# Chapter 11: Pizza, Predictions, and Unexpected Intimacy
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing today? I'm so excited to continue walking with you through this incredible journey that is "The Deal: Off Campus." Today, we're diving into Chapter 11, and let me tell you, this chapter is an absolute gem. It's one of those quieter moments that somehow speaks volumes, where walls come down and something genuine begins to bloom. So grab your favorite snack, get comfortable, and let's unravel this beautiful chapter together!
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The chapter opens with a delightful scene that sets the tone for everything that follows. Hannah arrives at Garrett's place around five in the evening, and the girl is dressed like she's preparing for an Arctic expedition—a thick parka with a fur hood, bright red mittens, the whole winter warrior ensemble. Garrett, understandably confused since there isn't a speck of snow on the ground, can't help but tease her about whether she just flew in from Alaska.
Hannah explains she's wearing her winter coat because she couldn't find her other one and thought she might have left it in Garrett's room. She doesn't find it, and now she's worried some freshman girl in the music room might have stolen her beloved coat. The easy banter between them is already so natural—this is a friendship that has grown comfortable in its own skin, even if neither of them would admit it yet.
But then the conversation takes a more serious turn. Hannah notices Garrett is holding an ice pack to his side, and when she asks about it, he lifts his shirt to reveal a massive, fist-sized purple bruise. The damage came from his hockey game, courtesy of a player from St. Anthony's whom Garrett calls "the Incredible Hulk." Hannah is horrified, marveling that he willingly puts his body through such punishment.
Garrett's response is telling: "It is. Trust me, a few scrapes and bruises are nothing compared to the thrill of being on the ice." This is a man who genuinely loves his sport, and we see that love shine through even as he's battered and bruised.
The conversation then drifts to skating. Hannah admits she's never really played hockey—she's just skated in circles on rinks, never holding a stick or chasing a puck. Garrett teases her for her simplistic view of the sport, but their playful exchange takes a sharp turn when Hannah asks a question that clearly hits a nerve: "Have you always wanted to play? Or is it something your dad forced you into?"
The air changes. Garrett tenses up immediately. Hannah, perceptive as ever, explains that someone told her his father is like a hockey superstar, and she knows there are parents who force their kids to follow in their footsteps. This is dangerous territory for Garrett—everyone at Briar knows he's Phil Graham's son, but no one has ever asked him if he actually enjoys playing hockey. They all just assume he must love it because of his father.
What's beautiful about this moment is Garrett's honesty. In a gruff voice, he confesses: "He pushed me into it. I was skating before I even hit the first grade. But I kept playing because I love the sport." There's something profoundly vulnerable about this admission—he's acknowledging the paternal pressure while still claiming the sport as his own.
Hannah responds softly, telling him she thinks it's important to be doing what you love. It's a simple statement, but it clearly means something to Garrett. And when he becomes afraid she might ask more questions about his father, he does what he does best—deflects. He clears his throat and steers the conversation toward their actual purpose: studying philosophy.
What follows is an hour of brutal academic work. Hobbes and Locke, mind-numbingly dull theories that Hannah calls "incredibly boring." But here's the key detail: Garrett's previous study approach was superficial, focusing only on major points. Hannah makes him examine every last detail, forcing him to rephrase each theory in his own words. And while he initially might have resented this intensity, he has to admit it gives him a better handle on the material.
There's something important here about their relationship dynamic. Hannah isn't just helping him pass—she's making him actually learn and understand. She's invested in his success in a way that goes beyond a simple tutoring arrangement. After quizzing him on everything they've covered and being satisfied with his knowledge, she declares that tomorrow they'll start applying theories to real ethical dilemmas.
Then comes the moment that changes everything about this chapter. Garrett's stomach growls so loudly it practically shakes the walls. He's famished—he slept through lunch, and Tuck, the housemate who does all the cooking, isn't home tonight. He was planning to order a pizza, and he hesitates before asking Hannah if she wants to stick around, have a couple slices, and maybe watch something.
Hannah looks surprised by the invitation. And honestly? So is Garrett. But he wouldn't mind the company. Logan and the others went out to a party, but he wasn't in the mood to tag along. He's ahead on all his readings, so he has nothing else to do tonight.
