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“Six years. That’s how much of my life I gave him.”
Feyre let out a thick cloud of smoke, pinning the joint between her thumb and index finger. She wasn’t sure exactly how she’d ended up here, on the roof of this bar, smoking a joint with Mor’s coworker but tonight, she decided she wasn’t going to ask questions. Or maybe that was just the pot talking.
Mor had insisted that she come out tonight, after being holed up in her new and unfurnished apartment for three months now, sleeping most of the day and working through the night. Feyre had insisted that she was fine - her business was thriving and she was functioning, for all intents and purposes - but Mor had all but dragged her out. When one of Mor’s coworkers attempted to sneak out with a joint, Feyre had joined him and, well, if Feyre was going to start smoking again at any point in her life, now seemed like the perfect time.
He was quiet, taking a swig of his beer and Feyre bit her lip, wondering if she’d shared too much. He broke the silence then, “You two still talk?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, albeit a little shamefully. “I’m not able to block him completely.” Having grown accustomed to watching the disappointment rise in everyone’s eyes as she told them, even after their tumultuous three week long breakup, Tamlin was still a little involved in her life. She’d known him for too long and he’d purposely weaved himself into every detail of her life. She knew that, knew he’d wanted to be impossible to remove from her life and that, even if their relationship was completely over, he’d still won and gotten what he wanted. She didn’t feel like seeing that sentiment in his particularly striking eyes so she avoided his gaze as she handed him the joint.
“I’m not judging you,” he said, seemingly having reading her mind. “Probably should think about that though.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re not the first person to say that.”
He chuckled, exhaling and handing her the joint. “Just thought I’d chime in, although I’m sure you hear it from Mor all the time.”
She rolled her eyes again, taking another drag and inspecting what remained of the pre-roll, now just a small, glowing stub. “What about you? What’s your story?”
He smiled and tilted his head to the side slightly. “What do you want it to be?”
Feyre frowned. “I just basically dumped my entire life on you outside of this bar, and you won’t even give me a little?”
She was only half-joking, but was starting to feel stupid at the entire interaction. Why was she smoking this joint with a man she barely knew, telling him about Tamlin, and about her college days? Sharing a joint with someone, too, was beyond intimate and suddenly Feyre felt very, very self conscious.
“I was only joking.” He raised his palms in defense. “There’s not much there though. Went to college, got a job, immediate family died, got another job, met Mor, ended up on the roof of a bar with you.”
“Sorry about your parents.” Feyre winced.
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago,” he replied. They fell into silence and Feyre was suddenly aware of how close their bodies were, how quiet it was on this roof, and how long they’ve been away from the group.
“Should we go back?” She asked, suddenly feeling a little awkward. She’d smoked most of his joint and was starting to feel the familiar relaxed feeling like a balm on her anxiety. But Feyre also knew pot tended to make her a little too honest so it was good a time as any to start making excuses to go home. “
Tired of talking to me already?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye.
She rolled her eyes. “Shameless flirt. I only came out here because you offered your joint.”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart. “And here I was thinking you were looking for an excuse to talk to me.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“You never asked.”
Feyre took a couple of steps closer to him, her palms feeling a little sweaty.
“Well? What is it then?”
“Rhysand,” he answered, giving her a smile that made her look a little too long at his lips, “but friends call me Rhys.”
“Well, thanks for sharing your joint with me, Rhys.” She gave him a little nod of gratitude.
“Anytime.” He winked. They headed towards the door that would take them back downstairs into the main area of the bar, Feyre a few steps behind him. She watched him grab the door handle and go to twist, but it didn’t budge. His brow furrowed as he tried again- it still didn’t move.
“That’s not funny.” She crossed her arms.
“I’m not joking.” He turned back to her, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
“I think we got locked out.” She gaped at him and then lurched forward, grabbing the handle herself. Indeed, they were locked on the roof of the bar. “
Fuck, I don’t have my phone.” Feyre patted her pockets but she was pretty sure she remembered not taking her phone out with her, thinking she’d only be out for ten minutes. She looked at Rhys who mirrored her movements, patting his pockets and also coming up empty.
“Well, it looks like we’re stuck out here until someone notices we’ve been gone for too long,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“They’re so drunk, it’s going to take hours,” Feyre groaned, rolling down against the wall, her head in her hands. She really, really didn’t want to be out here right now, had decided two minutes ago that she was going to plan her escape home but was now stuck for God knows how long with Mor’s coworker who had violet eyes and was definitely taking a seat a little too close to her.
