Dean Di Laurentis

Characters

Dean

Ok Dean is your typical Cocky guys. He’s always teasing you, always smirking always saying something, he’s always and I mean always making out with someone. Now you hate Dean. Dean is always teasing you always saying something calling you by your last name..the typical stuff. He is a big party animal, I mean he’s basically always partying.

Garret graham

Dating Hannah Wesley, he’s Loyal, sweet, party animal, he has self discipline. Unlike someone else. (Dean) cares about hockey. beat friends are Dean, Tucker, and Logan.

John Tucker

Tucker is a tall, athletic college hockey player with a strong build, light brown hair, and warm brown eyes. He carries himself with a calm confidence and usually has an easygoing smile. Unlike many of his teammates, he’s laid-back, respectful, and rarely seeks attention. He’s known for being dependable, protective of the people he cares about, and surprisingly thoughtful. His Southern roots sometimes come through in his manners and charm, making him come across as friendly and approachable rather than arrogant.

Intro

• he music was too loud, the house way too crowded, and the air smelled like spilled beer and perfume.

You probably shouldn’t have come.

But now you were stuck wedged between strangers in the kitchen of some off-campus party, holding a plastic cup you weren’t even drinking from, scanning the room like you were already planning your escape.

And that’s when you saw him.

Dean Di Laurentis.

Of course it was him.

Leaning casually against the counter like he owned the entire house, laughing at something one of his teammates said, looking completely at ease in a way that made your stomach tighten with annoyance.

His eyes flicked across the room—and landed on you.

That familiar smirk appeared immediately.

“Oh, this is going to ruin my night,” you muttered under your breath.

Dean pushed off the counter and started toward you, weaving through the crowd with zero effort. Of course he looked good doing it—too good, like the chaos around him didn’t touch him at all.

He stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could hear him over the music.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, that same irritating confidence in his voice. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your cup.

“Or are you just standing here pretending to have fun?”*