Musa and Riven 27: Help me I'm being hit on at a bar, be my fake boyfriend for a minute
The whiskey burned in the best possible way. It filled her throat with a sensation that replaced the pain in her heart and took her mind off the fact that she'd just had a bomb dropped on her. Her father had called her an hour ago and told her that her mother was dying. She had two months according to the doctors. Musa had three months left to the semester, and her mother had refused to let her drop the semester to come home. Musa hated that she'd chosen a university on the other side of the fucking country. Freedom from her parents would be nice, she'd thought. What a moron she'd been.
She downed her drink and requested another from the bartender. She would get completely trashed, get an UBER back to her apartment and stuff her face with all the junk food that Stella, her roommate, kept hidden in corners she thought Musa didn't know about. Maybe if Stella wasn't back from her date by then, Musa would let herself cry. For now, though, she just wanted to be numb.
"Hey gorgeous."
Musa shot him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye – more out of reflex than genuine curiosity – and ignored him. She thanked the bartender for her drink and handed him the twenty she had folded up in her back pocket. Dumbass beside her was still there, watching her sip her drink with a sly grin that made Musa want to punch him.
"What's-a-matter, don't wanna talk?"
Clearly not, she thought bitterly. Why were men so damn stupid? "Not particularly" she answered blankly. The guy, no older than 23, had chin-length curly blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was quite good looking: square jaw, broad shoulders, tall. It was a shame he was so obnoxious. Though, maybe she shouldn't be surprised; the frat jacket should have given that away.
"I won't bite" he smirked, "unless you're into that."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He introduced himself as Tyler, and Musa had to resist the urge to tell him she didn't care what his fucking name was. She had no idea what Tyler was like; he could be a violent nightmare or a rapist, and she'd had a bad enough night. She didn't want to take her chances with possibly being murdered.
"I'm flattered, but I'm not interested." She flashed him her sweetest smile – play nice and maybe his ego won't be too bruised, and he won't threaten you. That was how it went, right?
"Oh, come on, baby. I can guarantee you'll have a great time."
Gross. Thirty seconds of you sweating on me and panting in my ear isn't my idea of a great time.
She met his eyes, and he was still giving her that smug look. She'd thought it, not said it. Thank God. Stella was right; her snark would get her killed one day. Maybe by Tyler.
"Please don't call me that."
"Okay, sweetheart."
"Not that either." She sipped her whiskey again. She could feel him in her space, closing in on her. With every passing second, it felt like he edged closer and closer. Her fingers tapped on the glass in a mix of nerves and irritation. The bar was crowded, but no one seemed to notice or care that she was being harassed by some dumb ass frat bro. She should've gone to the fancy cocktail club on the next block up instead of the university bar. Sticking out in torn jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers was better than dealing with fuckface next to her.
"Well, why don't you tell me what to call you then?"
He was next to her ear. She could smell the beer on his breath and feel the heat of his breath her cheek. Did the boy not know boundaries? Had his parents never told him not to get in peoples' personal bubbles?
Ugh. And running his hand along her back.
Her back arched away from his touch, but that just seemed to please him more. His eyes fell to her chest – completely covered by her shirt, mind you – and remained there for far too long for it to be him reading the lettering on her shirt.
"I have a boyfriend."
"Do you now?" he taunted, finally taking a step away from her. He watched her with that smirk still plastered on his face. She wanted to break the glass over his head.
"Mhm" she remained tight-lipped. Her grip on the glass so strong that she was sure it would break in her hand. Better her hand than his head, she thought. At least with herself, she didn't risk getting murdered. And, hey, maybe it would manage to distract her from her dying mother for a few moments.
"And he left you alone?"
"He should be here soon" she lied.
Why? Why had she said that?
"I'll wait with you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't mind."
