𝐱.
𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Heels clacking against hardwood, Julia and I's bubbly laughter and muted booms of a distant base all bounce off the walls of a downtown L.A. club bathroom.

We broke our seal for the night, and we're currently paying the price for it. This is our third run to the restroom in an hour.

My bladder, now reduced to the size of a walnut, is really testing my patience tonight.

Granted, I've been keeping pace with Jules, who I know can now out-drink me under the table. I stopped drinking two shots ago, and she's still able to function. I'm drunk. Drunker than I've been in a while.

"Come on, we should get back to the others before they come looking for us," Julia speaks through a fit of giggles.

We exit and head to where we left my sister and her boyfriend, Maximus, at the bar. He's got his arm around her shoulder, whispering something in her ear. She smiles at what he has to say, finding it amusing.

Cady seems to glow whenever Max is around. You'd think she's this elated all day, every day by the rosy color of her cheeks, the brightness in her upturned lips. I love seeing her like this. So carefree and genuinely happy.

"Hey lovebirds," Julia announces our arrival. They both turn to greet us.

"And how was your bathroom run this time?" Asks Max with amusement.

"Much better than the last one. No strangers puking in the stall next to us, no lingering smell. I'd rate it a good seven out of ten." The Latina next to me shrugs while reaching for the drink she'd left.

"Sounds much better."

Julia nods. "Loads better."

"We've been here for almost two hours now, and we still haven't talked about you and Derek." Cady wiggles her brows.

"What about Derek and I?"

"What's he like?" Asks Max with faint enthusiasm, lips twitching, as if he's trying to suppress the actual amount of eagerness he has. Unsure if he knows the truth behind our relationship, I ponder my words before speaking.

"Well, he's..." Confusing, handsome, kindhearted, caring, but also irritating, egotistical, and confusing.

He's pretty must an average man—just glorified because of his musical gifts. "He's... normal."

"Normal?!"

Julia chokes on a mouthful of her mixed alcoholic drink. Cady's head snaps up from her phone to ogle me, and Max simply blinks.

"He's a celebrity." Says Jules after successfully recovering, her eyes wide.

I tap on the rim of my glass which contains nothing but water. "Yes, but beyond that, he's just like you and I. He's just Derek."

"Just Derek, who's won four grammy's, has had several multiplatinum records, owns a house in the hills and a mansion somewhere in Montana, with dozens of archers of land," The blonde man recites each one like he's had it memorized for years. Cady gazes at Max like she's just met him for the first time. "What? I told you my sister used to be obsessed with that man. I know practically everything there is to know."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you knew all of that stuff." Cady's gaze softens with a strange sense of pride, impressed by his knowledge. Even I'm impressed.

"What else do you know?" I ask, unable to control the curiosity brewing within myself due to the many shots I've had tonight.

The more I know about him the better, right?

I mean we did go over lots of things at our dinner a week ago, but I didn't learn everything. He told me basic things. I had no idea about that house in Montana.

"His birthday, almost every song of his—except for his new stuff. Pretty sure she outgrew him for a time but I wouldn't doubt she still listens. Guilty pleasure, I assume. She was one of those... Crims? Super fans? I can't remember." He takes a large gulp of his iced tea. Cady told me he's been sober for about eight months now. The fact that he felt comfortable coming here knowing we would be drinking just to be with Cady, shows how true his devotion is towards her. It also gained even more of my respect for him.

"She used to make me take all sorts of quizzes with her. I took her to five of his concerts. I'm the fun brother, obviously." He sends Cady a subtle wink.

I'm definitely doing down a Derek Crimson rabbit hole when I get home.

"So you're a super fan." Affirms Cady, smirking wide.

"No. I'm just knowledgeable." He defends.

"He's a good brother," Julia waves a hand in Max's direction, "I'd love to have a brother like you, Maximus."

He flashes her a flattered smile at her compliment. "Thank you."

"Men these days aren't half as vulnerable as you are." She adds. Max shuffles his eyes from Julia, to me, to Cady, then back to Julia.

"I don't know if I should take offense to that or..."

"No, no," She knocks back a swig of blueish liquid like it's juice, and clicks her tongue to finish it off. "It's a compliment. Women love vulnerability in a man, to an extent of course, but still. And you my friend, have just enough." Julia quickly reiterates. All three of us women giggle at her words. Max, on the other hand, seems unsure if he should be concerned or satisfied with her answer.

