Chapter Text
— now —
It’s one of those days where the universe seems to be working in Rey’s favor.
An alarm doesn’t wake her. Instead, it’s the soft light of the morning sun as it leaks through her bedroom window. She unfolds herself from the burrowing warmth of her down comforter and peeks at her phone, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees how early it still is.
Quiet envelops the neighborhood as Rey enjoys the cup of tea that she drinks every day on her back porch, and it seems to taste richer, like it was brewed specially for this moment. After, she indulges in a half-hour long shower complete with a deep condition and a full shave, and even takes the time to touch up the paint on her toenails whilst sitting on the lid of the toilet, wrapped in a towel. A to-do list hangs from a strawberry-shaped refrigerator magnet, reminding her that she has a brow appointment in thirty minutes, a spray tan at one, and she’s also supposed to pick up Jannah’s dress from the tailor while she finishes up her shift at the gym.
There’s no traffic as she makes her way across town to the waxing studio, and her esthetician gives her a free lip wax when she tells her about the wedding, and who will be in attendance.
“We’re gonna get you looking right, honey,” she says, and Rey does not protest.
She gets to the tanning place a little early and is thrilled when they bump her up the list and give her a complimentary tan-extender cream during checkout.
The trip to the tailor is painless, and Rey walks back into her house with Jannah’s dress draped over her arm and two hours to spare before she needs to be at the venue.
The morning’s good fortune continues as she gets ready. The pseudo-updo copied off Pinterest stays firmly pinned to her head, and it’s even somewhat elegant looking. Curls hang down and frame her face, looking whimsical and effortless despite the massive amounts of hairspray that’s holding everything together. The wingtip eyeliner that she normally has to redo at least once is perfect on the first try, and when she smiles at herself in the bathroom mirror, there’s no lipstick on her teeth. Rey doesn’t second guess any of it—just flips the light off and walks back into her room, staring lovingly at the dress that’s spread out across her comforter.
It had caught her eye at Nordstrom a couple of weeks ago as she was walking toward the Top Shop section (where she could actually afford to shop), and she hadn’t been able to get it off her mind despite trying on seven perfectly fine, reasonably-priced dresses from all the clearance racks. Slowly but surely, she’d subconsciously inched her way back to the dark green velvet that was shiny enough to reflect the warm overhead fluorescents, the statement-making shoulder pads and the high-neck that would perfectly sculpt her jaw. She told herself as she stared that the color didn’t matter, even if it had been the reason she stopped in the first place. So what if Ben had told her once that she looked amazing in green, that it made her eyes pop and turn nearly gold. The fact that it was green was just…a bonus.
Then she’d looked at the price tag and nearly fell to her knees. The Ronny Kobo number was going to eat up nearly half of her credit limit, but she tried it on anyway, and it hugged her body like it was made for her and her alone. The slit was high enough to make her legs look like they went on for miles; her arms looked sculpted and lean, her waist tiny, and the way it stretched around her butt? That alone was probably worth the hefty fee.
Despite her general frugality, it didn’t take much to convince herself to buy it. She’d recently been given a merit increase and was likely on track to get promoted in the next quarter, and anyway, she worked hard and deserved to have something in her closet that wasn’t thrifted or forty-percent off.
She’s grateful to her past-self for the indulgence now, as she stares at it dotingly, because she’s going to look like a total knockout.
She’s going to look like a total knockout, and it absolutely, definitely, one-hundred-percent doesn’t matter that Ben checked the box marked yes, plus one, on his RSVP.
It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose reminded her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, but she didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.
But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that he’s bringing someone because, well. She is, too.
And Snap is a nice guy. He’s tall, doesn’t wear jeans with flip flops despite being an engineer, and he’s held the elevator door for her at least twice. They don’t work on the same team—he’s in Site Reliability and she’s in UX—but she knows through the grapevine that he is good at his job and generally pleasant to be around. And there’s also the fact that he practically beamed with delight when she’d asked him if he’d be her date.
So yeah. Nice.
Jannah comes home in a flurry of chaos and panic, running straight to her room after yelling a thank you to Rey for picking up her dress. Within half an hour, she’s back out, gorgeous curves on display in the sleek black number and hair falling down her back like she’d spent the entire day at the salon. When she comes into Rey’s room to ask if she looks okay, Rey nearly laughs. Her roommate has never quite understood that she’s drop-dead gorgeous even on her worst day, and right now, she looks like she’s literally about to walk a runway.
