A Kind of Magic (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader)

Chapter 4:

     "Okay, Roger... Then let's talk."

      I settle on the couch, immediately crossing my legs. My mini skirt slides up showing my upper thigh, almost revealing my thong underneath. My hands cross over my legs as I subtly try to pull my skirt down and hide what's between.

     "I don't bite, (Y/N)." Roger laughs and inches closer in front of me.

     "Good to know you remember my name." I look up at him from my spot on the couch, his blonde bangs slightly shading his eyes.

     He reaches down on the tea table and picks up the two shots that I had forgotten I brought to him. "Why would I forget?"

     He hands over one of the shots and I reach up to take it from him, our fingertips brushing against each other. "I'm sure you meet tons of girls everywhere you go, being in a band and all."

     "Well... you're not wrong." He downs the shot. "You, though, have made yourself unforgettable."

     He gestures towards the spot next to me on the couch and I hesitantly nod.

     "I'm sure you say that to all of your groupies."

     He sits a comfortable distance away from me so we're not touching, but close enough where he can put his arm on the back of the couch around my body. Making direct eye contact with him makes me edgy, but he seems to be fine with staring me directly in the eyes during our whole conversation.

     "What groupie of mine is an American pretending to be English? You-" He clinks his shot glass against mine on emphasis of 'you'. "-Are definitely the first. Gonna drink that?"

Couldn't hurt... After all, I won't get drunk after one shot.

     I down the liquor, but only with immediate regret, wrinkling my face at the burn of the tequila hitting the back of my throat. Roger smirks holding back a breathy laugh.

     "I could've gotten you a chaser.." He adds, looking pleased with himself.

     "No, no, I'm good," I gesture, waiting for the alcoholic burn to leave my throat. "Speaking of that, I am not your groupie, Roger, I'm your waitress, so don't be expecting me to do what a groupie would for you."

     His chipper facial expression shifts to sincere and his eyes intensify. "Do you already think so low of me?"

     "I'm sorry, but you can't blame me! You gave off a... certain first impression."

     "Mmm.." He tilts his head to move in closer to me while squinting his eyes, pretending to be in deep thought. "And what was this certain first impression of me, love?"

     "You seemed like a tool," I state flaty, crossing my arms and sinking back into the couch.

     "Rude!" He scoffs, rolling his eyes, head facing up at the ceiling.

      "You asked!"

      Roger shakes his head now looking directly into my eyes, giving me that same smirk he always does. "Maybe you seem like a tease."

     He's not wrong. I am kind of a flirt, one could also say tease...

     "Well, I can't deny that one.." I finally give him a hint of a smile and uncross my arms, my hostility lessening.

     "How about we get to know each other then?" He suggests.

     "Alright... what do you wanna know, Rog?"

     His deep blue eyes brighten and his body perks up at the sound of the nickname I randomly gave him.

      "First," he holds up his index finger, "If your accent is fake, what else on you is fake?"