Happenstance
The bar was empty except for another patron and the bartender who was cleaning mugs with a rag. It was late and you should have been in bed, sleeping soundlessly, but you were too nervous to sleep. So you got dressed in the first clothes that came to hand, grabbed your keys and decided to take a stroll around the neighbourhood.
Of course, that didn’t do a thing to calm your nerves so you settled for the next best thing: a bar not too far from your apartment. You only had a ten dollar bill and some change in your pocket, but it was enough to order their cheapest drink -a vodka cranberry.
You heaved a heavy sigh as you stared into your glass, swirling the drink around. Raising your head, you met the eyes of the man sitting at the other end of the bar. He had dirt blond hair and a neatly manicured beard.
You felt self-conscious in your sweats and old t-shirt and so you ran a hand through your messy hair. He smiled at you and you gave him an embarrassed smile, ducking your head. When he started walking over to you, you sighed inwardly. You didn’t need company, you just wanted to be left alone.
“Hi, I noticed you haven’t touched your drink at all.”
Forcing a smile to your lips, you turned to look at the cute blond standing next to you. “I just… I don’t drink a lot.”
“Do you mind?” He jutted his chin toward the empty chair beside you. You could have politely refused, Lord knows you wanted to, but there was something deep and sad in his baby-blue eyes. You nodded. “Thanks.”
He cradled the beer bottle in his hands and watched the condensation drip down the bottle. Long minutes passed before he spoke again.
“I’m starving, do you want anything?”
“No, thanks.”
He waved the bartender over and ordered some appetizers. After a few minutes, the bartender returned and placed the plate of food in front of him. The blond picked up a French fry, dipped it in ketchup and popped it into his mouth. He pushed his plate toward you as he licked the salt off his fingers.
“So, what’s your story?”
“What makes you think I have a story?”
He grinned, not looking at you. “Everyone has a story to tell. But it’s Sunday night… um, actually-” He flipped his wrist and looked at his watch. “-it’s midnight so technically it’s Monday morning, and you’re sitting here, not drinking your cocktail.”
“You’re being very nosy,” you said, taking a French fry from the plate. “Are you a cop?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Just curious.”
“Does Mr. Curious have a name?”
The mystery man chucked as he grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands. He then turned to you, extending his hand.
“I’m Steve,” he said shaking your hand.
You swallowed your mouthful of food before you told him your name. Steve commented that it was a lovely name and fitted you quite well. You let out an unladylike snort. This guy was the very definition of charming, even though your face was bare of makeup and you were wearing old clothes that didn’t fit.
The conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about food, music, movies, books; it might have been meaningless, but it made you feel relaxed. Steve was a history nerd, he claimed to know everything there was to know about World War II so you challenged him.
“Battle of Dunkirk?” you asked with a grin.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You mean Operation Dynamo, the evacuation of over 300 thousand soldiers in the spring of 1940? The one General Alan Brooke called a ‘miracle’?”
You stared at him incredulously and he let out a booming laugh. You shoved at his shoulder playfully. Although if you were honest with yourself, you’d have to admit that you only did it to feel his enormous bicep.
“Okay, you’re a nerd. No need to brag.”
He straightened up and clapped his hands once, shifting his weight on the bar stool. “C’mon, give me another one!”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You sound like a drug addict.”
Strangely, this man made you feel calm, almost serene. His jokes were lame and he was unable to tell a joke without cracking up before the punchline, but his laugh was so contagious that you joined in. You were laughing heartily when the bartender caught your attention. He gave you an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, guys, but it’s a quarter past three. I‘m closing.”
“Oh,” you and Steve said in unison. You had lost track of time.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Steve commented.
You both apologized as you grabbed your jackets and headed for the door. The bartender was a nice guy though, he wished you good night and winked, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.
Once you were standing on the sidewalk, Steve asked if you wanted to share a cab. You had no money left and you lived just a couple of blocks away so you decided to walk home.
“I cannot let you do that. Y/n, it’s late-”
‘Or early, depending on how you see it,” you retorted with a grin.
He hung his head, sighing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Look, we only met three hours ago, you don’t have to-”
He raised a hand, cutting you off. “I’m not trying to do anything. I know we just met, but I’m not that kind of guy. My mom’s ghost would come back and smack me upside the head if I ever let a woman walk home alone at this hour. So, please, save me from my mom’s ghost.”
You eyed him suspiciously. His arms were so big that he could have ripped a log in half with his bare hands. You dared not imagine what he could do to you.
“Are you a serial killer?” you deadpanned and saw the surprise on his face. You stood your ground, it wasn’t such a stupid question. Some serial killer charmed their victims before murdering them.
“I am not a serial killer,” he countered, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Although, come to think of it, that’s exactly what a murderer would say.”
“If you kill me, I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“Deal!”
You walked together in comfortable silence, not feeling the need to speak. You liked your routine, you found comfort in it, but sometimes you just couldn’t turn off your brain. Steve had made you feel so much better and you were glad your paths had crossed.
Lost in your thoughts, you forgot Steve was walking next to you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke.
“You never answered my first question. What’s your story?”
“It’s a boring story,” you said, glancing at him. “I have anxiety. Tomorrow’s a big day and I want to be at my best, but I just spent half the night listing all the things that could go wrong. I’m not ready.”
A look of understanding crossed his features as he dug his hands into his pockets. “Ah, I know what it’s like. I start a new job tomorrow –my first job out of uni. I know I’m gonna screw up and ruin my whole career.”
“You’re gonna be amazing,” you said firmly.
“Everyone messes up on their first day of work. At least that’s what my best friend told me.”
You were a little surprised, Steve was a lot more sensitive and vulnerable than he let on. It was comforting to know that someone was dealing with the same insecurities, you didn’t feel so alone.
