Just Your Average ADHD Bookworm

Part 1: Distant Early Warning (Rush)

Nesta pulled the dress over her head, letting it slide into place over her body. Screw this, she thought for the millionth time, yet she continued to get herself ready, turning to glance at her reflection when she was finished. She raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly at the woman looking back through the mirror. The woman Nesta spied had on a satin slip dress, darkest blue. She wore no jewelry save for the small silver studs in her ears, and her hair was pulled into a neat-yet-simple updo.

Why Nesta even agreed to go to this party she didn’t know. There was nothing different about it, just another college booze fest. The music would be too loud, the air too heavy, the guys too grabby, and the company too... clubby. Feyre insisted that she would fit right into her friend group – her clique – but Nesta wasn’t sure she wanted that. She padded over to the door of her apartment. No, Nesta was quite certain that “fitting in” with Feyre’s newfound friends was something she didn’t care for at all.

Nesta’s phone buzzed on her kitchen counter as she slipped on a pair of black heels, and she picked up to Feyre’s forcibly perky voice. “Hey! We just pulled up, you coming?”

“No.” Response blunt, tone dry. The line was silent for a long moment, and Nesta held in a sigh. “Did I give you the impression that I was interested in coming?”

“Nesta, I’m not in the mood for fucking around,” Feyre said, perkiness mysteriously faded now. “It’s just one party! I promise you’ll have fun.” Bullshit.

“Since when have I ever-”

“And everyone else really wants you to come, too!” Feyre cut her off, “Rhys is excited to meet you!”

Rhys. Feyre’s boyfriend. Nesta groaned inwardly, truly dreading any interaction with the rugby star. Feyre had immediately caught the eye of the local heartthrob, and the two began a serious relationship shortly after meeting. And with one came the others. In high school they would have been labeled “popular.” They were quite possibly the closest group of friends at the college, almost all of them having known each other since childhood. And Feyre had slipped right in among them. Nesta had warned Feyre against making the tight pack of fourth-years her main group of friends, and she had her own opinions about a freshman dating a senior, but Feyre didn’t make a habit of following Nesta’s advice. Rather, she seemed to think she could give Nesta – a third-year – much more valuable guidance. Domineering bitch.

“I don’t give a shit about your friends, Feyre. I’m only coming because of our deal,” Nesta said. Feyre had been pestering her all semester, spewing crap about how Nesta and Feyre should spend more time together. Nesta should get out more. Nesta should tag along with Feyre’s friend group. Nesta should have some fun. 

More bullshit. 

As second semester began, Feyre had proposed a deal: Nesta would go to one party with Feyre and her buddies, and if she honestly didn’t enjoy it, Feyre would stop asking her to join them. 

“I’m on my way. Let’s just get it over with,” Nesta grumbled, and with that, she hung up the phone and opened the apartment door.

Part 2: Can You Afford to Be An Individual? (Nothing but Thieves

Nesta looked around the group of fourth-years–plus Feyre–arranged in front of her. Introductions were unnecessary; you couldn’t attend this school without knowing who they were. Her eyes fell first upon Rhys, his arm around Feyre’s waist. His chin lifted slightly as she made eye contact. Rhys: double major in history and foreign policy. President of the astrology club. Captain of the rugby team, possibly one of the best players the school had ever seen. He was the group leader, though nobody said it aloud. Nesta knew him well. Perhaps she only knew his type well, or her own perception of his type, but that didn’t keep her from holding his gaze a few moments longer than would be comfortable. Then she turned her scrutiny on his sidekicks, so she called them, Cassian and Azriel. The former wore jeans and a baggy black jacket over his rugby uniform in the school colors: black and red. The latter wore black pants with a dark blue button-down shirt untucked.

Cassian smirked as her eyes met his. “Glad you decided to make an appearance,” he drawled. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his smile widened in response. Cocky bastard. Azriel, double majoring in political science and criminology, simply nodded at her in greeting.

After the sidekicks came Rhys’s cousin Mor, an architecture major with a minor in design. She was entirely too peppy in a way that left Nesta exhausted, but Nesta wouldn’t give her satisfaction by scoffing at her cocked hip and half-grin, ostensibly projecting confidence. She held Mor’s stare, matching her asserted confidence with a cool security in her own assets. The half-smile twisted, just slightly, and Nesta moved on to the short girl farthest to the right: Amren.