When he proposes watching "Breaking Bad," Hannah asks if it's the show about the "heroine dealer." Garrett corrects her—it's about a meth cooker—and he's heard it's absolutely awesome. Hannah seems reluctant to stay but equally reluctant to go. She admits her roommate is spending the night at her boyfriend's place, so she was just going to watch TV anyway.
Garrett seizes the opportunity: "So do it here."
What follows is a hilarious exchange about pizza toppings. Hannah wants mushrooms, onions, and green peppers. Garrett dismisses these as "boring toppings" and declares they're getting bacon, sausage, and extra cheese. Hannah protests—why bother asking what she likes if he's not going to order any of it? Garrett's response is classic: he was hoping she'd have better taste. When she sarcastically tells him to call her when he gets scurvy, he fires back that scurvy is a deficiency of Vitamin C and you don't put sunshine or oranges on pizza.
In the end, Garrett compromises by ordering two pizzas—one with Hannah's "boring-ass" vegetable toppings and one loaded with meat and cheese. He also checks on her drink preference, and when she says "Regular Coke, thank you very much," it's clear this girl has no interest in his diet preferences either.
They start watching the first episode of "Breaking Bad," and twenty minutes in, the doorbell rings. Garrett heads downstairs to grab the food and pops into the kitchen for paper towels and a Bud Light. At the last second, he grabs an extra bottle in case Hannah wants one. But when he offers it to her, she vehemently shakes her head, saying she's not a big drinker. There's a flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but Garrett doesn't push—he just shrugs and cracks open his own beer.
They settle on the bed to eat, neither speaking as the show plays. The pilot is amazing, and Hannah doesn't object when Garrett clicks on the next episode. Here's a telling observation from Garrett: "There's a female in my bedroom and neither of us is naked. It's strange. But kinda nice."
This is a guy who's used to casual hookups, to women being in his space for one purpose only. But this—just hanging out, eating pizza, watching TV—is new territory for him. And he likes it.
They don't talk much during the show, too engrossed in what's happening on screen. But when the second episode ends, Hannah turns to him with a gasp: "Oh my God, imagine not knowing that your husband is cooking meth? Poor Skylar."
Garrett predicts Skylar will definitely find out, and Hannah playfully accuses him of spoilers. He protests that it's a prediction, not a spoiler. The easy back-and-forth continues as Hannah drinks her Coke and Garrett steals a piece of her pizza.
"Ohhhh, look who's eating my boring pizza. Can anyone say hypocrite?" Hannah teases.
Garrett defends himself by claiming he can't let food go to waste, and when Hannah points out she's already had four slices, he concedes that makes her a total pig compared to the girls he knows—the ones who only eat half a starter salad because they need to stay rail-thin.
This leads to an interesting exchange about body types. Garrett declares there's nothing attractive about a woman who's all skin and bones. He prefers curvy women—"a man likes having something to grab onto." And he turns it around on Hannah, asking if she'd rather sleep with a guy who's built or one who's a twig.
Hannah deflects with humor: "Is this the part where I compliment you on your super hot bod?" But she does admit she's not attracted to scrawny guys, which leads Garrett to bring up "Loverboy"—his nickname for Justin Kohl.
This is where the tension ratchets up. Garrett tells Hannah he doesn't know what she sees in Kohl, and when she defends him as serious, smart, and not a "raging manwhore," Garrett warns her that Kohl isn't what he seems. There's something "slimy" about him, Garrett insists, claiming Kohl is putting on a show.
Hannah disagrees, but she also fires back that Garrett is in no position to judge who she's interested in, since she's heard he only dates airheads. Garrett corrects her: he only sleeps with airheads. He doesn't date.
When Hannah asks why, genuinely curious, Garrett says he's not looking for a relationship. Hannah finds this perplexing—relationships can be fulfilling, she argues. She's single because she hasn't found anyone she connects with, not because she's anti-relationship. She enjoys having someone to spend time with, to talk to, to cuddle with.
Garrett admits he wants that "eventually," but not right now. Then he flashes that cocky grin and says if he ever needs to talk to someone, he's got her. Hannah points out the unfairness—his airheads get the sex, and she has to listen to him babble. Garrett wiggles his eyebrows and offers to give her the sex too.
