go down, soft sound

the flame flickers between your hands as you shield it from the wind, and you take a slow drag once the cigarette catches, letting the smoke fill your lungs while you deliberately avoid looking at her.

“the tall guy,” she continues, grinning. “the one with the beard and the hair in a bun.”

you pause.

just for half a second, but she notices.

“oh, shut up,” you mumble, rolling your eyes as you stare out toward the street. warmth creeps into your cheeks despite the cold, and you take another drag like the cigarette might somehow save you from having to admit anything.

because you know exactly who she means.

you’d noticed him earlier, mostly because he was almost impossible not to notice. he was tall in that slightly ridiculous way where everyone around him seemed smaller, broad shoulders stretching beneath his shirt, thick arms and a solid build that made him look strong without seeming like he was trying to. his dark hair was tied back into a loose bun, a few strands falling around his face, and his beard made his already serious expression look even more intimidating from across the room.

and you had looked.

more than once.

there had been one moment where your eyes met from opposite sides of the bar, and you’d completely forgotten what you were doing. he’d just stood there, one hand around his beer, looking straight at you with this calm, unreadable expression, and your first thought had been embarrassingly simple.

wow. he’s like really hot.

you’d looked away almost immediately afterward.

your friend nudges your arm, pulling you back into the conversation. “you should talk to him.”

you give her a look over the top of your cigarette, brows lifting in disbelief. “absolutely not.”

“why?”

you exhale slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the air before shrugging. “he looks intimidating.”

she snorts. “that’s your excuse?”

“yes.”

“you’re blushing.”

you immediately turn your face away from her, pretending to be fascinated by the street outside. “i’m cold.”

“sure you are.”

you roll your eyes again, taking another drag while trying very hard not to glance through the glass doors at the bar.

you fail almost instantly.

she takes another drag from her cigarette, staring through the glass doors into the bar with a determined little squint before turning back toward you. “well, we’re only in scotland for the weekend,” she says, flicking the ash from the end of her cigarette. “and i wanna get over my fucking ex, so i’m gonna pick someone up.”

you laugh, lowering your cigarette from your lips as you look at her. “go for it, babe. i’ve still got the other girlies.”

“exactly.” she bumps her shoulder against yours, suddenly looking much more cheerful about the whole thing. “i’m not spending another night talking about that prick.”

“good,” you say, smiling as you take another drag. “he doesn’t deserve the free publicity.”

she laughs, then suddenly straightens, her eyes catching on someone through the glass. you follow her gaze, curious, and she immediately points with the hand holding her cigarette. “him.”

you squint through the window, trying to figure out who she means among the crowd. eventually you spot him leaning against the bar, laughing with someone beside him.

“yeah,” you admit, giving him a quick once-over. “he’s alright.”

he’s not really your type. he looks boyish.

and your attention keeps wandering toward the much taller man somewhere further inside.

“alright?” she repeats, looking personally offended by your lack of enthusiasm. “he’s fucking sexy.”

you laugh, shaking your head as you tap the ash from your cigarette. “alright, babe. sorry. i didn’t realise i was supposed to start writing poetry about him.”

“shut up.” she nudges your shoulder again, grinning. “do you mind?”

you glance at her, then toward the guy again before shrugging. “why would i mind? go get him.“

she hesitates for a second anyway, looking between you and the bar like she needs official permission.

you wave her off with your cigarette. “go get your scottish rebound.”

“you’re the best.”

“i know.”

she laughs, stubing her cigarette out beneath her shoe before giving you one last pointed look. “don’t disappear.”

“i won’t.”

“and if you see beard guy-“

you groan immediately, already knowing where she’s going.

“-talk to him.”

“fuck off.”

she’s still laughing as she slips back through the door, leaving you alone in the cold.

you watch her weave through the crowd for a moment, smiling to yourself before reaching into your pocket for your cigarette packet.

you hear the door open behind you again, followed by the muffled burst of music from inside, but you don’t bother looking around. you assume your friend has forgotten something, so you simply tuck your cigarette between your lips and fish around in your pocket for your lighter.

you flick it.

nothing.

you try it again.

click.

nothing.

click.

you stare at the lighter like it’s personally offended you, flicking it a few more times before shaking it beside your ear.

“fucking brilliant.”

