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Day 1
The things I’ll do for money.
Rey stands in front of the only full-length mirror in the restaurant, the one in the cramped little bathroom that never truly looks clean no matter how she scrubs at it. All she can see now, though, is pink. The mascot outfit is bulky, a little too large for her and covered in tufts of patchy fur.
She’s only got the body of the costume on so far, and it’s already more humiliating than anything she’s ever worn in her life. There’s nothing for it, though. Maz offered Rey a bonus on her next paycheck for completing this task, and Rey could really use the extra cash. Sighing, she straps the bunny feet over her tennis shoes and grabs the remaining pieces of the outfit.
“Alright,” she says to Maz as she trudges into the office. “Give me the flyers.”
Maz's laughter echoes out into the hallway. “You look fantastic! Let me see it with the head on.”
Grumbling, Rey pulls the giant bunny face over her own head and squints through the mesh mouth that’s supposed to help her see. It’s not doing its job very well.
Maz claps like an excited child. “Excellent! Here’s the first batch of flyers. Try to get them all out! Don’t be afraid to hop around, really bring the crowd in! We’re counting on you, Johnson.”
Yes, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? Rey is fond of Maz. The old woman has been good to Rey over the past few years, which leaves her helpless to protest against indignities such as this.
At the front door of the restaurant, Rey stops to set the stack of papers down and pull on the bright pink mittens. They’re supposed to look…rabbit-ish, but she thinks they bear a closer resemblance to lobster claws. Fully outfitted, it’s time to face the outside world.
At least no one will know who I am.
Peeling off individual flyers from the stack while wearing padded mittens is a challenge. Getting anyone on the street to accept a promotional advertisement is an even bigger challenge. Rey Johnson doesn’t accept defeat, though. She locks her pride away temporarily and prances up and down the sidewalk, putting on a show just as Maz suggested. Some children stop to give her hugs, which is the only bright side she can find in this situation, besides the bonus.
Other children scream.
She can’t really blame them. The bunny face is terrifying.
The hours tick by, and sweat begins to pour from her forehead and down her back. It’s relatively cool outside in early autumn, but the fresh breeze isn’t exactly making its way into her stifling getup. She’s just about to head inside for a break when she hears someone yelling from around the corner.
“Hey! Thief! Stop!”
Ben is having a terrible day. It’s bad enough that he overslept on the morning of the most important interview of his life. Even worse that he broke the strap of his laptop case and had to tear through the apartment to find another bag that would work. Now, to top off this disaster of a morning, some criminal on the street has just stolen that bag. The guy ran right past him and ripped it from his shoulder like it was nothing.
Ben yells and hightails it after him, knowing even as he does that it’s hopeless. That bag has his whole life on it, and all he can do is watch in despair as it and all its contents go careening around a corner, gripped tight in the arms of a thief.
Ben rounds the same corner only a few seconds later, just in time to bear witness to a spectacle:
A giant pink bunny whirls around and throws its arm out as the thief is passing by, clotheslining the man right in the jugular. His body crumples like a marionette with its strings cut, and Ben stumbles to a stop, staring in awe.
“Whoa,” he breathes, an exclamation of wonder, then jogs over to snatch his bag back. The bunny has one foot on the thief’s back, and it tilts an inquisitive head at Ben as if to ask what it should do. “Um, let him go, I guess. I got what I needed.”
The thief scampers off, quick as corruption, the instant he’s released.
“Hey, man, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it. You were awesome!”
Crossing its arms, the bunny says in a voice so muffled Ben can barely hear it, “Nice purse.”
It— It’s not a purse! It’s a messenger bag! A satchel! Heat rises into his cheeks, but he hopes the bunny can’t see that. “Um, I mean, if it was a purse, which it’s not, I wouldn’t care. Because, you know, a purse is just a kind of bag. Men can carry purses.” The bunny stares at him, seemingly unimpressed, and Ben could continue to dig himself even deeper by continuing his protests, but he’s really, really late. “I gotta run. Thanks again!”