Amren scared people. As in, people were genuinely freaked out by her. Aside from a few cultish tendencies, her occasional propensity for violence and/or verbal outbursts, and her sharp expression, though, Nesta couldn’t tell why. Amren majored in gemology and minored in linguistics, and was the only one in the group other than Feyre to have not known the others since they were little. In fact, she was studying here from abroad, though nobody actually knew where she was from. Unlike Mor, Amren presented a confidence that Nesta could believe in and respect. Nesta maintained her chilled posture, but let the bite in her expression retreat.

As for Feyre’s introducing Nesta, that was unnecessary as well. They all knew her; most upperclassmen did. Or rather they knew of her, by the name of heinous bitch. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“Okay,” Feyre started, her voice expectant as she tilted her chin to look at Rhys’s face, “Let’s head in?” Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta had met up with the rest of the group in the parking lot before they entered the party. Fashionably late, Feyre had told her on the drive in Rhys’s tesla. Rhys taught me that the key to maintaining his public image is in making grand entrances. God, Nesta wanted to laugh at Rhys’s influence over her.

As they entered the building holding the party Nesta immediately stiffened, and had to close her eyes for a moment against the harsh blue and purple lights cast by PAR cans. All senses at once were smacked by the presence of weed. The floor was vibrating, and speakers blasted near-deafening music so that all Nesta could really hear was thunder. Jesus Christ, I hate parties, she thought. A mass of sweaty bodies shifted and bounced through the too-heavy air ahead of her, some only silhouettes in the murky haze, through which Nesta saw red solo cups littering every possible surface. Suddenly she noticed Feyre standing next to her, fidgeting with her clutch and looking over expectantly. Nesta shot her a withering look that said, “This is not what we agreed to.” Feyre had the nerve to look guilty.

“Okay before you say anything,” Feyre began, “I know that look, and... I know this is a bit bigger than we talked about-”

“A bit?! This is a rager, Feyre. Do I look like I rage?”

“Okay no, but I promise Rhys and I have a plan.” Oh my God.

Nesta gave her another glare and plucked a cup off a nearby table. Sniffing it, she sighed and took a big swig. “Please, my dearest sister, do tell.”

“We’re going with a buddy system.”

Nesta coughed. “A buddy system – are you fucking kidding me?” She spied Rhys and his dickhead friends in the corner of her eye. “Wow, are arts and crafts before or after beer pong?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, calling a fresh wave of frustration to roll over Nesta. “Can you shut it with the attitude, Nesta? I already apologized for the crowd of people – it kind of got out of hand. Rhys told me before we left but I didn’t want to scare you out of coming.” She gave Nesta a pleading look.

“Tch, whatever. Who’s my buddy? I assume you’ll be with Rhys?”

Feyre beamed at her. “You’re paired up with Cassian!”

“Cassian.” Great. Alpha dickhead.

“Don’t be like that. He knows his way around these things and he’ll keep you from accidentally overdosing or blacking out.” 

“Who said that wasn’t my intention?” 

Feyre scrunched her face up. “Either way, you can’t deny that he’s bigger and taller than half the creepy guys here. He’ll keep unwanted attention away.” 

Nesta watched as Rhys, lead hulking rugby bro dickhead, caught sight of her sister and eyed her with what might have been lust or love – Nesta couldn’t decide. Cassian, approaching from Rhys’s side, cut Nesta a slow, purposeful look down and back up to her face. She felt an annoying tingle down her spine as the crowds parted for them. This was going to be a long night.

Part 3: Inhaler (Foals)

They had been at the party for less than ten minutes and Nesta already wanted to leave. Drink in hand, she aimlessly wandered around the outskirts of the crowd, hoping to find a place to sit farther from the lights that drowned out any rational thought that flashed through her brain. Cassian trailed a few steps behind.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

She twisted around to glare at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

Cassian puffed out a laugh and spread his arms wide, responding, “If you don’t recall, we’re kind of stuck together, darling.”

Right. Nesta rolled her eyes. “How could I forget?” Cassian left the question hanging, still following her, so she forged on. “I like to read. A concept that’s probably foreign to you.” She dodged a young couple parting from the fray to make out against the wall, and paused to reorient herself.

“You might be surprised.” Nesta groaned inwardly and arched a brow. “Oh I have no doubt.”