Cady laughs at Julia's remark, and holds her glass high. "To being emotionally vulnerable!"

We repeat her words and clink our drinks together, before Julia and I part, making our way to the dance floor with my sister and her boyfriend not too far behind.

For an hour and a half we dance, sing obnoxiously to several of our favorite songs, and make two more emergency bathroom trips. One of which, being the final, Cady came with us not looking so hot.

Since she no longer felt good, and refused to throw up in a public restroom, Max took her home.

Twenty minutes after that, Julia found her own way home. A very tall man with an athletic build with dark, curly hair, whisked her away after she profusely asked if I would be fine on my own.

Who am I to deny my best friend of a one night stand? Especially with a man like that?

"Don't worry about me!" I call after her, watching as she makes her way safely to a taxi he hailed for them both.

She mouths the words "I love you", face bright, arm interlinked with her man for the night. I mouth it back. Then, I open my phone, and shoot her a quick text.

Me: Text me if anything goes wrong.
Me: I'll have my ringer on. Love you
bunches!

Jules: I will!! Get home safe Ela babes
Jules: <3

Left with no ride home I could've hailed a taxi like Julia. Or gotten an Uber like Cady and Max. But instead, I'd called the last person I would've asked to pick me up. And to my eager surprise, my ride said yes.

Thirty minutes later an insanely expensive looking sports car pulls to the curb. Tinted black windows match the black paint of the car, along with all-black rims and accents. Customized, would be my guess.

I salute the bouncer who I had been making conversation with for the entirety of my wait. He gives a short wave before turning back around to accept someone inside. Granted, our conversation may have been particularly one-sided but he didn't tell me to stop so I kind of... blabbed. A lot. Which, given my circumstances, is a given. I tend to talk more when I've had a lot to drink.

The driver-side door of my ride's car opens as I make my approach. A large figure steps out. One I barely recognize due to his attire.

Derek, dressed like he'd just left the gym, rounds the front of the vehicle in an all black outfit. Black sweats, black crewneck, shoes, and hat to match. I'm used to him wearing slick suits, and finely ironed clothes. Not... athletic-wear. The sight is a bit shocking.

As I'm drawn ever closer with each step, I note how natural his clothes suit him. Even if he's some huge celebrity, he still has a normalcy about him that makes him not entirely different.

Sure, his flashy car says otherwise, but I just can't shake the idea away. Especially when he stops at the passenger door, corner of his lips curled into a smirk (that I'm beginning to find looks more and more familiar to me) and opens it.

I stop in front of him and take in his face, not looking over a single detail. Every time I see him I find myself observing his features. Taking my fill, drinking from an infinite glass of water.

"Thank you," I say, flattening my skirt behind me as I duck down.

"My pleasure." He answers, shutting the door when I'm inside.

A mixture of smells hit me at once. New car being the strongest, with hints of woodsy spicy. It balms the air, and I savor every breath. It smells like him.

When he reenters, he buckles his seatbelt and turns down the volume of whatever song is playing through the balanced speakers. I didn't pay much mind to it, too enraptured by the aroma circling the space to care.

"Did you just leave the gym?"

"I did."

My freshly plucked brow furrows. I glance at the clock.

"Who works out at two in the morning?"

"Someone who had a busy schedule today," He edges into the flow of traffic, drastically picking up speed when he finds a big enough gap to squeeze through. "I didn't have time until an hour ago."

"Did I interrupt?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'd just finished when you called."

"I see," I linger my gaze over his appearance once more. He doesn't seem all that sweaty from what I can tell. Did he change? "You should wear hats more often."

"I do wear them often."

I chew on the bottom of my lip, trying to remember a time that I've seen him wearing a sports cap. "Not really, I mean, not that I've noticed."

We slow to a stop. He takes the opportunity to roll up his sleeves, showing off an armful of tattoos. "I wear them when I work out, or if I'm in public and don't feel like being recognized." That's completely understandable. I can't imagine what it must be like, wanting to be out doing average things and not being able to without recognition.

"How was your night out?" Derek asks. I hadn't realized how silent I've been since his response. His eyes ask another question though. How did you end up alone?

"Good. My sister and her boyfriend had to leave early, and Julia went home with someone, so," I shrug, lips pursed.

"You had fun?"

I smile, and nod slowly. "Yeah, I did, actually. I had a great night."