Then he’s off, leaving a perplexed but oddly amused bunny behind.
Day 2
“You did a wonderful job!” Maz praises the next day, slapping Rey on the back. “Keep it up, and we’ll have more customers than we know what to do with.”
Right. Rey isn’t sure about any of that—Maz has a penchant for over-exaggerating things. Not only is the costume stifling, stinky, and difficult to maneuver in, no one even wants the flyers. They all end up crumpled on the ground, more litter on the streets.
Money is money, she reminds herself, pulling the bunny head on once again. Only four more days of this.
The only bright spot yesterday had been taking out that purse snatcher. And the purse owner hadn’t been half bad either, if a little inarticulate. His blush was cute.
It’s a passing thought. Not as if she’ll ever see him again, right?
“Hey, um, Mr. Rabbit?”
It takes Rey a moment to realize that someone is addressing her, but she groans when she does. Is this going to be another citizen concerned about the ecological impact of printing dozens of flyers that no one needs or wants? She prepares the speech she’s already had to use several times and turns around, only to find herself face to face with that blush again. It’s barely visible through the mesh of the bunny head, but it’s there. And it’s still just as cute.
He holds out an iced coffee. “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out yesterday. Sorry for running off like that.”
Head cocked, she reaches one clumsy paw out to take the offering. Caffeine to give her a boost, and something cold to help with the heat? Gratitude rises up next to her irritation at being called Mr. Rabbit.
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
“You were really awesome, man. The way you took that guy out? I was impressed.”
Man. Mister. Does the blushing, purse-carrying guy in front of her think that only a man would be capable of taking down that thief? Pissed—and also wanting to take a sip of the drink he’s brought—she passes the cup back to him and lifts her costume head off. She gives him a defiant look as she tucks the bulky thing under one arm and takes her drink back, sucking a big mouthful through the straw while the stranger stares at her in shock.
“That’s Mrs. Rabbit to you.”
Ben isn't a great communicator on the best of days, but faced with a glistening, angry goddess, he finds himself to have lost his entire grasp of language. His mouth actually drops open. Like a cartoon. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so busy trying to locate the feeling in his hands, which has conveniently disappeared.
She’s a vision, sweaty and irate, with eyes showing every shade of autumn leaves: green, brown, gold.. Her dark hair wisps around her face, the ponytail mussed by her costume, framing eyebrows that even now are arching, a look of annoyance that he can’t quite understand, addled as he is.
“Maybe take some time to examine your prejudices,” she says caustically. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Then she’s gone, disappearing through the restaurant doors before he can reclaim his ability to speak.
For the first time ever, his roommate Poe is able to provide some insight. When Ben comes home and flops face-down onto the couch, he isn’t expecting to receive any helpful advice, but he vents anyway, because sometimes that’s all that’s needed.
“Bro,” Poe laughs. “You broke tough girl rule number one: never…oh man, what’s that word? When you act like someone is stupid?”
“Patronize?”
“Yeah! Never patronize. They hate that.”
“But I wasn’t patronizing!” Ben moans. “I think she’s amazing. And strong. And beautiful.”
“Well, probably only tell her the strong part. Girls don't like it if you just say they're pretty.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Don’t girls want you to think they’re pretty?”
Poe sighs and falls back onto a reclining chair that squeals in protest. “You can’t try to understand. Just follow the rules.”
“How do I fix it?” Ben asks. It’s…weird to be earnestly seeking Poe’s help. Well, with something besides how to make a protein shake.
“Show her that you know she’s a tough girl. She wants respect.”
“Wow, Poe. That’s– Hm. Really smart.”
Poe laughs and jumps up, flexing his muscles. “Bet you never expected it of me! That’s your problem.”
He leaves Ben to ponder those words. After boiling some ramen and watching a few episodes of some cheesy sitcom, Ben finally gets to work on a plan.
Day 3
Three more days.
