connie

You were good. Great, even. Your work was accounted for with the number of bands you had collaborated with. You had a distinct sound, the ear for just the right amount of pizzazz that could send even the most underground bands to number 1.

That’s how you scored the job with Blur. Fucking Blur.

It’s not that you were team ‘Oasis’ or whatever shit was the big fad of the decade. In fact, you hated both with a burning passion. Actually, you just despised all the men in the industry.

It wasn’t a secret that these big famous pop stars were sleeping with anything and everything that had a pulse. With ego’s bigger than the tall skyscrapers that kissed the sky, it was a mess. And somehow, you were always in the thick of it.

You were being passed around like a total object, and you were sick of it. So, when project ‘The Great Escape’ was passed to you, you stood your ground.

It wasn’t a joke when people nicknamed you the ‘Pretty Engineer’. It was misogynistic, but it was in fact the truth. You were still in your early 20’s. You were a genuine prodigy that worked the dials like the 50-year-old men that had decades of experience. But you knew why these higher companies hired you, and you absolutely loathed it.

It’s why you started a new agenda that made you untouchable. No more attending Friday night after work pub crawls, no more celebrating the completion of the album, no more attending birthday parties, and certainly no more work functions. You were over it. You were over being flirted with left, right and center. You were over being ogled whilst you worked. You were over the fact that no one took you seriously because you just so happened to be objectively pretty.

And still, Blur and their little rat male employees continued to push your buttons.

“Morning, princess,” or “Could you grab me a cup of tea, doll?”.

You were a highly skilled professional sound engineer, with stacks and stacks of experience to prove it. And yet, her they were still treating you like a personal assistant with the outline of her panties piercing through her little tight skirt.

You began to dress differently. Baggier clothes, less make up, shades, just anything to conceal the body that now haunted your very existence.

You showed up at 9 on the dot and left the studios at exactly 5. No goodbyes, no small talk. You knew to stop sucking up to the higher ups. You didn’t need too anymore.

Calls, letters and emails were sent to your door almost every week asking for your fingers to work their magic on their albums. But you knew better than to overwork yourself, and the gig for Blur was paying unbelievably generously.

It was a Thursday night; you had gone home to your apartment as you normally do. Head straight for the door at 5, paying no mind to the ‘goodbyes’ that were sent your way, almost jokingly at this point.

At 1:15 am, you were spent. It generally wasn’t a good idea to leave at the usual time that most employees would leave. It caused a genuine rift between you and your co-workers which wasn’t reflecting so well on the album. You were meant to socialize with the band members, meant to dilly dally in the studio with your co-workers. But what else were you supposed to do when the male dominated studio all had their eyes on you. Eyes that weren’t with the intention of listening, but with the intention of undressing you.

You had your own little studio in the spare room of your apartment. It was a challenge to get the equipment in there, but you managed. It was small, tight and would’ve been ideal if you just were at the real studio. You sighed, running ‘Stereotypes’ through your headphones again as Damon’s irritatingly pretty voice was echoing from ear to ear. As the song ended, your landline began to ring.

“What the…” You muttered. It was nearing the 1:30 mark, and you were honestly afraid that it was going to be one of those calls that were featured on the horror slasher ‘Scream’.

You stood in front of it, a hesitant hand hovering over the phone. You closed your eyes, clasping it with your hands as your shut your eyes. You lifted the phone up to your ear.

“Hello…?”

Through the static, you heard a deep sigh, then a sniffle.

“Hello? Who’s this?” You repeated. You heard another sniffle.

“I swear to god if it’s one of those damn breathe-“

You heard your name. Despite the quality of the landline, you could immediately tell who was calling. You heard him constantly in your ears at work and at home so of course you knew.

“Graham…?” Your voice was more shocked than annoyed. He had said your name in the form of what seemed to be in plea. He didn’t sound like himself.

“Please… Come here,” His words were slurred. This fucking idiot was drunk.

“Excuse me?” You scowled, your grip on the phone tightening. What the hell was this man doing calling you at 1 am in the fucking morning?

“I just… I need someone… I can’t be alone right now,” He mumbled. Was he crying?

You sighed, wiping your face with your free palm. You pinched the bridge of your nose, anger bubbling inside of you.

You weren’t an angry person. You were just aggressive. Highly aggressive. But you knew better than to let it slip at work. You were again, professional. A highly skilled professional that knew how to disconnect your personal life from your work life. This was just another test sent to you by a higher power that enjoyed watching you writhe in torment.

“Then call Damon, or Alex or Dave,” You grit through your teeth. You pinched the bridge of your nose harder, leaving a mark from your nails.

He whimpered, sniffling again.

“I… I did, and they didn’t answer…”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head. You were going to stand your ground.

“Graham, I am your co-worker. You cannot be calling me at a time like this.” You lectured. “You should know better. I’m ending this call,”

Just as you were about to slam it down, he began to call out your name repeatedly.

“Please, please! I just…I didn’t know who else to call and… You’re the only other person that I kind of… Trust?” He begged. You pulled your phone into your line of sight, an expression of pure confusion painting your features. Since when did Graham Coxon trust you? He had only known you for half a year, and you barely spoke to him. You brought the phone back to your ears.

“Graham, we barely know each other,” You contested, sighing again.

“Look, try Damon and the rest of the boys again, and if they really aren’t answering…” You trailed off. What the hell were you saying? Cut this bitch boy off immediately!

Before you could speak up again, Graham cut you off.

“Call you again?” His voice was barely a whisper. You mentally face palmed, then you physically did.

“Fine,” You cringed. You heard the gentlest ‘mhm’.

“Bye-“ You slammed the landline back into its case. You wiped your face with your both your palms, groaning in disbelief.

“Why the fuck did I say that?!” You cursed to yourself, pretending to choke yourself out.

“Whatever happened to keeping a professional distance?” You groaned again. “Oh, but it was completely his fault. He just decided to call you at 1 am in the fuckin’ morning expecting you to grab your damn keys and shoot straight out the door!”

You often spoke to yourselves in times like this. You couldn’t possibly keep it all in your head. It was too annoying to keep it bubbling about. Mental health first, you would repeat as a mantra in your head. ‘Me first’.  

“What a total nut job. Getting drunk on a Thursday night then crying like a pathetic dog,” You huffed, crossing your arms. It was dead quiet in your room, your words lingering in the air.

Then, there it was. That damn coil in your stomach. The familiar warmth that was reserved for what you referred to as ‘pound town’ to your mates. The mates that were in your personal life. The mates you met outside of work. But there it was. You weren’t crazy enough to acknowledge it. So, you screeched out a noise of frustration.

“Who does he fuckin’ think he is! I swear to God, all these damn musicians that think they can just get whatever they wan-“

The phone began to ring again.

You stomped over, picking it up. You tongue was ready to thrash about with swears like a wielded sword in battle. But there was a whimper on the other end. A wracked sob that stunned you.

“They…” He choked out. “They didn’t answer…” He trailed off into an instant sob.

Graham was full on crying now. His sobs were cut off, then picked up by his phone on the other end. Your mouth fell agape as your eyes blew wide.

Throughout the development of the album, your disconnect from the band and the employee’s allowed you to observe more. You hid in the shadows as your eyes and ears noticed small habits from each person. With the band being the center of attention, you kept your eyes mostly on them. Graham, in particular. He fascinated you the most.

Despite your lack of conversation, you took note of his subtle habits. The way he chewed at his nails when he was nervous. The way the skin that hugged his eyes would skew ever so slightly when he was cross. You noticed the different haircuts whenever Damon would ruffle his glossy brunette hair when it was long enough to do so. You would detect the hue of his eyebags, the way they would fluctuate in deepness. He was good at hiding his hangovers through his behavior, but the physicality’s in his posture and slightly dishevelled appearance gave it all away. To only you, of course. No one kept that much of an eye on Graham, let alone the whole band.

So, when the so-called guitar genius Graham Coxon was sobbing into your ear, you couldn’t help but feel for him. You were human. Even if you were perceived as the stone-cold robot, you were in fact a human with empathy.

You gripped onto the phone with both hands now.

“Graham…” Your voice was softer now, barely enough for the landline to receive it.

“Please…” His voice grew whinier, a pitch that didn’t feel like the Graham you knew.

You bit back a gasp, your eyes shut. You heaved out a sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You looked back to your coat rack, eyes trailing to the keys that hung on the wall on a steel hook.

“Fine,” You managed to say, through the tongue that was now bit between your frustrated bite.

“Thank you… Thank you…” He repeated.

“Just-“ You stopped yourself from swearing at him to shut up. He stopped, as you sighed. “I’ll be there in 10,”

You ended the call before he could say anything else. You slammed the phone down again, biting your shirt as you screamed.