"Good," He smiles in return. Not as wide as mine, but still prevalent nonetheless.

"I—got us a shoot together at D.D. It's a few weeks from now if that works for you."

"Our managers talk to one another, you know." His smile grows. The sight, extremely contagious, makes my own grow in return.

"Right." I elongate the word, dragging it out, and accentuate the 't'.

My attention snags on the song faintly flowing through the car. I pause and look at the screen to be sure that I'm not hearing things. Directions are pulled up on one side, with the song on the other. It definitely is.

One of my favorite songs, somehow in Derek Crimsons playlist, is now playing. One that I always put on blast when I'm driving. "Can I turn this up?"

He takes his eyes from the road momentarily to meet mine. "Sure."

Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey, and The Weeknd crescendos as I turn the volume dial. It quickly fills the narrow room between us, but evens out when Derek opens the windows, along with a huge sunroof I hadn't even noticed until now.

What is this song doing in this man's playlist?

Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter in this moment. All I know is that I'm about to sing every single word, bar by bar, whether Derek or the entire population of Los Angeles can hear me or not.

I do just that.

I even get too carried away, stand inside of a moving vehicle, and let the upper half of my body feel the breeze that blows by as we move through slow traffic. Passers by give looks, some even sing along with me, or increasingly hype me up until we speed up again.

Then, just as we gain more speed than we have this entire time, I plop back into my seat. Song still blaring, wind still whipping, I focus my attention on Derek.

At one point, as I sing "My boyfriend's back, and he's cooler than ever," I flip his hat backwards on the word cooler.

He shakes his head, chuckling as I pull it down into place. Dark tendrils of hair peak messily from underneath the hat, curling and sticking outward. Though unkempt, there's still an element of naturalness to it—like his hair adapted to circumstance—now looking as if he'd styled it himself.

The song finally comes to an end, and another plays, one I haven't heard before. He turned the dial until the volume is much quieter, and stares at me as if he's finally seeing me. The real me. Similar to how Cady had looked at Max at the club, but softer, pleasantly surprised.

"So, you're a Lana Del Rey kind of guy?"

"I listen to all of my friends music. She's a friend," My eyes, now wide as saucers, gape at him, "And so is Abel."

I almost choke on my spit.

Obviously I know he's friends with The Weeknd. Just, hearing it from his mouth, confirming it, makes it all the more real. I know The Weeknd and Lana... by association.

Holy shit, I think I might pass out.

"What?" He asks, slightly concerned.

"I... I need to lay down."

Derek doesn't waste time. He lifts the center counsel. I blink, taken aback, unable to comprehend. He's serious.

"That's so cool." It really isn't, but I've never seen a feature like this in a car before let alone inside of a sports car.

There isn't room in here to fully lay, without touching Derek in any kind of way. Deciding not to put my feet in his lap, I lay my head there instead. Well, on his right thigh to be exact, with my feet nearly out of the window, knees bent.

"Want some water? We can stop somewhere—,"

"No, I'll be fine."

Trying to seem like the notion of someday meeting The Weeknd through Derek doesn't affect me more than it actually does, I take deep breaths. I have a feeling I'd never hear the end of it if he found out I know more music by The Weeknd than his own.

"You like Lana then?"

Well, I like both, but Abel more so than her.

"I guess you could say that."

At my mysterious reply, his eyes narrow, dropping to mine briefly. "Love her?"

"Why, you jealous?"

"Deeply." His tone, muddled and conflicted by multiple unreadable emotions, yet somehow light as if joking, sends goosebumps down my arms.

Our gaze deepens then. Even if for just an instant. Until he lifts his awareness back to the road ahead.

As I lay with my head in his lap, gazing up at him through a temporary state of haziness, I can't help the unbearable urge to sit up and connect my lips to his.

No script to go off of, no whimsical practice sessions or phantom rose petals. A real kiss.

I want to taste him again.

This time on purpose.

The thought came like an itch. And the need to scratch becomes incredibly unbearable, and at some point, I'll cave.

Or I can ignore it... and hope it doesn't linger. But the odds of giving into temptation is far, far more likely, knowing the satisfaction will be well worth it.

The car slows to a stop. Derek's face is now illuminated by different hues of reds. It masks his features, making him look sinfully handsome in the low light.

Shadows sculpt across his cheekbones, down his nose, and accentuate his killer jawline. The light even bounces off of his dark hair—which I'd very much like to comb between my fingers.

