Chapter Text
It’s busy tonight but Lucky's is always busy for being a little hole in the wall that it is. Its close proximity to campus, not to mention the cheap alcohol clearly made it a huge draw for college students.
Not that Beth or the girls had ever had to worry about getting a table, or paying.
Just one of the perks of fucking the bartender.
There’s only one open table Beth can see - a hightop at that, to which she barely makes it to in time, tossing her purse across the surface a second before an intoxicated Chad makes his claim.
“Sorry,” Beth smiles at him, and with a quick bat of her eyes the tension in his brow easily dissipates. He’s about to open his mouth and speak to her when Annie barrels through a crowd of people to save the day.
“What the fuck, Beth?”
Chad huffs at the interruption and looks down at a red-cheeked Annie, her parka still zipped up to her neck, making her look like a tightly wrapped little sausage.
Before Beth can answer her, Annie’s eyes flit up to Chad. Her mouth parts to imitate what a fish out of water must look like - and Chad, before she speaks.
“Can I help you?”
Beth scoots the flat stool beneath her, holding onto the table for support as she watches the scene unfold in front of her.
Chad mumbles something Beth can’t make out and when he turns away Annie’s attention snaps back to Beth.
“What is this?” Annie points at the table, a look of disgust still coloring her flushed features.
Beth rolls her eyes. “Don’t start, please.”
“I told you she wasn’t kidding.”
The voice comes from behind Beth as Ruby slides up in a thin sweater and a half-empty glass of something unfamiliar in her hand.
Beer, maybe.
Her cheeks are flushed as well, but for a different reason than Annie’s.
Beth arches a brow at her best friends before nodding to the glass of whatever Ruby’s nursing that could only be a result of another Stan recommendation.
“And where have you been?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Annie tuts her as she finally climbs up on the stool that's almost half her height.
Beth bites her lip as Annie wobbles violently once, then again.
“I’ve had a really long week and I just want to have a drink in peace.”
“We could be doing that over there,” Annie grinds out and nods to the bar.
The stool she’s balancing on tips to the side and she grabs the equally wonky table for support with a huff.
Beth finally lets her eyes drift to the back, towards the bar and who she knows is behind it tonight.
There’s a large cement beam next to their table, perfectly wide enough for her to hide behind.
Coward.
If she leans over just a few inches to the right she can see him.
She hasn’t had a single drink yet but the moments she spots him she feels the familiar dizziness behind her eyes, and the soft numbing thrum spread through her body.
He hasn’t seen them yet, but Beth’s pretty sure Ruby’s been here for a while with Stan and he must know the rest of the girls would show up sooner or later.
He’s popping the tops off of a few bottles, nodding at something Eddie’s yelling about from the other side of the bar.
Beth studies his face from afar, trying to take in every slight change in his expression. He smiles - really smiles, points to Eddie with the beer opener and Beth can’t breathe.
He looks exactly as she’d imagined him so many times since the last time she saw him but also nowhere near as real in her dreams. It’s the little things she always forgets, the soft indents across his bottom lip - something she’d noticed he only did when studying, only when he was trying to work through some ridiculous math problem he’d already spent days on. Or the way his tongue perpetually rested in the corner of his lip, mocking her.
The last time she’d seen him was almost a week ago, six days to be precise. Six days and some hours since he’d last crowded her against a wall in his kitchen, palmed her ass, and lifted her in one easy swoop.
“This is the last time,” she says with a soft whine.
His hand wanders until his fingers slide beneath her leggings to cup bare skin, before responding with a soft squeeze. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious.”
She wants to mean it, but her tone is all wrong and she’s not quick enough to swallow the shiver that slips out of her when his stubble grazes the side of her neck.
His other hand rises to cup her jaw, fingers curling around her neck to hold her still. When his lips move over hers they’re warm and wet.
“I thought Tuesday was the last time?”
His heavy hand returns to her bottom, squeezing in tow with his kisses, not giving her a moment to respond. When hard hips press against her soft ones to hold her in place her breath escapes her with a whine.
The rest is fervent instinct, his question forgotten the moment she feels him between her legs, hard and hot. She rolls her hips against him, belly twisting with pleasure when she hears the soft groans in his chest.
She wants to hear that sound again, memorize it, and own it.
One large hand slides around her back to peel her off the wall and turn for his bedroom.
He moves too slowly, far too preoccupied with her mouth to navigate the living room properly.
