The thing about Rose Landry, Shane has learned, is that she doesn't take no for an answer.

"Come on," she'd said over FaceTime, her face taking up his entire phone screen as she grinned at him. "It'll be fun! When was the last time you did something fun that wasn't hockey-related?"

Shane had opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. The honest answer was "the cottage," but he couldn't exactly say that. Not because Rose didn't know about his seret-not-secret boyfriend, they’d talked about it weeks ago, had been startled but ultimately supportive in that aggressively king way of hers—but because Ilya was currently on a trip and Shane was going stir-crazy in his apartment, still technically on recovery from the injury.

"I'm supposed to be limiting screen time," he'd tried weakly.

"It's a concert, not a Marvel marathon. You'll be fine. Besides, you need to get out. You're starting to look like a vampire."

"I am not—"

"Pale. Reclusive. Only comes out at night to haunt the local Tim Hortons—"

"That was one time!"

"Shane." Rose had leveled him with a look that reminded him why she was one of the highest-paid actresses in Hollywood. "I already bought the tickets. And before you ask—yes, good seats. No, you don't have to worry about being recognized. It's a sea of teenage girls and their moms. They're not looking for hockey players."

Which is how Shane finds himself in the Bell Centre on a random Tuesday night, wearing a baseball cap and trying to look inconspicuous, wedged into a seat next to ROse Landry at a Sabrina Carpenter concert.

"I can't believe you dragged me to this," Shane says, though he's smiling despite himself. The energy in the arena is infectious, thousands of screaming fans, the stage lights creating patterns across the ceiling, the buzz of anticipation humming through the crowd.

"Oh please," Rose says, passing him a truly massive margarita in a souvenir cup shaped like a disco ball. "You literally made me a playlist with Sabrina Carpenter songs on it."

Shane's face heats. "That was—I was trying to be nice. You said you liked her music."

"You had 'Nonsense' and 'Espresso' on there. Don't pretend you don't know the words."

"They're catchy," Shane mutters into his drink.

"Uh huh." Rose's grin is wicked. "Does your boy know you have a secret soft spot for pop music?"

"It's not secret. He knows I—" Shane stops, realizing he's been baited. "Shut up."

Rose's laughter is bright and genuine, and Shane realizes with a pang how much he's yearned for this—just being friends with someone who knows him, sees him, and likes him as it is. Rose had taken everything with such grace, had somehow still wanted an actual friendship, and Shane is grateful for her in a way he doesn't quite have words for.

"Thank you," he says suddenly. "For this. For getting me out of the apartment."

Rose's expression softens. "Of course. That's what friends are for." She bumps his shoulder with hers. "Plus, I needed someone to come with me who wouldn't judge me for crying during 'Because I Liked a Boy.'"

"I make no promises."

"Fair enough."

The show is, objectively, incredible.

Sabrina Carpenter is a force of nature: all charisma and powerhouse vocals and comedy timing that has the entire arena laughing between songs. Shane finds himself genuinely enjoying it, maybe even singing alog to a few songs he definitely doesn't have memorized (he does), and stealing glances at Rose, who's having the time of her life.

They're about halfway through the setlist when the energy in the arena shifts. The lights dim to a sultry purple, and Sabrina prowls across the stage with a microphone and what appears to be a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"Oh no," Rose says, sitting up straighter.

"What?"

"She does this thing—" Rose starts, but the crowd is already screaming.

Shane watches as Sabrina makes her way down a platform extending into the audience, the handcuffs swinging from her finger. She's scanning the crowd with exaggerated scrutiny, and Shane feels a prickle of unease.

"What thing?" he asks.

"She arrests people," Rose says, and she's grinning in a way that makes Shane very nervous. "For being too hot."

"She what?"

"It's a whole bit. She's done it to Anne Hathaway, Millie Bobby Brown—oh my god, she's coming this way."

Shane's brain helpfully supplies several reasons why this is a terrible idea: he's a professional athlete trying to maintain a low profile, he's technically still recovering from a concussion and probably shouldn't be at a concert in the first place, Ilya is going to laugh at him forever, and—

The spotlight lands on their section.

"Well, well, well," Sabrina's voice rings out through the arena. "What do we have here?"

