"oh, fuck."
those were his first words to her.
"shit, sorry."
and those were her first words to him.
neither could have guessed what'd come of meeting on the rooftop of their building at midnight when they both needed a getaway from their own profou...
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• ilysb // lany •
She knocked on his door wearing dark wash jean shorts, a black t-shirt with a satirical quote on it, a flannel tied around her waist, and brown ankle boots to complete the look. On the third knock, surprisingly, someone answered, even with the music loud enough to warrant a call to the local police station.
"Well, well," answered 7B's slightly slurred voice, a lazy smirk to match. He checked his watch, the time showing two and a half hours after the time he told her the party started. "Looks like someone found a new meaning the term fashionably late."
"Yeah, sorry I'm late, but I... didn't want to come."
"At least you came to have fun," he said sarcastically.
"We'll see," she said, falling in with the rest of the people in the crowded apartment.
Less than twenty minutes after arriving, she'd drank two beers from the cliché red cups, and still hadn't felt a buzz. She'd always had a high tolerance, and the beer the host had chosen was a little less than desirable—but it was still the only drink there.
Said host approached the brunette who was practically sulking with a phone in one hand and a half-empty cup in the other. "Hey, you don't look like you're having any fun."
"Oh, no, I am," she argued with sarcasm dripping from her words. "Lots of fun drinking this cheap beer and watching people fall over drunk with 5% alcohol in their systems."
He chuckled at her bluntness. "You don't like the beer?"
"I'm more of a bourbon kind of girl," she shrugged, having yet to look up from whatever seemed so interesting on her screen.
"We've got some of that."
"You do?" she asked, her eyes meeting his.
"Yeah, it's mine, but I'd be willing to share."
"Alright. Take me to the booze."
He led her to his room, ordering her to wait outside while he retrieved the bottle of Jim Beam, stating that his dog was in there and he didn't want him escaping. When he came back, and she had chugged what was left of the beer, he poured the bourbon in her cup.
"I know you're supposed to drink this in a glass, but it's the best you'll get," he said.
She thanked him as they walked back to the corner of the living room she was in before. "So, who are all these people?" she asked, whiskey happily flowing through her veins.
"Some from the building, some from my old high school in town to visit, some from work."
"Where do you work?" she inquired.
"Technically, I don't go to work. I'm an artist. Some of these guys are from the gallery on Third," he said, throwing back his thumb in the general direction of the gallery. "So, what do you do?"