It’s hotter this morning, as if the universe is punishing Rey for being too hasty yesterday. The bunny costume has begun to feel more like a personal sauna than a fun representation of a woodland animal. She’s given up entirely on dancing around or trying to get attention. If it wasn’t for her commitment to doing her best for Maz, Rey would be slumping against a wall with the stack of flyers at her feet.
As it is, she can barely muster any enthusiasm for the job.
“Holiday special,” she says, holding out a flyer to a passerby. “Kids half off. Come visit us soon!”
The elderly man sidesteps to get around her proffered advertisement, looking almost frightened. To be honest, she probably would be too.
“Three more days.” It comes out like a mantra—or a prayer, muttered under her breath. “Three more days.”
“Until what?”
Oh, there’s no way. She knows that voice. Rey turns slowly, cringing already. Yep, it’s Purse Boy. He’s holding another iced coffee, his free hand gripping the strap of his bag.
“I just, uh, wanted to– you know.” The cup is thrust toward her, a couple drops spilling out of the straw hole. “Apologize, I guess. And also–” Still holding the cup out, he fumbles into his bag with the other hand and withdraws a CD jewel case. “I made this. For you.”
There’s that blush again, the pink making a mole on his lip stand out. He brought her a drink and made her a mixtape? Rey isn't sure what to make of it. She looks from him to the objects he's extending toward her.
He takes a step back. “Unless I’m just bothering you. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–” He turns without looking where he’s going and steps into the street, not even seeing the delivery person on a moped barreling toward him.
For the love of… Rey jumps forward and grabs his hand, pulling him out of the way just in time. The driver of the moped shouts a curse as he passes, and iced coffee spills all over the bunny suit. Perfect. Just perfect.
She’s still holding Purse Boy as he stares with shocked eyes at the spot where he almost got his lights knocked out.
“Here,” she says and plucks the CD from his limp hand. “I’ll take it if you stop getting yourself into trouble. I can’t save you every time, you know. I think the coffee is a lost cause, though.”
His gaze turns to the mostly empty cup. Its lid is on the ground, the straw sticking up like a white flag of surrender. “Yeah…” he mutters. “Lost cause.” He wanders off dejectedly without another word.
“I don’t get it,” Rey says to no one, then heads inside to clean up. Maybe the costume will be too stained to use for the rest of the week. She can only hope.
Finn calls later that night, while she’s sprawled on the couch holding the CD case up and tilting it to watch the rainbows change in the light. He put the CD in upside down. Why? She’s just about to open the case and find out when the phone rings.
Tossing the cursed item down, she grabs her phone off the table and accepts the call.
“What’s up, loser?” she says, not even bothering to find out who it is. Only one person calls her this late at night.
“Just checking in on you, weirdo. How was your day subbing in for Bugs Bunny?”
“Don’t ask,” she groans.
“That bad?”
“The costume got covered in iced coffee, but Maz still wants me to wear it tomorrow. Stains and all.”
There’s a pause, and then a smirk she can practically hear. “Iced coffee, huh? Your friend made another appearance?”
“You’re like an annoying little brother, you know that?” Rey huffs and rolls off the couch to pace the length of the living room, attempting to let off some of her agitation. “Yes, if you must know, Purse Boy showed up again. He brought an iced coffee just like yesterday, and…”
“And?”
“And a CD.”
“A CD by who? This is important, Rey.”
“It’s a mixtape! I think. I haven’t actually played it yet.”
Finn sucks in a deep breath and puts on his most serious tone. “I have to tell you something.”
“I hope you can hear my eyes rolling.”
“No, listen! Are you listening?”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she says, “I’m listening.”
“Purse Boy…” Pause for dramatic effect. “...is in love with you.”
“Ha!” Rey barks out. “Tell me how that even makes sense."
"Well, you see, when a guy is confronted with a truly badass woman, he only has three options: hate her, befriend her, or love her."
"Pretty sure you just pulled that out of your ass. And who's to say he's not trying to befriend me?"
"Sweet, innocent child. Grown men don't make mixtapes for friends."
"This topic is boring. Entertain me by telling me how you're not going to cancel on me this weekend."
