Chapter Text
He’s staring at algebra once again.
Once again, he doesn’t understand shit. Once again, Rey Oliver explains the solution. He listens to her hastily spit out the words in one breath. He knows her legs twist under her in a pretzel without looking and she’s tugging the sleeves of her pullover to cover her hands, balling them up in her small fists.
Everything feels like a sickening deja vu. Like being trapped in a dystopian movie where he’s forced to relive one single day over and over again.
But it’s not the same day. He’s not even the same person. Because now he knows what Rey Oliver’s cunt tastes like, what kind of sounds she makes when she comes. How her pussy under that same brown plaid skirt she usually wears is just a little less tight than it used to be — because he made it give space for his cock. She gave it to him and he took it, this space that used to be her virginity. Now it’s his — or maybe he is hers.
Either way. It’s not the same.
He risks a glance at her — and as if she felt the touch of his gaze, she sits up straighter, arching her back and jutting out her ass and Ben needs to leave to the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes to find his bearings. If he splashes his face with cold water and then shoves his icy hands on his misbehaving cock, that’s entirely his business.
_________________
He hastily wipes off his hands on the duvet — it’s ruined either way with his cum smeared into it, next to a predictable spot of her blood. He doesn’t think of that, tucking himself back into his pants. He should clean up, probably, and he vows to do it later — after he tracked Rey down.
He grabs her purse and charges out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Best not let anyone see the crime scene.
The crowd is thick and it pushes back against his way too sober movements harshly, making him fight his way through molasse. Ben has nightmares like this, sometimes. When he tries to run but he can’t get a grip on the ground and is forced to swim awkwardly through the air like an astronaut.
But he’s a football player in the real-life, and he’s not asleep, even if everything feels like a terrible nightmare at the moment. He fights his way through the party with force, leveraging his build, tossing people aside like swatting away flies.
His eyes scan the crowd anxiously for Rey.
She’s nowhere to be seen though.
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Rey bumps into him at the door on Monday, trying to make a swift exit just when he's about to enter. She bounces off him like a ball, he reaches to catch her at the speed of lightning. But she's already steadied herself on a desk and is bouncing back. His fingers brush her arm. She winces under his finger, recoiling from his touch. The contact sears into his mind. Then, she apologizes, and tactfully slips by him turning to her side.
She doesn't look at him once.
This is how Ben knows she's recognized him.
____________________
His vision feels clouded. Constricted. Blurred. Outside, on Hux's front porch, the building nausea hits reset on his stomach. He heaves with the nerves of it.
What if he's done something terribly wrong to Rey?
His mind is zeroed down on her absence. What if she started walking? Rey seems like a madwoman who'd do that. If she fled the room like that. He starts running, too riled up to think to get his car.
His breath syncs with his steps and everything slots into place after a mile or so.
She's gone. She fled from him. The best thing he can do is leave her purse somewhere she can find it.
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Jessica invites Rey to sit with them for lunch on Wednesday. She tries to decline politely, muttering something about a revision for history but Jessica doesn't let her off her hook so fast. Ben hears the exact moment Rey's excuses run out and relents rather than torture herself with another series of lies.
His heart drums when he sneaks a glance at her. He catches her eyes flitting away from him.
Lunch is awfully long that day. He's trying not to visibly stare at Rey. But she's so close and she smells like peaches this time, not lilies, making him want to know all of her different scents. Her only make-up is some discreet mascara. He likes to think she's wearing it for him, although he knows for a fact she doesn't. She wears it every day.
Jessica fills the void with chatter and her own voice and occasionally, trying to ask Rey about the party.
"What happened after you went to get a drink? After Tony pulled out the — you know."
Rey clears her throat, staring a hole into the table.
"I — I went home. Had to… Erhm… get up early. For church."