This isn’t how you wanted your night to go at all.

- ★

The number of times you passed a perfectly empty street where you could ‘U-turn’ without anyone batting an eye was biblical. Your conscience screamed at you, ripping its imaginary shirt off with fangs bared, clawing at the bars of its enclosure. You grumbled curses to yourself throughout the whole drive, as the gentle hum of the radio kept you intact.

And by some miracle, you were there. Stood outside his doorstep with your purse clutched around your arm. You had shades on, an oversized bomber jacket that covered most of your body. You were wearing your pyjamas; you weren’t bothered to change.

You hesitated before you planted three strong knocks against his door, heaving out a heavy sigh. Your thoughts were cut from the sound of glass bottles rattling about and a muffled curse, then a thud. Your brows furrowed.

What did you get yourself into?

After a small wait, the door flung open. You jumped slightly, peering into the dark that was Graham’s flat. He emerged from the shadows, his head hung low showing only the top of his slightly dishevelled hair. You grimaced, stepping back slightly. He leaned against the door, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffled. He looked up at you, his eyes glazed, lids puffy from sobbing.

“Didn’t think… You’d really show up,” He choked out through a hic.

It was the smell that hit you first. You couldn’t quite put a finger on the poison he chose to ingest that night. But you knew for sure it was strong.

You didn’t respond, you were far too distracted by the way his stripey long sleeve that hugged his body. You weren’t staring at his figure, you were staring at the splotches of alcohol that was carelessly spilled, no doubt from the dribble of his mouth.

You bit your lip, biting back anything rude that was edging to escape your lips. You sighed again.

“You gonna let me in, or what?”

The eyes that were similarly trailing on your own figure snapped to meet your squinted ones. He stood up right, rustling about as he finally opened the door wider.

You muttered a quiet thank you, stepping in.

The stench was much stronger now. You were tempted to pinch your nose, but it was bearable enough. It was just strong. The interior of his flat was small. A you peered around the room you noticed the empty beer bottles that were scattered everywhere.

You could have bolted through the door, but you heard the latch of the door click with the lock turned.

He stumbled around, his eyes directly on the pulled-out seat that had a half empty wine bottle open atop the dining table. He took a seat, taking a quick swig. He wiped his mouth again, kicking lazily towards the chair in front of him.

“Sit…” He murmured, tilting his head slightly.

You slowly moved towards him. You didn’t sit, but you leaned against the chair.

“How… How long have you been drinking for?” You asked hesitantly, mentally counting each bottle that you could see. He scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Dunno,” He simply replied. He looked away from you as your eyes finally landed on him. He was slouched against the chair, his legs sprawled like he had fallen asleep like that.

You finally set your bag down on an empty area of the table.

You hid your face in your hands, mentally cursing at yourself. You groaned into your hands.

“What’s wrong?” Graham’s voice was at a lower register than usual, his tone soft and mellow. He had moved right in front of you, towering over your hunched torso with his hands hovering over your arms that were clasped together.

You hadn’t realized till your hands left your face.

Through the dim light, Graham’s doe like beady eyes searched for yours, his face in genuine worry. The proximity of his face shocked you as a gasp flew through your lips. You instantly pushed him back, your hands pressing against his chest.

He almost moved in slow motion the way his feet stumbled away from you.

“What are you doing!?” You yelped, holding your hands close to your chest.

“Sorry- Sorry! I was just worried… Ya know?” He bit his lip, sniffling again. Was he fucking crying again?

Tears began to stream down his flushed cheeks. He sat back down on his chair, curling into himself as his body wracked and jittered. You dared to move close to him, feeling the temptation of leaving begin to cloud your mind.

But your hand was now on his back, without you even registering it.

“There… There…” You muttered, cringing. In most cases with your friends, you were the one comforting. But Graham wasn’t a friend.

He continued to sniffle, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“You must think I’m a fuckin’ loser,” He mumbled, hiding his face in his hands as his elbows were propped onto his knees. You retrieved your hand back, holding it in your hand again. You stood still.

Yes, of course you thought he was a loser. You thought he was pathetic, a fuckin’ dead beat guitarist with a raging alcohol problem. Your thoughts began to increasingly weigh in your mind about how annoying he was being. He continued to berate himself through his hands, his voice muffled.

“I’m a nobody, a loser… I decide to call you first, and now here you are and I don’t know what to do...”

Your mouth twitched along with your brow.

“What did you just say?” You asked through grit teeth. It dawned on you.

He looked up, covering his mouth as he gasped, his heavy eyes widened.

“Did you just…” You started. Your hands clasped into a fist, your eyes shut tight. The rage in your stomach began to simmer, ready to boil over.

“Did you just say that you called me first before anyone else…?”

Graham stood up, leaning over slowly. He whispered your name in an attempt to calm you down. His hand began to loom over towards your shoulder, but you slapped it away.

Your eyes were almost blood shot, your brows knit together tightly.

“You fuckin’ liar!” You finally yelled, your temper boiling over.

He flinched, hiding his face with his hands. You approached him ferociously, causing him to sit back down on the chair with a slight ‘oof’.

“You said you called the band first before contacting me you fuckin’ wanker!” You hovered over him, an accusatory index pointing daggers at his curled torso. He looked away, hiding away with his head in his hands once more.

“For fucks sake, Graham! You called me out here to listen to your bloody whining as if I fuckin’ care!” You spat, his body flinching with each berated curse you directed at him.

“I’m so-“

“Sorry isn’t gonna fuckin’ cut it!” You snarled. You were fed up. Fed up with the way they all treated you. Fed up with the way anyone thought they had autonomy over you. Just because you were a pretty woman.

Graham continued to hide his face till you pried his hands away, gripping onto his chin. You forcefully shifted his gaze to you, pinching tighter.

“Look at me when I talk to you!” You demanded. His eyes widened, his mouth falling slightly again as he stared back at you in awe.

Your chest heaved deeply, in and out as you locked eyes with him.

There it was again. The coil, the warmth.

You let go of him with a scoff, his head shifting slightly from the velocity of releasing him.

You moved away slightly, attempting to recollect yourself, to calm down. You took a deep breath, realizing what you had just done.

Graham had never heard you yell. He barely even heard your voice unless it was a mutter through the speakers in the studio.

You hit yourself in the head as you mumbled words of affirmation. Then, you turned towards him.

“Listen, Graham. I care about my job, very much. So much so that I have sacrificed every part of my dignity to get to where I am,”

His gaze remained locked onto yours. You waited for him to shoot back, to make a snide remark about your ass or anything that had to do with your body. But he sat still, listening.

You cleared your throat, sighing as you took it as a sign to continue the bottled-up feelings you had towards the industry.

“I… I can’t explain enough how many times I’ve been objectified by you… you cunts. By you loathsome wankers that can’t keep it in their damn pants!”

You began pacing around, arms crossed till they were wandering about with your fingers pointing back at him.

“And you! You decide to call me up. To what? To comfort you? So, you can rest your pretty little head on my lap?”

“No I-“

You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up. He couldn’t look away as your blown eyes glared daggers into his own.

“Shut the fuck up! Shut your stupid fucking mouth before I do your damn head in, you nasty prick!” You retorted, letting go with a forceful push. His back hit the chair, causing it to squeak slightly on impact.

You groaned into your hands, trailing them down to the bottom of your neck.

“Just look at you!” You directed a splayed-out palm towards him as you ranted. “Either you’re wasted or you’re just sad! You deliver the worst lines when you drink the night before, or you just leave the fuckin’ studio! To what? To cry?”

“You’re just a selfish prick that projects these sorry ass excuses to the closest woman you can find! Because that’s what you all are. Just dick for brains musicians that believe you can sleep with just about anybody!”

You closed your eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Then, Graham spoke up through the silence. It was barely a whisper.

“Say it again…”

You turned to face him in an instant, your expression had switched to confusion, then back to anger.

“What was that?” You moved in closer, waiting for him to speak. You felt the corners of your mouth twitch in annoyance.

“Say it-“

You slapped him. You slapped him directly across the cheek, a red mark proving it. Your features had softened when it clicked. You were surely out of a job now.

His mouth fell slightly agape as his eyes shut softly. He raised a hand to his jaw, feeling the stinging warmth tingle against his cheek.

“You fuckin’ disgust me, Graham,” You growled.

He dared to look at you. You had expected him to retaliate, to scream at you. To threaten you with the loss of your job. But he sat still, hands on his knees as he looked up at you expectantly.

You felt it again. A throb where it wasn’t welcome in the moment. That familiar feeling that pooled at your core.