“Oh, shut it, you,” Jannah chides playfully when Rey compliments her. She leans over to kiss Rey on the cheek quickly before shouting over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go meet Poe for a glass of wine. I need it after the day I’ve had. I’ll see you at the big show.”
(Rose has already given Jannah one warning about calling her wedding a show, but Rey doesn’t feel the need to enforce that.)
There’s a knock on the door at 5:36 p.m., and Rey knows exactly who it is. She’s still in a bathrobe and slippers when she opens it, smiling and gesturing for him to come inside.
He looks better than she’d anticipated—the dark grey suit hangs well on his shoulders, paired with black chinos, and his normally unruly hair is coiffed nicely. All-in-all, she’s pleasantly surprised. Even with him having the good sense to never pair flip flops and jeans, she’d had no idea what to expect fashion-wise from an engineer.
“So obviously, I need to get dressed.” Rey starts back toward her room as Snap sits down, hooking one ankle over his knee. “But please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen—I think there’s some Modelos in the fridge, or some Chardonnay if that’s more your style. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
He nods eagerly. “Take your time. Weddings always start late anyway, right?”
Rey chuckles. “Right, yeah. Thanks.” She leaves him then, closing the door behind her.
The universe gives her another tiny nudge by helping her fasten the neck clasp on the dress without assistance, and then she slips on her favorite strappy nude heels that are equal-parts sexy and comfortable. Then, the look is complete, and as she stares at herself in the full-length mirror that hangs next to her dresser, she knows that she looks beautiful. She’s overflowing with confidence in a way that she hasn’t been in months, possibly years.
Maybe green really is her color.
— then —
Poe has a new friend to bring to a social event almost every single week. It baffles all of them, how he seems to have a talent for picking up strays—people passing through Mystic on their way to the city, or staying in one of those quaint Airbnbs in the country to get away from the bustling noises and smog-polluted air. It happens often enough that when he shows up at Rey and Jannah’s National Margarita Day party with his orange and white corgi, Beebee, and a dude no one’s ever seen before, everyone just assumes that he’s another random out-of-towner that’ll be gone by the morning.
There are enough people at the party that Poe can’t possibly introduce stranger-man to everyone at once, so Rey somewhat forgets that he’s even there. She’s too distracted by the game of beer pong that she’s playing against Finn, who is criminally good and totally kicking her ass. She whines every time he sinks a shot, and pouts the whole time she chugs each cup. Finn just laughs at her and continues to show absolutely no mercy, and when Rose comes over and starts cheering and kissing him on the cheek after every shot made, Rey nearly throws her ball at his head.
“What’s that, like ten-to-zero?” he asks from his side of the table, where all but two cups remain. Rey’s standing with her hands on her hips, looking down at her last standing cup and the ball that’s sitting in it atop the foamy liquid. She sighs dejectedly and reaches for it, tossing it over her shoulder before chugging down the beer—and her pride—in one go.
“You’re such a show-off,” she grumbles as she stacks the cup.
Finn scoffs, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. He’s got his arm hanging lazily around Rose’s neck as he retorts, “You’re the one that always wants to challenge me . Just face it, peanut. You’re never gonna beat me.”
Rey rolls her eyes. “We’ll see. St. Patrick’s day is right around the corner.”
The three of them walk into the kitchen in search of new drinks when Rey sees him again. The stranger. Under the white light, it’s easier to see what he actually looks like—taller than the refrigerator he’s standing next to and maybe just as broad, pale skin in contrast to the mop of black hair that’s long enough to touch his shoulders, and unassuming clothes that might’ve allowed him to blend into the crowd if not for the enormity of his stature. There’s a bottle of beer with the label ripped to shreds hanging loosely in his grip and a flatness to his expression as he half-listens to whatever impassioned discussion is happening between Mitaka and Kaydel.
Rey catches herself staring a second too long and refocuses on her mission to get to the beer cooler without interference, but within seconds, she hears her friend’s voice rise above the vibrating murmur of the kitchen.
“Rey, can you come here for a second?” Kaydel beckons. “I need another female perspective here.”
She suppresses the urge to throw her head back in exasperation. The last thing she wants to do right now is kill her buzz during another heated debate about the season finale of a Netflix show she doesn’t care about, or by trying to referee an argument about whether dog people are superior to cat people. She’s looking for a quick exit route when New Guy’s gaze travels from Kaydel and lands on her. There’s a sullenness to the tight line of his mouth, and a hardness in his dark eyes that feels directed specifically at her, like it’s her fault he’s been dragged into this.
