Like a Cigarette (Shakira & Adam Levine / Shadam)

I'm Real(istically Fake)

He needs a proper warning sign equipped. Perhaps if we could replace his face with an asshole instead.

Why am I here? was the first thought that went through Shakira's head when she first arrived at, what Usher likes to call, the best bar in Northern California.

Ah.

Fucking Usher. Shakira noted shamelessly to perhaps spike his drink the next time he brought up something like this.

He knew Shakira and alcohol didn't mix well together.

Maybe she should make a break for it and she straightened her slightly revealing dress before falling into step towards the door--

"Leaving already, Shakira?"

Shit, Shakira bit her lip before facing the accusation's owner. Despite having only known him for ten minutes, she detested him already. Her nose took in a familiar smell and she backed away from the smoke that ignored her demand to stop and to go away.

"You seem to like to run away a lot," Adam Levine grinned a sinister smile before taking another lazy drag of his cigarette.

"Oh, you noticed? It's a favorite hobby of mines actually," Shakira tried her best to not look like a deer caught in a headlight. She watched the different forms of smoke glaze across the space, white against the dark. "And I see that you still have yours as well."

He chuckled amusingly, "Can't say I'm planning on quitting anytime soon."

His eyes twinkled in delight as she rolled her eyes.

"You should think about it. Adenocarcinoma isn't attractive," Shakira gave him a once-over, noting his clean haircut and white tank in contrast to his arms that were clouded by tattoos. "Neither is that 'bad boy' vibe. It reeks of expired mens' cologne," she drawled.

"Oh does it?"

"The ass wipe edition, you probably get free samples, huh?"

Adam shrugged in a I-can't-help-it-if-chicks-dig-me sort of way that made Shakira scoff, "You've got quite a mouth on you, ya know. Quick with the insults, I like."

"I also throw a mean punch, Mr. Levine," she smirked. "If you don't stop flashing me that 'let's-get-it-on' thing you're trying to pull off, I'm going to have to give you a free trial."

"I might have to buy the entire product, Miss Shakira," Adam cocked his head to the side before tossing his cigarette that was abused way too much, "but you're not available now, are you? If I'm correct and that's your cab outside, you've been keeping him waiting for a long time now."

Shit, Shakira tried not to look irked that he seen through that completely. Despite knowing him for just twenty minutes, she wanted to choke him already.

"Yeah, well, he's used to it," she shrugged as though she always took her time getting to her personal cab.

"You'd make a horrible actress," Adam chuckled. "Leave that occupation to those of us who know how to do the job."

Adam Levine is gross and disgusting and he's a big jerk and--

Shakira developed a chant of curses in her head that described Adam Levine, not noticing her driver giving her strange looks in the rearview mirror. Amid the flood of inappropriate words, her phone went off. She dug a hole through her purse and she froze when her eyes reached the blinking number on the screen.

She remembered deleting the number. She remembered forgetting the number.

But of course, she couldn't lie to herself as she read each digit and immediately knew who it was.

"Stop," Shakira croaked to the driver. "Pull over, let me get off."

"Shak--"

"Do it."

The driver did as he was told and Shakira gracefully tripped out of the vehicle the moment it pulled over. She leaned against a street light that shone in dark, dark street corner, the metal cool against her bare back, with her phone pressed into her ear.

"You picked up," and a nervous chuckle followed after.

"Why--why wouldn't I?" and she hated that she sounded so--so broken.

"Don't know. I'm just surprised, that's all," Gerard said with a trail of a whisper and Shakira closed her eyes. She remembered this and she had loved this--the sounds he made as he pressed his lips against her ear, whispering impossible thoughts.

Lying thoughts.

She clenched the phone tightly, shaking, thinking, calculating.