“Say it again,” He muttered, he shuffled at the edge of his seat.

“You’re a fucking dog, Graham. A disgusting piece of waste that got lucky,”

He bit his lip, a whimper escaping his lips.

You scowled in disdain, fighting whatever urge was creeping its way through you. The rational side had been ordering you to leave the moment you parked your car. But you weren’t listening. You didn’t even listen when you were still at your flat.

“Please…” He whimpered again, falling to his knees. He inched closer to you, his hands raising to grab onto your hand.

“Call me a loser, call me a cunt. Please,” tears began to stream down his cheeks again, the warm droplets falling onto your hand. You snatched it away, causing him to fall to his elbows, hugging himself with his head now resting onto the floor.

The urge to kick him was strong, but you held back for now.

“You’re…” You hesitated. “You’re a worthless dog,”

He whimpered again, the sobs wracking through his hunched over torso. You grimaced, the feeling of disgust was true, but it was stirring about in your stomach with a shifted perspective.

“Yeah…” He choked out, his voice wrecked. “I’m a… I’m a worthless dog,” he repeated.

That was when it finally kicked in. The rational side of you that forced its way in.

“I’m leaving,” you muttered. He instantly sat up, crawling towards you with fervent desperation. He attempted to claw at your sweatpants, but you moved away, collecting your purse and your keys. You unlocked the door, swinging it open.

You turned to face him. He was on his knees, pleading at you to stay.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,”

- ★

You were first in the studio, as per usual. You decided to arrive an hour earlier, giving you time to mess about with the dials on the board on your lonesome.

Last night haunted you as you went to bed. You didn’t get a wink of sleep, only staring at the palm of your hand, the ghost of Graham’s face against it made it all tingly. It kept you wide awake enough to walk into work with a clear enough mind.

You truly believed that Graham was far too drunk to remember anything. You were willing to gaslight him into believing that it was probably just a dream. It would help if he did dream of you. Which he did, but you didn’t know that.

You weren’t allowed to know that; what happened last night was Graham’s sick fantasy. You didn’t know that he had his eyes set on you since the day you were hired. The day you walked in, wearing that cool leather jacket, a white baby tee that ever so slightly revealed a sliver of your midriff when you lifted your arms up.

He was your worst nightmare, and he was aware of that. So, he kept it to himself. He in fact didn’t excuse himself often to cry the way you assumed he did last night. He was actually fucking his hand in the bathroom as quickly as he could muster. The mere sound of your voice through the speakers was enough to set off the tent in his pants. He was a pain in your ass, because he wanted to see you frustrated at him. He wanted to annoy you, for you to snap at him. All because of his disgusting little fantasy that had him wrapped around your finger with you even knowing.

And now was his chance to pursue it.

He heard the slight quiver in your voice. The way you entertained him enough for him to confirm as he tested the waters. The hesitation in your movements, the way you grabbed his collar and pulled him close to your face. It was hazy, but he remembered it all.

He walked in 30 minutes after you did with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Morning,” he muttered, sitting on one of the plush leather chairs behind you.

You didn’t reply, only nodding back in acknowledgement. You distracted yourself by playing around with the board, one part of the headphones attached to your ear.

You didn’t expect him to waltz in. He was usually one of the latest of the four to arrive.

He took a sip of his tea, watching you work.

You felt his eyes on you, but you didn’t falter. You still believed that he hadn’t remembered last night, and you were doing your absolute best to maintain the blank expression you had on.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Did you have a good night, last night?” He spoke up. You froze for a moment. You hummed in agreement, attempting to ignore him.

He stood up, walking towards you. He loomed over from behind you, watching your free hand move and fiddle around.

“I did too, thanks for asking,” he muttered. Graham wasn’t what the media believed him to be. He wasn’t just some shy little boy that hid behind Damon and the rest of the band. He had a tongue on him. A nasty one when necessary. He once almost got into a bar fight just from the way he articulated a few phrases.

You continued to ignore him, bobbing your head when you played a song through the headphones, tweaking dials to change the sound slightly.

He moved away, looking around the room. He wanted to play his cards right, to not just outright get on his hands and knees, begging her to do it all again. Even if he wanted too.

He huffed, sitting back down on his seat.

He crossed his legs as his eyes trailed your body like a predator in heat.

The silence had a heavy hold between you two. The only sound coming from the beat that scaped the speakers from the headphones.

Graham opened his mouth to speak again, but someone else had walked in. Another employee, cutting him off. He snarled quietly, sending him daggers through his glare. The other engineer began speaking to you, discussing some sound engineer jargon.

Graham huffed, standing up to walk over to the other room to ready his set up.

-

Your blank expression infuriated Graham. He knew that you were aware of what happened last night. He wasn’t imagining it. He remembered the feeling of his collar causing him to choke slightly. The tingling of his cheek felt more sweet than painful.

It clouded his mind so much that he didn’t realize that he was staring at the ground for so long, your voice booming through the speakers.

“Graham!” You called out. His head shot up, the rest of his band members averting their attention to him.

Graham looked at you, his eyes widened slightly, his mouth slightly ajar. Blood rushed to his cheeks in slight embarrassment. He swears he saw your eye twitch slightly.

“Are you listening to me?” You repeated. Damon in the background had covered his mouth to conceal his laughter. Graham was almost being scolded like an inattentive student in class.

He nodded quickly, sitting up straight.

“Then what did I just say?” You huffed, your fingers pressing hard onto the button that allowed your voice to reverberate in their room.

His throat went dry, looking down again.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” it just slipped out. This caused a few brows to be raised, a few other eyes to widen.

Graham’s head snapped back up to look at you again, his cheeks had flushed a deeper crimson. His legs shifted slightly from the growing bulge that began to awaken in his tight jeans.

“Uhm…” He muttered back.

“Alright, I think we need a quick break,” you suggested. Damon nodded, Alex responded in agreement as Dave immediately left to grab a snack. The rest of the team agreed, their eyes following you as you began to walk out the door, a cigarette and lighter in hand.

Graham stood up after you left, following the trail that you left behind.

- ★

You stood outside, taking a long drag of your cigarette as you gazed at the city that ran by before you.

You heard the door open and close behind you.

“What was that?” Graham’s voice bellowed. You didn’t turn around. You took another drag from your cigarette, blowing it out.

“What was what?”

He walked up to you, stopping at a reasonable distance.

“You know what I’m talking about,” He started. “Back there, in the studio. What the hell is your problem?” He badgered.

You turned around, your expression flat.

“You weren’t listening to me, I only wanted to call your attention,” You admitted, taking another puff, blowing it away from his face.

“But that wasn’t a nice way to do it,” He argued. “That was rude,”

You shrugged.

“What do you want me to say? Sorry? For what? Doing my job?” You prodded, staring into his frustrated gaze.

“No, I just… I want you to acknowledge what you did,” He crossed his arms, searching your eyes for any sign of falter.

“Acknowledge what exactly, Graham? What are you referring too?” A hint of a smirk curled against her lips, her cigarette now resting in between them.

Graham’s eyes trailed to your lips, his mouth feeling dry once more. He cleared his throat.

“You know exactly what I’m referring too,” He stood his ground, his face had inched closer to yours.

And just like that, the coil in your stomach finally snapped. That damned thing that you had been holding back for the sake of your own sanity, your self-worth, your dignity.

“You really need to cut down on your alcohol intake, pup,”

Graham’s breath hitched at his throat, his heart stuttering in his chest at the sudden drop of the nickname. He hadn’t expected you to retire the façade so quickly into the confrontation. It disoriented him, sending him into a wild spiral.

You took this opportunity to provoke him more.

“Were you not paying attention on purpose?” You licked your bottom lip, all morals flying out the door. “It almost feels as if you wanted me to scold you,” You hissed. He looked away from you, feeling his erection begin to resurface.

“You don’t listen, do you?” You gripped onto his chin, forcing him to face you. “I said, look at me when I’m talking to you,” Your voice was low and harsh. He bit back the whine in his throat that threatened to escape when you averted his gaze back to yours.

“I do…” He whispered, his eyes looking back down to your lips that were dangerously close to his own. You pushed him away, finishing the last of your cigarette.

“Stomp it out for me,” you commanded, dropping it to the ground. He nodded quickly, stomping it out with his boot.

“You happy?” He was still slightly annoyed that you embarrassed him in front of everyone before, but it only served to fuel the growing arousal that was pooling at the tip of his eager cock.

You huffed a chuckle through your nose, smirking again.

“Dogs don’t fucking talk, do they?”

Graham gulped. He hated how easy it was for you to just berate him like that. He couldn’t believe his ears the first time you yelled at him. He let out a shudder of breath. He shook his head.

