready to order."
Allie handed you a couple of menus. "Just call me whenever you guys are ready."
"Okay, thanks Allie."
"Wait... are you Hannah's friend?" Logan asked Allie suddenly, making you freeze just as you were about to look for a table.
"Yeah. Why?" Allie asked.
"I just wanted to make sure if Hannah already talked to the owner about using this place for the charity fundraiser."
"Oh, yeah, Hannah already brought it up. Our boss gave the green light. We just need to confirm the exact date and time."
Logan smiled in relief. "Awesome. I'll let Hannah know later. Thanks a lot."
"What's the fundraiser for?" you asked once the two of you had taken a seat at a table, waiting for your food.
"It's a charity fundraiser for youth ice hockey scholarships. It helps buy gear, rent ice time, stuff like that," Logan explained.
You nodded. "Wow, that's really great. I hope it turns out to be a huge success."
"You should come, (Name). It's going to be a blast. We're planning to hire a band, so there'll be live requests." Logan looked at you enthusiastically.
You smiled softly. "If you need any help, just let me know. But I'm not sure if I can actually make it to the event. My assignment load this week is brutal, and I really need to review some course materials I'm struggling with."
Logan nodded understandingly. "No pressure at all. The hockey guys are handling everything anyway. If you find some free time, you can just stop by. Jules definitely going to be there too."
"Haha, okay."
Truthfully, you really wanted to show up and support Logan. But between your hectic workload and your absolute desperation to avoid running into Dean, you ultimately decided against it.
The afternoon atmosphere at Malone's was pretty relaxed. There were only a few students chatting casually and enjoying their lunch. A couple of people were moving back and forth, setting up decorations on the mini stage for the hockey charity event tonight.
Meanwhile, you were buried in your laptop and a stack of printed drafts for your History group project. Every now and then, you anxiously glanced toward the entrance, which you had intentionally sat with your back to. You were waiting for your classmate, who had suggested meeting up here to discuss the project. Because you felt bad turning him down— especially since Malone's was the closest spot to his part-time job, so you ended up agreeing. Even though, ever since Logan’s invitation a few days ago, you had actively tried to avoid this place. You didn't want to risk running into Dean.
But here you were. In the exact place you were supposed to stay away from, surrounded by hockey players busy prepping for their charity event.
Because of that, your anxiety had been on high alert. You kept praying your partner would show up quickly so you could wrap up the project discussion and leave before Dean could ever cross your path.
"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. So, what about Dean?" Leon arrived, sliding into the seat across from you.
You breathed a massive sigh of relief that your group partner had finally made it, even if his opening question was one you'd rather completely ignore.
"I have no idea."
"He didn't contact you?" he asked.
You shook your head. Even though you hadn't expected Dean to actually shoot you an email, you had still found yourself checking your inbox every single day. And yep, just as predicted, absolutely nothing.
"Forget about him. He's probably too busy with his hockey schedule. We shouldn't hold our breath waiting for him to contribute. It's better if we just focus on our own parts so we can get this done quickly." You opened up your printouts and began mapping out the project with Leon.
Before you knew it, over twenty minutes had flown by. Leon was incredibly easy to work with, thanks to his friendly personality. He even cracked a few jokes, making your lingering headache vanish for a moment.
"Well, well, look who we have here. No wonder my email never got a response. Turns out you're on a 'study date', huh?"
The baseless accusation instantly wiped the smile right off your face. Dean was standing right by your table, looking down at you with a mocking, arrogant smirk.
"Uh, no, I'm Leon. We're in the same History group. We're just going over the project draft," Leon spoke up.
Dean sat down right next to Leon, forcing him to awkwardly scoot over to make room. "Oh, the History group? That's great. Guess that means I don't have to do a single thing, right? Since you two are clearly smart enough to handle it." Dean looked back and forth between you and Leon.
You fixed Dean with an ice-cold glare. "If you're not going to help, then stop bothering us. Go help your hockey buddies instead. They actually need it."
"Well, they can survive without me for a bit. Right now, I want to hang out with my History group. This is still my group, isn't it? Even if I was completely left in the dark?" Dean asked, flashing a wide, infuriating grin.
Leon looked between you and Dean, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "We were waiting for you to contact (Name). But you never did."
Dean let out a sharp, amused laugh, looking straight at you. "You were waiting for me? Aww... why didn't you just say so? I thought you were just playing hard to get, which is why you only gave me an email address."
You stared at him sharply. "I am not an object to be pursued. So stop talking shit like that."
"Or what?" Dean challenged, a smirk spreading across his face that made you want to punch him right then.
You clenched your fists tightly under the table, forcing down the fiery rage that was threatening to boil over. You refused to cause a massive scene inside Malone's, especially in front of Leon and others people.
Taking a slow, deliberate breath, you closed your laptop and gathered your printed drafts, stacking them against the table with a sharp thud. You shoved them into your bag and stood up.
"Or nothing," you answered, your voice dropping into a cold, utterly disgusted tone. "I don't have time to entertain a validation-starved toddler. Honestly, even a toddler has better manners than you."
The arrogant smirk on Dean's face visibly faltered the second he registered the venom in your voice.
You turned your attention to Leon, who had been wincing awkwardly throughout the entire exchange. "Leon, sorry. The atmosphere here isn't conducive anymore. Let's finish discussing this over text tonight. I'm heading out."
"Uh... yeah, sure, (Name). Get home safe," Leon stammered quickly, feeling deeply apologetic that you were driven out like this.
Without wasting another second or even throwing a single glance back at Dean, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stormed out of Malone's, leaving the booth behind.
Meanwhile, Dean sat frozen in his seat, the annoying smirk completely wiped from his face. He was entirely used to girls flirting back or getting playfully mad at him, but the look you just gave him... it was pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Wow, you seriously crossed the line there," Leon muttered quietly, shaking his head. Dean snapped his head toward him, his brow furrowed. "She stayed up all night pulling our project draft together. She was actually in a great mood today, and you just came in and completely ruined it."