The whole table freezes. They stare at Rey and she stares at the table and Ben is staring at her greedily now that he's found an excuse, memorizing every little detail he can — how her lips are thin and visibly chewed in different shades of inviting pink, the faint freckles on her nose he hasn't had the chance to discover so far, the pointy nose, her —
And then Jessica wheezes.
"For church!" she hollers, laughing so hard her tears roll.
The whole table relaxes, erupting in a series of laughter, following Jessica's cue. Rey's shoulders visibly sag. She inhales, letting a small smile creep on her face. The relief glows on her.
Ben watches, unable to look away. She comes alive right in front of his eyes, so very beautiful like early sunrise.
Just once, look at me, just once.
She does, flitting her eyes away as if his sight burned her.
It probably does.
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Ben just wants to go home. Probably cry. There's literally nothing he can do to fix this mess — he doesn't know where Rey lives, he's not her contact on social media, and in all case, he doesn't want to harass her.
What would he say? I’ve got your purse? Why does he have her purse?
He jogs back to the party which, at 4 am, doesn't show any signs of slowing down.
Handed the perfect excuse, Ben does the next best thing he can to forget: he drinks and forces himself to talk with people, laugh and joke. (He doesn't touch any other girls that night.) In an abandoned moment, he even gets into the pool, as dirty as he is. Washing off his sins. Isn't this how you Christen someone?
The sun rises in a deep red, beautiful and unavoidable. He stares at it from the pool and realizes that he failed to forget.
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Rey continues to ignore him. It's slowly making him crawl out of his skin. Maybe if he weren't the size of a pale Hulk, he could go and talk to her without intimidating her. But the way he is, he just slowly goes insane. His eyes glue to her every chance he has.
Hux tries to tease him once if he has a crush. Ben throws him a look that could choke a lesser man to death.
He fears something deep down. He fears that what he feels is not a crush anymore. Maybe it never has been.
Maybe it's always been more.
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He cleans the guest bedroom when the party dies and every last guest is either gone or drooling in their sleep in an abandoned corner. He washes the duvet in the tub, throws out the used condom and the beer can and hopes that he can throw out his failure.
He can't.
To avoid suspicion, he rests for a few fitful hours in his car like someone who got thoroughly thrashed should. After the breakfast and the cleanup, he drives to the school and sneaks in. The janitor on Saturday doesn't know him so he makes him open the locker of his "sister" for a birthday surprise, and places the purse on the shelf.
The old green metal door opens up without preamble even though he feels like finding the gates of Narnia. With the annoyed man looming behind his back, he doesn't have time to properly inspect Rey's locker. The only thing he sees is a picture of misty mountains on the inside of the door. Her books lay there well organised along with the workbooks.
Ben wishes he had more time. More time to look at it, to soak up every little detail. Even the scratches of the previous users, or how the inside of the metal hull inexplicably smells like pinewood.
He tucks away the crumbs of information and slams the door shut with a fake smile he learned from his father when he used to charm his way into an extra slice of bacon and a free hot chocolate for him in the diner shortly after his divorce.
The janitor rolls his eyes and ushers him out of the school. Since it's the second weekend of the month, he drives to his dad.
He's under the hood of a car — where else would he be on Sunday.
"Hey kid!" he grunts. "How's the party?"
"Good," Ben tells him flatly. "Gonna catch some sleep."
Ben doesn't have to tell Han to keep this between them. The old man knows Leia wouldn't approve. She's not cut from the same cloth, like him and his dad.
He climbs the stairs to his room and collapses on the bed.
For the first time, he lets himself think the words he was trying not to think.
What if he — what if he did this against her will? What if he —
Oh, God.
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Friday's practice is a welcome distraction from the whole dumpster fire week. It's a friendly game against Tony's team but Ben still pushes for the win. He tackles the opposing players with all his force. As usual, the team follows his mood. The aggression he displays multiplies and by the time they win by a small margin, everyone is exhausted.
Ben cites a family obligation with his mother to make a swift exit. The others have not yet been in the shower when he's already out the door, walking to his car.
