Chapter Text
[READER’S POV]
Memories often get blurrier as time passes but I could never seem to shake the ones that had him in it. They were still as clear as they were the moments they happened, as if I could reach out and pull him out of my head.
It was my junior year of college. Making friends was never exactly my forte and I hadn’t done myself any favors moving across the country to attend college in Houston. After 2 years had already passed and I was still as socially awkward as ever, it was starting to feel oppressive. Stumbling into a dive-bar at 7pm on a Tuesday was my final stand against being a loser, though in hindsight any other time or day of the week might have more productive.
Sliding into my booth, my sleeves were sticky against the table. An exasperated sigh escaped my mouth as I realized just how stupid it was to even attempt this but it would be too embarrassing to head for the door mere seconds after I sat down. Relinquishing myself to my fate, I ordered the same cheap cocktail I knew wouldn’t taste like barf. I hesitated before ordering two additional shots of Patron, deciding I might as well go all in. The waitress smiled as she replied something inaudible under the thump of loud electronic music before turning on her heels and walking away.
I attempted to nonchalantly take out my phone while darting across the mostly empty hall. Four people sat at the bar, clicking away on their own screens. A lone man stood in a make-shift DJ booth, eyes glued to his scratched laptop. It seemed out-of-place for live music to happen on a dull Tuesday but judging by his age, he must have been a new artist just finding his grounding.
My 3 drinks arrived and I handed the waitress my card, muttering something about keeping the tab open before I squeezed a lime into my mouth and hastily downed the two shots. They sat warm and motionless in my chest, pausing to savor the feeling of burning my throat before inevitably bubbling into my skull. The bartender had been gracious enough to give me a whole 3 overly sweet cherries in my drink. The opportunity to push them around with my straw instead of accomplishing the mission I’d set out on was a Godsend.
I was ripped out of my blank thoughts by the sound of electronic bass slowly being replaced by a mix of the current pop hits. Before I could register the DJ closing his laptop, he was fast approaching me.
He slid into my booth in one smooth motion, taking the glass out of my hand and stealing the first sip. A smirk grew across his face as he looked down at me through statement-piece sunglasses.
“Haven’t seen you here before. Was it the world-class decor that drew you in or are you just desperate?” He drawled, obviously chuffed by his own sauve entrance.
“I could smell the sticky tables from the door. Just couldn’t resist coming in to see them for myself,” I retorted, the liquor loosening the words from my throat as I straightened up and prepared to engage in the ritual dance of socializing.
His laugh was heavy, his face tensing to suppress a grin. He passed my drink back slowly, watching me through darkened lenses.
“The name’s Dirk. You must be one of those college girls, huh?”
“Is it that obvious?” I didn’t know I looked so studious,” I blurted out, the liquor starting to overwhelm my self-regulation. My hands gestured to my ‘going out clothes,’ which consisted mostly of a black blouse I’d pulled off a rack in Good-Will and a pair of old jeans.
“I was referring to the lack of accent and the fruity cocktail but now that you mention it…” His head turned to the side, studying my clothes. “Yeah, you dress like one, too.”
A scoff escaped my lips before I attempted to nonchalantly sip my drink. It was probably obvious that my sip was more of a chug— as much of a chug as the straw would allow me— but I was too far ahead to let sobriety make me socially awkward again.
“What are you, like, a DJ or something?” I blubbered, catching my breath from my speed drinking.
My arm threw into the air as I motioned for the waitress to grab another drink. I fixed my eyes onto his face, studying him. His jawline was sharp and angular, small traces of unshaven stubble lining it. Small patches of facial hair remained at his chin. His lips were plump, the corners upturned into a slight smile. I could barely make out the shape of eyelashes behind his sunglasses but the feeling of his gaze digging into my skin was unmistakable enough to know he was watching me back.
“Yeah, I am, like, a DJ or something,” he teased, his accent drawing out each vowel like a song. “Why, do you wanna, like, hear some more of my music or something?”
The obviousness of just how much I had painfully flopped and floundered through the interaction hit me hard. Flush creeped across my face as I chewed on the misery of coming off as a dumb, drunk college girl. I ripped my eyes away from his face, suddenly finding something interesting about the black flooring. I dipped my head, nodding in agreement as I swallowed my pride and trudged through the remainder of what would soon be a fleeting interaction.
Goosebumps sprinted across my skin as his warm fingers brushed against mine. He stole my glass from me for the second time, pushing the straw to the side and guzzling the remainder of my cocktail.
