#bluerainewrites

He led you back towards the hallway and opened a door into a bathroom. Small, but clean. Towels were hung neatly on a rack and there was even a mat on the floor.

"Shared bathroom, I'm afraid," he said, ruffling his hair. "We can work out a cleaning schedule for everything, but obviously you would be responsible for your own room. Speaking of which…"

He opened the door next to the bathroom and gestured for you to enter. The window was open, freshening up the space, but you immediately liked the vibe as you entered. A double bed, wardrobe, and a dresser furnished the space, along with a bedside table, complete with lamp. Everything looked brand new, even the carpet felt squishy beneath your feet.

"Wow, this is great," you smiled, gazing around. You turned to him. "I feel like there should be a catch somehow. How is this room still available?"

A little smirk curved his mouth as he leant against the dresser. "I'm the catch."

"Oh, are you now?" Your eyes widened slightly as you stared at him, and then he blushed, his hand ruffling nervously through his hair.

"Um, shit. That sounded so much better in my head," he winced. "I meant, I'm the part of the agreement that might cause a stumbling block. I'm a bit weird. I mean, isn't it obvious?"

It was your turn to smirk as you watched him squirm in embarrassment. Gangly and awkward, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. It was actually rather adorable. You'd always had a soft spot for the nerdy type. "Oh, definitely," you nodded, unable to resist an opportunity to tease. "Clocked it as soon as you opened the door. I was prepared, though. The advert did promise me weird, and I'm here for it."

He gave you a bashful glance and huffed an awkward laugh. "Well, you won't be disappointed."

"Sounds intriguing," you said. "If you're happy to move to the next stage, then I'm interested."

No more guitar boys. End of.

But, his eyes though.

Shit.

You'd regressed back to your 14 year old self; crushing hard on a tall boy with pretty hands, and even prettier eyes. Combined with his leather jacket and his white-blonde, fade cut hair, you were done for; your gaze constantly seeking him out as you moved around the room.

Feeling flushed, you made your way out onto the patio. The sun had not long dipped below the horizon throwing the garden into shadows, but the seated area was lit up with garden lamps, and fairy lights were strung over the pergola. You rubbed at your bare arms. Summer was rushing in with longer, sunnier days, but the evenings still cooled down just enough to remind you that it wasn't quite here yet.

Smiling at a few people as you passed them, you made your way through the tables towards a low stone wall that surrounded the lawn. A children's play area on the far side was your destination, and you perched yourself on a swing, rocking back and forth on your Doc Martens as you sipped your drink. A moment's peace from the hustle and bustle inside.

"Hiding?"

You jumped, heart kicking into high gear as III emerged from the shadows.

"Fuck me, you trying to kill me?" You gasped, hand on your heart. "What the hell are you doing hiding out here?"

His low chuckle was borderline sinful. "Sorry, little bee. Did I scare you?"

You rubbed your hand against your chest, taking a breath to slow your startled pulse. "You're lucky I don't sting your ass," you grumbled.

III moved to take the swing next to yours. "That's cute," he grinned. He took a drag from a roll up, the tip glowing in the darkness, before holding it out to you. "Want some?"

No basic cigarette, then. No wonder he was lurking in the dark. You eyed the joint, your gaze drifting back to him as he released a plume of smoke into the air above you.

"Still smoking, then." You remembered him and your brother thinking they were being stealthy at the bottom of the garden behind the shed, when they really weren't.

His mouth curved into a smile as he grasped the chain of his swing, leaning towards you. "Don't tell me you're a good girl," he murmured.

"I am," you said, tilting your head and leaning towards him. You plucked the joint from his fingers. "For the right person."

He watched you, amusement teasing at his mouth. It was hard to pull your gaze away from his after that deliberate tease, but you did. With a smirk you settled on your swing and took a drag, inhaling slowly. You closed your eyes, savouring it before releasing your own plume of smoke. "Not bad," you said, holding the joint back towards him.

"Not bad at all," he smiled, his little finger grazing the side of your hand as he took the joint back.