Hannah's cheeks turn the brightest shade of red, and Garrett bursts out laughing, assuring her he's just kidding. He's not stupid enough to sleep with his tutor—he'd end up breaking her heart, she'd feed him false information, and he'd fail the midterm. Again.
Their banter continues as they keep watching, and before they know it, they've finished five episodes and are moving into the second half of the season. Between cliffhangers, they discuss what they've seen and make predictions. And Garrett has a realization: "I haven't had this much platonic fun with a girl in... well, ever."
They debate whether Walter White's brother-in-law is onto him and when Skylar will find out the truth. Hannah declares she hopes Skylar divorces Walter, calling him the devil. Garrett chuckles and explains the concept of an anti-hero—you're supposed to hate him.
The episodes keep rolling, and suddenly they've reached the season finale, which ends with a scene that leaves them both wide-eyed. They've watched seven episodes without even a bathroom break. It's nearly ten o'clock.
Garrett expects Hannah to announce she's leaving, but instead she sighs and asks if he's up for season two. He can't control his laughter—she wants to keep watching? After that finale, how can they not?
They compromise on at least watching the premiere, and Hannah loads the next episode. Garrett offers to get snacks and finds two microwave popcorn pouches, nuking them both and bringing back two bowls.
When he returns, Hannah has stolen his spot, her dark hair fanned on his stack of pillows, legs stretched out, wearing red and black polka dot socks that make him grin. He notices her style—she doesn't wear designer clothing or preppy getups like most girls at school. She's all about skinny jeans, leggings, and tight-fitting sweaters, with flashes of bright color like the socks, the mittens, or quirky hair clips. This girl marches to her own beat, and Garrett clearly finds it endearing.
Hannah shares a story about her dog Napoleon, a huge mutt who once ate fifty packets of microwave popcorn—packaging included—and was pooping out kernels and paper for days. Garrett laughs and shares his own pet story about his grandparents' cat Peaches, who was batshit crazy and hated his father with a passion.
Here's where the chapter takes its most poignant turn. Garrett recounts the best thing Peaches ever did: during Thanksgiving, the cat came in through the cat door with something in her mouth, jumped up on the table like she owned the place, and dumped a dead rabbit on his father's plate. Hannah is grossed out but amused, but Garrett's humor fades as he remembers the look on his father's face.
"Let's just say he wasn't pleased," Garrett says quietly, and we can feel the weight of those words. A chill runs up his spine as he recalls what happened when they got back to Boston—what his father did to his mother as punishment for "shaming" him.
The most heartbreaking part? Garrett thinks the only saving grace is that his mother died a year later, so she wasn't there to witness it when his father turned his rage on him. And he's grateful for that every day of his life.
This is a massive window into Garrett's trauma, and it explains so much about who he is. The charming, cocky hockey player we've seen is a mask, a shield against the darkness he's endured. And here, in this quiet moment with Hannah, he lets a sliver of that pain show.
Hannah grows somber too, and she admits she's not seeing her parents for Thanksgiving. Garrett asks if she usually goes home, and she explains that they normally go to her aunt's for the holidays, but this year her folks can't afford it, and she can't afford to go to them. There's a false note in her voice at the end, but Garrett can't imagine what she might be lying about.
Hannah brushes it off, saying there's always Christmas, and Garrett nods, though for him, there are no holidays. He'd rather get a full-body wax than go home and spend the holidays with his father.
Eager to derail the heavy conversation, Garrett asks if she's ready for season two. She's game, and this time he sits beside her, still leaving two feet of space between them. He's struck by how much he's enjoying this—just hanging out with a girl without worrying about how to get rid of her or that she'll start making demands on him.
They watch the premiere of season two, then the next episode, then the next, and suddenly it's three in the morning. Hannah blurts out the time and yawns hugely. Garrett rubs his weary eyes, unable to fathom how it got so late. They've watched a season and a half in one sitting.
Hannah says she should go and asks where her phone is so she can call a cab. Garrett offers to drive her, but she refuses—he had two beers tonight. He argues it was hours ago, and he's good to drive. She still refuses.
Exasperated, Garrett declares he's not letting her take a cab and walk through campus at three in the morning. Either he drives her, or she stays here. Hannah looks startled, insisting she's not staying here. But when she sees the two Bud bottles on the nightstand and feels her own exhaustion, she relents—fine, she'll crash on his couch.