“Finally, you’re quiet.” You chuckled. “You know, ever since I was hired, I had been trying to find a way to shut your chatty little mouth up,” You moved in closer, tracing the tip of your index against his jaw. He dared to let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at you, you’re already falling apart. What a pathetic waste of space,” you sneered, flicking his head harshly.

“Open your damn eyes, you prick,” you snarled. They opened immediately at your command.

“You gonna listen to me from now on?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Good boy,” you spat, walking towards the entrance of the studio again, leaving him alone outside.

When you were out of sight, you rushed to the bathroom, hiding in one of the stalls. Your heart finally gave out, pounding hard in your ears. You knelt against the cold tiles, grasping onto your chest as you looked down at the floor.

“Fuck,” you hissed. You closed your eyes, feeling a slight sweat cling at your skin.

What have you gotten yourself into?

- ★

You returned to the booth, waltzing in as if nothing had happened. You sparked up a conversation with the other engineers, discussing more jargon. You avoided the gaze that Graham had locked onto you upon your return.

The nonchalant indifference was burning his skin from the inside. He began to feel the need for your attention. Something that you had never given him throughout the year, only to unleash it all at once.

When you turned around again to speak into the mic, you caught his gaze. You paid no mind to the metaphorical tail that had been wagging the moment you walked in. Instead, you averted your attention to Damon, discussing something Graham couldn’t pay attention too anymore. His heart skipped a beat as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair again.

Once again, your voice boomed through the speakers. Graham was listening. He was listening to the subtle inflections in your accent or the way you rolled your ‘R’s’ softly. Despite his eager ear, he wasn’t comprehending a single thing. How could he? After that stunt you pulled not too long ago.

When Damon nodded in agreement, they began the recording of another song. A song that was taking far too long to get ‘right’ in both Damon and your ears. It was frustrating, but you enjoyed that part of your job. Working hard to get something right, only to feel the sense of relief when it was finally to your standards. But tonight, wouldn’t be the night. The only issue was Graham’s playing. He either fucked it up beyond an endearing ‘blooper’, or he just didn’t play when he was supposed to. Now that, was frustrating.

The annoyance began to build inside you. It was getting far too evident that Graham just wasn’t in the right state of mind. It was already around 6:00 pm. Far beyond the time that you usually left. You clicked the button to speak into the mic.

“Alright, I think that’s it for the night,” you murmured. The other sound engineers sighed in relief. They too shared in the frustration from Graham’s playing.

Graham’s eyes met yours, gulping slightly. He knew he wasn’t playing at his best.

Damon nodded, instantly walking over to Graham.

“You alright, mate?” He muttered as the others began packing up. He placed a firm hand over Graham’s shoulder, squeezing gently. For a moment, Graham’s eyes never left where they met yours. You began to pack up alongside everyone else. He then looked up at Damon’s concerned expression. He simply nodded.

“Yeah, just had a rough night last night,” he murmured, clearing his throat. Damon frowned.

“And you didn’t think to call me up?” He grumbled, retrieving his hand to cross them. Graham let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Just didn’t wanna disturb ya’,” he lied through his teeth, attempting to make it as casual as possible. Damon’s brow raised, noticing that something was wrong. He knew his best friend like the back of his hand, but he got the feeling that this was something not to press against. For now. Damon squinted his eyes at him, pursing his lips.

“You can always call, Gray,” He assured. “But it’s up to you to call,”

Graham nodded. He had had this conversation with Damon before. The conversation of letting him know that he did have someone. Someone to call if there was anything he needed or wanted.

“Thanks mate,” was all he said before dusting himself off, setting his guitar down.

Damon left a couple of pats onto his back.

“You goin’ out tonight?”

Graham stretched, shaking his head.

“Not tonight, I think I’ll head home and rest,”

Damon nodded in understanding.

“Let me know if you still are, I’m thinkin’ of another pub crawl,” he grinned. Damon’s eyes trailed up to your figure. You were in conversation with one of the other engineers, your face softly lit from the overhead warm ceiling light.

“She’s just so fuckin’ fit,” Damon whistled, his head tilting to catch any glimpse of skin peeking through. Graham only scoffed, attempting to sound unbothered.

“I’suppose,”

Damon looked at him, his expression shocked to the core.

“You sayin’ she’s not?” He teased, causing Graham to snap his head back to him.

“M’not! Just… Don’t wanna be talkin’ bout a coworker like tha’,”

Damon rolled his eyes, blowing a raspberry. He ruffled his hair, causing Graham to wave him away.

“Since when were you so proper, hm? Who was that one groupie you messed round with again?”

Graham attempted to clasp a hand over his lips. Damon cackled, fighting his arms away with his own.

“Calm it down, Mr. Goody,” he provoked, finally settling the childish slap fight they just had. “Just a joke,” he grinned, winking at him.

Graham groaned, shaking his head. He then looked up at you. His breath hitched when he caught your side-eye staring at him already. You instantly looked back at the engineer you were engaged with, talking as if nothing happened.

Damon finished packing up as he sighed out of minor exhaustion.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, ushering him with a hand.

“Hold on!”

You entered the recording room through the other door, causing both boys to stop in their tracks. They turned to face you, walking up. You halted Damon with an open palm.

“Just Graham,” you instructed. The boys exchanged a look at each other. Damon smirked, shrugging.

“Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll wait for ya outside, Gray,”

He then left.

You left the recording room, Graham following suite.

You lead him to the mixer booth. You had told another engineer to give you and Graham some space to talk, making sure there was no one else around.

Graham bit his lip, feeling sweat cling at his palms and his temples.

Before you spoke, you made sure there really was no one around. When the coast was clear, you walked up to him.

“You goin’ out with them tonight?” You asked. He shook his head. A little too eagerly. You huffed through your nose, a smirk curling at your lips. You crossed your arms.

“You were playing like shit today,” you admitted, looking into his brown eyes. He bit his lip, blinking a few times.

“Sorry,” was all he could muster in a hushed tone. He felt his cheeks flush again, the warmth radiating throughout his body.

“Yeah, you should be,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re wasting everyone’s time you know?” You badgered on. You were itching to slap his face, to make him cry. Anything to atone for the mistakes he made that day. To apologize for the frustration, he brought to not just you, but the whole of the employee’s that were busting their ass for this album.

He nodded again, sniffling. Tears were welling at the edge of his waterline, threatening to spill out.

“I really am sorry…” He mumbled. You felt the strings of your heart tug carelessly. His eyes were glazed, the tip of his nose now tinged a sweet shade of red, his lips dry and cracked. It was just too delicious. You absentmindedly licked your bottom lip, only sighing deeply. You ran your fingers through your hair, crossing your arms.

“I really don’t know how else to kick you into playing better…” You trailed off, looking back to his guitar, then back at him. He was stood in front of you, hands clasped in front of his stomach. He was as stiff as a stick, standing idly, awaiting your commands.

“Do you need guitar lessons, Graham?” You sneered. “Does Mr. Musical Genius need guitar lessons from a sound engineer, hm?” You snapped your fingers at him. He looked up at you, a few tears escaping.

“Please…” He muttered. He was eager to touch you, to feel your hands on him again. He wanted to guide your hands to his weeping cock that had hardened the moment you pulled him aside.

Your eyes squinted at his plea, your lips forming to a grimace.

You leaned in as you grabbed him by the collar to pull him down, your lips dangerously close to his ear.

“Then take your sorry ass to my flat tonight,” you ordered. “Maybe then you can learn your lesson,”

He nodded immediately. You let go of him, dusting your hands.

“Be there at 9:00 pm, sharp. Or I’m really killing you,” you warned. You grabbed your things and left. You passed by Damon, ignoring his presence.

Damon rushed to Graham’s side to see his cheeks flushed, wiping his tears away.

“The hell did she say to you?” His face was riddled with a mixture of worry and intrigue.

“Everything I needed to hear,”

- ★

It was 8:55 the moment he was outside your flat. His hands were stuffed into his pocket, his arms stuck to his torso. He fiddled with the inner lining of his pockets, darting his gaze anywhere but on your front door.

He had knocked, but there was no response for a moment. He inhaled sharply when it flew open, revealing your figure. You were encased in the glow of the light behind you, the moon illuminating your frontside.

He bit his lip as his eyes darted anywhere but your eyes.

“Well, come in then,” you ushered, opening the door wider to allow him to slip through.

As he walked through, you closed the door behind him, readjusting the cardigan you had on.

His eyes examined the interior of your flat, noticing small details that he hadn’t expected you to house. He didn’t really know you, after all. But he was eager too. He approached one of the paintings you had hung on your wall. He smiled softly. So, you enjoyed art. That’s ideal.