“Come back to my place. I have lots of amazing things I can show you,” He grinned, setting the glass down with a loud clank and reaching for my hand.
The rest of that night was a blur to me. Whether I willingly erased it or if the liquor had just been that strong, I was glad the memory had been erased from my head. At some point, the sun was burning my eyes and I was sleeping through a Wednesday morning lecture.
When I finally swallowed my pride and ripped open my eyes, I was laying on half-made bed. The floor was littered in empty bottles and plushies. My first successful catch was asleep next to me and my blouse was missing. The sensation of my bursting bladder forced me up, struggling to find my footing in the mess around me. My arms gripped my chest, saving what bit of modesty I could as I headed for the door.
Slowly creaking it open, I stepped through the threshold and gently latched it behind me. My lungs heaved with the release of bated breath. I finally dropped my arms to the side and turned to scan for any door that resembled a bathroom.
I yelped as my eyes instead found a young man with bright blonde hair watching me from the dining table. I stumbled to cover my chest again, searching for some semblance of cover in the wall.
“Oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry,” my voice quivered as I felt around for the doorknob. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.” As I finally latched it in my hand, the bedroom door swung open again.
My eyes looked up to meet my suitor from the night before grinning down at me. The lump in my throat blocked me from uttering any further apologies as I stared at him.
“I see you’ve met my brother. Dave, girl from last night. Girl from last night, Dave,” He laughed, reveling in my humiliation.
The amusement in his voice was sobering. I pushed past him, fumbling for my clothes and rushing to put them on. It took nearly a minute to dig my phone out from under the trash but after nearly losing hope, I retrieved it.
“I have uh- I have a class to get to,” I yelled, rushing for what I assumed was the front door.
He called something out from behind me but the pound of my heart in my ears drowned it out. Still motivated by my full bladder, I half-sprinted down the street until I found the closest building with a public restroom. Shutting myself in, the relief of finally peeing in peace was enough to shove the burden of embarrassment off my shoulders. I fumbled for my phone, ordering an Uber and checking the time. I had absolutely missed my first class of the day but I slept through it most days, anyway. I still had time to make it to my second lecture and pretend this never happened.
The ride back to my apartment was painful. I tried my best to erase the memory by making small talk with my driver but it was sticky like hot glue. There was no way I could undo any of that. My pride had been squeezed until it popped. On the bright side, I had managed to socialize for longer than 30 seconds for the first time in a long time. The bright side of things didn’t make me feel any better about it.
I showered hastily, hoping to erase the smell of sex before it told all of my classmates I had been promiscuous the night before. I decided to throw on some makeup, breaking my running steak of most amount of days in a row one could attend class bare-faced and in sweatpants. I wore a turtle neck but decided to cover it with a sweater anyways, praying the modesty now would make up for the lack earlier. I finished the ensemble with black pants and a pair of boots. I looked like I was going to thanksgiving dinner and not walking to class in the hot, Texan heat but it was the best I could do. Christian Girl Autumn was always in style, anyway.
I kept my eyes on the floor as I slid into the seat in the back of the daunting lecture hall. I was blessed to remember this was one of the rare classes with a decent 75 people in the roaster. Maybe it would be extra rare and at least half would actually show up today.
Prying open my laptop, I chugged the in-case-of-emergency energy drink in my backpack and settled into a long 2 hours of theory. Before I could soak in the feeling of leaving the prior night behind me, I sent spinning again as a familiar flash of bright blonde hair sat next to me.
“Yo, I didn’t get to tell you earlier— Great rack.”
My mouth dropped but I didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction. I’d given him more than enough looks already and I wasn’t going to grant him any extra.
“I’m just fucking around. I’m sorry about my brother. You didn’t deserve that,” He continued, nudging my shoulder as he took out his own computer. “He thinks that shit’s funny.”
“I’m sure he does,” my voice was deadpanned. I was weary enough from the previous interaction without him creating any more. Despite my obvious disinterest, he kept talking.
“I’m Dave. You’re (Y/N), right? We’ve had a few classes together, I think. Maybe statistics or, like, that sociology class they make everyone take to graduate. Hated that fuckin’ professor… So, um, what’s your major?”
My neck creaked slowly to face him, my expression reflecting the intrigue of watching paint dry. I mulled over the options of screaming stranger danger, sprinting for the exit, or bearing the brunt of this conversation. I swallowed hard as I remembered the goal that got me here in the first place and attempted to un-tense my twitching eyes.