Rey narrows her eyes and walks forward.
“What are we arguing about tonight?” she asks as she joins the circle.
Kaydel points to Mitaka and says, “This one seems to think that men and women can never just be friends without either falling in love or falling into bed. I, personally,” she declares, hand to her chest, “think that it’s entirely possible, and anyone who thinks otherwise is over-generalizing and willfully naive. I’ve had plenty of perfectly successful, totally platonic male friendships.”
With a purse of her lips, Rey shrugs. “I’d have to agree.”
At that, Mitaka huffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding!”
Rey’s eyes flit to him, immediately indignant. “What?”
“You are literally the perfect example of why I am in the right here.”
“What could you possibly be referring to?”
“I’ve known you almost your entire life, Johnson. There isn’t one man,” he dramatizes this by holding up the number one with his finger and says, “that you’ve been friends with, who hasn’t at least thought about wanting to sleep with you.”
“Yourself included?” Rey retorts, and Kaydel smothers a snort with her hand. New Guy is still standing to her left, his arms folded tightly over his chest as he looks between the three of them, silently observing the discourse.
“You wish,” Mitaka guffaws. “No, I mean besides Poe and me. And Hux, I guess. He’s probably completely content to die a virgin.”
Rey sighs, finally giving into the urge to throw her head back. When brings her eyes down again, Mitaka has his brows kinked, looking at her expectantly.
“Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
“Well, I’m definitely not going to tell you you’re right.”
Suddenly, something blooms over Mitaka’s face, and he turns to look at New Guy.
“Kaydel phoned a friend, now it’s my turn. What do you think, Ben?”
Ah. So he does have a name.
For a moment, Ben doesn’t seem like he’ll respond at all. But then his jaw clenches and he tilts his head and lets out a long, contemplative sigh.
“I think it’s different for everyone. I’m sure there’s some textbook-platonic male and female friendships somewhere out there, totally flourishing. But…” he works his jaw again, pulling his lips back and forth. “No, I don’t think it’s possible. Generally speaking.”
Mitaka looks triumphant, holding his hands out toward Ben as if showing off a prized cow. “See!”
“And what, he’s the expert?” Rey scoffs. “You’ve known him for like five minutes.”
“That’s irrelevant. He’s a lawyer from New York. He’s more worldly than us.”
“Oh, excuse me,” Rey says derisively. “I didn’t realize we had such a well-renowned scholar in our presence. Tell us, Ben. How did you come to such a conclusion?”
He maintains eye contact with her for a moment and then, “Trial and error.”
She can’t help but roll her eyes at this. “Let me guess,” she smirks, tapping her chin. “The girl always catches feelings for you, and then you spout some bullshit like, ‘oh, I don’t want to risk ruining the friendship’, or ‘you could do so much better than me’, right?” She tilts her head. “Or do you exploit it a little so you can fuck them before you send them on their way?”
Amusement crosses his face. “Something like that.”
Rey shakes her head. “Charming. How lucky they were to have a friendship as rich as yours.”
Mitaka snorts, hiding the sound quickly behind a sip of beer.
“At least they went for it,” Ben shrugs.
She jerks back, eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
“Please, enlighten me. I’m begging.”
He sets his beer on the counter, making the task look laborious as he turns his body back to her.
“I mean, come on. You walk around with your teeth bared, ready for a fight. It’s no wonder you’ve never had a friendship with a guy go any further than that. You’re terrified of it.”
“I am not—”
“You think that men and women can be friends without wanting more because you’d never let yourself be vulnerable enough to ask for more.”
“Look,” Rey spits back, hackles rising. “You don’t know me. I don’t know what weird therapizing shit they do at parties in New York, but you can back the hell off.”
He picks up his beer again, tipping back the last of it without taking his eyes off her.
“Truth hurts, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you just get the fuck—”
“Ah! Perfect!” a voice interrupts, loud and singsongy.
Poe walks into the kitchen, standing directly between them, blissfully unaware. “You guys have already met! I was just coming in here to formally introduce you,” he says, putting an arm over Rey’s shoulder and closing the distance between her and Ben.
Her lip curls slightly when she’s stopped right in front of him, craning her neck up to look him in his stupid, whiskey-colored eyes, and it’s only then that she notices the smattering of moles all over his face. If she didn’t despise him so much, she might find them cute.