When she feels another surface against her back - the hallway wall this time, she pulls out of the kiss with an impatient shake of her head.
She wants to yell at him, and tell him to hurry because she really doesn’t have time for this. She’s got a midterm in twelve hours, and the tension of a week’s worth of cramming and however many all-nighters is making it impossible to sit still, let alone think.
It’s the reason she’d caved and driven across town after swearing to herself she’d stop this thing.
But this thing was the only thing that could calm the nerves in her belly, and check the spin cycle of doubt in her brain.
The need had won out even against the newly formed fear sitting pretty in the back of her mind - the idea that there was nothing like it, the idea that nothing and no one will ever shut the noise and static off the way he could.
Just one touch is all it takes, a thigh pressed against her own, his palm curled around her shoulder, his body suspended over hers.
She'd begun to crave it, starved for the feeling of his body against her own as though her life depended on it. For the feeling of the heavy weight of him, solid and real, a tether that she’d gotten far too dependent on.
When he presses against her again, lazily licking into her mouth, the words that stumble out of her make no sense.
He huffs out a laugh when his lips move down her throat and his arm curls around her again.
Blinking out of her daydream, Beth quickly slides back behind the safety of cover and shakes her head at Annie.
“I told you -”
Annie groans loudly with a pained expression at her words.
Beth turns to Ruby, ignoring her sister’s tantrum, desperately trying to pivot the conversation to anything else.
“How’s Stan?”
Ruby’s eyes flash with something Beth’s only ever seen at the mention of Stan.
It’s quickly covered by a smooth roll of Ruby’s brown eyes as her best friend gives her a quick wave, dismissing the question.
Ruby can’t help the way her face lights up, Beth can see the shitty poker face cracking before her very own eyes. It’s a small smile breaking through at first, then her eyes flash again.
Ruby’s smile grows bigger with every word, and Beth knows it's special - Stan’s special.
She can see it in the way Ruby melts at the mention of him, in the way he looks at her when they’re together.
It’s too easy to let her mind wander as Ruby continues on, to wish the beam wasn’t there. She wishes she could see him now, catch his attention from across the bar, and know the small grin on his face was because of her.
It was months of just that at first. Being content with watching him work every Friday night, squished between Annie and Ruby, belly fluttering with every stolen glance.
Then the spring semester had started, and he’d plopped down in the tiny desk right next to her one morning with a familiar grin and dark eyes.
She’d learned his name as the teaching assistant took roll - Christopher Martinez. He answered with a cool yo that’d induced a few giggles from the front row and an eye roll from the TA.
Rio, he’d corrected after, cornering her in the hallway with a warm hand around her bicep that’d stopped her from running away.
After that, falling into bed with him was inevitable, really.
Falling into whatever this was - mind constantly trickling back to Rio, knots in her belly until he’d show up, body on edge unless she’s seated close enough to touch him, was all her fault.
Beth inhales deeply, releasing it quickly to knock back another shot of something clear and disgusting.
Gin, maybe.
Annie follows suit and when she swallows it she sticks her tongue out and laughs.
The beam hiding her can only do so much because once Annie starts drinking her laugh is impossible to miss.
Eddie finds them eventually, and Beth is thankful for the two or three shots she’s already downed when he throws a casual arm around Annie and gives them all a questioning look.
Their usual booth - the one tucked in the back corner up against the bar and close enough for Beth to slide into an empty barstool by the end of the night, is packed with a group of strangers tonight.
“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Annie hiccups and leans into Eddie to whisper in his ear.
Eddie smirks and nods once before disappearing.
“He’s bringing us real alcohol,” Annie says with a wink before she turns her attention towards the bar and after Eddie.
After a beat, Annie tilts her head and frowns.
“Who's that ?”
Ruby turns to follow her gaze but Beth’s too comfortable to look, the alcohol finally working its way through her body.
Ruby turns back with a shrug and shakes her head. “Dunno.”
Annie’s frown deepens and when she turns back to face Beth her mouth slips into a wonky frown.
“What?” Beth hums.
Annie’s lips part to answer but she pauses, her face too flat and serious. It twists something deep in Beth’s belly that has her leaning forwards and around the beam to finally look at the bar.
Her body reacts the moment her eyes find the cause of Annie’s distress.
Her spine stiffens, and she really shouldn’t have skipped dinner because she can suddenly taste the gin in the back of her throat.
She swallows past the lump in her throat before answering.
