Ray.

~~~

I mocked my friends that they could get laid at the party like this and here I was standing in the house full of people but only looking for one face. Its not like I actually planned to get laid but knowing her more wouldn't hurt.

I was still confused about Samantha's situation with Scott, he seemed too out of it. Either she was his girlfriend or not, but he gave some ass long story which I half heard and ignored the other half and was left with no direct answer.

The place was packed, I forgot how house parties work, and while I don't mind interacting with fans, I hate the unsolicited touching. Personal space is a real thing. I thought as I went to get my leather jacket from the living room. And I am supposed to look for her, Samantha. With no luck inside, I stepped out onto the back porch, the cool night air refreshing against my skin.

I spotted her sitting there, her shoulders hunched as if weighed down by something invisible. She held a bottle of rum in one hand, staring out at the darkened garden like it might hold the answers to her troubles.

"Why are you sitting here all alone in the dark?" I asked, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets as I descended the stairs to sit beside her.

She jumped slightly at the sound of my voice, then glanced at me with a faint smile. "I'm not alone. Morgan's keeping me company." She raised the bottle of rum as though that made her point.

I couldn't help but smile at her wit, but it didn't hide the sadness in her pretty blue eyes. "Scott's been looking for you," I said, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I have been looking for you. I failed to keep my eyes from her, staring instead.

"I know." She held up her phone, showing me the missed calls from him. Three, to be exact. Then she sighed and silenced her phone. "I'm not in the mood to deal with him right now." Her tone was sharp, but there was a crack in it a vulnerability she didn't want me or anyone to see.

"Are you okay?" I tilted my head, studying her. "You seem upset."

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I got into a fight with Molly. Well, more like an argument. She said some things that... stuck with me."

I nodded slowly, watching her. I didn't know her, but there was something raw and unguarded in the way she spoke. "Who's Molly?"

"My best friend." She glanced at me briefly before turning her eyes back to the garden.

"Ah, the blonde girl you were talking to earlier in the kitchen?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

"What did you argue about?" I asked, curious but trying not to push too hard.

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "It's stupid, really. Sometimes I just take things too seriously and start questioning everything about my life. And Molly is kinda judgy so it's hard to ignore a lot of what she says."

There was something about her honesty that disarmed me. She grinned at me, a faint glimmer of mischief beneath the weight of her words, and I couldn't help but smile back. Her eyes locked with mine for a moment, and I felt an odd pull. I am fucking drowning. Her blue eyes were like an ocean which I couldn't resist and wanted to step in and stay there for forever.

"So, Scott," I said, breaking the silence. "Why are you avoiding him?"

She giggled, and it was like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. "Because he probably convinced everyone that we're together."

I laughed with her. "Yeah, about that. My bandmates and I thought Scott was talking about a guy when he kept saying, 'my Sam.'"

Her laughter doubled, and it was infectious. "Seriously?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We were confused, but hey, it got us here."

Her laughter softened, and she leaned back against the railing. "Wait 'my Sam'? That's what he called me?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. He made it sound like the person he was dating. You are his girlfriend, right?"

She shook her head firmly, a slight flush creeping into her cheeks. "I'm his friend, and I happen to be a girl. That's it."

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face. "Really? So, you're single?" My tone was too enthusiastic but at least someone directly answered my question.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and then she nodded, a small smile tugging at her pink lips. "At the moment, yes."

For a while, we passed the rum back and forth, the conversation flowing easily. She had a sharp wit and a self-awareness that intrigued me. She wasn't like anyone I'd met before at least not in this way. As the bottle emptied, the air grew colder.

Without thinking, I shrugged off my leather jacket and handed it to her. "Here. It's getting chilly."

She hesitated before sliding it on, the zipper didn't budge on her—oh, so perfect tits, nor did she attempt to zip it, after trying it once. And while I like to think I am not like the other guys—at that moment I was exactly like all the other guys, staring at her boobs, like a hungry animal.

By the time we finished the rum, it was late, well past two in the morning. She stood, wobbling slightly, and I reached out instinctively to steady her.

"I should go home," she said, her voice soft and slurred. "I think... I'll walk."

I frowned, standing to my full height, towering over her. "You're not walking anywhere in this state. I'll call you a ride. Do you live near here?" I asked, trying to read her expression. She seemed buzzed but composed, her smile small and unreadable.