But she does. She despises the shit out of this guy.
“Yeah, Poe. We met. Please tell me that Ben here is another one of your temporary friends that will be on the next flight out tomorrow,” Rey sneers, giving him a once-over as she folds her arms over her chest.
“Nope!” Poe cheers, and Rey turns to look at him, eyes widening. “Ben and I actually grew up together. His mom used to work with my mom.”
“What? Why have we never seen him before tonight?”
“Lived a town over. The Damerons usually came to us,” Ben answers. Rey makes a point of not looking at him.
“That’s because the Organa-Solos were loaded and had a way better backyard,” Poe adds.
“So, what does that mean?” Rey bites out. “Just visiting? Family reunion?”
Ben’s eyes drift back to hers. He opens his mouth to answer, but Poe cuts him off.
“He’s moving here!”
Rey’s mouth drops open.
“His mom moved to Mystic a few years ago to be closer to my mom, and now Ben’s decided to take a stab at suburbia, too.” Poe’s beaming at this point, clapping his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. When she finally manages a glare at Ben, he’s scowling, looking at this friend like he’s ready to clock him in the nose.
Poe notices the unabashed disdain that’s written all over her face as she processes this new information, and he squeezes his arm tighter around her neck. “Oh, c’mon! Lighten up! New friends, new faces, new stories to hear. Isn’t it wonderful?”
A pit forms in her stomach at the idea of this guy sticking around for any length of time. He’s clearly got a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, maybe even more cynical than even she is, which is truly saying something. He’s rude and brash and she absolutely hates that stupid half-smirk that’s formed on his lips.
Rey lets out a deep breath. “Yeah,” she sighs. “Wonderful.”
A lukewarm beer sits in Rey’s palm as she leans against the arm of the couch, distractedly watching Finn wipe the floor with Poe during another game of beer pong. Her mind isn’t tuned in to what’s actually happening—she only knows that he’s getting beaten to shreds because every few minutes he lets out a dramatic groan that echoes throughout the living room.
Halfway through, her eyes flicker back into focus as Ben approaches the table, leaning over to say something quietly to Poe. She watches her friend’s face shift into exasperation.
“Fine,” he sighs. “But only if you help me finish this game.”
Ben glares at him, standing stock still with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Rey doesn’t wait around to see what he decides. She lifts off the couch and heads for the front door, and it’s cold enough outside that when she steps out and lets out a breath, she can see the cloud as it escapes her lips. The empty driveway looks like the perfect place for a moment of respite—a thing she feels guilty for wanting, but nonetheless can’t help how unsettled she’s felt since her row with Ben in the kitchen. She’s sitting against the garage door with her knees pulled to her chest when she sees him again.
He’s zipping up his jacket and tapping at his phone, walking with purpose until he stops abruptly when he spots her, hands falling to his sides.
“Leaving so soon?” Rey deadpans.
His eyes narrow slightly, and he sighs. “Are you always like this?”
She tilts her head. “Always like what?”
Ben waves a hand in her direction. “This. So combative about everything.”
“I’m not combative.”
He huffs. “You’re about as combative as you are shit at beer pong.”
“Did you even attempt to make friends here tonight?” she jabs, pushing the spotlight back on him.
“Sure I did.”
“Who?”
“Beebee.”
“Beebee is a dog.”
“Still counts.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I don’t care. I just think it’s interesting that the person who stood on a soapbox about being vulnerable and unafraid is the same person that didn’t even bother to try opening up to anyone tonight.”
For a moment, he just stares at her. They hold each other’s gaze, neither wanting to relent.
“It’s not the same thing.”
Rey lifts her eyebrows. “Isn’t it?”
“Do you really want me to try to make friends with your friends? You were about two seconds away from telling me to fuck off.”
“Well, it’s a small town. So as much as I wanted—want—you to fuck off, you won’t get very far if you’re moving here.”
At this, he deflates slightly. A pang of guilt throbs in her belly, but she ignores it.
His nostrils flare as a chime sounds from his phone, and they both turn to look as a car approaches the driveway. Ben watches it slow to a stop and then turns back to her.
“I’ll stay as far away from you as I can,” he says plainly.
Rey keeps her expression cool, emotionless. “Great,” she replies. “Please do.”
He nods, and then turns on his heel. He walks to the car, gets in and pulls the door shut, all without a second glance at her.
Then he’s gone—rolling down her street and into the frigid night.