Garrett shakes his head. It's better if she sleeps in here. Hannah's body goes stiffer than a board—she's not sleeping in his bedroom. But Garrett explains that he lives with three hockey players who still aren't home from partying. There's a chance one of them might stumble in drunk and grope her if they find her on the couch. He, on the other hand, has no interest in groping her.
He gestures to his massive bed—it can sleep seven. She won't even know he's there. Hannah points out that a gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor, and Garrett asks if he looks like a gentleman. She laughs and admits he doesn't.
After a beat of silence, she agrees to crash there—but only because she can barely keep her eyes open and doesn't want to wait for a taxi. Garrett offers her something to sleep in, and she asks for a T-shirt and a toothbrush.
He gives her one of his old T-shirts, and she disappears into the bathroom. Garrett strips off his shirt and jeans and climbs into bed in his boxers. He hears the toilet flush and the faucet run, and then Hannah returns, her bare feet softly slapping the hardwood.
She stands at the side of the bed for so long that Garrett finally groans in irritation: "Would you get in bed already? I don't bite. And even if I did, I'm half asleep. So quit looming over me like a weirdo and get in here."
The mattress dips as she climbs on, there's a tug on the blanket, a rustling and a sigh, and then she's lying beside him—all the way on the other side, no doubt clinging to the edge so she doesn't fall off.
Garrett is too tired to make a sarcastic remark, so he just mumbles "Night" and closes his eyes. Hannah murmurs "Night" back. A few seconds later, he's dead to the world.
And that's where the chapter ends—with these two unlikely companions sharing a bed, miles of emotional distance still between them but something undeniably shifting in the space they occupy together.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Oh my goodness, where do I even begin with this chapter? This is the kind of chapter that reminds me why I fell in love with this story in the first place. It's not about grand gestures or dramatic declarations—it's about the quiet moments that build something real.
What strikes me most is how vulnerable Garrett allows himself to be here. He shows Hannah his bruise, admits his father pushed him into hockey, shares the painful story about his mother's death, and even confesses that he's never had this kind of platonic fun with a girl before. For a guy who's built his entire reputation on being charming and untouchable, these are monumental revelations.
The pizza debate, the "Breaking Bad" marathon, the dog stories—these are the building blocks of genuine connection. And the moment when Garrett thinks about how strange and nice it is to have a woman in his bedroom without anything sexual happening? That's growth. That's a man starting to realize there might be more to life than casual hookups.
Hannah continues to be absolutely delightful. She's smart, she's funny, she doesn't let Garrett get away with his crap, and she's clearly hiding something about her family situation. That "false note" Garrett notices is a thread I can't wait to see unravel.
The ending, with them sharing a bed but miles apart emotionally, is perfect. It's intimate without being sexual, vulnerable without being overwhelming. And the way Garrett reassures her that he has "no interest in groping her" while also making sure she's safe—it's protective without being predatory.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4.9/5 Stars)
This chapter is a masterclass in character development and relationship building. It's quiet, it's warm, and it's absolutely essential to understanding who these characters really are beneath their carefully constructed façades.
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## Next Chapter Prediction
Based on the cliffhangers and character motivations, I predict the next chapter will pick up the morning after their "Breaking Bad" marathon. There's bound to be some awkwardness when they wake up in the same bed, especially since they fell asleep without any romantic intentions. I suspect Garrett might wake up first and have a moment of realization about how comfortable he is with Hannah in his space. There will likely be more of their trademark banter, but perhaps with an undercurrent of something deeper.
I also think we'll see more tension around Justin Kohl. Garrett's warning that Kohl is "slimy" and "putting on a show" feels like foreshadowing. Maybe we'll get a scene where Garrett's suspicions are validated, or perhaps Hannah will start to notice something off about Kohl herself. The Thanksgiving plans will probably come up again, especially since both of them seem to have complicated family situations. And knowing this story, there's likely to be a moment where their "fake dating" arrangement gets tested or complicated by their growing real feelings.
One thing's for certain—after sharing a bed, even platonically, these two can't go back to pretending there's nothing between them. The walls are starting to crumble, and I'm here for every moment of it.
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