Once you reached your apartment, you turned to him and debated with yourself whether you should let him in. You weren’t a one-night-stand kind of woman, and even though it scared you, it also fascinated you.
It struck you that you had never had an opportunity like this before. How do normal people do that? Just ask? Is there a right way to do it? It was completely out of character for you, but you had never met a man like him before. You had never wanted anyone this badly before.
Sensing your hesitation, Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.
“I’m not that kind of man,” he repeated, a small smile touching the corners of his lips. “I’m happy to leave it as it is if it means I can take you out on a date. A real one.”
“What if I can’t wait that long?”
He smiled. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“So,” you drawled out, jutting your thumb over your shoulder. “Do you want to come upstairs?”
“Lead the way.”
You both climbed the stairs, two steps at a time, and shared a wet, passionate kiss while you fumbled in your pocket for your keys. After unlocking and pushing the door open, you both stumbled into your apartment. Steve reached back and closed the door while you unbuttoned his shirt, you fingers slipping beneath the fabric.
“Bedroom?” he asked breathlessly when your mouths parted.
You took his hand and led him towards your bedroom. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.
“We’ve got to keep it quiet,” you warned him. “My roommate is probably asleep.”
He made a noncommittal sound that you chose to take as agreement. You closed your bedroom door behind you, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor as you made your way to your bed.
When you woke up a couple of hours later, you groaned and tried to slap the fly that was tickling your cheek. You heard a soft chuckle and opened your eyes. Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“Sorry,” you apologised and sat up on the bed. “I thought you were a fly. What’s going on?”
“It almost seven. I have to go home. I don’t want to be late on my first day.” He watched you press the back of your hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
He kissed your forehead and pulled back. You still couldn’t believe that you had had sex with that man just a few hours ago, but you had a few bruises on your thighs and the agreeable soreness between your legs to prove it.
“Tonight was amazing,” he said, smirking. “I hope you still want to go on a date with me.”
“You bet your sweet ass, I do.”
Steve ducked his head and laughed, a blush crept up his cheeks. He cleared his throat, then grabbed a pen from your night stand and wrote his number on a piece of paper.
You escorted him to the door, your roommate already dressed and sipping coffee in the kitchen. Natasha and Steve smiled politely at each other before he left. As soon as the door closed, she whistled.
Wagging your index, you warned her, “Don’t say anything!”
An hour later, as the car headed towards the university, you told Natasha everything. To your surprise, she had a displeased look on her face. Natasha was always encouraging you to have a social life so you thought she would be happy for you.
“But you don’t know anything about him,” she said as you walked into the auditorium. “What’s his full name?”
“Steve Rogers. He was born in Brooklyn, his mother died when he was sixteen and his best friend is a big of a jerk. I’ve seen pictures of him on his phone and he’s a stud, definitely your kind of guy, and he’s single. See? I asked because I’m a good friend.”
Natasha rolled her eyes and dropped her bag on the table. “I’m sorry, but Steve Rogers? It sounds like a made-up name, like John Doe or Regina Phalange.”
“I don’t care, I had sex last night.” You shrugged.
“I hope you used protection.”
“Oh, God, Nat! Are you my mom? Of course, I used protection.” You watched her nod as she opened her laptop. “Twice.”
Her head snapped toward you, her ponytail whipped over her shoulder and across her face. You squealed while keeping a big smile on your face.
The auditorium was packed with students when the professor walked in. You were reading something on your laptop and missed his arrival. Natasha tapped your shoulder to get your attention. When it didn’t work, she dug her elbow into your ribs.
“What?” You glared at her, annoyed. She tilted her head toward the man sitting behind the desk. “Holy fucking shit!”
You face-palmed yourself and tried to hide behind your laptop as the professor began his lecture.
“Morning everyone, I’m Professor Steven Rogers and my job is to teach you how to –fuck!”
The auditorium erupted in giggles and whispers, but you were not laughing. Steve’s eyes widened as they met yours. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a little wave, but he seemed completely paralysed. Steve stood still as stone for a long minute before he forced himself back to the present.
“Uh, sorry about that,” he cleared his throat. “My job is to teach you how to interpret history. The –uh- life lessons of former generations h-have left us a legacy…”
You didn’t take a single note during the three-hour lecture. When you heard the words “Class dismissed,” you rushed out of the auditorium, but Steve’s voice stopped you before you were halfway across the room. He waited until all the students were gone before closing the door.
“What the fuck?” you whisper-shouted. “You’re my professor!”
“And you’re my student!”
You gaped at each other, shock and disbelief marking your faces. Feeling a little dizzy, you sat at his desk. Steve joined you, the two of you staring off into space.
“I told you I was going to fuck up on my first day,” he said after a while.
You laughed softly. “Technically, we did nothing wrong. We didn’t know each other.”
“I know,” he sighed. “So what do we do now? I still want to go out with you, y’know.”
“Remember when you said you’d make a mistake that would ruin your whole career? Well, it’s what’s going to happen if we keep seeing each other.” Steve made a dubious sound and you turned to him. “What? Are you seriously considering it?”
There was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Would that be so terrible? It’s just three hours per week for twelve weeks. When we’re not in class, I’m not Professor Rogers,” he argued.
“It’s crazy, we can’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asked, genuinely confused. “If we stop seeing each other it’s like admitting we’ve done something wrong.”
You couldn’t believe that you were actually considering it, but you couldn’t help yourself. After all, you were both consenting adults, no one had the right to tell you what to do.
“I guess I can transfer out of your class. Dr Dugan has an interesting program too.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled at you, his baby blue eyes brightening with hope.
“Professor Rogers, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be a sweet death,” he replied with a smirk.