The engine purrs like a docile tiger. His father must have tinkered with it while he fell asleep on Sunday afternoon for sheer exhaustion, trying to shut off his brain which was sinisterly insisting of labelling himself a potential rapist.
The dark blue Ford pulls out of the parking lot and he slowly turns on the road taking him out of the city. The road is derelict after the buildings are left behind and he drives deep in thought.
So much that he barely believes his own eyes when he sees the silhouette of a checkered skirt and a brown pullover.
Rey. On the shoulder. Walking.
He slows down to her speed and rolls down his window.
"Rey?"
She looks at him, probably not expecting this encounter. He sees that much at her face when it falls a second later.
"What do you want, Solo?"
"Just — what are you doing?"
"Walking. I thought it's obvious."
"Yeah. Why, though? It's not safe."
He means the fact that this is a motorway without a pavement but also that she's a little mouse dressed like a temptation in freaking Texas, and she parades here around for anybody to snatch. He just wants her in his car, with a safety belt on.
"I missed the last school bus," she answers, shrugging, not looking at him. Still walking.
The car rolls forward so he can be level with her.
"Can I give you a ride? Please?"
Rey stops, staring at him irritatedly.
"What do you want?" she repeats.
"Just — just get in the car. I'll tell you. You can sit on the backseat if you want."
Rey sizes him up quizzically.
"Please," he adds desperately.
Rey rolls her eyes but, without a word, stomps to the car and tears open its door, acting like she was doing him a favor.
She plops on the backseat and weaves her arms in front of her in a shield. Looking out of the window as the car rolls into motion.
For a few moments, they sit in terse silence. Ben takes a deep breath.
"Rey —"
"Did I give you STD?" Rey blurts out.
"Y — WH — what?!"
Rey rolls her eyes.
"Is that why you wanted to talk to me? All week? I'm sorry I was such a disappointment you had to flee from the bed but I honestly —"
Ben pulls over and breaks the car to a halt. He turns around, looking at her in disbelief.
"I didn't flee —"
"Yeah. Sure."
" — you left me."
After days, she finally, finally, looks at him. But it's not the gaze he wanted. It's filled with pure intent to kill. With contempt.
"I went. To the. Bathroom."
Everything crumples in Ben like a wobbly tower of Jenga.
She went to the bathroom.
She didn't flee. She only went to the bathroom. All he should have done is wait. Instead of acting on impulse and grab her purse and —
"Oh."
"Oh?" she echoes icily. "I'm outta here."
"REY!"
She kicks open the door and starts marching in the desert towards the next city.
He can't fucking believe this girl. If he stopped to think for a second, if he could make observations like a third person, he could realize how similar they are. But he can't, and so he secures the car and jumps out, calling her name.
"Leave me alone, Solo!"
She's got a good lead on him, but Ben isn't a quarterback for nothing. Catching up with her isn't a big feat for him, finally making real use of the daily sprint training. He rounds her, blocking her way with his body.
"Rey, please just listen —"
"I don't want to! I knew you hated it! Why the fuck did you offer to eat me out?! I probably should have sucked you off, didn't I?!"
"No, you just should have stayed, goddamit!"
"I did stay you fucking moron, I only went to the bathroom! Pee after sex? To not get a UTI?"
He loses the beat to counter.
"Wow, all these times you wet your dick and never thought of the girls? Men…"
She tries to push past him but he blocks her way again.
"What the — would you just shut up for a second?"
"I will when you admit that you hated it!"
"Fine!" he growls. "I hated it!"
Rey gapes and finally, finally he can say what he's been dying to say for all these surreal twenty minutes.
"I hated it because you deserve so much better."
The air between them stops vibrating. She's staring at him, confused, in disbelief.
"Like… Like what?" she asks quietly.
"Like. Movies. Dinners. With white table cloth and —"
"I hate fancy places," she grumbles, voice wavering around tears that start to gather in her eyes.