Shane tries to sink lower in his seat. This is impossible, given that he's six-foot-two and the seats aren't designed for hiding.

"Oh my God," Sabrina says, and Shane can hear the delight in her voice. "Is that Rose Landry?"

The arena explodes. Rose waves enthusiastically. Shane contemplates every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Rose! Hi!" Sabrina's making her way closer, and Shane's fight-or-flight instinct is screaming flight. "And who's your friend?"

"This is Shane!" Rose announces, because apparently she's decided that throwing him directly under the bus is the friendship move here. "He's never been arrested before!"

The crowd thinks this is hilarious. Shane thinks this is a nightmare.

Sabrina's now standing right in front of their section, and Shane can see her taking in his face—the way his baseball cap is pulled low, the slight flush on his cheeks, the deer-in-headlights expression he's definitely wearing.

"Shane," Sabrina repeats, and there's a glint in her eye that Shane recognizes from watching Ilya right before he does something that's going to make headlines. "You know what? You look suspicious."

"I'm not—" Shane starts.

"Suspicious," Sabrina continues, "of committing the crime of being too hot."

The crowd roars. Rose is dying laughing beside him. Shane's pretty sure his face is the color of a fire truck.

"Ma'am," Shane tries, his voice coming out strangled, "I'm just trying to enjoy the concert."

This makes the crowd laugh harder. Sabrina grins.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you both under arrest," she announces. "Can you two come down here?"

"I.." Shane says.

"Yes!" Rose says, already standing up.

"Rose—"

"Shane, when are you going to have this opportunity again?" Rose hisses at him, and there's something in her voice that reminds him of Ilya. That same reckless joy, that same willingness to just go with it. "Live a little!"

Shane thinks about Ilya, who would absolutely be dying laughing right now. Who would probably tell him to do it just to see what happens. Who had once told him, late at night with his face pressed against Shane's neck, "You worry too much, sweetheart. Sometimes is good to just... see what happens."

"Okay then," Shane mutters, and lets Rose drag him toward the stage.

The walk down to the stage happens in a blur. Shane's hyperaware of every camera phone pointed in their direction, every scream from the crowd, every step closer to what is definitely going to be on YouTube within the hour.

Security—real security, not performers—helps them navigate the crowd and up onto a small platform extension. Sabrina's waiting there with the handcuffs and a grin that suggests she's having the time of her life.

"Hi!" she says brightly. "Thanks for being good sports. Okay, here's how this works—I'm going to arrest you both for being too hot, you'll sit through one song in handcuffs, and then you're free to go. Sound good?"

"Do we have a choice?" Shane asks weakly.

"Nope!" Sabrina's already turning to Rose. "Rose, you're under arrest. Hands out."

Rose presents her wrists with the enthusiasm of someone who's been waiting for this moment her entire life. Sabrina snaps the fuzzy pink handcuffs on with a flourish, and the crowd goes wild.

Then she turns to Shane.

Shane's having what his therapist would probably call an "out-of-body experience." Part of his brain is screaming about how many people are watching this. Another part is noting that the handcuffs are actually pretty soft, all things considered. A third part is already composing the text he's going to send Ilya, because there's no way he's not hearing about this.

"Ready?" Sabrina asks, and she's trying to look serious but there's laughter in her eyes.

Shane holds out his wrists. "I guess?"

The handcuffs snap closed, and the arena absolutely loses it.

"Perfect!" Sabrina steps back, gesturing to them like they're part of a magic trick. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our criminals!"

The crowd is deafening. Rose is waving with her cuffed hands. Shane is trying to figure out if he can die of embarrassment, and if so, how quickly.

"Now," Sabrina says, "you have to sit there and look pretty while I sing. Think you can handle that?"

"I'll try," Rose says.

Shane just nods, because words have abandoned him entirely.

The opening notes of "Juno" start playing, and Shane realizes several things in rapid succession:

1. This is one of the songs Rose had played in the car on the way over
2. It's extremely suggestive
3. He's about to sit here, handcuffed, while thousands of people film him listening to it
4. Ilya is never going to let him live this down

The song is... well. It's a lot. Sabrina's performing it with the kind of confidence that comes from being extremely good at what you do, and the crowd is eating it up. Shane tries to focus on literally anything else—the lighting rig, the backup dancers, the fact that his wrists are getting warm in the fuzzy handcuffs—but it's impossible not to be aware of every camera pointed in their direction.