You swallowed, ignoring the tingle of awareness it stirred. That was the first time he'd touched you tonight, and your inner 14 year old self was swooning like an idiot.

"Where's your friend?" You asked, grasping the swing chain a bit tighter.

"On a call with the love of his life," III shrugged, slumping around a chain as he made his swing rock with his long legs. He tilted back, looking up towards the sky. "He's got it real bad. I reckon he might make it official with this one, you know. Put a ring on it. That's what every other fucker our age seems to be doing lately."

"Not you?" You asked, turning to look at him.

His eyes swung your way from where he was hanging back, his nose screwing up. "Nah, my lifestyle doesn't really lend itself to settling down; drowning in nappies and wailing kids. Ugh."

"I bet IV was saying the same thing before he met his girlfriend," you suggested. "The right person probably changes everything. People wouldn't have babies otherwise."

He sat up, eyeing you curiously. "Is that what you want? Forever, and kids, and stuff."

You shrugged. "I don't know, maybe," you said. "Right now, I'm happy doing my thing. I'm enjoying touring with the business. I didn't expect to be doing that with my life, and it's actually great. So, I guess I'm open to whatever feels right."

"Hmm," he hummed slowly, taking another drag.

You both swung on your feet, lost in thought for a moment as the party continued on across the lawn. You took a mouthful from your drink, finishing it.

"I'm sorry I used to pull your hair," he said, out of the blue. "I was a bit of a cunt when I was younger. So, I apologise if I ever hurt you."

You met his gaze, surprised. "You never hurt me," you said, truthfully.

He had pulled your hair though, but it had never been rough. You'd tried to retaliate of course, but he'd always outsmarted you somehow. A true king of mischief. He'd pinned you down and tickled you, tripped you up, soaked you with water pistols and slammed water balloons in your face when you weren't expecting it. But, you'd never hated him for it.

"Well, that's good. I was still a little cunt, though," he grinned.

"Does that mean you've grown up now, and you're sensible?"

"Well…" His mouth twisted as he considered that and you laughed.

"I'll take that as a no," you chuckled.

"I don't do boring," he said, leaning around his chain again, his long fingers curled around the cool metal. His gaze drifted over you, slowly, and you fought to stay still on the swing seat. "And, neither do you, I reckon," he said, softly. "Little honeybee."

Your gazes met in the darkness, something hot and dangerous stirring low in your belly. You were no sweet and innocent teenager anymore. Your body knew what it liked now, and somehow he was waking it all up with just one simmering look. He was not a young boy anymore, either. He was still gangly and mischievous, but his face had sharpened into that of a man, the added touch of his moustache merely enhancing the look.

But, it was his eyes that had you. Beautiful, baby blues that suggested innocence, but what lurked beneath was far from it.

Dangerous boy.

The added bonus of being older and wiser was the confidence to hold these moments without crashing out. You'd flirted and played with enough blokes to know that caving at the first flutter of eyelashes was a big no. No matter who he was. You'd learned how to play, and he was right; you didn't like boring.

You leant forward around your own chain, holding his gaze until you were mere inches from his face. Your pulse thundered at the proximity, his pretty eyes glittering from the glow of nearby fairy lights. You curved your lips into a slow smile and felt a glow of triumph when his gaze dipped to your mouth.

"I do like a bit of chaos," you murmured. "I guess I learned from the best."

When his eyes darted back up to yours, you had to harness every inch of self control to back away from him. Adrenaline was pumping wildly as you stood up from the swing, smoothing the tulle miniskirt that you knew was scandalously short enough to reveal the curve of your bottom in tight, black hot pants. He was watching you, his eyes burning into you as you took a few steps forward.

"Best get back to the party before I'm missed," you said sweetly, throwing a smile over your shoulder.

"Of course," he said, his voice deep and soft. "Fly back to your guests, little honeybee. Such a good girl after all."

Fuck.

You were the image of cool restraint as you crossed that lawn. At least, you hoped you were. The effort made your hands tremble.

Smooth bastard. Just like any other guitar boy.

He wasn't just any other guitar boy, though. He was the one who'd started the obsession.