"Then taco and pizza from the takeout, whatever you want. Books. You like books, right?"
"Right," she breathes, and that slight movement of her face makes her eyes spill over. She hastily wipes off the droplets, as if they would have never been there.
He wants to take her in his arms so much it hurts. He's never cared about anything or anyone this much. Not even his late dog Chewie.
"Then you should have the books, too. All of them. And — mountains. With pine trees."
Her eyes go round. With wonder or with fear or with astonishment.
"I saw it. In your locker," he admits, embarrassed. "When I — I'm sorry I took your purse."
"I thought it was you," she grumbles like an afterthought.
He kicks a rock aside and puts his hands in the pocket of his jeans. Any second he could forget about himself and reach out and touch her.
"I thought you'd — that I'd —" he swallows. The red dirt has ruined his white sneakers. Maybe he should have thought of that beforehand. His mother won't be pleased. These shoes were new and on-brand. Expensive.
"What did you think, Ben?"
"That I'd — that I'd hurt you."
He swallows thickly. Bunches his hand into fists in his pocket.
The r-word hangs between them unsaid and he hopes she gets it.
"That you left because I did something unforgivable and —" he swallows around the lump in his throat. Sniffs. A drop of water lands on his ruined shoes. He wipes off his eyes with force.
Stop it, Solo.
"Ben," she says, she calls him by his name, gently as a summer breeze. "You didn't. You did nothing wrong. I wanted it. I asked for it."
She bumps his shoe with hers. They touch. Almost. The slight contact makes his heart beat faster. She doesn't loathe him at that moment which is more than he can say for his entire existence. The gesture feels more intimate than a hug. Than a kiss. It's a peace offering which he recognizes. Accepts.
He carefully nudges her white tennis shoes with his white sneakers. The width is twice hers. It leaves a red smudge next to the many others she already has.
"Just — I was nervous because I know I'm not your type," Rey mumbles. "That you don't even like me. That I wouldn't be able to —"
Ben sees her grimace and look away when he lifts his gaze.
"And here I thought you always knew the correct answer."
Her hazel eyes look at his in confusion. He can't help but smirk. Maybe he'll fuck this up royally but he needs to tell her how much and how deep and how unfounded and how absolutely bright pink his insides feel when she's with him in a room.
"You're my only type. And I like you so much — you have no idea."
"You don't even know me," she protests.
"I know you somewhat," he argues, a grin threatening to split his face in two. He really gets to tell her, and she'll listen. And then it will be all said and done, laid out. "I know that you hate attention. I know that you always tug your sleeves when you're nervous. I also know you secretly have been pushing the chewing gum under Jessica's table —"
"What?!" she squeaks mortified,
"— and that you, apparently, like the mountains with green hills."
He pauses, no longer trying to hide his smile, the warmth that fills him. She does smile, too although she tries not to. Which only makes her dimples more pronounced. She's so cute he could die.
"I also know a lot more about you," he murmurs, letting the hint hang between them in the air, letting her fill in that he knows her pussy's taste, the sounds she makes when she comes, how his cock fits inside her, watching her suck in a sharp breath. "And I'd like to know so much more. All this time I've been watching you, I knew I'd never be enough. For someone so smart and authentic as you. Way out of my league."
He doesn't bother reigning in his eyes, letting them slide over every inch of her hungrily, hurriedly, insatiably. Her tight ponytail, her neck, her breasts, her waist. Her eyes, which sparkle with something else than tears.
"Funny," she breathes, watching his lips, "how all this time I've been watching you I never noticed that you've been watching me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah it's —" her tongue darts out to wet her mouth, "it's embarrassing. Every girl is watching you, you know."
"Are they," he rumbles, drifting closer.
Her eyes are zeroed stubbornly on his pectorals, even when his shoe slides between hers, into the space she subconsciously gave him.