Feeling my stare he tilts his head a fraction of an inch. Dark eyes find mine, and holds. He could stare at me like this for hours and I wouldn't budge. I've grown accustom to his eyes on me, however intimate it may feel.

His gaze is a caress on its own. I can practically feel its weight as he analyzes my face. Feathering across my cheeks, down to my lips, up to my eyes, then down to my lips once more.

Hours turn back to mere seconds when his gaze begins to drift further. Away from my face, down the expanse of my body. That all too familiar feather light feel of his stare follows suite. Along with fluttering wings of butterflies entrapped in my stomach.

My gaze follows when his eyes don't come back. I look to find my black mini skirt hiked, fabric bunched due to my knees bent at an angle.

To my surprise, I don't blush. I don't move.

I really should but... I lay perfectly still, curious to see what'll happen next.

I want him to touch me. Which is probably the alcohol speaking, but seeing as alcohol speaks unspoken truths, I think it's more than just my inebriated state.

Derek removes his right hand from the wheel. Jaw ticking, something discernible crosses over his expression. I'm unable to read it, his arm now blocking half of his face as he grasps the hem of my skirt.

His hand lingers. Pads of his fingers brush over my exposed skin. A borage of tingling, staccato shockwaves to shoot from my heart, down the entirety of my spine until it simmers, and settles between my thighs. I have to suppress the urge to shudder.

I wait with bated breath. To my surprise, he hesitates. Doesn't dare shift away, or near. Almost as if he's been turned to stone; strangely immobile.

Scarlet suddenly turns to a bright emerald, shedding a moderate amount of light into the vehicle thanks to the sunroof above our heads. Still stagnant and somewhat entranced, Derek sits, struggling with some sort of inner conflict.

"Derek," I whisper breathily. I'm surprised I can even talk with the amount of tension pooling around us. When he doesn't respond, I swallow and manage to say, "The light—it's green."

This time he acknowledges me with a quirk of his visible brow, the other still blocked by his arm, though I'm sure it too is raised.

"No one else is here Elara. It's only us." The corner of his mouth kicks up.

I expect to hear several honks. But they never sound, proving his point.

Another round of electrifying jolts run through me just as his hand begins to move. Instead of pulling it up even further than it already is, like I'd hoped, he pulls it down.

When it's back to its original placement and no longer exposing a big chunk of my hip, he gives me one long, last look, before return to his task at hand—

Getting me home.

Then it hits me. The words he spoke the night we met that I'd somehow forgotten.

"I don't fuck business."

We, if there even is a we, are not real. We're a business transaction.

He's getting tons of attention by 'dating' the ex of his previous 'lovers' boyfriend. I'm getting attention as well, a mixture of good and bad, but all to get back at an ex of my own.

Maybe Derek has a point.

Blurring the lines between business and pleasure never ends well. Derek and I would be no exception.

Besides, Derek is just—Derek. Yes, he has average moments, but he's also complex when he wants to be. I was coming from a place of safety, a place where I'd forgotten myself, and my vendetta against Ryan. If I can still call it that.

I stay still as can be for the rest of the drive.

I can't even bring myself to look up at him. Keeping my gaze as far from him as I possibly can until we're finally at my complex.

"Thanks for the ride, Derek." I say, hand on the door handle. Curiosity gets the better of me, and my eyes find his.

"No problem." Derek shrugs. He lifts his hat, still backwards, combs a hand through messy waves, and returns it back to its original placement.

My grip tightens on the handle.

Say something else. Anything.

Lips part, then close. I probably shouldn't. Not until I'm sober, at the least.

He doesn't move from his spot on the curb. He waits, watching to make sure I make my way safely into my building. I can sense that same feathered stare at the nape of my neck, tickling me there.

"Another wild night out?" Gregory, the doorman, queries with a lopsided grin.

I fight the agonizing urge to peer over my shoulder at Derek, stagnant in his blacked-out coupe.

"Something like that."

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
a/n
say sike rnnnn babess

is my flow actually back?
why did i lowkey finish this chapter on time??

how are all of my beautiful crims doing today? ｡^‿^｡ all amazing i hope!
(after today imma be LOCKED in to the new season of house of the dragon. imma be up in the sky riding dragons & drinking matcha w my gal rhaenyraaa)

happy sunday btw! <333
(p.s. i did edit a lil bit but if there's a typo let me know)
see you soooooon