Eve
Wilbur's fingers press into my bare waist, holding me close as we walk into the venue. We're led to our seats in a VIP balcony, and I'm not sure if I like it being just us or not.
"Do you know any of this guy's songs?" I ask as we sit, leaning on the railing and watching as people below come in. "I listened to one while I was getting ready and it was kinda ass."
He grins and shakes his head. "Never heard of him."
"Gonna be a long few hours."
"He doesn't have an opener, so it should be just an hour and a half, I guess."
"No opener?" I give Wilbur a strange look. "Interesting,"
"He's too good for it." He sighs and stands from his seat. "Want a drink to get through the show?"
I'm not much of a drinker, but every once in awhile is nice. I know I'll be dealing with a hangover tomorrow, but I'll need to be a good bit drunk to deal with Wilbur's attitude and this shitty music. "Something strong, please."
"Yes ma'am,"
He returns after a few minutes, handing me a bright blue drink and setting down a few beer bottles for himself. "Got me the girliest drink?"
"Hey, I got you the strongest shit they got." Wilbur tells me, but with a smile rather than his usual mean tone. I wonder if he's coming around to me, finally.
"Well, thank you." I take a sip of the drink, immediately wincing. "Jesus, it's just dyed vodka."
"The best kind."
We scroll through our phones silently for awhile until Wilbur notices people below are spotting us. We act like we don't realize and Wilbur puts his arm around me, my head leaning against his shoulder.
I've already gone through most of my drink as the show finally starts, Wilbur already through two of his beers. We don't even bother standing to watch, able to see the stage fine sitting down. We can't help but laugh as a shitty beat drops when the artist comes out, and laugh even more as he's wearing a ridiculous neon outfit.
"I'm gonna get made fun of for going to this." Wilbur looks at me, a wide smile on his face.
"I can't believe you brought me." I wipe tears from my eyes. "I've heard some pretty bad music in bars I used to play at, but this takes the cake."
"And he's famous!" Wilbur exclaims, probably a bit too loudly. Good thing there's no one near us.
I take the final sip of my drink and place it beside my seat. "His daddy must be rich."
"Mhmm," Wilbur hums then looks at me. "Can we please leave? I don't think I can survive another hour of this."
"I'm down."
Wilbur stands and reaches his hand out to me. I know it's just for show, but I still blush as I take it and follow him out of the venue. It's too early for paparazzi to be out, so we're able to walk down the street in peace, regular New Yorkers not giving a shit about a celebrity walking by. He still holds my hand, though.
"Bloody hell," He mutters, seeing a few people with cameras lined up in front of our apartment building, already staring at us.
I look up at him as he stands still, unsure of what to do. The streetlight hits him perfectly, making him look even better than usual. And the alcohol is making him seem more attractive overall than usual. "Think we should give them something?"
"What do you mean?" He asks, glancing down at me. God, I love a tall, tall man. And curly hair. And a good jaw. And pretty lips. Beautiful lips.
I shrug. "Kiss me. Make them happy, maybe they'll leave."
Wilbur suddenly grins. "Let's make it less awkward looking than last time, please."
"Your fault, not mine." I giggle before grabbing his collar and pulling his face down to meet mine. His hand finds my waist, his fingers against my bare skin. Our lips fit nicely together, and even as I begin to pull away, he moves closer to keep our lips together. I press my hand against his chest and disconnect from him. "I don't wanna full on makeout in front of a bunch of people." I tell him, even though I really liked it. I shouldn't like it, I'm not even dating him.
"My apartment doesn't have a bunch of people." He whispers, his eyes half shut.
My breath catches at his comment, his hot comment. We're both drunk, but I can't resist. Plus, we're just practicing for the cameras, no big deal... "Alright,"
Wilbur takes my hand again and we cross the street, pushing past the pap as they yell at us. I couldn't imagine harassing people for a job, but I guess everybody has to pay bills somehow. We walk up to our floor, Wilbur obviously in a rush, and his long legs are already much faster than mine. I struggle to keep up and feel relieved once we finally reach his door, but he doesn't immediately open it. Instead, he presses me against the door, our lips like magnets. His fingernails dig into my hipbones, pulling my waist to meet his legs. I wrap my arms around his neck as his tongue swipes against mine, but the strong taste of alcohol in his mouth finally snaps me out of this trance he's put me in.
"Wilbur, we're both drunk as hell." I mutter as we both catch our breath. "And we hate each other."
"I'm definitely drunk, but I don't hate you."
"You're a dick to me."
He stays silent for a second. "Because I don't want to fall in love with you."
I stare into his deep brown eyes. "Is it working?"
"Not at all."
