Trapped In Your Bleeding Heart (Riff x Reader)

Chapter Twenty Nine - Friday

"What time is it?"

"Not long after midnight."

"My roommates are probably worried about me..."

"Let them worry."

I took another clump of Riff's hair and held it up with my hand. Perhaps I had overestimated my abilities in this field. Trying to even out wavy hair came with more challenges than expected– even after I drenched it with water. Losing some patience, I regrouped his dark locks and held them up once more.

"Pull my hair again and this is going to get real awkward real fast." Riff said.

I disregarded his comment. "This would be easier if you owned a comb."

"I own a brush. That's good enough." He grabbed the aged brush and ran it through his hair, pulling the strands away from my grasp.

"Stop that." I hit his hand away.

"You're the one throwing a fit. I'm just trying to help."

"You're the one that wanted to look all sleek and cool for the rumble. And you're not helping."

"I want to be practical." He corrected. "How do you expect me to see when my hair is melting like candle wax?"

A prominent sigh left my lips. "Why did I agree to this?"

"Because you wanted to spend time with me." Riff answered.

"No."

"Come on, admit it. You're real gone over me."

"I'll cut you."

Silence touched the air for a few sweet moments. "How am I supposed to hold still when your breath is hitting my neck like that?"

"Suck it up."

"No way. It's thrilling. I'm enjoying myself."

I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see it. "Enjoy yourself without speaking."

With his right hand, Riff reached behind himself and grabbed my right wrist– which had been holding the pair of scissors. He tilted his head back and gazed at me through an upside-down, impish expression. "Gimme a kiss." He said.

"Go to Hell." I took my free hand and pushed his scalp away, shooting his gaze forwards again.

He shot up from his seat on the mattress and took the scissors away from me, placing them safely onto the window cill. "You should be my girl." He walked around the bed, traveling to the side I had been sitting on.

"Are you crazy? You can't just tell me to be your girlfriend."

Riff looked stumped. "I already courted you. What else do you need? Flowers? Just for your pride?"

"You must be joking." I stood, and walked away from him. "Who would want to date you? You're insufferable."

"But you can't help but adore me anyway." Riff followed me close behind. "And you think we would make a great couple."

"We're hardly friends!"

Riff smiled contently. We were playing a game, and he won. "'Hardly friends' don't kiss each other, doll."

With a pull on my skirt, we were face to face for the second time that night. "I've never been the one to kiss you." I stated, as if it provided defense.

"You're about to right now."

With a click of the door handle and a halt in movement, Riff and my attention both shot to the new guest at the door. A smaller boy– not necessarily younger– but skinnier than the other Jets. This must have been the missing Baby-J that I wasn't introduced to earlier. With eyes as wide as a deer and a mouth full of macaroni, Baby-J slowly felt around for the door handle, his eyes still stuck on Riff and I. "I didn't realize." The boy fumbled, backing up with fearful speed.