No Such Thing

Chapter 3

Playlist:
Beast of Burden - The Rolling Stones
Cold Desert - Kings of Leon
Peaches - In The Valley Below

*Ryder's POV*
I hate this place. I hate clubs. How the hell did I get dragged in here again? And how do people listen to this obnoxious electronic shit, it all sounds the same. I could be home listening to my new box of vinyls and maybe order take-out. Anything but hanging out with these people.

My parents are so wrapped up in me hanging out with their friends' kids just because "They're from the same stature as us, Ryder. We're an elite group, you can't be caught with riff raff." Blah blah bullshit. I have real friends who are ten times the people that these bozos will ever be.

"Who even let you come out with us man, every chick in the place is looking at YOU." Trust me I'd like to be anywhere else. He has a point though, every girl in the room IS looking at me. I smile and wave and at a couple of them. They act like I'm some rockstar, but I'm nothing. "You okay, pretty boy?" I guess I sighed louder than intended. "Yeah, it's just a little crowded in here." "Uh yeah, that's what clubs are. Crowded with loads of one night stands that I can't wait to get my hands on." As much as I wanna beat the shit out of him for objectifying women, he's out of my sight and I couldn't be more content. Now the question is do I head for the door or head for the bar?

And that's when I saw her. Her dirty blonde hair kept falling in her face as she would try to shove it back behind her ears. She had a martini glass in her hand, half full, and her other hand clutched to the DJ table. I could tell she was trying to make a request he wasn't quite happy to comply with, but she was fighting him, not out of drunken rage, just pure determination. I could tell her leather jacket was from Burberry cause I've seen that same one on dozens of girls, but I've never seen it look so fit. Her legs were long, but she had these hypnotic hips, and her purse was bouncing against them as she made her way back to the bar. Her lips curled up in a grin that screamed of satisfaction in getting what she wanted. Her presence was dizzying and she didn't even have to look my way. Who the hell is she?

*Stella's POV*

Who the hell did that guy think he was? You get paid to press some buttons and play the music the partygoers wanna hear. If I say I want Cold Desert by Kings of Leon, play the fucking song, asshole. Which he did, after I threatened to complain to his company, who kindly put their "Call and give us your feedback!" sticker right on his speakers. I take a chug of my drink in celebration of myself. And when I realize who slipped into the seat next to me while I wasn't looking, I almost spit it right back out.

"Kings of Leon, huh?" You gotta be kidding me. Why the fuck is Ryder Wells sitting next to me? And why would his lame rat self know a damn thing about a band like Kings of Leon? "Mmhm." "One of the best. I've hung out with them a few times. I wouldn't admit it to them, but their first album is their best." He smells really nice. I think it's Dolce & Gabbana. Wait. Why do I even care? "Yeah." "I thought you would be more talkative. You seemed to be giving the DJ quite the earful." Excuse me for not having things handed to me. "He was being a dick." "He's always a dick. I hate that EDM garbage though, so thank you for saving my ears." Did I just giggle? He noticed, "Wow, I didn't think I could even crack a smile out of you. A laugh? I think I need to pat myself on the back." What is he doing... "So did your ratpack dare you to come talk to me or something? Since I seem to be the only girl in a 5-mile radius not staring at you in hopes you'll choose me as your next victim... Or are you just that drunk?" I knew he wasn't drunk, seeing as I was practically a human breathalyzer. I just wanted to take as many digs as I could with this opportunity. "I just walked in so not even one drink has passed my lips tonight. And what's a ratpack?" "Your pack of rats. You might refer to them as friends." "If you're talking about the guys I came with, no, they're not my real friends, and yes I do agree they're a bunch of rats." There I go giggling again. If they're not his friends why is he always with them in pictures? "The Twitter-sphere tells me otherwise, Wells." "Wells? How formal. And I'm surprised. You don't look like the type to rely on social media for your pressing info." "I don't. I just don't pay close attention to your people." "Well they're not my people. And I don't like any of them. Which is why I have sat myself down and decided to talk to you instead of leaving to my humble abode for Chinese take-out." Wait. That was my plan. "Was that some kind of cheesy invitation?" "If you want it to be." Here comes the gagging. "Sorry, I'm not your type." "My type?" I would love to wipe the stupid grin he has on his face right off. What a smug little bastard. It's okay, I'll let him have it now. "Yeah your type. Fake tits, sleeps with any guy with a starting salary of half a million, drinks dirty martinis, and has very over-arched eyebrows." Now I'm the one grinning. But his sly smile is still somehow intact. "If that was my type I wouldn't be wasting my breath on you right now and I'd be on the other side of this club with my hand up the skirts of any one of the girls staring at me right now. Wouldn't I?" Without a moment of hesitation I'm smacking a couple bills on the bar counter and walking away. "You're disgusting." "I was kidding!" He's walking after me. "I'm sure." I'm already flying out of that dreaded place and I know everyone was staring. "Fuck, you walk fast. Would you wait up?" "No." "I know what you probably read about me. None of it's true. I haven't even had a proper girlfriend since high school and I sure as hell am not sleeping around with this lot. So why don't you just stop walking so fast and talk to me." I feel him grab my arm and it was like my whole body froze while my brain was yelling at my legs to keep walking full speed ahead. What the hell is wrong with me? "Just let me show you what I'm really like. I won't touch you. Won't make any moves. I just wanna talk to you. Show you what I'm really like. Just for the night, and if you want I'll never bother you again- uh-" "Stella. My name is Stella." When I turn to look at him his face is lit up at the mention of my name. "You closed for Lanvin tonight didn't you? You've got quite the walk, I'm surprised I didn't realize it was you sooner. Everyone's been talking about you." "I guess there were too many pairs of legs to look at." I'm already turning away again, but his grip on my arm only tightens. Not in a painful way, it's strangely gentle. "Please." When I look at him again, he looks so young and his pleas reached his eyes that were bright green and glistening. Wow his eyes... Fuck. "Okay." Okay? What? Okay? "Okay." And there I was walking away into the night right next to Ryder Wells, his movie star smile on full display.