“That’s Dylan,” Beth says with a soft nod. “She’s the other teaching assistant he works with.”
She’d met Dylan only once, in passing, and while Beth can only see the back of the girl's head from where she is, the gorgeous curls are unmistakable.
She’s seated at the bar and holding Rio’s full attention as she animatedly explains something that has him grinning.
Beth’s stomach clenches with an unfamiliar feeling growing more pitiful with each second that she can’t look away.
“She’s really smart,” Beth continues as Rio leans closer and rests an elbow on the bar.
Rio had mentioned her a few times, talked about how good she was, how she was the only other student from their program who qualified for some ridiculous calculus class only he and four other people attended in the entire university.
“B, “ Ruby mumbles too quietly.
The tone of pity in Ruby’s voice kindles a familiar feeling in Beth’s chest, and it’s suddenly hard to swallow.
Beth can only shake her head, and blink down at her empty shot glass.
Shit.
“Jesus, Beth,” Annie whispers. “I didn’t realize you were like - “
“I’m not,” Beth interrupts with a deep breath, not interested in continuing this conversation. “I just want to drink and forget the week, okay?”
“Amen,” Ruby nods and shoots a pointed stare at Annie.
A warning.
“Okay,” Annie whispers, mouth still downturned and brows furrowed in concern.
When Eddie brings their next round, Annie tugs him down again and whispers in his ear again.
Eddie complies easily with a quick nod, and Beth’s pretty sure he’d do anything Annie asks with the way he’s looking at her.
Either Eddie brings better alcohol, or Beth’s already lost her taste buds, but the fourth round goes down too easy.
Things get a bit cloudy after the fifth round.
One moment she’s cheering with Eddie and the next she’s cocooned in a warm blanket.
Except it's not a blanket, it’s got fingers that are softly brushing the hair at her temple.
Beth takes in a deep breath, her chest expanding with the motion - a mistake, because the familiar smell that rocks through her spins her faster than the liquor.
He must feel her stiffen because his fingers pause against her temple, unmoving from their spot.
She can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, and from where her nose is nuzzled against his throat she feels the vibration of his voice before her brain makes sense of the words.
“You with me, Marks?”
Oh no.
Her mouth is so unbelievably parched that she’s not sure whether she can form words, not that she has any for him right now.
With a shaky palm against his chest, she pushes out of his neck and lifts her head.
She moves too quickly and the room spins before she’s fully vertical.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she can hear herself and the soft whine that escapes her.
“Easy, now.”
Her fingers curl into his shirt as she spins, his body once again the only thing holding her tethered to reality.
There are warm, heavy hands against her biceps, she realizes, holding her body upright as her mind still spins.
Despite herself, she looks down to where he’s holding her and the familiar thumbs pressing, caressing her bare skin.
A wave of nausea hits her, and she quickly swallows the saliva collecting in her mouth with a shake of her head.
Do not.
Do not puke.
“Elizabeth,” he says tightly.
Nausea settles enough for her to blink up at him and his dark gaze.
He looks … peeved.
Her head shifts left, then right before facing him again.
“Where’s Annie?”
The bar is almost empty, save for a few regulars and Beth wonders what time it is.
How did she get here - in his arms?
“Outside, calling a car.”
Annie and her stupid, cheap phone that had no service anywhere in the city. She was probably climbing the building by now in an attempt to pick up a signal.
Beth laughs at the visual, the move tipping her slack body backward.
His grip tightens before she can move too far, and when he straightens her upright he pulls her closer with an arm around her middle.
“What’s so funny?”
When she opens her eyes again he’s closer, and she feels her already hot cheeks and chest burn under his gaze.
“Nothing,” she says quietly.
“No?”
She’s numb everywhere except the parts where their bodies touch.
Like the hand around her waist that’s gripping bare skin, fingers comfortably settled beneath her loose top.
The press of his long thigh against her own, the solid and warm chest beneath her palm.
“Why’d you get so drunk tonight?”
She rolls her eyes at the question and looks away from him.
“It’s Friday,” she answers with an inflection of obviousness, as though he was asking a dumb question he should have known the answer to.
Her eyes rove across his chest and shoulders, anywhere but his eyes.
His hum is low and drawn out, the sound of it twisting something familiar in her belly.
“Nah, try again.”
She swallows hard and her hand stills against one of the buttons in the middle of his chest.
It’s not fair that he knows her so well, knows when she’s lying, sometimes even before she does.