“Psychology. What’s your major, Dave?” The monotone tone and uncomfortably formal verbiage yet to leave my voice.
“Damn, I didn’t force your ass to march around MY apartment topless. Cool it with the hostility. I’m undecided still. Thinking something like film, I dunno,” he replied, leaning back in his seat.
As he placed his hands behind his head, a slender hand plucked the sunglasses off his face and sat them on the table in front of him.
“Mr. Strider, I understand you pay to be here but I’d like some decorum in my lecture,” The professor cooed before making her way down to the podium.
I took the opportunity to take in his nude face. His eyes were a bright blue, hints of dark circles underneath his eyes. He had the same angular jaw as his brother but a smaller, almost button-like nose. The bridge was crooked in the middle and skewed to the side at the end, as if recovering from a recent break. His skin was obviously naturally pale but warmed by the Texas sun. Scattered freckles adorned the spots where the sun had beat the hardest. His lips were dry and cracked but his skin remained shaved smooth.
“Yeah, Strider, have some decorum,” I couldn’t help but giggle quietly at his attempts to be as sauve as his brother being fumbled.
“I got plenty of decorum. Y’all just aren’t ready for my badass fits,” he retorted, his suppressed accent seeping out as the ‘y’all’ fell from his mouth.
As I leaned into listen to the professor begin her lecture, I felt a small screen nudging against my leg. I glanced down to see an IPhone opened up to the notes app. In the boldest font available, the words ‘Let me get you a coffee after a class to make up for it. No funny business’ were written. My eyes snaked up the arm holding it to read Dave’s sympathetic expression. I shot him a quick thumbs up and returned a weary smile.
“What the hell is that?” Dave blurted out, seeing my drink of choice.
“It’s matcha. Mind your own business, I already had an energy drink today.”
“Whatever, if you want to drink green shit that’s your prerogative but I would have paid for something more appetizing,” He replied, throwing his hands up in defense.
I slid into a seat in the cafe, watching him take one across from me. I couldn’t help but catch the stares of women passing by, all their eyes transfixed onto Dave. He’d obviously been a favorite eye-candy. There was no denying he was attractive, especially considering the other contenders at this school struggled either with hygiene or DUIs. The amount of women he and his brother must have had their way with would probably shock me. Maybe it was best not dwell on it.
“So, (Y/N), other than hanging out in men’s apartments in the nude— what other hobbies do you have?” He smiled coyly, placing his elbows on the table and balancing his head in his hands.
“Are you ever going to drop that?”
“Nope.” The P came out with a loud pop as his smile morphed into a toothy grin. “How could I ever forget a view as great as that?”
“I thought this was an apology coffee. I’ll be taking this to go, then.”
As my arms shuffled to pick up my bag, he reached across the table. “Hold your horses. It is an apology, green-whatever-that-is. I’m just fucking with you, bro.”
He caught my scowl and rolled his eyes. “Pull the stick out of your ass. We’re adults here. I’ve seen many a-boob in my life. Now sit down and make conversation with me.”
His insistence could have been endearing had it not also been annoying. I was too far out of my depth to know how to respond to it with a quippy one-liners or clap back in any substantive way. My experience with nudity was mostly alone with my right-hand.
“What do you want from me? You’ve already seen me naked. If that’s your end-goal, you’ve already got it. You can ask your brother for the rest of the details,” I muttered, taking a deep breath.
“(Y/N), I’m hurt,” He winced, putting his hand over his chest. “Women are more than their boobs to me. I would never disrespect them or use them for sex,” He lamented, his lip facetiously quivering. “I want to be your friend.”
I reflected his prior eye roll and dropped back into the chair. “Go ahead. Be my friend, then, since you’re so insistent.”
“Great! As I said earlier, what are your hobbies,” he jeered, the mocking still evident in his voice.
“I don’t know, I guess (your hobbies). What about you, Dave Strider, what are your hobbies?” I sneered.
“I never thought you’d ask. Well— let’s see— I like making music, I like video games, I like photography, I like drawing,” as he listed all of them in a teasing voice, he pretended to count them on his fingers.
“Wow, it’s almost like you’re a real person and not just the guy who saw me naked this morning.”
“You’re right! It’s almost like I AM a real person,” He returned, raising his eyebrows. “Are you going to stop treating me like some kind of boogeyman now?”