Work Text:
You didn't even want to go to that party in the first place. The time was late, the place was unhealthy. For the first time since you were sixteen, you had topped the list of cons. But your friend really wanted to go. And the bitch had those big dog eyes. Please, for me? Rolling your eyes, you found yourself planted at the bar of the nightclub, pretending to be typing to pass the time.
The bartender ignored the fact that you hadn't bought anything and continued to serve the customers who came in, making silently thanking you. Your friend had long since disappeared and the only thing you needed was a guarantee that she would be all right to leave the place. But it would be too much to ask for the woman to pause the make-out session she was having somewhere and answer her damn cell phone.
Your look was okay. A tight black dress above the knee, black lipstick and eye pencil. It wasn't your best achievement, but it made you feel pretty. Not that you were insecure or anything, but you knew you were different from your thin friends. In high school this was a big issue, and without anyone to talk to, the process of self-discovery was painful. Yes, these bitches loved you and you loved them back, but they would never understand you. For real, without all the emo drama.
Feeling out of patience, you were about to call incessantly. Oh, how annoying it would be, but what's the point of calling someone to a location if you're going to leave them alone? you were more than entitled to disturb them! Girl, you use your mouth to suck a cock, not your fingers. Just answer. Too busy on the device, you don't notice when the seat next to you is occupied. As you look away, you finally notice the presence of the slender man and your first move is to check out the many empty seats that adorned the bar. There were so many places to sit, why right there, next to you?
Judging yourself, you convince yourself to stop having a damn protagonist syndrome and unlock the phone again. Feeling the gaze of the slender man next to you, you straighten your spine and turn your round face in disguise, analyzing what exactly was taking the stranger's concentration so much.
Would he have the nerve to mug you in front of the bartender? From the minutes you'd shared with the worker, you'd said that he might look like a helpless guy, but he could be menacing! Then he finally speaks, making you look at his features for the first time. He was slender and tall, with alarms in both ears. His hair was tied up, but you could see that it was straight. "You shouldn't be such a dick to your friend. Don't be bitter and let the girl have fun."
Processing his sentence, you choke. He didn't know you, read an isolated conversation on your phone without permission and assumed you were bitter. After your reaction, he gave you a shit-eating grin, as if he was enjoying himself. Straightening up again and turning completely towards him, you hit back, still indignant. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He repeated and rested his elbows on the table, still maintaining that mocking smile. Who did he think he was? You had a need to justify yourself and were easily provoked. "And you shouldn't be so nosy and read other people's conversations, should you?"
Your cell phone was forgotten and you found yourself arguing with this guy. This was very dangerous; you didn't know him, you were in a place unhealthy enough to disappear without a trace and you were a fucking woman. The perfect scenario for malicious men. But he didn't seem offended by your irritation and laughed, leaning back and raising both hands in surrender. "Okay, no need to stress, just some advice."
Huffing and puffing, you unlock your phone again, hoping for an answer. Clicking the password hard enough to make a noticeable noise, you quickly enter the messaging app. Sent. And the stranger still watching you. You were ready to fire off some morbid comment, until he broke the tense silence first. "Your makeup is nice."
Turning your head again, you noticed that he was now resting his head on his hand and still smiling, almost contemplatively. Oh, you'd passed the stage of blushing at compliments years ago. "You know, if I'd been seventeen you would have won me over."
"There's nothing wrong with finding your makeup beautiful. Just an observation." Still staring at you in silent admiration, he snorted out a laugh as he watched you put your cell phone away again. His voice was deep and harmonious, and he seemed relaxed. "You should let me take your number. Nomophobia is a problem and I think I'm managing to keep you away from screens, a good solution."
You choked for the second time and couldn't hold back your laughter. Fuck me. What an idiot. What a ridiculous, pathetic phrase. Snorting and rolling your eyes, you picked up your cell phone from the table and put it in your bag while still staring at him. "Aren't you ashamed?"
"I see no problem in flirting with a beautiful woman. Am I going to have to humiliate myself further or are you going to give me your number?" He rests his head even more on his hand, adding a hint of theatrics and drama to his tone while arching one eyebrow. His posture was still contemplative, and made you feel watched, really.
It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was strange. Running your hands down your arms, you felt hyper-aware of all the stretch marks on your arms and the size of your thighs. No, you weren't going to ruin everything by thinking about it. This was the moment you were going to say you didn't want anything casual, and he would give you a lame smile and walk away. You prepared yourself for the phrase you'd already said so many times.
"I'm not into that, you know?" Turning away quickly for the first time, you looked into the man's dark eyes again. He seemed to understand, nodding as he straightened up. But then he frowned in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean 'that'?"
"I'm not looking for something casual right now." Well, if before he hadn't seemed truly offended by her irritation, now he really did by her assumption. Frowning even more, he now looked indignant. "Excuse me, miss?"
You were confused. Crossing your legs and tapping your nails on the table, you arched an eyebrow as he acted as if you had accused him of a vile crime, worthy of physical punishment. He shook his head negatively, vehemently. It was unfair to blame you, you didn't even know his name!
He leaned over and took one of her hands in his and at no time did his gaze stray from yours. His posture was respectful, even as he placed his hand between yours. The man seemed genuinely offended. "Look, I beg your pardon if I gave you that impression. I really do. I must have done something wrong if I gave you that impression. Sorry."
Squinting, you analyzed every part of his face with surprise. Was he one of those left-brained guys who would do anything for pussy, including victimizing himself? Considering the way he came on to you, very difficult. You sighed and massaged his hand, half-amused, half-surprised. But he interrupted you, still affected. "All right-"
"It's not okay. Let me make it up to you...?" His intonation made it sound as if he was asking your name. You gave it even more suspiciously, hoping he would say his too. "Suguru Geto. Let me pay for your uber home when your friend answers."
You arched an eyebrow. Patting his slender hand, you tried to lighten the mood again and soften the man's offended expression. "Are you trying to find out my address? You know, this isn't hot, it's a bit stalkerish to be honest."
"Look, I thought you were very beautiful and I really wanted to go out with you again. It's not casual. A normal date. No expectation of sex or anything." He emphasized each word, looking deep into her eyes with a frightening intensity. The bartender kept watching out of the corner of his eye like a soap opera. You could almost see him crossing his fingers, rooting for Suguru. Oh, shit.
He managed to leave you speechless. And you weren't needy, not really. But it was hard to find decent men in the city, he shouldn't blame you. You bite your lower lip and look between his eyes, and unwrapping your soft hand from his, you reach for something in your bag. A pen. What would be wrong with going out with this guy? Not today, of course, but another day.
Realizing your intentions, he couldn't contain the smile that threatened to fill his entire face. Then you touched his arm and leaned over, writing your phone number on his pale forearm. Suguru couldn't help but look down at your soft waist, no matter how respectful he tried to be. Damn, you were a real goddess. When he'd finished, he quickly shifted to your face, fast enough for you not to notice. He really didn't want something casual. "Please don't tell me that's a fake number."
"You'll have to find out." With a wink, you opened your bag again, now putting the pen away and taking out your phone. Your friend had finally answered. My God, I didn't see it coming. I swear. Sorry to keep you waiting. Everything's fine. Don't worry. And a photo to make sure her were sober and well. Although a photo doesn't define a state of inebriation. You decided to trust her. "I think that's my cue, Suguru." And then getting up from the bench, you said a cursory goodbye to the man. Did he really would send text? You hoped so.