Rey has hardly seen her best friend at all in the past year. Nightly phone conversations are nice, but not as good as being able to make sure he’s okay with her own eyes.
"I'd never dream of it. I hope you'll dress up for me."
"With utmost reluctance."
He chuffs a laugh, then says, “Do me a favor. Go listen to that CD, then call me back and tell me what's on it. The curiosity is killing me.”
“Ugh, fine. You know what they say about curiosity and cats, though.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’m hanging up now.”
The CD, it turns out, is a mixtape. When she pulls it out and flips it over, she sees that the topside has been decorated with a crude drawing of a bunny kicking a man’s ass. Interest piqued, she pops it into her laptop and lays on her back on the floor, ready to find out what Purse Boy thinks of her.
Thirty minutes later, she calls Finn back.
“Well?”
“I think I’m going to date him.”
An almost evil cackle follows her announcement. “The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.”
Day 4
“Well?” Poe asks in the morning. “Are you going back?”
Head down on the card table that serves as an eating space for them, Ben lets out a forlorn sigh. “What’s the point? She hates my guts. And she’s way out of my league.”
“Did you give her the line I told you?”
Ben hadn’t really been in the talking mood last night, so Poe was still out of the loop. “No, I didn’t get that far! She was getting ready to reject me, then I went and stumbled my way into a near concussion and she yelled at me, and on top of all of that, I dumped the iced coffee all over her bunny outfit! What if her boss makes her pay for it?”
Poe slams a hand down on the rickety table, making the metal legs shudder and threaten to bend. “You like her, right?”
“...yeah.”
“A lot?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna date her? Wanna kiss her? Wanna make cute little babies someday?”
Ben feels his face get hot, and he covers it before muttering through his fingers, “Well, I don’t know about all of that…”
“Only one way to find out, then. You gotta ask her. Straight up. Take it like a man.”
“I can’t go today anyway! I have to get ready for the gig tonight.”
Poe pushes away in disgust. “Whatever you wanna tell yourself. I’m going, my boyfriend is waiting. You know, the one I asked out?”
A middle finger is Ben’s only response.
He’s not coming, Rey realizes as lunchtime slowly ticks past and creeps toward dinner. Her shift is almost over, and she’s been waiting all day for that jerk to make an appearance. She doesn’t have his number. She doesn’t even know his name! How can he choose songs like that for her and then just disappear?
It’s infuriating.
Stupid, unreliable Purse Boy, she grouses as her work day comes to an end. She’s about to go inside when Maz sticks her head out the door.
“Rey, there’s a phone call for you!”
And her idiotic little heart does a flip, because what if it’s him? He knows where the restaurant is. He could look up the number.
“Hello?” she says, a little breathlessly, leaning on the counter next to the coffee maker.
“Guess who’s going to be late tonight?”
It’s Finn’s voice coming through the receiver, and her jolt of disappointment is quickly followed by irritation. “Are you serious?”
“Sadly, yes. But just by a half hour.”
“I expect compensation for my time.”
It’s a Thursday night, and Ben is looking through the cracked kitchen door at the lackluster crowd mingling in the venue. He’s nervous, sweating liberally, and feeling like maybe this isn’t the breakout opportunity he’d hoped for. When he’d had that interview on Monday, everything seemed to be coming together. He'd shown the wealthy couple a slideshow of his best cakes and discussed flavors and decorations with them for two hours, and the purple-haired lady had assured him her engagement party would be the event of the year.
It’ll get better as the night goes on, he assures himself.
“Hey!” a voice says from behind him. He turns and sees the cute bartender who winked at him when he came in. “You need to loosen up!” she says, lifting a small glass of clear liquid. “Drink this.”
Is that…allowed?
She sees his hesitance and rolls her eyes, pushing the glass into his chest. Finally, he relents. The drink is bitter, and it burns as it slides down his throat. He makes a face, and she laughs.
“More where that came from later! You need it to survive these events.”