Minutes past slowly. She finished her drink and considered leaving, but then Tyler might follow her. Musa's eyes scanned the bar and, as if he'd been sent by the heavens, recognised a guy from one of her classes exiting the bathroom. She didn't know him, just that he had a bad boy vibe going on that, though she'd never admit it, was quite sexy, and that he never seemed to smile or participate in class whenever he deemed them worth his time. Still, he didn't give her creepy stalker or pervert vibes, so he'd do.
She pushed herself off the bar stool and approached him, praying that she didn't look to nervous. She could feel Tyler's eyes burning a hole into her back. Her eyes locked with her classmate's and she was taken aback by the striking violet of them. She'd never noticed them before – never really had a chance to look either since he always sat at the back of the lecture hall and was out the door the minute class ended.
"Hi?"
"Hi, listen" Musa rambled. "I know we don't really know each other bu-"
"You're in Dufour's class with me, right?"
"Yeah. I need you to be my boyfriend for a minute. There's this creep at the bar, the one with curly blond hair, that won't leave me alone and you're the only person I recognize here."
"Uh, okay." Riven stepped closer to her rather awkwardly. It dawned on her that he towered over her and was easily twice her size. Hopefully this wasn't a mistake because he could probably take her down without even breaking a sweat. Riven's eyes left hers, peering over her head at the bar behind her. "Jesus, he's full-on staring at us."
"Oh, for fuck's sake" Musa groaned, running her hand over her cheek. If Tyler was staring, that meant he still didn't believe her. She knew what would sell it, and she hated Tyler for having to push her to this. "Ca-"
"You want me to beat him up?"
"As tempting as that sounds" Musa laughed, "maybe just kiss me? You know, sell the whole 'boyfriend' thing."
"Right, yeah" Riven mumbled.
"Make it look natural though. Like it's something you do all the time."
"I know how to kiss someone, Musa." She was surprised he knew her name. Riven moved closer into her space and, much to her surprise, Musa didn't mind it. He radiated a ridiculous amount of body heat, but she liked it. It reminded her of the days she'd spend on the beach back home, enjoying the heat of the sun. Riven's hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up towards his and running his thumb over her lower lip.
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as he dipped his head down to hers. What the fuck was up with that? She'd kissed plenty of people and never had that feeling before. Riven's lips met hers and holy fuck. She closed her eyes instinctively and tried to ignore the sparks that had erupted in her stomach until she couldn't anymore. Her hands landed on his chest and slid up to circle his neck and run through his hair. She felt his hand leave her chin and drop to her waist, wrapping around it and pulling her in tighter.
When they finally separated, they were both breathing heavily. His face stopped inches from hers and Musa was surprised to find she was on her tip toes. His eyes bore into hers and Musa couldn't seem to look away; his eyes were so damn hypnotizing. She lost herself in them until something clicked in her and she remembered why she'd been kissing him in the first place. "Is creep at the bar still watching?"
Riven's eyes left hers and she sort of wanted them back. He confirmed that Tyler was no longer watching them or at the bar, so Musa pushed herself away from him. Cold rushed through her and she longed for the warmth his body had provided. What the fuck. "Great, thanks. I'll, uh, see you around."
Musa began to turn, planning on leaving the bar. She'd go to the store, buy a cheap bottle of something and get trashed at home instead. Riven's hand grabbed her shoulder before she could turn the whole way. "Creep is by the door," he told her.
"Seriously?" Musa groaned, turning to look. Sure enough, there was the curly, blond-haired boy, standing less than five feet from the entrance. "Guess I'm not leaving."
"You can hang out with me and my friends. If he's still here when you want to leave, we'll take you home."
Musa followed him to a table where Riven introduced her to his friends and explained how it had come to be that Musa was joining them. It turned out that she already knew one of Riven's friends and she found herself easily integrating into the group. They even managed to take her mind off her dying mother. Musa could happily spend the whole night hanging out with them. Riven was much nicer than she'd anticipated – in a confusing sweet jerk kind of way. He surprisingly funny too and very hot, and if she just happened to take him home that night, would that be such a bad thing?
