College Life Was Never Quite My Style || Lams {Hamilton} Modern AU //ON HOLD//

Chapter 4

The familiar red sign that read 'Poor Richard's' came into sight after about ten minutes of walking, and I rushed across the somewhat empty street and pulled the door to the bar open, holding it for a curly-haired man who was about 5 inches taller than me and wore a bright purple button-up with black jeans. He barely looked up at me as he walked in, let alone thanked me. Figuring he was just having a bad day, I shrugged it off and walked in, scanning the place for Angelica, who sat at the bar. I walked over to her as fast as possible to avoid any awkward conversation with drunk strangers.

"Hey, Alex," Angelica greeted me with a smile that was partially kind and partially happy. She wore a rose gold tank top under a leather jacket with faded jeans and a pair of combat boots.

I sat down on the bar stool next to her. "How's it going?" I asked with a smile.

"I could be better," She sighed, looking down at the dark brown beer bottle in her hands.

"What can I get you, sir?" The waiter asked me as he leaned onto the wooden bar.

"An Angry Orchard, please," I replied. The waiter nodded and walked off to get my drink.

"What's wrong, Angelica?" I looked back at her worn down expression with worry.

"I don't know," She looked up to me, "I just. . . I know it's stupid, but I just have a feeling that Peggy is hiding something from me, you know? And I want to ask her about it, I really do, but what if it's something horrible? What if she's doing drugs or something like that? What if she refuses to tell me? What do I do?"

"Angel, look at me," I called her by the nickname that she only let certain people use. She looked in my eyes. "Have you even considered who you live with?" She raised an eyebrow. "Peggy is about as straight-edge as you can get. You offered her a sip of champagne on New Year's and she turned it down; all she does is play video games and keep track of her school work. The possibility of her doing drugs is practically non-existent."

Angelica smiled. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," I teased.

"Alright," Angelica's voice automatically shifted to the mom-like tone that she used all the time on Peggy. "I spilled, so it's your turn."

A dark brown beer was quickly placed in front of me, already opened, and I picked it up and took a sip. "Lafayette is considering moving back to France," I sighed. Angelica choked a bit on the drink she was sipping from.

"Why?" She asked, her voice one of confusion and concern, with eyes to match.

"You know he's on vacation in Paris right now, right?" She nodded. "He's been homesick ever since he got there, and he wants to move back there," I explained in a gloomy voice.

"But, he's your friend! He promised to keep you safe during your panic atta-"

"I know. I feel like I should be angry at him, but . . . I'm not. I'm just sad and scared. I told him not to worry about me, but I honestly won't know what to do if he moves. Not only is he the one paying half of the rent right now, but he's the only friend who's been able to help me so much during storms. I don't know who else can help me."

"Well, you could start by seeing a therapi-"

"No."

"Alexander," Angelica scolded, "Listen to me: you have a problem, and there's no shame in getting help for it. I think a therapist could do you some good. I mean, think about it. You could talk about what happened to somebody, you could get to the root of the problem-"

"I already know the root of the problem. When I was 12, my mother died. I moved in with my cousin, and then he killed himself. After that, there was a hurricane. That's everything I need to know."

"Can you please at least try it?"

"Angel, I don't feel like talking about this right now. Can we please just drink and have a good time?"

"Okay," She sighed.

With that, I chugged the last of my beer and ordered another one before hopping down from the barstool and following Angelica into the crowd of people who were waiting for the live music to start. I wasn't paying very much attention to where I was going as I walked into the crowd and sipped my beer, and I accidentally checked shoulders with the same curly-haired man that I had held the door open for when I walked in, but something was different about him. Instead of his angry, beaten-down demeanor that he had when he walked into the bar, he wore a relaxed, happy, giggly attitude.

"S-sorry," He said to me with a lopsided, flirty grin. I could tell that he was drunk, and I could feel that I was reaching that point as well.

"It's okay, man" I replied, returning his smile. The grin on his face grew before he turned around and walked to the bathroom. I smiled to myself at the incident and took another swig of the beer in my hand, going to catch up with Angelica.

The band finally came onstage. They were decent. They had a violinist, a guitarist, a drummer, a bassist, and a singer. All of their songs were very Guns 'N' Roses, with a few Nickelback vibes. Other than a very well-done cover of The Devil Went Down to Georgia, though, their set wasn't that memorable. By the time it had ended, I was on my fourth beer. I couldn't hold my alcohol too well at the best of times, so I definitely felt a bit buzzed by then. On my way to order another drink, I ran into the purple-clad man again, who still held his bubbly aura and that flirty grin.

"I think you're running into me on purpose," He joked.

"You can't blame me," I said. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"The same could be said about you," He returned my flirtatious tone of voice.

"So, what brings you here, handsome?" I leaned back against the bar, holding his drunken gaze.

"Rough night, college life, the usual," He joked. "How about  yourself?"

"Roommate drama," I laughed. He giggled quietly, so much so that it sounded like the squeak of a mouse.

"What are you majoring in?" He asked me. I was taken slightly aback.

"How did you know I was a college student?" I asked curiously, having yet to answer his question.

"I served you coffee the other day. You looked so tired, I figured you must've been a college student." I giggled and tried to recall being served by him, but my mind was too foggy for me to remember anything past my first drink.

"Well, you guessed right," I joked. "I'm majoring in Law. How about you?"

"U.S. Government."

"Future politician, huh?"

"That's me."

"I'd better get a hold of you while I can, then," I leaned in just enough to feel a hint of the heat he radiated on my face, as a subtle way to suggest that I wanted to kiss him. He picked up on my nonverbal message immediately and met his lips with mine. The kiss was messy, rough, and charged with drunk lust. It was as if we couldn't get enough of each other. Whether we were mindlessly grasping for each other or for the human contact wasn't important to either of us right now, because all that mattered was the moment we were in.

He pulled away first, taking heavy breaths, his forehead leaning on mine.

"Let's say that was the prologue," He said, still taking deep breaths in between every few words, "Do you care to come back to my place and complete the novel?"

"I'm always a sucker for stupid Literature puns," I grinned. With that, he took my hand and walked me out of the bar, into the cold air that now felt a little bit warmer with him by my side.