Rose, naturally, is having a blast. She's singing along, swaying in her seat, completely unbothered by the absurdity of the situation. Shane has never envied anyone's lack of self-consciousness more.

About halfway through the song, Shane makes the mistake ofof looking up at one of the big screens showing the stage. There he is, in crystal-clear HD, sitting in fuzzy pink handcuffs next to Rose Landry, his face approximately the red color of a Metros jersey.

Ilya's going to frame this, he thinks with a mixture of dread and affection. He's going to print it out and put it on the fridge.

The thought makes him smile despite himself, and of course that's the exact moment someone captures on camera: Shane Hollander, professional hockey player, smiling while handcuffed at a Sabrina Carpenter concert.

By the time the song ends, Shane's face has achieved colors previously unknown to science. The crowd is screaming. Rose is doubled over laughing. Sabrina looks absolutely delighted.

A crew member comes out to unlock their handcuffs, and Sabrina gives them both quick hugs before sending them back to their seats.

"That was amazing," Rose says as they navigate back through the crowd. "Did you see your face? You were dying!"

"I'm going to be on YouTube forever," Shane says, but he's smiling.

"At least you looked cute while being arrested."

"That's not the—Rose, people are going to—"

"Shane." Rose stops him with a hand on his arm. "You just did something fun and silly and human. The world didn't end. Okay?"

Shane takes a breath. She's right. The world is still spinning. The crowd is still cheering. And honestly? It had been kind of fun, in a terrifying way.

"Okay," he agrees.

They make it back to their seats just as Sabrina's launching into the next song. Shane immediately pulls out his phone, and—yep. His notifications are exploding.

Hayden Pike: MAN

Hayden Pike: DID YOU JUST GET ARRESTED AT A SABRINA CARPENTER CONCERT

Hayden Pike: WITH ROSE LANDRY???

Hayden Pike: Jackie is CRYING

J.J.: CAPTAIN GOT ARRESTED FOR BEING TOO HOT

J.J.: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Mom: Honey, I'm watching videos of you in handcuffs???

Mom: Are you okay???

Mom: Your father says "nice work"

"Oh god," Shane says, scrolling through Twitter. The videos are already going viral—there are multiple angles, slow-motion replays of his face when the handcuffs went on, compilations of him trying not to make eye contact with any of the cameras during "Juno."

@PopCrave: BREAKING: Shane Hollander and Rose Landry "arrested" at Sabrina Carpenter's concert in Montreal

@hockeytwt: not Shane Hollander getting arrested for being too hot I'm SCREAMING

@roseupdates: Rose and Shane having the time of their lives at the Sabrina concert 🥺💕

@MTLGazette: Hollander spotted at Bell Centre—but not for hockey

Shane scrolls further and finds what he's looking for: texts from Ilya.

Ilya: Jane

Ilya: I am in Tampa watching videos of you in handcuffs

Ilya: You look very embarrassed

Ilya: Is cute

Shane's face goes hot all over again. He types back quickly:

Shane: This is Rose's fault

Ilya: But you had fun yes?

Shane: ...maybe

Ilya: Good. You should have more fun

Ilya: Also the handcuffs are very pink

Shane: They were fuzzy

Ilya: Even better

Shane: Don't

Ilya: Don't what? :)

Shane: You know what

Ilya: I have no idea what you mean

Ilya: I am innocent boy

Shane: You're the least innocent person I know

Ilya: But you love me anyway

Shane's thumbs hover over the keyboard. They've never quite said it like that—just stated as fact, casual and easy. They've whispered it in darker moments, breathed it against skin, implied it in a thousand different ways. But never just... said it.

Shane: Yeah. I do.