You stood away from him, arms crossed as you watched him like a hawk. You found it rather endearing that he was mindlessly wandering around your living space. It was weird of course. Since the day you developed that agenda, you didn’t think you’d have a coworker in your house.

His fingers began to trail along the walls, noticing more about your flat that continued to surprise him. He stopped in his tracks when you cleared your throat. He turned around with a small ‘Hm?’.

“You done?”

He nodded. He had his hands up against his chest, his fingers fiddling with each other.

You urged him to come closer with a wag of your finger. He obeyed, walking quickly to where you were.

He gulped nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided your piercing gaze.

“The fuck are you doing?” you spoke up playfully. He jumped slightly at the sudden raise of your voice. His cheeks blared a deep red.

“Uh, sorry I just…”

You tilted your head with a raised brow, urging him to finish his sentence.

“Oh- uh, I just don’t know how this is gonn-“

You cut him off with a frustrated groan as your arms had wrapped around his neck, pulling him down till your lips crashed into his own. He lifted his arms up in shock, his eyes widening as your own were shut tight. When his initial shock had waned, his hands clasped at your waist, his grip tight and needy.

Your hands snaked down to cup his cheeks, squishing slightly as you bit his bottom lip. He moaned deeply, his mouth agape. You shoved your tongue inside, fighting against his own till he surrendered. His whole body melted into yours. His fingers began nudging at the pants you wore, but you stopped him. Your hand rushed to his own, pulling away from the kiss.

It left him exasperated, his eyes fluttering open to reveal the irritated look on your face.

“Such a needly little cunt,” you grinned. He muttered a hushed ‘fuck’, as you pushed him away. “Follow me,” you urged him with a suggestive curl of your index.

You directed him off towards your bedroom. He followed behind you like a shadow, somewhat like a lost puppy. His footsteps felt heavier every moment you closed in towards your room.

The moment you were both inside, you pushed him harshly towards the bed, his back hitting your sheets. He let out a soft ‘oof’ as he made contact, soon sliding his way towards the headboard. His eyes never left yours as you began crawling beside him, soon straddling his legs between your thighs. As you sat, your aching cunt grinded almost involuntarily at the pressure of his now hard cock that pressed against it.

You couldn’t help but moan softly, his own following suit. Your brows furrowed in bliss as you continued to rut against him. When you stopped, his eyes fluttered open in a squint, his glasses shielding whatever dignity he had left.

You carefully took them off, setting them on your bedside table. At first, you admired the mess you had made. A crimson blush had kissed the tip of his nose, spreading like a virus that cursed his skin. His brows were knit together, his mouth slightly agape – breathless.

Soon enough, your hand had snaked up behind his head, your fingers tangled in his brunette locks. He had missed your touch so much that a subtle sigh of relief flew through his pretty pink lips. Your expression softened till your grip tightened. His moment of respite had suspended into a wrecked moan. You bit your lip, hard.

You leaned down, lips just a breath away from the sensitive spot behind his ear. You planted an echo of a kiss, your parted lips barely grazing the surface. He let out a long needy whine of pure frustration.

Your grip tightened to reveal more as you licked a long stripe down his neck. His hands hand found its way to your back, clasping onto the fabric you annoyingly still had on. He writhed underneath you, his moans now hitched pants.

You kissed and nipped along his neck in a fervent manner, trailing down to his collarbone. His hands had attempted to life your blouse above your head, but you stopped.

You sat up right, pulling on his hair.

“Take your clothes off,” you commanded. You lifted yourself from the cage of your thighs as he nodded almost immediately. He lifted his striped polo from above his head, soon shimmying out of his denim jeans and converse.

You knelt beside him; a hand now pressed against his thigh with an angel’s touch. Your thumb circled it absentmindedly as your gaze of admiration locked with his own. He knew well enough not to look away, even if he couldn’t bare the way you looked at him. He wanted so badly to be good for you. After today’s mishaps, he just didn’t want to disappoint you any further.

“I can’t stand you,” you whispered, your tone laced with the hatred you carried since the day you met him. He nodded eagerly; somewhat drunk off the way you examined him with your piercing gaze.

“I hate you, Graham,”

Tears began to well in his eyes as you spoke. He didn’t want you to hate him, but in every yell, every snide glace of annoyance; his body would almost shut down in pure desperation to please you. The already dark patch that stained his boxers betrayed his wanton expression of sadness. He nodded once more.

You continued your rambles of annoyance, pointing out each mistake he had ever done that you could muster. He could only nod, humming in agreement. He hadn’t even noticed the grip on thigh loosening, your hand now hovering over his sheathed cock.

As he nodded, you lowered your hand, now palming at his straining erection that fought against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed as you circled it with your hands.

You shushed him, leaning against his neck again as you worked the hickeys onto his soft jittering skin. You continued to lightly graze his clothed cock with your fingers, earning desperate groans of frustration.

He was at your mercy, but he wanted, no needed to be on his best behaviour.

“Please,” he begged.

You leaned back, admiring the mess you made.

His brows were knit, his eyes glazed as he looked directly into your hungry eyes. He was pouting. The grown man beneath you was pouting, heaving from the feather touch that circled his arousal.

“Please, just… Just do what you want to me,” he begged, his chest raising in quick bursts.

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk, your eyes squinting slightly.

You looked down, your fingers toying with the band of his boxers.

When you finally unsheathed it, his cock jolted slightly at each feeling of the lack of restraint. He gulped through his exasperated breathing.

And when it was finally free, he let out a low moan that drawled out. You knew he would sound pretty, but you didn’t expect perfection.

You wrapped your hand around his cock, simply admiring it as you leaned down, your stomach now pressed against the soft duvet.

His breath hitched as you jerked it once, then twice.

He whined, his hips instinctively moving upwards. You pressed him down with your other hand.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ move,” You stopped the movements of your hand, your eyes darting up at him with a glare. He only nodded, unable to muster up any words.

You averted your attention back to his throbbing cock, the tip already so red and angry.

You smiled as you planted a soft kiss onto it, causing him to shiver.

“Now, be good. And I’ll keep my end of the deal, got it?” You repeated. He nodded fervently, biting his lip.

You began to pump his needy cock, slow and steady. His moans were uncontrollable now; his mind focused on keeping still. He really was trying, and his perseverance had your panties soaked.

You would stop, then start again. Each time you stopped, a strangled moan would escape through his lips. You licked your own, staring up at him whenever you halted. You needed to savour this moment, to almost mentally capture the image of his destroyed expression of absolute desperation.

Without warning, you engulfed his cock into your mouth. The wet warmth of your mouth allowed a high-pitched whine to leave his lips as he suddenly looked down. His wrists battled with the restraint of having to keep still. He wanted nothing more than to push your head down further. To force your head down to bob up and down at the pace he so desperately needed.

You started slow again, the slurps of your mouth reverberating in your room. His eyes rolled back into his skull, leaning against the headboard as you continued.

His gasps fuelled your fluid movement. Your tongue would wrap and move like gymnastics along the tip whilst it remained inside your hot mouth.

“Fuck, plea-… Please, I’m gonna-“ He stuttered, his hips now abiding against his will as it jerked up after each movement.

Then, you pulled off, wiping your mouth.

He let out a lasting guttural whine. He looked up at you; his brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Fuck! Why’d you-“ You slapped him hard across the face, his eyes blown wide as his mouth was formed into an ‘O’.

You gave him a few, ‘tsks’, wagging your finger. He looked back at you, his brows still furrowed as a few tears spilled out, trailing down his cheek. He sniffled.

“Awh…” You drawled out, biting your lip. “Did you want to cum?” You teased. He hummed a soft ‘uhuh’ as he nodded.

“But you were so good…” You trailed off, causing him to whine in frustration.

“Please, please!” He begged. “I’ll be good, I swear! Please, just… Please, please,” His begging was endless.

You debated whether to leave him like this. Wanton and desperate. His pleads were sweet, like real music in your ears.

“Okay…” You grinned, leaning against him as you rested your head against his shoulder. He gasped softly as you left a trail of gentle pecks along his skin.

You pulled away as he sat still, his hands now on either side of his hips.

“Do you remember when I said you could do anything if you were good?” You recalled. He nodded quickly.

“Do you think you deserve that, pet?” You teased. He nodded again.

“Please… I was… I tried to be so good for you… I was trying to listen to you in the studio, I…” He stuttered, attempting to plead his case with glazed eyes. “I played my guitar well, didn’t I?”

You studied his face as tears continued to wallow themselves from his eyes.

