The Night We Met

Chapter 1

Riley's POV:

I shuffle and groan. My head felt light. My brain unable to function properly. Even my limbs couldn't work well. I tried to move my legs; they were stuck and tangled up in something. Like a wire. No. It was something thicker than a wire. Long and rough, with hairs.

My eyes could hardly open, my iris' failing to work the way it should. I stretch my arm out to my side where my dressing table sits, but I hit the air. There was no drawer there. No bedside table. I always pop my phone on the side table.

I moan, not even sure what sort of a sound I make. Somewhere between the lines of a growling African dog or a hangry lion. My stomach felt empty. My throat was dry and sticky; morning breath worse than usual. I doubt I brushed my teeth last night. I normally do, though, even though I hate it. Two minutes in the bathroom can be awfully long when you know you could be doing something better.

I try to sit up straight, but I find I'm restricted. I wriggle about, attempting to free and release myself, but to no avail. Instead, I feel a light warm air flow onto the back of my neck. I freeze in my position. I don't even breathe in. For all I know, I'm not even in my bedroom. I look down, refusing to look around me - scared I might panic and get myself killed.

A tight pair of arms were wrapped around my waist, a silver ring on the figure's second finger. My eyes widen and I immediately jump up without second thought, jumping out of the bed and standing up, looking at the half-naked body that lay there. I had managed to pull the duvet down in the process and it revealed his legs. He only had boxer shorts covering him; nothing else.

I grab the nearest thing next to me which happened to be a pillow and I hold it in front of my body, like a shield. The guy groans, running a hand through his black, ruffled curls.

"Who are you, where am I, and what the hell am I doing here?" I ask, one after the other. He closes his eyes tiredly, like a strain, and then sits up properly in the bed, looking at me like I was some sort of crazy person.

"What?" he asks groggily. My lip quivers.

"I said, who are you, where am I, and what am I doing here?" I repeat. He blinks for the second time. "Hello?" I pester. "Are you asking for me to call the cops?"

"Whoa, hot stuff, calm down," he says. "Because last night, it should have been me calling the cops, looking at the things you were doing." I raise an eyebrow, frowning and having no clue what he was talking about.

"What was I doing?" I ask, feeling slightly dumb as I turn a slight shade of red. He smirks, shuffling and getting off the bed.

"You know, shouting, screaming. Bothering people. Kissing old men. Swearing in the middle of the night. Banging on people's doors. If I hadn't had seen the drunk and extremely tipsy state you were in and bought you here, you'd be at the police station trying to explain yourself to them right now."

He walks around the bed, over to the kitchen side of the room. I slowly put the pillow back down and follow after him. He looks up at me, noticing how I was stood to the side, anxiously watching him and he chuckles.

"I've got some Advil in the top right cupboard, if you want any. You were pretty beaten up yesterday," he tells me.

I nod but don't say another word as I make my way over to the cupboard he had described. I pour some water into a glass and take one of the six remaining tablets out of the pack and then go over to the kitchen island where I sit at a stool. I throw the medicine into my mouth and let it rest on my tongue as I drink some of the water before gulping it whole. The guy, who I still didn't yet know the name of, finishes making himself a coffee before walking over and sitting on the stool opposite mine.

"So . . ." I begin to say, searching for conversation through the awkward silence. "This place belongs to you?" I feel like an idiot for asking a question with such an obvious answer, but it's the only thing I could think of.

"You bet. I moved out of my parents' house six months ago after . . ." He pauses and looks at me, his eyes meeting mine for a short moment before he shakes his head, retracting his gaze to his mug as he drinks some. "Don't worry," he says once he's taken a sip. "It's not important."

"Okay," I respond, not wanting to cause anything.

"Anyway," he starts to say again. "Do you live near the area?"

"I'm currently meant to be staying on Campus at University-"

"Really? Which one?"

"MRU," I tell him. His eyes widen.

"Wow, so you're like crazy-smart then?"

"Meh." I shrug. "I never really wanted to go to Uni anyway. I wanted to go to a dance school but my parents said dance isn't a proper job. They want me to become a lawyer or a doctor; things I'm not the least bit interested in. Apparently, once I get my Bachelor's degree then they'll allow me to take control of myself because they're hoping I would have chosen a 'proper' job by then," I sigh.

"No offence or anything, but they don't sound like very supportive parents. I think dance is amazing. My younger sister wants to be a dancer as well," he tells me.

"Really? What's her name?"

"Piper. Actually . . ." he says, his eyes widening as he had clearly just come up with some sort of an idea. "What are you doing today?"

"Nothing much, since it's a Sunday. Why?"

"Well, Pipe's actually got dance practice in an hour and I'm supposed to be dropping her there. You can come with me and observe if you want."

"Seriously?" I ask, trying to suppress a mockful laugh. "I barely even know you." He grins and then sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his bare, and very hot, torso.

"You got a boyfriend?"

"What?"

"A boyfriend?" he repeats.

"No . . ." I say slowly. He smirks.

"You sure about that?"

"What?" I ask again.

"What's your name?" he asks me. I roll my eyes playfully.

"Riley."

"Cute. I'm James. I don't have a girlfriend. Now we know each other's names and relationship status, everything's good. You wanna know anything about me, ask. If I wanna know anything about you, I'll ask. Sweet?" he inquires. I shake my head, giggling despite being totally baffled.

"Sweet," I repeat.