I think it's so cute and I think it's so sweet

How you let your friends encourage you to try and talk to me

But let me stop you there, oh, before you speak

"No"- Meghan Trainor

Elain is late.

Elain is late and Nesta is pissed. So very pissed. Like the most angry she's ever been at either one of her younger sisters, and Nesta is so throughly shocked that it's not Feyre that's drawn her ire. That it's sweet, sensitive, cried when they'd dissected frogs in high school, Elain.

She could be back at her apartment right now, curled up under a cozy blanket, text book in hand as she went over her notes from class this week. Finals are coming up and even if Nesta already knows the information forwards and back, staying top of the class doesn't come as easily as her family assumes it is. This last year of law school has been particularly rough, and if Nesta wants to pass the bar and impress the local law firm she's had her eye on she's got more studying to do.

Instead she's here, dressed in clothes she almost feels vulgar wearing, but then again, Elain begged her to wear it and who is she to deny her younger sister. That's why she's here in the first place. It's been weeks since she's seen Elain, even longer since Nesta has seen Feyre, months maybe. Certainly not since the semester started, and this is the first Friday that all three Acheron sisters has been free at the same time since then.

And the only reason, the only reason she hasn't left this stupid bar— to hunt down Elain to make sure she's alright, or to retreat to the sanctuary of laws and court cases— is Elain's constant stream of updates and apologies for running late. Apparently traffic, and picking out the right outfit and then waiting for Feyre and her conceited boyfriend to pick her up, and he was running already late all adds to Nesta standing alone at a bar, uncomfortable, annoyed, and pissed.

She's been waiting at least twenty minutes now and the nicest thing she can say about the club is that the floors are clean and the music is decent. Better than decent if Nesta is being honest, but she'll never admit that, and when the DJ plays a mix of her favorite two guilty pleasure songs, she can't help but sway where she stands.

Her phone buzzes in her hand. Her hand, not her pocket, because it's not like this outfit would have functioning pockets. It's Feyre this time, apologizing again for the delay and assuring her that they're about five minutes from the club. Her grip tightens on the phone and she growls under her breath, knowing that five minutes for Feyre is more like another fifteen.

That's when she hears it, the casual clearing of someone's throat. Nesta turns, the irritation still written on her face. Next to her, looking far too cocksure for her liking is possibly the most handsome man she's seen in a long time. Her eyes sweep over him, head to toe.

He's swarthy and well muscled. The tight fitting jacket does nothing to hide the bulging biceps that lie beneath. The black leather catches the light in a way accents his toned torso. He is gorgeous and dangerous, all wrapped up in one delicious package.

And what's worse, he knows it. He knows it and she doesn't have time for this, for him. For whatever casual game he may want to play. For a relationship in whatever pretty trappings he wants to dress it up in.

Still there's something about him. Something that makes her want to see past the long hair, which shouldn't work, not with the outfit he's wearing, and certainly not with the look and feel of the club, but some how does. The hazel eyes that draw her in, makes her want to know what else lies behind the cool facade he exudes. The smug smirk she doesn't know if she wants to slap or kiss off his face.

And it's that realization that makes her flush, and she hopes that the dim light hides it, or at least that she can pass it off as the heat of the club. She knows, just knows that she needs to shut this down, shut him down, because if she lets him talk, if she lets herself be drawn into this wild, and dangerous looking man, there will be no turning back.

So she makes a decision. She has to be clear, concise because that's the only thing that works on men like him.

Nesta looks him up and down another time, assessing him in her cool manner, disdain oozing from every pore, and doesn't make an effort to hide the distaste from her voice as she tells him,

"No."