"Yeah. It's —"
"I wouldn't know, you know," he says while he very carefully touches her wrist, feeling her shiver just an inch from him, "I've been too busy watching you."
"Yeah?"
She trembles. But she can't be cold so Ben knows she's aroused, uncomfortably so. He's giddy with it. Rey Oliver. Wet. For him.
"Yeah. It's embarrassing, really," he murmurs. "Two years of my life. Watching you."
Her eyes slide shut, she hugs herself tighter.
"M-hm."
He leans in, skating his finger up her arm. They're so close he could hug her. Their bodies hover just with an inch between them. He wants to close the gap.
"Rey."
She nods.
"Look at me."
She does, slowly. Her hazel eyes still shine with a fear, a fear that this is a terrible prank. But with something else — which he recognizes because he feels it himself. A yearning for this to be true. To finally happen.
"May I please kiss you? Please?"
Her eyes flit to his lips again. But she doesn't give in.
"What do you want, Solo?" she mumbles, watching the ground beneath them.
Swotty.
"The whole nine yards, Oliver," he explains, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, getting her to look at him again with those attentive, deeply shining eyes.
"Pizza, taco. Books. Mountains. If that's what you want."
He smiles at her and he knows he's sappy. But he can't help himself. He can't bring himself to care.
"What — need a nerdy friend?" she teases. Her cheeks are red. Her pupils blown.
He snorts.
"I need a girlfriend, Oliver. Specifically, this girlfriend. You. I don't think my football player buddies would appreciate if they knew the other things I have in mind."
"Oh?" she says, oh, and drifts closer.
She's fucking with him.
"Let me kiss you, then I'll show you the rest. Please, Oliver, I'm begging you."
"Okay."
"Okay?" he echoes, surprised, not expecting such an easy and simple win.
She doesn't bother to repeat herself. Rey flings herself at him, bony, long arms pulling him down with surprising force until their lips collide.
It's more of a long squashing of mouths than a proper kiss — but she's smiling and so is he. He slides his hands on her waist, so extremely small waist, and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.
Their teeth collide.
"Ouch," Rey hisses, embarrassed.
"You've —" Ben starts incredulously, but doesn't get to finish the sentence as it dawns on him that she's never been kissed before. He takes this one, this first, too, from her. Because she gives it to him.
He doesn't wait for her to explain. His hand cradles her head and tilts it to his liking, swiping his tongue slower against her, until she learns the rhythm. Her legs give out and she hangs on him half standing.
"God," Ben groans, when she nips his lip, mirroring him. "Oliver, you drive me wild."
"Ben —"
She whines.
"Not now, Oliver," he says while he eats her face and neck and his hands palm tits and ass and legs, "I won't fuck you here."
He says that even when his cock is hard, even when he can't stop thinking about doing exactly that. From the way she whimpers in protest and ruts against his erection, Ben guesses Rey's thinking the same.
But he's here to make amends. A second chance he won't blow.
"I told you," he pants, tearing himself away from her. "The whole nine yards."
She stomps. She actually — stomps. With a caged growl.
"Be—nnn."
Gods. Dammit. Maybe he could make it work on the backseat?
No. No, Ben. Behave.
"Trust me, Oliver," he soothes her, hugging her to himself, fondling her hair, trying to calm himself down as much as her by pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It'll feel so much better."
"How'd you know?" she mumbles against his chest.
"I don't. But I just know."
"You're not making any sense," she complains accusingly into his chest.
"I know. I'm not the smart one here."
He swears he feels her roll her eyes. She takes a deep breath and detangles herself from his body to peer up at him.
His small mouse. So fucking cute. Maybe fatefully so.
"Just take me home then?"
He kisses the crown of her head again.
"Alright." Experimentally he adds, "baby?"
"Such a fuck boy pet name."
"I can —"
"I love it." She grins at him. "Solo."
He kisses him gently on her offered mouth.
"Oliver."