As it turns out, alcohol was what Ben needed. He’s a bit of a lightweight and finds himself feeling a little tipsy already, a flush spreading over his body as he places the cake just so on its table and arranges flowers around it. He can do this. This is just the first gig of many to come. It’ll all work out somehow.
More people arrive, and a DJ starts to play some mellow background beats. The purple-haired lady had insisted that her party should be fun.
"An open bar and lots of dancing!" she'd said, and her future husband next to her had rolled his eyes and made a joke about needing the free drinks.
The lights are dimmed now, and things are just starting to feel festive. Ben hovers near his cake for a while, making sure everything is perfect, then finally slips back into the kitchen to wait until it's time to cut it. The cheery bartender visits him again, handing him another shot and taking one of her own. She stands a little too close. He's glad when she leaves.
One song ends, and the next doesn't begin immediately. A throbbing bass fills the venue for a few moments, and Ben peeks back out the door to see what's going on. It’s in this gap that she appears, lit by an orange beam from one of the many party lights above.
Her hair is loose, waving around her shoulders, licking against her collarbones in a way that makes him swallow nervously. He’s never seen her outside of the bunny suit, never seen those bewitching curves, that glowing skin. So much of her is exposed, he loses every thought in his head for a solid five seconds.
Oh my god, is the first coherent thing his mind produces. She’s here.
She’s here, a mighty universe unto herself, the sun burning bright in a sea of stars. It must be fate. This is his chance.
“See, it's not so bad!” Finn says as he comes up behind her with two drinks in hand.
Rey shrugs, disagreeing but not pressing the issue, and grabs her lemon drop from him. “That bartender was really into you,” she teases, which makes him roll his eyes. He’d never think of looking at another girl as long as he’s dating Rose, of course. He’s too loyal for that.
The song they’re half-heartedly swaying to ends, leaving behind a pulsing rhythm she can feel in her bones. It’s hypnotic, an external heartbeat, as if the room itself is alive. In the semi-darkness, a crack of light catches her eye. It's the door to the kitchens, and behind it is a face she recognizes.
“Holy shit!” she whispers, turning to grab Finn’s shirt and gesture frantically with her eyes. “That’s him!”
Then the music finally picks up again, making Finn have to raise his voice as he responds.
“That was Purse Boy?” His mouth is open in a manic smile. “He’s adorable! Go talk to him!”
But the man in the doorway is looking straight at her with an expression she can't quite decipher. All she knows is that it's not the kind of face that says, Please come talk to me.
He’s probably justifiably upset with the way she treated him yesterday. Rey swallows her regret along with the rest of her drink.
“I’m going to get another one!” she shouts, and Finn nods with a befuddled look.
It’s a long wait at the bar, with people lined up to take advantage of the free alcohol. Rey marvels at how many guests Holdo was able to persuade to attend. When Rey finally gets to the front, the woman behind the counter gives Rey a grin and tilts her head, waiting for the order.
“Another lemon drop, please!”
The woman nods, then pulls out two glasses. Rey thinks she must be making a drink for someone else at the same time, but then both of the glasses are pushed toward her.
“Will you take the other one to the kitchen?” The woman winks. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Why do these things always happen to her? The bartender is already serving someone else, though, and honestly, Rey wants an excuse to go talk to the guy. So she grabs the drinks and makes her way across the floor, catching Finn’s eye in the process and giving him a nervous look. He grins and does finger guns, which makes her laugh.
When she approaches the kitchen door, Purse Boy has already slipped out to stand against the wall, watching her with his mouth set in a thin line.
“Here,” she says and raises one of the glasses to him. He takes it reluctantly, then clinks it with hers even more reluctantly. Well, time for some groveling, I guess. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
"Thanks." His lips twitch into a grimace, but despite the lack of forgiveness there, Rey can’t help but notice that they’re very kissable lips.
She licks her own and steps back a little. “Okay then,” she says. “Guess we’ll talk some other time.”
Ben throws back the drink as he watches her walk away, puckering at the sour-sweet flavor. It’ll be good to be drunk now, good that soon he won't fully feel the disappointment pounding through his heart in time with the music. Of course she’s not single! Why would a woman like that be single? And she looks happy with her boyfriend, touching his shoulder and moving with him on the dance floor.