She looked up at him and found him gazing back at her, a glint in his eye. It sent her stomach in a whirlwind. "I’m not that bad to spend time with, am I?”
“Depends. Do you have another joint?” She teased.
He reached into one of his pockets and pulled one out, holding it between them. "I always have at least two on me.” She grinned, grabbing it from him along with the lighter. She put it to her lips, her other hand cupping around the end of the joint as she flicked wheel of the lighter. The wind was picking up and it took a few tries as she felt Rhys hand’s make a cup around her own, their fingers lightly brushing. Her palms started to sweat again and she stuck the lighter back in her pocket.
“So,” she said, blowing out smoke. “You mentioned you had another job before this. What was it?”
"Sales,” he deadpanned. “I hated it. Didn’t last a year.” “Sales,” she repeated, and then burst into laughter.
“I don’t know you that well but I can’t see you in sales.”
“I know,” he agreed, “That’s why I left. That and I needed to take time off after my mother and father passed away. Death is a lot of paperwork.”
Her laughter died down at that and she bit her lip again, feeling awkward. She’d lost her mom pretty young and wasn’t that close with her dad but couldn’t imagine losing both at the same time.
“Did they - was it like an accident?” She asked, carefully, then quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me–”
"I said it was okay.” He shrugged, taking the joint from her.
“It was a car accident. I have a sister but she lives very far away so I had to take care of everything.”
“That must’ve been really hard.” She watched him blow out a cloud of smoke, mixed with a few smoke rings.
“You don’t have any other family? A wife?” He smiled at that.
“Are you jealous?” She lightly smacked his arm and snatched the joint out of his fingers."
You just can’t stop, even when we’re talking about something serious.”
He laughed. “No, no wife. No girlfriend either, in case you were concerned.”
“I wasn’t.” She was grateful it was dark out as she was pretty sure she was blushing.
He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye. “You seem a bit defensive.”
"You’re insufferable.”
He laughed again, poking her slightly with his elbow. “Relax, I’m just teasing.”
She shook her head at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Mor should’ve warned me about you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? She didn’t tell you her coworker was incredibly charming? Typical Mor.”
She stuck her tongue out at him but couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face. Damn it, he was charming and Mor should’ve warned her.
He was staring at her then and she felt vulnerable under his gaze. The intensity in his gaze made her feel almost naked and she shifted slightly, hoping he’d move his eyes away.
“You have a lovely smile,” he said softly. She felt herself blush, again thankful for the cover of darkness, and she made a face at him.
“Thanks.” She tried to reply casually but her voice betrayed her. She looked away from him, fixating her eyes on some lights in the distance while he kept his gaze on her.
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice and she quickly shook her head.
“No, it’s fine, I just… feeling a little exposed,” she said, breathlessly. He reached out then and her heart was beating wildly in her chest but she didn’t move away from him. His touch felt like electricity and she leaned into it, closing her eyes, a small smile on her lips. The combination of the high and his electrifying touch was enough to send her into ecstasy.
"Your pot is, uh, pretty good quality.”
“Only the best.”
She opened her eyes to find his face leaning close to hers and she didn’t move away, her body drawn to his and when he leaned in slightly, she pressed their lips together. His tongue brushed against her lips and they parted for him, deepening the kiss and a small sound escaped her lips and oh, God–
The door behind them suddenly opened and Feyre jerked away from Rhys and to her feet to face a startled Mor in front of her. She took a glance between them and a smirk slowly spread across her face while Feyre glared at her.
“Huh. Okay. We thought you guys got mugged or something,” Mor said, holding the door open. “Everything okay?”
“The door’s locked from the outside,” Feyre explained quickly. “We both left our phones.”
“Uh-huh,” Mor said, giving Rhys a knowing look. His face was blank and he shifted his gaze to Feyre. “Glad I could get here before you guys started fucking.”
“Mor!” Feyre felt a wave of mortification wash over her. Rhys was smirking then as Mor let out a loud laugh and Feyre groaned, giving both of them a vulgar gesture. Oh, Mor was definitely going to pay for this later. She turned to Rhys, who was still watching her with that infuriatingly charming smile.
“Let’s just go back downstairs,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Mor led the way back down, Rhys and Feyre in tow and he turned to her, still wearing that infuriatingly charming smile and Feyre had a sinking realization that she was oh, so screwed.