“None at all?”

“What. Are you on volume seven of Captain Underpants?”

“Volume eight, actually.”

Nesta stopped. She was pissed. Pissed at this party, pissed at Feyre for lying about how big it was, pissed that she was stuck with rugby bro sidekick, pissed that the purple lights suddenly seemed a lot brighter, the music a lot louder, her thoughts a lot fuzzier. “Look, Cassian. I only came here as a favor to my sister. We’re not friends.” He started to cut her off, but she continued, turning so that they fully faced each other, “You don’t have to stay, I can take care of myself.”

He leaned in close, the laughter in his tone suddenly gone. “Listen, princess. You’ve had two beers and you’re already tipsy. I get it, we’re not friends. But there are at least four guys looking at you like they want to take you against the nearest surface and I’m the only man within a thirty-foot radius that has any self-control. There’s no way I’m leaving.” He held her gaze firmly.

“So that’s it – I’m just supposed to trust you? My knight in shining armor, here to protect my virtue? That ship sailed a long time ago.” Fuck it. “I wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride though,” Nesta said, flashing a smirk at the end.

Cassian’s lips twisted into a half-grin, but she could see annoyance rising up in his eyes. “Nesta, you don’t wanna play with me.”

“Brute.” Nesta turned and started walking away again.

“Bitch.” He followed.

Nesta scoffed. “How original.”

“Not all of us are English Lit majors.” 

Somehow Nesta tripped on her own foot at that moment, staggering sideways into Cassian’s path. He lunged forward, arms going around her waist to hoist her upright. Her lip curled and she spit out, “And not all of us are rugby stars,” and shoved her way out of his arms.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassian asked, incredulous.

“Cassian, I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love your attention. But I’m not one of them.” She turned around to face him, walking backwards, and almost tripped again. “So go on and play with someone else. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” With that, Nesta thrust herself into the fray, pushing her way through the mass of shouting people, making the crowd a barrier between herself and Cassian.

Part 4: Emergency (Nothing but Thieves)

After five minutes of random college students bumping into her from every direction, her head pounding and thoughts muddled, Nesta realized she didn’t know which direction the exit was in. Fuck. She was disoriented and exasperated, her frustration now showing in her usually unshakable expression. She couldn’t even tell which direction the light was coming from. How many beers had she drunk? Two? Three? She wasn’t usually a drinker, and it hit her then that she hadn’t eaten for hours before the party started. Stupid, she thought. This was why she didn’t do parties.

She was so distracted trying to figure out where the light source was, trying to get her bearings at least, that she didn’t catch sight of a brooding figure wending its way toward her until the man had a hold of her wrist and was pulling her to the side of the room, wherever that was. 

“Hey! Get the fuck off me!” Nesta shouted over the crowd, but couldn’t get a response from the man until they found one of the cinder block walls.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice cruel as he tried to pull her closer. “We’re just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta ripped free of his grasp, but he backed her into a corner. He had a drink in one hand. Not good.

“Hey, hey, no need to get worked up,” he drawled, “I saw the way you were looking at me.” Looking at him? Nesta thought. This was the first she’d seen of him.

Nesta tried to step to the side, but the man followed her, his senses keener than hers in her condition. He reached out for her arm again, and Nesta shouted this time. “Don’t touch me!”

He put his hand up as if in innocence. “Come now, I’ll make it fun for you. Just have a drink.” He brought the cup toward her face, his hand now reaching behind her head, which she snatched away.

“I swear to God, can’t you bastards understand that no means no?”

“You-”

“Get the fuck away from me, creep!” She aimed a kick at his groin, but he easily dodged it.

His mouth hardened into a line, and he growled, “Just take the damn drink, bitch!”

The man shoved her into the corner, her head hitting the wall. He brought his hand up to hold her back by her shoulders as he brought the cup up toward her lips and-

“Let me go or I promise you’ll regret it.” Last resort. 

He shot her a crooked grin and began to reply, but whatever response he had in mind was cut short.

A voice from behind him said, “And she never goes back on a promise, asshole.” The man was wrenched off her body by two strong hands, and pulled over to the side to give her an out, which she quickly took advantage of.

And there, dragging the man away from her, was Cassian.

The creep tried to play it cool. “Hey, Cassian, bro, what’s up, man?” he said mock-casually, “I caught your last game! great playing, dude!” His demeanor shifted completely as he turned on his bro mode.

