She wasn't gonna drink tonight but upon finding out that he would be here, she thought, let's get fucked up. Because there was no way she'd be able to face him sober after that phone call last week.
She'd drank a little too much with one of her best friends and ended up ringing him 3 times at two in the morning, knowing he had work at 8. She'd slurred her words and he knew she was wasted, he knew as soon as he saw her name light up his phone screen; she'd never call him sober.
What she told him was honest and there was no lie filtering her words, though that didn't make it any better as she told him, "If you ever wanna fuck, just call me. When you're bored of all your girls, just ring me up, I'm here."
She was embarrassed and felt so fucking stupid, even more so knowing that what she'd told him wasn't just a random drunken thought, because even when she's sober, fucking him is always on her mind.
So, she downed the vodka lemonade and awaited his arrival at the pre-drinks location they'd all agreed on. She was nervous and all her friends could tell but didn't mention it.
Five minutes later, he arrived. She swallowed, felt her cheeks heat up and felt her hands beginning to sweat a little; an annoying nervous habit of hers.
He climbed up the stairs with his friend he'd brought along because it just so happened that they worked together and it just so happened that tonight was their work-do— a staff night out. Now, she came along solely for one reason: her friend told her he would not be there. Clearly, that was either a lie or her friend just had no idea he'd appear.
Either way, he was here and so was she. Funnily, he entered the living room and went to shake every girl's hand. She looked up at him when he reached his hand out to shake hers, he said her name and shook her hand like he did everyone else's.
She felt like she couldn't breathe just because he was there. She downed another drink and another after he left the room, joining the boys in another room away from the ladies.
It was 9PM when they all decided it was time to go out. He walked ahead of her, seeming a little drunk already as was she. The pub was quite busy that Saturday night, but not busy enough for her to lose him. Her eyes glued to that white shirt of his, following his every move as he stood at the bar and requested a pint. Not even five minutes later, sitting at a table with the girls, sipping on a vodka lemonade, he made his way towards their table.
She swallowed, glancing at the lighter and cigarette in his hand as he leant down and asked, "Anyone going out for a cig?" She knew he was talking to her; he was looking right at her, who else would he be speaking to? She silently hoped none of her friends would get up at the same time as she did. Thankfully, they didn't and she proceeded to follow him out of the pub as he lit his cigarette.
"You know," he began, taking a drag on his cig. "I'm no good for you. I can't stay tied down to a girl, and I know you want a relationship—"
She stopped him there. "I don't want a relationship."
He gave her one of those looks that say 'are you sure about that? I don't think so'. Truth was, she didn't know what she wanted. Yes, she had feelings for him. Yes, she's had those feelings for a while and yes, everyone around her and her very own mind have been saying that the L word is how deep she is now but still, she thought maybe she was just mistaking love for lust. So, no, she didn't want a relationship. Not with him.
"So, what? You just wanna shag?" He was leaning against a wall and everything about the way he was dressed, the way he looked at her, the way he blew smoke out of his mouth and licked his lips made her stomach flip.
"Yeah," she said as bluntly as he did.
His eyebrow raised, fingers letting loose of the cig and dropping it onto the ground before he stood on it, looking at her as he said, "Alright, let's go."
He lead her down a dark shortcut to the back of the pub, where there were no people at all; just them and that tension in the air that follows them around everywhere. She always felt it, but she was never sure if he did.
"That's a good place to fuck," he pointed to a hidden stairwell between two walls and she laughed. "could just bend you over them stairs."
"Oh, is that what you're into?" She asked. They were talking nonsense, not being serious at all.
"Yeah. I like it rough. Fast and proper," they were still walking, getting nearer the back door of the pub.
That's when he stopped her and turned her around. "Should we just kiss?" He asked, even though he wasn't going to wait for her answer. Her heart damn near stopped, stomach flipping in anticipation and nerves and everything else.
Her initial, instinctive response was to panic and say no, but before she could say anything, he kissed her. He kissed her. He finally kissed her. She would be lying if she said she never thought about this moment happening, the moment when they would finally kiss. For the longest time she wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.
It wasn't like anything else she'd felt before. Kissing someone and kissing someone you have strong feelings for differ immensely and she experienced that firsthand on her own lips. His lips were soft, tongue hot against hers. She could taste the cigarette smoke but she loved it and couldn't get enough.
"Don't catch feelings," he said against her lips and she chuckled.
"I already did." She told him, but he sure as hell knew that already.
Hands in her jeans, he continued to kiss her and ignite her body; making her feel a way she'd never felt before.
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this is a rough draft maybe a part 1????? ;)
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