Prequel: The Night They Met

5K 104 9
                                    

These two keep growing unexpectedly. Happy reading, all. x

The last time you'd seen him, he'd been in his proper place and you in yours. A mere hour and a half ago, he'd been sweating through his shirt and your bones had been vibrating with the heavy, insistent thud of the bass and drums, caught in a sea of hundreds who were simple drops in the bucket of thousands.

One fish in the sea, but he'd smirked when you smiled and his eyes kept drifting back that way, occasionally mouthing things you couldn't decipher but that heated you through to your core from the look in his eyes. Two could play that game, though, and you laughed more than once, wondering if you'd imagined the bashful flush.

When he'd left the stage, he'd thrown an extra wave in your direction, and with the adrenaline wearing off, you'd barely lifted your hand in return.

Now, there you were at a hole in the wall burger joint blocks away from the venue but on the way to the hotel you'd gotten for the night. Some 90s grunge was forcing itself through a staticky sound system, and you were swaying along with the employee behind the counter as he put your order together. When the bell on the door jingled, you didn't bother to stop — it was late, you were riding a musical high, and if they wanted a burger that badly, they wouldn't mind.

The quiet laugh followed by, "Hello," in a voice much raspier and subdued than when you'd heard it last but that you'd recognize anywhere.

Spinning, your breath caught in your throat. Vans on his feet, blue jeans, and a hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head and hands hidden in the pocket at the front, he blinked owlishly.

"Hi." It came out in a squeak and he chuckled warmly.

"Didn't know anyone else knew about this place."

"How do you know about it?" you asked once your throat unstuck.

"Been coming here for years whenever I swing back around."

"They're good," you said and he nodded, still grinning. "Not sharing with anyone?"

"Some secrets have t'stay hidden, don't they?" he asked with a grin.

What a painfully simple and awkward conversation when you'd both just finished mouthing lyrics about dripping on his feet and getting caught between his teeth at each other.

"You won't tell anyone I'm here, will you?" He was still smiling, but caution and a pea were buried deep in his eyes in the lines around his eyes.

"I won't tell anyone anything," you murmured.

His shoulders relaxed some. "You from here?" he asked and you nodded once. "That's nice — get to sleep in your own bed tonight."

"I got a hotel for the night," you said. "My place is all the way... it was just easier, and I thought why not?"

"Treat yourself," he said slowly and you nodded again.

"Exactly."

You both stood there, the sizzling of the grill behind you overwhelming the faint Buddy Holly song struggling to get through the beat up speakers.

"So, where's your hotel?" he asked.

Your face must have reflected the shock you felt because his entire expression changed and he stuttered out, "I mean, like, for it to be so close to... to make you get a room instead of just going home?"

"Just a few blocks north," you said. "Small, But better than waiting for the subway or fighting traffic."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Blurred Lines // h.s.Where stories live. Discover now