"It's not far away," she replied, opening the doorway to the house.

We stepped through the house to get to the front door. The backyard had a tall fence, so the only way to the street was through the chaos of the party inside. The music blasted from the stereo in the living room, and tipsy people swayed and stumbled in time with the beat.

As we walked through, I noticed her glance toward Scott, who was chatting up a blonde girl. Sam didn't stop. She seemed determined to avoid him, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease until we reached the front door.

"I'll escort you home," I said as we stepped onto the quiet street.

She turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. "Did you just follow me?"

I blinked, surprised. "I thought you knew I was walking behind you."

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "I did."

"So," I stepped closer, shoving my hands into my jean pockets. "Can I walk you home?" She opened her mouth and I was sure she planned to refuse, but I cut in before she could. "You're drunk, and it's late. You could get hurt."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Right, because walking home with a stranger is so much safer."

I laughed, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Fair point. But hey, at least I'm offering company."

She hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. You can walk me."

We left Rory's house behind and started down the dimly lit street. The silence stretched between us for a good five minutes. I wasn't sure if she was regretting letting me tag along or just lost in her own thoughts. Either way, I strangely felt comfort in the silence.

"So, how'd you get into music?" she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness.

I glanced at her, surprised by the question. "I thought you liked my band."

"I do," she said, meeting my eyes briefly. "But I don't know much about how you started."

"That's rare," I admitted, genuinely impressed. "Most fans seem to know everything about us."

She shrugged. "I'm more into the music than the backstories. I care about what the artist is saying, not so much the people behind it."

That was unexpected. "I like that," I said, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "It's refreshing."

"But you still didn't answer my question." She grinned, clearly enjoying putting me on the spot.

"Right." I put my hands to my jeans pockets, a nervous habit I couldn't seem to shake. "I started as a guitarist. Back in high school, my friends and I formed a band. Just a bunch of kids messing around in my mom's garage."

"And you weren't the vocalist?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

"Not at first." My voice faltered slightly, the memory of those early days still a little raw. "We had someone else, but... it didn't work out. I ended up taking over about a year in."

I didn't elaborate, and she seemed to sense it was a sensitive topic because she didn't push. Instead, she changed the subject. "What's your favorite band?"

"Nirvana," I said without hesitation.

Her smile widened. "I like them too."

We kept talking as we walked, finding common ground in music and our shared love of books. There was something about her an easy curiosity that made me want to share more than I usually would. She listened like she cared, not because of who I was but because of what I had to say. It was not about Raymond Lawrence, the vocalist but it was about Ray— about me. She never pried into personal things, but more so just to know me.

Before I knew it, we'd reached her apartment building. I insisted on walking her to her door, and she didn't argue. Much. The elevator ride up was quiet, and I could feel the tension creeping back in. When we stepped off on the second floor, she led me to her door a neat gray one with black accents.

"Found it," she said, pulling a bundle of keys from her bag and smiling up at me. "Thanks for walking me. I feel safer already."

I chuckled softly. "Glad I could help."

"It was nice to meet you," she added, her tone polite but distant.

"You're an interesting woman, you know that?" I said before I could stop myself.

Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. Instead, she mumbled a quick "bye" and turned to unlock her door.

I started walking back toward the elevator, but her voice stopped me. "Raymond!"

I turned, surprised, and saw her hurrying toward me with my jacket in hand. "You forgot this."

"Thanks," I said, taking it from her. Our eyes met, and for a second, everything else faded away, I was drowning again.

I truly had zero expectations, she seemed nice and I forgot how to even do this sort of thing. Can I count this as a date? When half of the time I was half convinced she was taken.

Before I could think of more shit, I leaned in and kissed her, cupping her jaw with my one hand. Her pink lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of rum. For a brief, perfect moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. My heart thudded in my chest, I kept my eyes closed, so when she put her palm on my chest I was surprised. Goosebumps traveled up my body, but the feeling was short-lived as she pushed me back, her hand firm against my chest.

"You have a girlfriend," she said, her voice steady but her eyes conflicted. "I don't kiss taken men."

I opened my mouth to explain, to tell her it wasn't like that, but she was already backing into her apartment. The door closed with a quiet click, leaving me standing there, jacket in my hand, heart and mind racing.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a breath. I stood there for a long moment, I thought I made it clear I was interested, and why the hell did she think I had been taken?