His phone stays quiet for a long moment, long enough that Shane starts to worry. Then:

Ilya: Ya tebya lyublyu

Ilya: I am very glad you are having fun

Ilya: Even if you are arrested

Ilya: I will be back in few days

Ilya: We can talk about handcuffs then

Shane: ILYA

Ilya: :)

Ilya: Enjoy concert. Tell Yuna I say hello

They stay for the rest of the show, and it's genuinely fun. Shane lets himself relax into it, singing along when he knows the words (which is more often than he'd admit), laughing at Rose's running commentary, and just being present instead of anxious.

When it's over and they're making their way out through the crowd, a few people recognize him and ask for photos. He agrees, surprised to find it doesn't bother him as much as it usually does.

"You're in a good mood," Rose observes as they wait for her car.

"I had fun," Shane admits. "Even with the whole... arrest thing."

"Especially with the arrest thing," Rose corrects. "You needed that. You take yourself too seriously sometimes."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"Good." Rose bumps his shoulder affectionately. "Thanks for coming with me. This was exactly what I needed."

"Me too," Shane says, and means it.

He hugs her goodbye when her car arrives, promising to do this again sometime (with potentially less arresting involved), and then catches an Uber back to his apartment.

By the time Shane gets home, the videos have been viewed millions of times. There are compilation videos. There are memes. Someone has made a Twitter thread analyzing his "journey through the five stages of grief" during the arrest. Another person has created a side-by-side comparison of his face during the arrest versus his face during hockey interviews, captioned "Same Energy."

Shane is lying on his couch, scrolling through it all with a mixture of horror and amusement, when his phone rings.

"Hey," he says, answering without looking.

"You had handcuffs on," Ilya says without preamble. "Pink ones."

Shane groans. "You're never letting this go, are you?"

"Never," Ilya confirms, but his voice is warm with affection. "You looked very sweet. Very innocent. 'I have never done anything wrong in my life,' yes?"

"I was terrified."

"I know. Was very cute." There's a pause, and when Ilya speaks again, his voice is softer. "I am glad you had fun though. You looked happy."

"I was," Shane admits. "Is that weird? That I had fun being publicly humiliated?"

"Is not humiliation. Is just... being human. Being silly. You are allowed to be silly, Shane."

"Rose said something similar."

"Smart woman. I like her more now."

Shane smiles, settling deeper into the couch cushions. "When do you get back?"

"Friday morning. I have early flight." Ilya's voice drops lower. "I was thinking maybe we can stay in? Order food? I will not arrest you, I promise."

"That's probably for the best."

"Unless you want me to?"

"Ilya!"

Ilya's laughter is bright and beautiful even through the phone. "Is joke! You are too easy to tease."

"You're the worst."

"But you love me anyway," Ilya says, and it's not a question.

"Yeah," Shane says, soft and sure. "I really do."

"Good. Because I love you too. Very much. Even when you get arrested at pop concerts."

They talk for another hour. About nothing and everything, about Ilya's game (they won), about Shane's recovery (going well), about all the ridiculous memes people have already made. By the time they hang up, Shane's smiling so hard his face hurts.

He's been arrested by Sabrina Carpenter, gone viral for being too wholesome, and told Ilya he loves him all in one night.

All things considered, it's been a pretty perfect day.

@roseofficial: [Picture taken from the concert, with Shane and Rose handcuffed and smiling.] best friend date ever 💕 @shanhollander9 love you!

@shanhollander9: I'm never leaving my apartment again

@roseofficial: liar, same time next year?

@shanhollander9: ...we'll see

Comments:

@hayden_pike: Jackie wants to know if we can double date to the next concert

@shanhollander9: absolutely not

@jjwhatshisface: CAPTAIN IN PINK HANDCUFFS I'M NEVER LETTING YOU LIVE THIS DOWN

@yuna_hollander: Honey you looked like you were having fun! That's all that matters ❤️

@shanhollander9: Thanks Mom 💙

[The arrest clip has 15 million views and counting]

[#ShanGotArrested trends worldwide for 48 hours]

[Sabrina Carpenter tweets: "great sports tonight 💕" with a photo of the fuzzy pink handcuffs]

[The Metros' social media team posts the video with the caption: "Our captain, ladies and gentlemen 😂"]

[Shane's teammates roast him mercilessly for weeks]

[He doesn't mind as much as he thought he would]