“there.”

you look up.

and immediately forget what you were about to say.

the mysterious man stands a few feet away, one hand extended toward you with a lighter balanced between his fingers. up close, he’s somehow worse. or better. you’re not entirely sure. the beard is more noticeable from here, neatly kept along his jaw, and there’s something unfair about the way his hair has been pulled back, leaving a few loose pieces around his forehead.

“thanks,” you say, taking it from him.

“course.”

you bring the cigarette back to your lips and strike the lighter, finally getting a flame. you lean into it, shielding it with your hand as you light the end, and when you look back up he’s still watching you.

he steps closer, pulling his own cigarette from between his fingers before lifting it to his mouth.

“can’t even leave the house anymore with only one lighter,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “gotta carry two in case that happens.”

you laugh softly, handing his lighter back. “yeah, i should start doing that.”

“probably wise.”

he takes a drag, the ember glowing briefly in the darkness, and you catch yourself looking at him again.

he’s wearing a black coat, the collar sitting neatly around his neck, and you suddenly become painfully aware that you’d decided not to bring one. your arms are folded loosely over yourself, trying not to shiver, while he looks perfectly comfortable.

of course he does.

he notices.

“cold?”

you shake your head far too quickly. “no.”

his eyebrows lift, “right.”

there’s something about the way he says it that makes you smile despite yourself, and he looks quietly pleased with the reaction.

for a moment, neither of you says anything. you both smoke, standing beside one another beneath the weak light above the door, and somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

then he turns his head toward you.

“i’ve never seen you around before. are you from here?”

you shake your head, blowing smoke out toward the street. “no. i’m from brighton.”

“good place,” he says.

“yeah? you been?”

“handful of times,” he says while exhaling smoke, “it’s kind of like an oasis of niceness in the uk, ridiculously friendly people.”

“true.”

you look through the glass toward the bar, recognising the familiar crowd and the flashes of your friends moving around inside.

“so is this your go-to bar, then?”

ross shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “trying to come here with my mates whenever i’m home.”

“trying?”

“yeah.” he looks down at his cigarette, then back at you. “doesn’t always work. everyone’s got their own lives and all that, love.”

you nod slowly. “tradition and all?”

“exactly.” he smiles. “been doing it for years.”

“that’s nice.”

“it is.”

there’s another little pause.

you take a drag, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s standing close enough for you to notice the warmth coming off his coat.

then he tilts his head slightly, looking at you with an amused expression.

“so what about you?”

“what about me?”

“you here with your mates too?”

you nod.

“girls inside?”

“yeah.”

he glances toward the door, then back at you.

ross nods slowly, taking another drag from his cigarette before letting the smoke drift between you. there’s something different about his expression now, a little more focused, like he’s stopped making conversation just for the sake of it and actually wants to know you.

“so,” he says, turning his head toward you. “what’s the occasion for a scotland trip?”

you smile, glancing down at the cigarette between your fingers. “broken hearts.”

he laughs immediately, looking away for a second as he shakes his head. “is that right? trying to get over some bloke, then?”

“exactly.”

he nods knowingly, taking another drag. “good reason to come to scotland.”

“i thought so.”

“and you?”

you look at him. “me?”

“you got a broken heart too?”

you shake your head. “no. happily not.”

“happily not?”

“very happily not.” you smile. “i’m not looking for a relationship.”

ross watches you for a moment, the faintest smile pulling at his mouth.

“right.”

you raise your eyebrows, waiting.

he takes another drag instead, making you wait a second before finally speaking.

“so you’re not looking for anything?”

you tilt your head slightly. “not really.”

“hm,” he hums.

“i’m never looking but if someone comes my way, i wouldn’t say no to a bit of fun.” your lips twitch.

he looks down at his cigarette, taps the ash away, then glances back at you.

“would i make the cut, then?”

you blink, caught slightly off guard by how directly he asks it.

“would you want to?”

ross smirks.

it’s slow and completely unashamed, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before coming back to your eyes.

“wouldn’t be standing here talking to you if i didn’t.”

your stomach flips.

he takes another drag, seemingly far too comfortable with the effect he’s having on you.

“you’ve caught my attention.”

you laugh quietly, looking away for a second because suddenly maintaining eye contact feels like far too much work.