Cassian’s jaw was set. He tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder, his stare withering. “You need to leave. Right now.”

Yet the man kept going with a smirk, “It’s all good bro, we can share.” 

That was a step too far.

Cassian grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him close. “That’s the thing – I don’t share. I don’t play nice.” Cassian thrust his face forward so they were only a couple inches apart. “You said you caught my last game, right? So you know I don’t go down without a fight. Touch her again and you’ll regret it.” With that, he shoved the guy into a table, and turned to Nesta. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Part 5: Before We Drift Away (Nothing but Thieves)

Dizzy and shaken, Nesta let Cassian guide her through the crowd to the exit. Once they were outside in the cool night air, he pulled her aside, gaze dark.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to drink whatever was in that cup?”

“No.”

His eyes closed and relief flooded across his face. “Good. God, some people are fucked up. I don’t know what I would have done if he had drugged you, or taken you away, or...” He trailed off, leaving anything further than that unsaid. 

They were silent for a minute. Nesta looked up at him, a bit of worry still etched across his features. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much?”

He looked over to her, something strange in his expression that Nesta couldn’t place. “I don’t know. You’re a human being, and your safety was left in my hands.” He paused and looked away. “If I’m being honest, when I saw that guy put his hands on you... I don’t know. Something flipped inside me.” At that moment he looked down to her bare shoulders, noticing that she was beginning to shiver. “You’re cold,” he said softly. “Here, take this.” He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, even when she protested.

Nesta frowned as she gave in and pulled his jacket tightly around her, annoyed at the way her body betrayed her. “I don’t need protection. I’ve lived a long time without people to care about me.” She started walking toward the parking lot, and he followed.

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Nesta. You’ve been pushing me away all night, but listen to me – don’t you understand? I’m not just talking to you because I’m bored. I don’t smile at you as a game, as if you’re some prize for me to win. Can’t you see by now that I’m doing literally everything I can just to stay by your side? Damn it, I asked Feyre to pair us together at the party.”

Nesta had stopped walking and was speechless for once.

Cassian stepped closer tentatively, as though she’d back away. He ran a finger over Nesta’s wrist and looked up to the sky. “Please, just don’t make me say anything else completely insane. I promise I’m not in the habit of sharing intense moments with perfect strangers.”

A rush of anger coursed through Nesta, and she shoved him back. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t talk to me like that. Despite what you must think, I’m not an idiot. I’m not naive. I am well aware that this is all a favor to my sister. Stay with my lame, antisocial sister. It might be fun, right?” She paused, any restraint she had used earlier having completely abandoned her.

“That’s not what I think at all, Nes-”

“Fuck you, Cassian.” She shoved him again, more aggressively this time.

Cassian caught her wrists and pulled her closer. “Try that again.”

Nesta glared. “Bite me,” she spit out.

“Maybe I will.”

And as though drawn to her by some gravitational force, Cassian’s mouth came crashing down onto hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, seeming to lift her off her feet. Nesta’s bare skin burned where Cassian touched her, and she pushed back against his touch to gain control. Everything, every thought was fading to nothing. Biting down on his lip drew out a low groan from Cassian, and Nesta broke free.

Cassian put his hands up as though to make a barrier between them, as though he wouldn’t be able to control himself without it. 

“So much for being the only man with self-control,” Nesta said. Cassian just shook his head, earning a light snort from Nesta. “I shut everyone out--even pretty jocks like you. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.”

Cassian smiled his easy smile, and he reached up to touch his lips with a thumb. “You think I’m pretty?”

Nesta scoffed. “The prettiest.”

He stood there for a moment, just smiling at her, before turning back toward the parking lot. “Okay, princess, allow me to introduce you to the pinnacle of after-party activities.”

Nesta raised a brow, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about pancakes.”

She looked skeptical. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. And after the night you had, you deserve an entire plate of them.” Cassian reached out to her with his big, warm hand, and Nesta hesitated.

“Cassian-” She started warily.

“Hey – I’m not asking you to marry me, it’s just pancakes.”

Nesta waited a moment more, then took his hand. “Fine. But I’m not sharing the chocolate sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dare ask you to. Besides, you already know how I feel about sharing.”

Nesta smiled a bit. “Hey Cassian?

“Yes Nesta?”

“Thank you.”