She'd even apologized to Ben, letting him down gently. He hopes they'll leave before it's time to cut the cake, but of course his luck isn't that good. It seems she must be close to the future bride and groom, for she stand close by as the purple-haired lady makes the first slice.
Ben takes over then, making swift cuts and plating the pieces with professional efficiency despite his level of inebriation. He keeps his head down all the while, trying not to even notice if Mrs. Rabbit takes any or not, but it's impossible not to see her olive-skinned hand, strong and confident as she grabs one of the gold-colored plates.
Finally, gratefully, he's able to escape into his hideaway again. He makes himself busy cleaning things that don't need to be cleaned, organizing shelves he has no business organizing, and taking several trips to the bathroom to sit and play phone games without any eyes on him. In consistent intervals, shots of alcohol arrive in the kitchen by way of the grinning bartender, and Ben takes them because dulling his mind sounds like a wonderful idea.
When the party begins to wind down, the lights come back up and Ben's clients tell him he's free to pack up and leave. The groom, as drunk as Ben but far more cheerful, passes over a wad of bills as a tip, leaving Ben stuttering with gratitude.
It's enough to somewhat make up for his romantic disappointment. The remnants of the cake stand get torn down and thrown away, while the surplus plates go home with him to be used for leftover pizza and Hot Pockets. He drops things again and again, clumsy from the alcohol, muttering curses to himself.
Across the room, he hears laughter and looks up to see that handsome asshole with his hand in Mrs. Rabbit's hair. Ben's heart lurches, and his feet do as well, stumbling over an extension cord that's stretched from the DJ booth to the wall. The bag in his hands keeps him from catching himself, and he feels his ankle twist beneath him— hard. Though the pain is somewhat dampened by his sheer level of intoxication, he can still tell he won’t be getting home on his own two legs tonight.
“Shit,” he groans, reaching down to grab the spot that’s throbbing in agony.
“Are you okay?”
Ben looks up to see a man racing across the room toward him. It’s her boyfriend, of course, descending like an angel. Ben groans internally, not really wanting help from this guy of all people.
“M’fine. All good.”
The man kneels down and reaches out to touch Ben’s ankle. “I don’t think you’re fine.”
Then she’s there too, crouching beside them with an equally worried look. “Do you want us to call you a taxi?”
“S’okay!” Ben insists. He can’t quite keep the slur out of his words. “I can do it. Right down the street. Not far. Just…” He waves vaguely. “Go away.”
A look is exchanged between the two hovering guardians.
“I’ve really got to get back home,” the guy murmurs.
“I can handle this.” Then those hazel eyes are right in front of Ben’s face, glowing and full of worlds he can only imagine being part of. “Hey? Purse Boy? Can you give me directions to your place?”
Ben pouts. “Can’t take you home.” He jabs a finger toward his enemy. “You’ve got a boyfriend.”
They erupt into giggles, as if his pain is funny. Ben grunts and pushes himself up, determined to get the hell out of here, back to his apartment where he can nurse his multiple wounds in private. “Whatever,” he grouses, then whines in pain the second a bit of weight is applied to his foot.
“Whoa, there,” the guy says, steadying him with a hand on his arm. “Rey, I trust you can handle this situation on your own.”
“Of course I can. You just worry about getting yourself home safely.”
They exchange cheek kisses, which makes Ben turn away, and then the guy is gone, leaving Ben alone with the biggest crush he's had since kindergarten. Rey. Her name is Rey, and she laughed at him.
“Come on, hot stuff, can you lean on me to walk?” Her arm wraps around him, supporting his weight.
“Don’t call me that!” he says a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the cute bartender who’s cleaning her area with lackluster enthusiasm.
“Need any help?” she asks.
“I’ve got it!” Rey calls back, then addresses Ben. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tease. Will you let me help you?”
