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You’re don’t notice him. Not at first, that is. And you’re not being mean, you swear you aren’t, but in a crowd, he’s not someone who grabs attention. He’s not loud, he’s not wearing anything eye-catching, he doesn’t take up space, he’s literally leaning against the wall, nursing—most likely—the lukewarm spiked punch someone brought to this stupid, boring little party.
He’s just existing. Watching others with a tiny, dumb smile on his face. He takes a sip of his drink, and your mouth drops open, just a little, at the way his Adam’s apple bobs. How he tilts his head back, exposing that sharp jawline and closes his eyes like he’s enjoying the nasty taste of alcohol.
You want to eat him.
Fortunately for you, whatever divine entity was above, hears your perverted prayer. As his eyes flicker open, your eyes meet. You watch as his eyes widen before darting away. You’re not sure if it’s the lights playing a trick on you, but you swear his ears turn pink and the grip he has on the solo cup tightens just a little.
You glance down at yourself. You’re not wearing anything crazy, some baggy, ripped jeans and a cute top, hair and makeup done just for a little extra flare. It’s nothing crazy, you repeat to yourself. Just a cute little fit that doesn’t seem like you’re trying too hard, but you’re still turning heads because of how everything fits you.
You’re wearing platforms too, and it makes your stomach tighten when you realize you’re probably the same height as this mystery man you can’t stop eye fucking.
“Dude, you good?” Rex yells, his arm slinging onto your shoulders. He leans all his weight on you, and you huff in annoyance as he brings your face close to his. The smell of alcohol that escapes his lips has your nose scrunching up in disgust. “Were you lookin’ at someone? Hm? Tryna get laid, finally?”
Your disgust morphs into annoyance. “Mann,” you whine, shaking his arm off you. “I am! And you’re literally ruining my chances with the one man that can hold my attention, dumbass.”
Rex backs up, holding his hands up in surrender. “Woah, woah. Chill! Look, point out the dweeb that got your attention and I swear to God—I swear to God (Y/n)—that I will be the best wingman in history! You will beat this drought, promise.”
You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging ant the corners of your lips. There isn’t a chance in Hell you believe Rex, but you humor him. Your eyes scan the room, and you find your mystery man yet again. Except, this time, he’s not staring at everyone else and observing them, he’s looking straight at you.
“There, that’s him.” You nod your head towards him.
Rex makes a confused sound and follows your gaze, “Hmm—what the fuck.”
Your eyes snap to him. “What?”
Rex groans. “(Y/n), are you for real? Deadass?”
You frown. You didn’t think he was bad looking, instead, you found him to be kinda cute. Almost in a nerdy way, like you could tell he grew up watching Dragon Ball Z and listening to underground SoundCloud music while still feening over DC comics.
“Yeah. What about him? I think he’s kinda cute…”
Rex facepalms, eyebrows furrowing together as he looks at you. “That’s Mark. That’s The Mark. The one I clown on. The one I kind of bully. The one I—“
You put your hand up in front of his face, forcing him to shut up. “Rex, okay, okay! I get it. Jeez man, you gotta stop mansplaining. I thought Rae finally tamed you.“ You say, laughing a little. “Anyway, yeah. So? He’s your famous little Mark?”
Rex sighs, shaking his head. He glances to his side, muttering something as he grabs a red solo cup of alcohol, or, what you’re assuming is alcohol. You’ve never seen Rex not be shit-faced drunk by the end of these parties.
“Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you this. Not really. I heard it from Eve, who heard it from Kate, who heard it from Amber, who heard it from—“
“Rex, I will fucking punch you if you don’t get to the point. You are intruding on my potential time with ‘fine shit’.”
The somber tone, and fine, maybe the tiniest ounce of annoyance that says you will punch him, in your voice has Rex pausing in his word. “Mark has a crush on you. He’s seen your ass around campus and has said some things, if you catch my drift. Heh.”
Rex starts rubbing his chin. “You know, if he’s been staring at you, that’s why. I don’t think he can believe you’re in the same room as him.” He continues, a little grossed out. “Fucking virgin.” He mutters, under his breath, and rolls his eyes before bringing the cup to his mouth.
Your eyebrows raise, surprise finding its home on your face. No way. No way. You feel weirdly giddy as you look away from Rex and back at Mark, who has now gone stupidly still. His eyes are laser focused on you two, almost like he’s trying to listen in on your guys’ conversation.
It’s weirdly endearing.
“Gimmie that,” You mumble. Rex doesn’t have any time to react before you grab his drink and inhale it, crushing the empty cup in your hand and throwing it at his chest. He fumbles for a second before grabbing it, his mouth opening to most likely cuss at you.
“Do not come to your room tonight. Unless you wanna see me riding that man to death.”
Mark is terrified. His eyes are wide and his face feels warm as he looks at you. He barely registers you being in front of him—right in front of him at that—before you’re speaking.
“Hey,” you say. Soft. Like you’re scared if you’re any louder that he’ll run away.
“Hello!” Mark says, too giddy, too fast. He cringes at himself, hands shaking as he looks at you and then at the floor. “Uhm, uh. You’re (Y/n), right?”