Then you finally shushed, him. You leant over to kiss the salty droplets before wiping them with a gentle swipe of your thumb.

You closed your eyes as you sighed.

“Go crazy, pet,” was all you said before his eyes blew wide.

In a blink of an eye, he had you under him. He really was like a dog in heat as his sudden movements rendered you frozen. You didn’t even have time to register the fact that your skirt and panties had been ripped off you.

You squealed at the cool air whipping against your now bare ass and thighs. He let out a growl as he lifted your ass up into the air, your head pressed into the pillow. He gave your ass a quick but harsh slap that caused you to whine.

“Gra-,“ you spluttered out till a deep moan escaped your lips as he pushed his cock into you without warning. It slid in with ease, as his guttural whine matched your own. You could barely speak as the pace of his thrusts slammed so deeply into you.

“F-fuck!” You stuttered out, gripping onto the sheets for dear life. He could no longer speak, his mind set on chasing his orgasm like you had it on a head start since the beginning of the night.

His movements were like clockwork, his cock bottoming inside of you at a speed you couldn’t even imagine was possible. Teasing him so much had made you hornier than anything. Your own orgasm crashing down first without warning as your heart hammered in your ears, unable to hear the state of your own moans.

He could tell by way you squeezed his length, causing him to bury himself deeper inside of you.

It felt illegal the way he knew just where to hit that spongy spot. The way his hands gripped onto your torso, tight enough to leave bruises later, to keep himself grounded.

“Shit… Shit, fuck!” He yelped out your name, feeling his own orgasm build quicker than he had expected.

“Please, can I- Please, fuck- can I cum, please?” He pleaded through choked moans; you couldn’t even register till you finally noticed his sloppier pace.

You nodded into the pillow, feeling another orgasm build up once again.

“Yes, Graham!” You exclaimed, your teeth biting down on the pillow sheets.

And as you felt another orgasm rip through you, the squeeze you involuntarily encased his cock with was the final command that coaxed him desperately to spill inside of you.

With a high-pitched whine, he finally came. His head fell backwards, following his torso. His cock bottomed out, the jitters of his hips expelling it all deep within you.

The warmth that filled your womb had you groaning harshly into your pillow, your drool soaking them. The deep breaths that escaped both of your swollen lips intertwined as his cock remained buried deep inside. It took you a moment to collect yourself, the cold air kissing the sweat that clung to your skin.

He soon pulled out slowly, feeling the exhaustion creep up at a rapid pace. Your body fell limp onto the sheets, mimicking his spent stature.

You chuckled to yourself, wondering how the hell you ended up with your coworker’s cock deep inside of you.

You looked to the side, noticing Graham’s chest raising deeply up and down. You reached out, passing your hand across the bangs that clung to his forehead. He turned to face you, now on his side.

He smiled softly, his fingers grazing at your bare skin with a gentle amount of pressure. You felt chills run across you as he did so.

“You, okay?” he muttered. You nodded, shimmying closer.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He grinned till he yawned.

“Yeah, that was… Perfect,”

The flutter in your heart was undeniable. It mildly pissed you off, seeing as everything that just happened was completely against your own morals.

“Does this mean you still hate me?” he whispered. You smacked the top of his head gently, earning a small groan.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Graham,” you scoffed, propping your elbows up to sit up right.

He giggled.

“Guess not,”

taglist: @dykwimean

The beaded curtains bristle against each other, chiming together as the soft summer wind flew through. A distant ray of light shone past the slivers between them, casting directly atop your sombre face. Your wired earphones were tangled around your neck, weaving through the locks in your hair. You stirred in your sleep, waking up with a stretch of your legs. With the initial blurriness waning, you fluttered your eyes open. The eggshell popcorn ceiling was the first thing you usually woke up too.

You sat up, letting out a deep yawn. You stretched your arms towards the ceiling, alleviating the stiffness in your joints from slumber.

It was a Saturday. This meant one of two things. Firstly, the state of the dorm was bound to be an utter mess. Secondly, it didn’t matter because another party would commence anyway. Benders weren’t uncommon at your university. In fact, they were welcomed.

You turned to your left, noticing the small bump underneath a duvet. You let out a small sigh of relief. You were safe in the knowledge that your roommate Michelle, would be passed out for another couple of hours. But that also meant that she would be grovelling on her knees asking for help on the mid term exams. She was kind to you, at least.

You shimmied out of your bed, slipping your feet into your UGG boots whilst sliding your specs on. You adorned your brother’s hoodie that stretched to just halfway to your thighs. You didn’t bother with pants as you escaped your room, tiptoeing. You carefully closed the door, sighing in relief as it hadn’t creaked like usual. You began your trek towards the common room, mentally preparing for the heaping mess that would be left behind.

As expected, mountains of trash scattered the area. You were lucky that your name wasn’t on the list to clean that week. You stretched your legs to pass through the dormant beings, a few snores erupting from their throats at the slight brush of contact. When you reached the kitchen, you began to rummage through the cabinets that housed the shared snacks.

“Are we fucking serious,” you whispered to yourself. Each cabinet that you opened was bare. Not a single crumb was left behind. You pinched the bridge of your nose; eyebrows knit in frustration.

You walked back to your room to dress up properly. A pair of worn-out low rise flared jeans that Kim lent and your trusty adidas sneakers. You shouldered a tote bag that encased your textbooks, pencil case and notebooks. If you were going out to get breakfast, you might as well study. - ★

The café wasn’t the busiest on a mid-Saturday morning. The small shop was situated in a convenient area. It was surrounded by dorm flats and university owned buildings. Most students by now had taken the day off, sleeping through their hangovers only to douse their livers with even more alcohol later in the night.

You ordered your usual. A coffee and a pastry. By now the middle-aged barista had recognized you.

“It’s hoodie girl!” He would say, raising his hands up in excitement.

You took your usual seat in the corner of the café. Walls were made of brick, littered with framed paintings in saturated pinks and oranges. The lights glowed a warm yellow, the sun illuminating most of the area. Seats were either made of wood, or like the one you were currently occupying, a plush maroon leather-bound couch chair that sunk slightly lower than usual. The scent of roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries wafted in the air like a warm embrace. It was your favorite spot for a reason.

As you patiently awaited your order, you began splaying out your books onto the table, opening them up to where you last left off. You adjusted your glasses as your eyes skimmed the material. You already had a good grasp on the papers that your lecturers had assigned. You were simply revising to retain the information like a sponge.

After a small while, your order was served. You took a break, placing your pen down as you began chomping away through the pastry, taking sips of your beverage in between. You peered through the windows, watching as people walked by. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Thoughts ran through your mind as you picked apart each figure you had laid your eyes upon.

That was until a familiar figure had caught your attention.

“Don’t come in, don’t come in, please don’t come in,” you repeated in a hushed tone. You slowly curled into yourself as the man in question began to strut his way towards the door of the café, swinging it open. The chime of the bell rung, alerting the barista of a new customer.

“Noel!”

The barista left his station, walking towards Noel with arms splayed out. He captured the brunette in a sweet embrace, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.

“How’s your lil’ brother, aye?” He asked, hands now resting on his hips. Noel grinned.

“R’kid’s doin’ alright,” Noel replied. “He’s still always up to no good though. He’s a big boy now. Can’t stop him,”

The barista chuckled, patting his shoulder a few times. He returned to his spot behind the counter, leaning forward.

“What are ya’ after?” He asked, crossing his arms.

Noel tapped his chin a few times as he examined the menu above on the wall.

“Just a peppermint tea for me,”

The barista nodded, immediately flicking the kettle on. As the water boiled, Noel’s eyes began to examine the interior. He didn’t seem like a regular. If he was, the barista would’ve known his order, and you would have seen him more often. As you studied his posture, he began to slowly turn in your direction.

“Shit,” you muttered, instantly lifting your hood back on. You closed your books, looking out the window so he couldn’t catch your gaze. You cringed when you heard footsteps approach your table.

“Hey,”

You didn’t turn around. You cleared your throat, pretending you couldn’t hear him as you looked out the window.

“You’re that bird I slammed a door on!”

You grimaced, crossing your arms. The seat in front you squeaked.

“Aye, come on now! At least let me apologize to ya!”

You finally turned to face him with a frown on your face. Your brows were furrowed, your expression wrinkled.

When he finally saw your face, he grinned a toothy smile. He let out a soft chuckle, running fingers through his shaggy brunette hair.

“There you are,” he muttered gently. The sheen from the sun obscured your eyes, the lens of your glasses more translucent than clear. He lowered his head, attempting to see through. When you adjusted them, he lifted his head back up, chuckling once more.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he tilted his head slightly.

You sniffled, nodding.