“It ain’t what you say,” he’d told her one time. “It’s how you say it, darlin’. All sweet an’ shit.”
She tilts her chin up, looks into his brown eyes, and tries again.
“Had a long week, needed a drink.”
It’s not not true.
She’d had a hell of a week and needed to unwind, but she hadn’t expected to unwind this far.
Where the hell was Annie?
“Right, right,” he nods with a small smile. “How’d that exam go, hmm?”
He hums the end of the sentence with pursed lips, distracting her for a brief moment with the memory of the last time she’d felt them.
She’d fallen asleep after the last time - another rule she’d made and broken.
Burned out from a week of cramming, she’d been lulled to sleep by a toe-curling orgasm and his plush mouth pressed against her ear.
“Is alright,” he’d mumbled against her ear and tugged the covers over them.
When she’d awoken the next morning beneath him, her face pressed against his neck she’d startled with a shake that’d woken him up too.
“You’re not late,” he grunts into a languid stretch, rolling off of her and onto his back.
The thin sheet pulls across his body and hers as he lengthens his limbs and tucks both hands behind his head. His eyes flicker down the length of her as she scrambles to hold onto the covers.
“Where - where are my clothes?” She blows out a shaky exhale and twists the sheet tightly around herself.
His eyes are trained right where she’s gripping the sheet against her chest. Annoyingly her cunt responds before any other part of her, muscles clamping down around nothing.
She watches with heaving breath the way his mouth drops open and his tongue peeks out.
Her voice sounds too airy as a shiver runs through her. “I have an exam in - “
She turns her eyes and her body away from him, flings one leg over the edge of the bed then the other, and scoots forwards until she feels the floor beneath her feet, solid, unlike her.
“In like five hours, you ain’t gonna’ be late, darlin’,” he says from behind her.
When she turns back to face him, she finds him stepping into his boxers and quickly shifts her eyes away from his body and back to the bed.
A dark patch of fabric catches her attention, her panties, peeking out beneath a pillow - mocking her.
She snaps them up before he can, and quickly slips them on.
Kitchen, she recalls.
He’d peeled her pants off in the kitchen.
Ignoring him, and his heavy gaze she can feel pricking against her skin, she pulls the sheet up and heads for the kitchen. She finds her bra in the hallway, her pants in the kitchen along with her shirt and the scrunchie he’d pulled out of her hair.
“Thought gettin’ laid was supposed to relax you, releases endorphins and shit.”
He’s not leaning on the door but he’s got a hand on the handle, watching her as she runs her fingers through her frizzy hair and quickly ties it back.
The muscle beneath his right eye twitches softly as she drops her hands down, fully dressed and ready to leave.
Her heart hammers in her chest because she hates this part, hates how she never knows what to do with her hands, hates how awkward she is.
He opens his front door to an empty hallway, unabashed at his state of undress.
“Thanks, sorry about this,” Beth stutters and straightens her already straight shirt.
She’s almost out the door when he stops her with a soft tug at her wrist.
Her mouth parts in surprise but really, she should have known, he never made anything easy.
He pulls her in, eyes hooded as his mouth hovers near hers, close enough to feel his breath against her face when he speaks.
“Say goodbye to me properly, Elizabeth.”
She feigns annoyance with a soft exhale, but it's short-lived and forgotten the moment she feels the heat of his mouth against her. His fingers slide into her hair as his tongue dips past her lips.
It's too much and when he deepens the kiss, parts her mouth far too wide with his own she can’t help the whine that escapes her. The hand buried in her hair tugs once, then again, and the third time he grunts against her mouth before she feels her hair slip out of the tie and fall around her shoulders.
She can feel his smile against her lips when he slides both hands into her loose hair and tugs softly.
Another scrunchie she’ll never get back.
The sound of a distant door slamming snaps her back into her body and she remembers where she is.
She pulls away with a wet, staccato inhale.
He chases after her mouth until he registers the press of her hand against his heaving chest.
She does her best not to let her eyes linger on his wet bottom lip and the way it moves as he takes deep breaths to slow his breathing.
It takes her a moment to peel his hands off of her, to finally step outside, and it feels like an eternity because she does it all without looking up at him. She doesn’t look past his jaw, or the muscle in the corner she loves to feel clench beneath her fingers as she works to build distance between them.
She forgets her scrunchy, again.
“You aight’?”