“Fine.” He’s enjoying the feeling of being in her embrace a little too much. He must be dreaming. He’s blacked out from too much alcohol, and this is all a beautiful fantasy that will disappear into a hangover in just a few hours. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. He leans into her, marveling at her strength. Her hair smells like adventure.
“Can you hand me his purse?” This is directed to the cute bartender, who raises an eyebrow and saunters over to retrieve the bag.
“S’not a purse.”
“Of course it’s not,” Rey says consolingly, then takes the bag and slings it over her shoulder, bearing its weight along with Ben’s as if she carries guys around every day. They make it out onto the street before Ben begins his drunken rambling.
“You’re so strong,” he sighs into her ear. “S’very attractive.”
“Mm,” is her reply.
“Your boyfriend is hot, too. You match.”
Casually, she says, “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my best friend. More like a brother than anything.”
This silences Ben for a long moment. “Not…your boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Is someone else your boyfriend?”
She laughs. “I’m actually on the hunt for one. Do you know any good men?”
“I– If you– I mean, I could…”
Her next words are softer, more vulnerable. “I liked the songs you gave me.”
And Ben is flying, face flushed, heart soaring, a little giggle escaping his mouth. “I did a good job?” He giggles again. “It’s because you inspired me. You’re inspiring. So pretty. Oops, I mean, so strong.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he sighs happily. “But I messed it up! I had a line. Poe gave it to me.”
“A line?” Her footsteps are heavy on the dark streets, but she still doesn’t seem to be struggling with his weight.
“Yeah. I was s’posed to hand– to give you the mixtape, then say…” He searches his fuzzy thoughts, then puts on a deeper voice as he recites: “I need that CD case back. You can return it to me when I take you out to dinner.”
“That’s a pretty awful line,” she says, shoulders shaking in subdued laughter.
He groans, and his head thumps down onto her shoulder. “I’m not cool enough for you.”
She pinches his arm.
“Ouch! Hey!”
“Sorry, must have been an accident.”
Neither of them speaks for a minute, until Ben tells her to turn right at the next street.
“You know, you haven’t even told me your name yet, Purse Boy.”
“Why do you call me that?” he moans into her neck, his breath making her shiver a little.
“Because I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m Rey.”
He lets out a mournful sigh. “Rey. That’s a wonderful name.”
“Thanks.”
“I think you’re the most badass person I’ve ever met.”
She snorts.
“I’m serious.” Hell, if he’s dreaming, he might as well go for it. “I wanna have your babies.”
The laughter explodes out of her with such force, she doubles over and loses her grip on him. His fall knocks her off balance and then they’re both on the street, gasping for breath, Ben stunned while Rey laughs so hard she has to clutch her stomach.
“Tell you what,” she wheezes. “Take me out to dinner first. If you stick around for ten years, you can have my babies.”
Day 2,492
I’m going to kill him, she thinks, staring at the two pink lines.
Ben is due home any second. Rey grabs the test and stomps down the stairs, determined to confront him the moment he arrives. She doesn’t have to wait long, it turns out. The front door opens even as she’s storming into the kitchen.
“Ben Solo!”
“Uh-oh.”
“Get in here!”
He steps into the kitchen timidly, unsure what he’s done wrong. Rey slams the pregnancy test onto the table and points at it.
“This,” she accuses, “is why we don’t use expired products.”
His dark eyes go wide, and his lips part in shock before twitching into the smallest, gentlest smile. “Rey,” he whispers. “For real?”
“We had a deal! Ten years! It’s only been seven.”
“Rey!” He laughs and lunges forward to grab her in a hug. “You can be mad later, let me celebrate! I’m gonna have your baby!”
“I’m doing all the work!” she shouts, then dissolves into laughter that turns into crying. “Oh my god, what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to have the most amazing kid in the world, that’s what!”
Then he holds her hair back as she throws up into the sink. Standing upright and wiping spittle off her chin, she levels him with that golden gaze that enraptured him from the very first moment.
“You owe me big time, Purse Boy.”
“Anything you want, Mrs. Rabbit.”