You hum, and the sound has Mark looking at you, head tilting up just a little to meet your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, he knows, and he also knows it’s not because of the alcohol. It’s because of you, or rather having to look up at you from this angle and the way your eyes glint with silent amusement and something darker.
“Yeah,” you purr, voice sickeningly sweet. It makes him throb. He feels dirty for even feeling that, but he swears he’s not doing it on purpose. You just make him…
“Nervous?” You finish.
Mark splutters. “Huh? What?”
You smirk, a small laugh flowing from your mouth. It sounds so pretty. So fucking pretty, he wants to record it and set it as his ringtone. It’s not even a mean laugh, either. It’s like you know something he doesn’t, or maybe like you think his awkwardness is
“Nothing, nothing.” You reply. “You’re really cute, you know that?”
“You’re cuter. Pretty too.” Mark’s stupid, stupid mouth chirps it out faster than he can process.
Your eyes widen. “Oh? Thank you.” You lick your lips, and Mark’s eyes watch like he’s trying to memorize it. Or like he wishes you were licking something else.
“Are you? Yaknow… Like…” You stutter, your hands coming in front of you like you’re trying to ground yourself.
Mark freezes. His brain is scrambling. He wants to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t a dream. Fuck—did he freak you out? Was he too weird? Was the compliment gross? Was he looking too much? Are you annoyed?
“You wanna get outta here?” You finally settle on. You have this nervous smile on your face, and Mark wants to ask you why you’re shy. Why you’re stuttering and looking at him like he’s worth something.
Instead, he dumbly says, “Hm?”
When you repeat yourself, he prays he doesn’t wake up from whatever dream this is.
Mark’s back hits the bed with a soft thud. He’s barely holding himself up before you swing your legs around his thighs, straddling him in. You sink down on him, body connecting with his and he lets out an embarrassed whine.
Mark’s face gets red, his eyes widening as he looks up at you. “S-sorry! Nerves, haha.”
You smile at him, it’s a soft, gentle one. “Why are you nervous?” You ask, teasing. Your finger comes up and rubs down his collar, down his chest. “I’m not gonna bite. Not hard, at least.”
Mark makes a strangled noise. “Please. Please you have to know what kind of effect you have on me. Are you playing me? Is this a prank?” He asks, voice getting higher and messier. He lets out a choked groan when you move your hips. His hands shoot out, but they stop, and instead, they hover at your waist.
“You can touch me, Mark. I don’t mind.” You whisper into his ear, biting his lobe and making his pants tight. Still, your consent has his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you even closer to him.
Mark looks at you. “How are you real? You’re so pretty, and, and honestly I never really thought you would notice me. Not once. Not ever. You’re so—“
Mark stops when your eyes widen and your mouth drops open. Like you’re surprised he’s being so honest and pouring his heart out to you.
“Sorry, sorry. I did not mean to get into my feelings and make this weird! Sorry.” He rambles, adding in another apology like it’ll stop the embarrassment that flows through your body.
“Hey! No.” You yelp, before clearing your throat. “Mark, you’re very honest, you know that? It’s not weird, you’re not making it weird, trust me.” You say, trying to calm him and yourself down. “It’s a good thing. I like it.” You finally settle on.
Mark stares at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “Yeah?” He asks, voice small.
The way you look down at him, this weird emotion of desire pooling in your irises has him know you mean it. He opens his mouth again, he’s not even sure what he’s gonna say, but you beat him to the punchline.
“Ugh. I can’t do this.” You say, rolling over and laying on the mattress. Your arm comes over your eyes, and you let out another groan. “You’re too. You’re too innocent man, I can’t do this.”
Mark frowns, panic consuming him. “No! Hey—what?!” He stumbles, turning to look at you. “I am not innocent! You’re just, you’re you . I feel too comfortable saying whatever comes to my mind.”
Your arm digs deeper into your face. “There you go again.” You say, but your voice, it’s almost like you’re whining. And that has Mark melting. Like a stupid, love drunk fool.
“Sorry! Sorry. I’ll be quiet. Promise I’m not innocent. I am a freak. You know what they say, right? That the silent ones are the freakiest?” Mark’s not even sure what he’s saying now, he’s just on autopilot. He wants this moment to last for forever, and if he has to be a fool to do so, he’ll do it.
You giggle, and your arm finally moves. You look at him, and Mark smiles sheepishly. God, he’s so down bad for you he doesn’t even register his boner.
“Yeah? So you want me to ride you until you cry?”
Mark splutters. “What? Who said that? What? Were you really going to do that? To me? Right now? Really?”
You hold your hand up and sit up. “Dude! Mark! Chill.” You laugh, but your face feels warm. He’s so weirdly cute. He doesn’t even do anything, he’s not overly charming or sweet or flirty, he’s just honest to a stupid fault and it has you spiraling.
When he looks at you again—really, genuinely looks at you—with that raw, unguarded honesty in his eyes, something in your chest cracks wide open. You don’t even realize that you’re leaning in until your lips are already on his and you’re swallowing his surprised moan.
All you know is that you’re gone for him. Completely, stupidly gone. And the weirdest part is… you barely even know him.