“I don’t party,” you mumbled, shifting in your seat. He hummed, nodding. He leaned over, peering at the numerous textbooks you had scattered on the table. His eyes lit up when he noticed the subject.  

“You do commerce?” He took one of the textbooks, opening it to the first page. Textbooks were lent which meant you had to put your name on a small nametag list on the front.

“So that’s your name!” He beamed. You grimaced again, tightening the grip you had on your arm. You just wanted to study in peace.

The barista searched for Noel with the cup of tea in his hands. When he noticed the back of his head, he smiled.

“You know hoodie girl, Noel?” The barista piped up, placing the tea in front of him. Noel gave him a quiet ‘thank you’, looking up at him with a slightly confused expression.

“Hoodie girl?” He smirked, raising a brow.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing softly. The barista let out a small giggle.  

“She just wears the same ol’ hoodie, is all,”  

Noel laughed with him, nudging his arm slightly. With your focus on your textbooks, you hadn’t noticed the small wink the barista gave to Noel, his grin evident. The barista went back to the counter, welcoming a couple.

You reopened your textbooks, ignoring the fact that Noel was seated in front of you.

“So… You partyin’ tonight?” He asked. He wasn’t looking at you anymore. His lips were pursed as he poured milk into his tea. His tone was slightly muted, almost as if he was genuinely asking if you were attending. You winced.

“Is it at my dorm?” You bit your lip. Hopefully it wasn’t going to be at your dorm again. He let out a small laugh, nodding.

“If by your dorm you mean, OUR building. Then yes, it will be at OUR dorm,”

You froze. You don’t think you’ve ever crossed paths before. You shook your head, clearing your throat. He smiled when he noticed your slight hesitation.

“Nah,” You adjusted your seat, mumbling. You sat up properly to flick through your carefully prepared notes. “Midterms next week,”

Noel rested his cheek against his fist, his elbow now atop the table. He watched you carefully, his eyes focused on your fingers that were trailing down the page. He gulped.

“Yeah, I’m not going either. I went last night just cos I knew I’d be busy for midterms,”

You simply nodded, paying him no attention. He leaned in closer, attempting to meet with your gaze. When you locked eyes with him, you blinked.

“What?” You scoffed. Noel only laughed, leaning back into his chair. His hands were raised in the air.

“Sorry, birdie. Just wanted to know what your eyes looked like,”

You narrowed them in suspicion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned, looking up at him. Your hood was still on from when you tried to camouflage yourself. He shrugged with a smile lingering on his face.

“Don’t know. Just wanna see what ya look like,”

Before you could oppose, his hand neared your face. He whispered a small “Can I?”. You nodded softly without thinking. He gripped onto your lenses, his fingers slightly brushing your temple. You looked away at first when your glasses were pried off, slightly embarrassed at the fact that you allowed him to do that.

“Look at me,” He murmured. And for some reason, you did.

You glanced at the soft smile that curled at his lips; his squinted eyes wrinkled at the edges. You noticed that his eyes did that whenever he smiled. Your eyebrows shot upwards quickly, attempting to elicit a response from him. He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” He grumbled. “Didn’t mean to stare,”

You rolled your eyes, looking back down at your notes. You squinted. You were far sighted so the words were all blurred. When he noticed your struggle, he placed your glasses in front of you. He muttered an apology through a small laugh. You put them on, sighing in relief as you continued to review your notes.

“Am I distracting you?”

You returned your gaze back to him. His head was slightly tilted with a small frown. You looked at him in disbelief. Was he really feeling bad?

“Uhm, kinda yeah,” You mumbled.

“If I study with you would that help?”

You stared at him for a moment. This wasn’t like high school where boys pretended to be interested in you. You were sure that University would be vastly different. You raised a brow in caution. You weren’t sure what his intentions were, but you didn’t want to risk it.

“I prefer to study alone,”

You didn’t dare look at him. You heard him heave slightly. Probably out of annoyance.

“Fair,” he responded.

“Sorry,” you cut him off.

He took the last gulp from his tea, excusing himself.

You turned your head upwards at the squeak of the chair. He stood up.

“I understand, don’t worry,” You didn’t expect him to smile as if it didn’t bother him.

 “People would just flock around me and distract us more,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. You felt a pit in your stomach form. You really didn’t mean to embarrass him or anything like that. You just felt it within your bones that trouble followed him.

“Though my lot don’t really visit the library much,” he scoffed to himself. “They’re not really the studying type,” his fingers acted out quotation marks, causing you to huff in amusement.

“Here,”

He ripped off a piece of paper from a fresh sheet of notepad. He jumbled through your pencil case for a pen, quickly jotting down something. He handed you the piece.

“This here is me Myspace tag if you’re ever wanting a study buddy,”

Before you could retort back, he was already nearing the door, waving a goodbye at the barista. You held the ripped paper in your hands.

“What a weird guy,”

- ★

You were situated in front of your computer screen. Textbooks stacked beside the bulky machine. You had gone home after a couple of hours of study, feeling confident for your exams. You opened up your excel sheets but felt slightly burnt out. You had been working on an assignment that was due soon, but you were almost done.

You thought about revising once more, like the crazed student you were. When you opened your textbook, a piece of paper fell out.

“add me, noelyg”

You held the paper between your fingers, staring blankly at it. Every fibre in your body fought against adding him. You weren’t the most prejudiced person, but you knew the kind of people he hung around. Party addicts that enrolled into school to get wasted and forget about assignments. It wasn’t your crowd, but you were lying if you denied the want to party.

You eyed those couples in the corners of the dimly lit room. Sucking at each other’s faces as if it didn’t make you wet. The thought of being pushed up against a wall, being taken without a care in the world. High or drunk. You reminisced the obscene stories Kim would relay to you. Sleeping with 2 randoms in one night, just for the thrill of it all. You wanted that. No, you needed that.

But there wasn’t enough time. Enough time to feel like you were comfortable enough to let yourself go without thinking twice about an assignment you needed to hand in. It was the curse of enrolling for a conjoint course. Always needing to work on assignment after assignment.

Your grip on the paper tightened, slightly crinkling the paper. You slammed it onto the table, opening AOL to message Kim.

spookygirl92: kim, kim kimkimikkimkmikmkkim

spookygirl92: kim, kim kimkim

spookygirl92: kim, kim kimkimikkimk

kimkat: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!1111

spookygirl92: u will never guess who gave me their myspace username lol

kimkat: noel?

spookygirl92: wtaf how u know lol

There was a small period of silence. You chuckled at the thought of Kim losing her mind.

kimkat: HOW THE FKKKK DID U DO THAT??? LOL I JUST GUESSED COS IT JUS WAS SOOOO UNBELIEVABLEEEEEE

spookygirl92: u know that one café I go too all the time?

kimkat: ya

spookygirl92: i was there and he just rocked up n then sat at my table lol

kimkat: bich i told u he wants u

spookygirl92: no

kimkat: what did he do doe

spookygirl92: he does the same course as me so he walked up and saw the textbooks i was working on and asked to study with me

You didn’t think to mention the fact that he took your glasses off to look at your eyes, properly. It hadn’t crossed your mind as something worth to tell Kim.

kimkat: and then?? surely u said yes?

spookygirl92: i said no lol

There was silence once again.

kimkat: bich u are pissin me off.

spookygirl92: huh?? what did i do???

kimkat: HE WAS ASKING U OUT??????

spookygirl92: yup he def was. cos study dates r soooo romantic!!!

kimkat: don’t chat to me, bes. i’m not fuckin playin around. this man isn’t jus gonna rock up to some randum girl thats in his course and ask to study with them…. he don’t even know u… u just have that raw sex appeal

spookygirl92: i forgot to mention that he slammed a door on me arm lol

 kimkat: what. ok fuck dis guy hes a cunt

spookygirl92: no nono he apologised at the café and allat

kimkat: yup he want u!!! go on!! add him and make him ur bich!

spookygirl92: rnt u alrdy?

kimkat: again with the lesbian allegations babe… but ya i am ur bich ;)

spookygirl92: lolololol also r u busy tn… there’s another party n i was thinkin of goin back home for da weekend.. i’m boreddddd

kimkat: as much as i would love to fuck u raw n silly i can’t……

spookygirl92: hm… das ok what u up too

kimkat: do u remember that dripping with good looks french boy I shagged like two weeks ago?

 spookygirl92: yupz u had to tell me every gruelling detail!

kimkat: ya so like… he’s taking me out on dis weekend extravaganza!!! he wanna take me out n stuff

spookygirl92: wtf??? thats so fkn sweet???

kimkat: right right??? like im soooo wet jus thinkin bout it uggghhhh wish u had that too bes… why don’t u have a romantic weekend with ur new study mate… imagine like… ur studying and he comes up behind with a hard on and u feel it on ur backkkk

spookygirl92: ok lets calm down!!! haven’t even added him lol

kimkat: let a girl dreammm… but trust me… he wants u soooo badddd… told u those popular guys loveee nerds hehehehe

spookygirl92: whatever

kimkat: ok i gtg he hereee byeee bessie love u

spookygirl92: byeeee love u too hav fun!

