* A/N: I encourage reviews! Giving me feedback helps me to get better, and if I get better, you get to read better stuff! So I hope you enjoy this and if you feel like it, leave a quick review! 3 *
May 7, 2005
She knows him, of course she does. Everybody knows him. Killian Jones was the guy to know on campus – a partier with a different girl always hanging on his arm, the type who never went to class but still aced all his courses, with all the best connections (though no one knows how, he didn't come from money or social status) – and she had heard plenty of stories from his older brother, Liam, with whom she was close. She had worked with Liam during one of her co-ops, and they had immediately connected
So when he goes careening into her at the bar that is hosting their post-graduation party, she rolls her eyes and tries to shove him away. It's so crowded that he just bumps into another person but doesn't really move any farther away from her.
"That was rude, love, shoving me into other people," he slurs drunkenly at her, narrowing his eyes. "Have I done something to offend you?"
"You spilled my drink," she says waspishly, tilting her cup to show its empty contents and waving her other hand over her torso to indicate that said contents were now covering her shirt.
"So sorry, love, that's bad form. Allow me to buy you another?"
"Stop calling me that," she says flatly, feeling inexplicably irritated by the pet name. "And no, I don't need you to buy me drinks, Captain Hook." She spits out his nickname like it's an insult (it's the most ridiculous moniker she's ever heard someone come up with – calling himself that because of his ability to snag any girls he wants).
"Ah, you've heard of me!" He raises an eyebrow provocatively, as though he thinks she is impressed by his reputation (and he's so drunk maybe he really does think that).
"Yes, Killian, I know who you are," Emma sighs tiredly, wishing he would just leave her alone already.
"But I don't know you, and that seems a tragedy," he croons, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he takes a step closer.
"Well, looks like it's going to remain a tragedy," she replies with a sarcastic smile, and she turns to leave, but he grabs her wrist.
"Love, I sincerely apologize for spilling your beverage down this lovely chemise, but you are far too beautiful for me to allow you to leave so simply." He gives her his most confident, dashing look, and she squirms uncomfortably, trying not to look at his too-blue eyes. "Please do me the honour of having a drink with me?" She comes to her senses, aware of this play, he's too charming, too suave, too much of a… of a pirate, intent on doing some pillaging and plundering with her tonight.
"No, thank you," she answers, trying once more to turn away.
"Please, love," he releases her wrist after a small tug, and he scratches the hair behind his ear lightly, looking anywhere but at her now. "Just a name." And he gives her this look from under his eyelashes that absolutely wrecks her, makes her heart stop and her breath catch in her throat, and she feels herself give in.
"Emma Swan," she says, and with a small smile she turns and walks away (and she might put a little more sway in her step than usual, but she would never admit it).
When she falls asleep later that night, she dreams of eyes the colour of the sea, and she is drowning in them, but it doesn't matter, she doesn't care.