“have i?”

he huffs, “yes.”

he shifts closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that you’re suddenly much more aware of him standing beside you.

“i’m ross, by the way. should’ve started like that,” he smiles and offers you his hand.

you take it and feel his cold palm on yours as you say your name.

ross.

“gorgeous name for an even more gorgeous woman,” he winks.

you would’ve cringed had any other man said that to you. but from him it’s sexy.

you roll your eyes, “that’s definitely your go to line.”

“i’m offended, darling,” he puts a hand on his heart and acts wounded.

you giggle, shaking your head. “oh, are you?”

“deeply,” he smiles, “i was being sincere.”

you try to hide your smile, looking down at your cigarette as you take the last drag before stubbing it out.

“in that case, thanks,” you laugh again, but the smile slowly fades when another shiver runs through you. you try to disguise it by folding your arms tighter across yourself, but ross notices immediately.

his eyes drop to your arms before returning to your face, “you’re freezing.”

“i’m alright.”

“you’re absolutely not,” he argues.

“i’m fine.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he’s already reaching for the front of his black coat.

“ross-“

“ah, just take the jacket,” he slips it from his shoulders, holding it out toward you. “you’re freezing and it’s torture to watch.”

you hesitate, looking between him and the coat.

“but you’ll be cold.”

he gives you a small, amused smile. “i’ll survive, love.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

you finally take it from him, and the warmth still caught inside the coat immediately settles around you when you pull it over your shoulders. it smells faintly like his cologne and smoke, and you suddenly become very aware that you’re wearing something that belongs to him.

“thank you,” you say quietly.

his smile softens, “welcome.”

you pull the sleeves over your hands, looking down for a moment before glancing back at him.

he watches you for a second, seeming pleased that you’re warmer now.

“so,” he says, “what’ve you got planned for the rest of the night?”

you shrug. “nothing, really.”

he looks toward the bar, then back at you.

his mouth quirks into a grin, “does that mean i can kidnap you away for a bit?”

you laugh softly. “kidnap me?”

“figuratively course.”

you smile, looking at him for a moment before taking a small step closer.

it happens almost without you thinking about it.

maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you.

maybe it’s the fact that he’s standing there without his coat, and his arms are on display and they look hot.

or maybe it’s simply because you’ve wanted to be closer to him since the moment he walked out through that door.

ross notices the step.

his smile grows slightly, and his eyes drop to your lips before lifting back to your eyes.

“i’d like that,” you say softly.

he nods once, “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he takes a small step toward you.

then another.

suddenly there isn’t much space left between you at all.

you can feel your heart beating harder, and for a second neither of you says anything. you just look at each other, the noise from inside becoming almost completely irrelevant.

your eyes flick down to his lips.

when you look back up, he’s already watching you with a knowing little smile.

ross moves his face closer and lower, slow enough that you could easily step back if you wanted to.

you don’t.

instead, you look into his eyes, your breath catching when his hand comes up.

his fingers gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

the gesture is surprisingly tender.

his hand lingers for just a moment near your cheek.

“are you giving me permission right now?” he asks quietly.

you giggle, suddenly shy despite everything you’ve just said, “yes.”

he smiles, “perfect.”

then he leans in and kisses you.

it’s soft at first, almost careful, like he’s giving you another chance to change your mind. you don’t. you lean into him, one hand catching lightly against the front of his shirt as the kiss deepens just a little.

one of his hands comes down to your waist to pull you completely against him. you gasp at the contact but immediately kiss him again.

when you pull back, you’re both smiling.

ross looks at you for a second, his forehead almost touching yours.

“well,” he murmurs, “that was worth coming outside for.”

you laugh quietly. “you’re such a flirt.”

“hm.”

he pulls you in again for another quick kiss before stepping back just enough to look at you properly.

“say goodbye to your friends for me then?”

you glance toward the door.

“now?”

“yeah.” he nods toward the bar. “i’ll wait here.”

you smile, holding the edges of his coat around yourself.

“you promise?”

“course i do.”

he gives you that same crooked smile.

“okay.”

you turn toward the door, taking a few steps before looking back over your shoulder.

ross is still standing exactly where you left him, pulling out another cigarette, watching you with an amused smile.

“i’ll be quick,” you call softly.

“take your time, love.”