- ★

You were bored out of your mind playing solitaire. You hadn’t downloaded anything else remotely entertaining on your computer. You promised yourself that it was for schoolwork only. You needed the space for all the assignments you needed to do. So now, you were playing solitaire, alone in your room on a Saturday afternoon.

You groaned, leaning into the back of your chair with hands in your eyes. You pressed hard. You turned to your closet, attempting to piece together the clothes you had. You were at the point where you considered attending the party tonight. But you knew no one. Maybe Noel, but even he wouldn’t be there. You sighed, looking back to the cards you had splayed out. You closed off it, directing your cursor to open AOL.

You hadn’t done it in a while, but you began scrolling through random chatrooms. The best thing about AOL was you could remain completely anonymous. You could chat to random people from all over the world, but you remained in your country’s servers. Didn’t want to risk getting a virus.

Hundreds of chatrooms were online. You weren’t interested in chatrooms that housed multiple people. You saw it as cliques that already had a formed bond between each other. They would just kick you out if you randomly joined.

As you scrolled, your eyes finally pinpointed a chatroom with one singular person.

“Why not,” You whispered under your breath, clicking onto it.

guitarbadboy29: hello?

You snorted at the username.

spookygirl92: hi

guitarbadboy29: a/s/l

spookygirl92: 20, F, UK u?

guitarbadboy29: 21, M, UK

spookygirl92: lol we’re almost the same

guitarbadboy29: haha ig we r

You considered clicking off, till the random messaged again.

guitarbadboy29: what u up too?

spookygirl92: uhhh was playin solitare but ig im talkin to u now wbu?

guitarbadboy29: studying lol

spookygirl92: oh rlly? what u studying

guitarbadboy29: commerce ergg kill meeee

spookygirl92: o srs?! same here lol tell me about it

guitarbadboy29: haha its hell but… idk i guess its good for my future and allat…

You smiled at your screen.

spookygirl92: wouldn’t have guessed that a bad boy that plays guitar would be doin commerce… u in a band or summat?

guitarbadboy29: hell yeah im in a band, ms. spookygirl

spookygirl92: oh fuk yea!!! what band u play in?

guitarbadboy29: hmmmmmmmm idk if I wanna reveal that jus yet… idk u

spookygirl92: ok mysterybadboy… tell me more bout it

guitarbadboy29: wellll we play a lot of classics yk we dont have our own music… but i wanna play my music that i made but my shite frontman thinks its rubbish

spookygirl92: whaaattt?! that’s silly… surely u can convince him?

guitarbadboy29: i could yeah.. idk he plays the music that makes all the birds scream and take their tops off or whatever but idc bout dat

spookygirl92: lol u must be smokin hot then xD

guitarbadboy29: don’t i know it haha

You couldn’t help but giggle. There was something in the way this user messaged. Maybe it was the fact that you were around the same age, or maybe the username that he presented himself as was silly.

spookygirl92: what music do u play then?

guitarbadboy29: hmm when its what i wanna play i usually play beatles numbers or…. stone roses and lush

spookygirl92: ?!?!?! u like lush???!!!

guitarbadboy29: yea haha i went to a gig of theirs while back

spookygirl92: omg… maybe we were at the same gig then? i went to one too

guitarbadboy29: maybe it was fate that we were meant to meet on here then :)

spookygirl92: u flirting with me?

guitarbadboy29: maybe…. ;)

A smirk curled at your lips. You hadn’t been flirted with so nonchalantly in years. Let alone online.

spookygirl92: u crazy

guitarbadboy29: am i? all lush fans are pretty, i might’ve seen u in the crowd

spookygirl92: u included?

guitarbadboy29: yeah i’m proper fit me

spookygirl92: oh my~ u play guitar and u like lush? might just have to marry ya

guitarbadboy29: yeah? im a big ring guy… adding another wouldn’t be bad

spookygirl92: do u take em off when u play guitar?

guitarbadboy29: nah. birds love it, but i take it off when i like em too

spookygirl92: oh id appreciate if u did… don’t want em to get stuck somewhere lololol

guitarbadboy29: u flirting with me?

spookygirl92: maybe… ;)

The door of your room burst open. You cursed to yourself, closing the tab at a rapid pace as your roommate Michelle waltzed in. She had heavy bags under her eyes that were accompanied by a smirk. She ignored you for a moment, rummaging through her school tote bag and drawers.

“Have you…” She muttered, trailing off slightly as she continued to ravish her side of the room. “Have you seen my assignment paper?”

You turned around, the chair squeaking violently beneath you. You shook your head.

“No, sorry,”

She halted. She turned to you, her eyes flickering to the screen.

“Are you… Doing the assignment?” She whispered through bated breaths. You looked at her with playful suspicion. You realized what she was hinting at which caused you to sigh heavily, nodding. She stepped towards you, soon plunging to her knees with her hands clasped together.

“My liege…” She started. “Help… Me…” She grasped onto your shoulder, falling dramatically to the floor, her face almost biting away at it. You let out a nervous chuckle. You took her hand in your own, urging her to look back up at you. The sun shone brightly, casting its rays against your back angelically.

“Okay, sure,” you grinned. She clasped at her chest, gasping out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding.

“Oh, great heavens, thank you!” She sung your name in high praises. She stood back up in a flash, pulling you forcefully into a hug that dug your face into her chest. You pushed her off, letting out a genuine laugh.

“Alright, alright!” you swatted her away, adjusting your now angled glasses. “How about we go off to the library, hey? Say, later tonight or tomorrow?”

She finally stood back up properly, assessing your suggestion with a clasped hand at her chin. Her eyes trailed along the ceiling as she hummed softly.

“Not tonight, there’s another party,”

You narrowed your eyes in slight annoyance. Another damn party. Probably at your dorm level once again.

“Probably tomorrow if I’m not fucked,” she giggled. You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply.

“Why don’t you join in this time? I never see you there,”

You shook your head in slight disappointment.

“Cos, I know no one,” you responded, resting against the back of the chair. She gasped in mock offense.

“Hey! You know me!” she pointed at herself with an index.

You raised a brow.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes, smacking you on the shoulder playfully.

“Hey! We’ve gotten to know each other quite well! Surely, I’m more than just the girl that begs you for help with assignments, aye?” she grinned softly, raising her brows up and down.

You had to admit; she had become a bit of a friend. When she’d go down to the vending machine, she’d bring your favorite snack along with her. She’d often toss it at you when you weren’t paying attention. She was easy to make laugh, fun and charismatic. Maybe an annoying sleeper, but not anything a pair of headphones and a calming album could remedy.

You gave her a tight smile, running fingers through your hair.

“I mean… I don’t know, Michelle. I’m just not someone who parties much,” you protested.

She nodded, humming a bit more as if she was pondering something so particularly interesting.

“But you’ve gotta at least party once! It’s university for god’s sake! You’ve got to live a little!”

Her words hadn’t gone out the other ear as it usually did when she spoke about partying. It lingered in your mind as you genuinely began to think about it. Your eyes looked beyond her figure, wandering to the door of your dorm. You closed your eyes as your head lulled slightly. As you let out a debating huff, you looked back up at her.

“Sure, but I’m not entertaining any spliff,” you scoffed as crossed your arms. Michelle almost lunged at you, pulling you from your chair as she gripped tightly to your wrists. She raised them up as she cheered, hollering your name repeatedly.

“Alright-! Jesus!” you snatched your hands back to your side, gently rubbing at where she had her killer grip. She held her stomach as she cackled.

“Can’t believe you’re actually havin’ it!”

You shrugged with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,”

Michelle waltzed out of the room with an evident grin plastered on her face, leaving you alone in your shared dorm. You wiped your face with a palm as you sighed heavily. You slumped in your chair whilst looking up at the familiar ceiling with pursed lips.

When you sat up, you remembered the chat with ‘guitarbadboy29’, cursing under your breath as you realized that you had left him hanging. Your hand reached for the mouse, clicking onto the tab once more.

“Oh, he hasn’t responded,” you muttered. A small pang of disappointment sunk at the bottom of your stomach. You shook your head as you pushed away at your desk.

“Might as well find an outfit…”

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