His voice breaks through and she blinks dazedly with a nod, eyes glazed over from liquor and the memory.
“Why didn’t I see you tonight?”
The flutters in her belly twist into something unpleasant and impossible to ignore, guilt, maybe.
She’s still staring at the topmost button of his shirt when she says it, too fascinated with the way it sits right beneath the talons of the bird she’s mapped countless times with fingers and her lips.
“You looked busy,” Beth hums with a soft shrug.
The arm around her middle tightens.
“I’m never too busy for you, darlin’, you know that.”
Her cheeks dimple with a brief smile that quickly morphs into something else as her brows knit with focus.
Somewhere in the back of her hazy brain, she registers how odd his choice of wardrobe is tonight, the dressy shirt so unlike his usual plain black tees he favors when he’s bartending.
It’s not the only thing that’s different about tonight.
The unfriendly little voice in the back of her mind supplies with ease, seemingly unaffected by the liquor which clouds the rest of her cognitive facilities.
Dylan was here.
He’s dressed up for Dylan.
“Elizabeth,” he murmurs her name.
She makes a soft sound in response, mouth parting to take a deep breath. Somehow, her fingers have slipped inside the neckline of his shirt but he doesn’t seem to notice or if he does, he makes no move to stop her as she pinches the tiny flat button and slips it out of its hole.
The words spill from her with ease, genuine and her lips curl with a sweet smile. “She’s pretty.”
When he doesn’t respond she’s forced to abandon her button to meet his eyes.
Soft brown ones find her own, framed by faint lines of confusion and amusement.
The way he’s looking at her makes her feel small, and darling; and even with the alcohol dulling every one of her senses a wave of strange emotion overwhelms her, making her heart race in an all too familiar way.
He reaches to comb his fingers through her damp hair, and tuck it securely behind her ear, worsening that tight sensation in her chest.
A soft laugh escapes him. “Who?”
She throws him what she thinks is a serious look but it only spurs more laughter from him.
“Dylan,” Beth says with a shake of her head as though the answer is obvious.
Her fingers return beneath the collar of his shirt.
He laughs again, only this time it’s a soft wheeze of disbelief. “What?”
Beth nods mindlessly, her gaze still focused on the peek of skin between the collar of his shirt. The chain he never takes off rests beneath one of her fingers, warm from his skin.
She thinks she can talk about this as long as she doesn’t have to look at him.
The idea of what he’d look like in love with someone else has her throat closing up in that way it only does when she’s close to tears.
She swallows quickly and manages a nod.
“She’s smart, too, isn’t she?”
Two fingers slip beneath her chin and lift her head up in one harsh tug. A thumb clamps down against her chin to keep her in place as dazed blue eyes meet dark brown ones.
He’s frowning at her, and she’s confused and dizzy from the liquor, his proximity, and the look on his face. The tight arm around her middle feels like the only thing that’s keeping her upright.
Everything’s fuzzy but she remembers the way he’d looked at Dylan earlier, the way he’d smiled at her, and the unfamiliar feeling in her chest throbs - envy.
It’s too hard to sound the next few words out because her throat feels funny.
“You look good together,” she can feel her stupid bottom lip quiver when she mumbles the words, and if it wasn’t for the tight grip on her chin there would be no way to hide just how much of her shakes at those words.
A cold draft of air hits her suddenly that has her pressing closer into his warmth. The familiar squeak of the front door echoes and a pink-cheeked Annie stumbles in.
Annie’s teeth are chattering so loudly that Beth can barely make out the words she says.
“The Uber’s here.”
Rio doesn’t make a move to release her, the arm around her middle like a steel beam. He doesn’t acknowledge Annie, either.
The crease between his brows deepens and he shakes his head. “Elizabeth - “
Annie taps him on the chest, finally catching his attention.
“Listen, Romeo, it took me twenty minutes and about a thousand calories to call this Uber -” Annie hiccups as she unhinges his arm from Beth. “If we’re not out there two minutes ago he’s going to leave and then we’ll have to sleep in the back with Mick.”
Annie makes a fake gag noise and Beth laughs at the visual and at the fact that it wouldn’t be the first time Annie had voluntarily shared the pull-out in the back with Mick.
Before Beth realizes what’s happened, Annie’s pushing her into the cold and towards the street. Little she may be, but she’s mighty and aggressive, especially drunk.
The last thing Beth remembers is looking back as the front doors close on Rio, his furrowed brow and unbuttoned shirt.