The cacophony of alcohol, sweat and blaring music rose mercilessly. 

I glanced over at Will, fixing my collar, looking for any sign of discomfort in him. However, the flashing lights made it difficult to discern his expression. He did although, catch my eye and lean against the counter to shout in my ear.

'Is that him?'

I followed his finger to see that he was pointing at someone sitting at the opposite end of the counter. I squinted my eyes, straining to see the obscured, solitary figure. The vague familiarity struck a chord in my intoxicated brain, but I had to be wrong. What would a hugely successful author do in a below than average bar filled with drunk teens and undergraduates?

 'No way,' I declared finally as I turned to look at Will to refute his question. 'Can't be him.'

"It is him," Will repeated, shaking his head, his brown eyes wide. 'I heard he lives near the city. So it won't be impossible.'

I pursed my lips and strained my eyes again. It was impossible to make out anything of note from the shadowy figure. The bright strobing lights from the bar that seemed to ricochet off him at sudden instances only gave away the fact that the stranger had dark hair, and his silhouette bore a strange resemblance to the celebrity in question.

'Man, it's so wild,' Alan shook his head. 'It's like seeing your high school teacher in the supermarket or something.'

'Well, there's...only one way to find out,' I said finally, rising to my feet, nervousness bubbling in my belly. I took another sip of the rum, the warmth burning my throat and inflating my confidence.

Will glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. 'You going to talk to him?'

'Sure, why not?' I shrugged with the confidence the alcohol had given me. I picked up a glass from the table in front of us and drank in one shot. The bitter taste of the vodka reached my chest at once, lulling my brain cells into a sense of false confidence. "If it is him-" I grinned, glancing back at them, "I get to cross another thing on my bucket list."

"Hooking up with a celebrity?" Alan laughed, shaking his head so his black curly hair rippled. "You could also be shot down."

"I can think of worse things in life than getting shot down by F.F Riley," I said, placing the now empty glass back on the table and taking a deep breath. I winked at them, "Hopefully, I won't see you guys tonight."

Will chuckled while Alan rolled his eyes, but thankfully none of them tried to talk to get me back to my senses. I was aware of their gazes fixed on my back as I made my way through the club towards the bar. The farther that I got from the table where I had been sitting, the more jarring the music became. To the point where I was half tempted to cut my losses and escape. But if it truly was who Will thought he was, there was no way I was letting this opportunity slide, even if I had to sacrifice my eardrums for the cause. 

I had got into the 'Kaleidoscope'  series a few years ago, which had been an instant hit worldwide and for good reason. Maybe a part of the book's popularity had to do with its author, the elusive and mysterious F.F Riley who was shockingly young and dangerously controversial. 

A blend I yearned to taste on my tongue. 

In spite of myself, my heart seemed to race in anticipation as I walked closer. When I was a few feet away from the shadow, a streak of bright neon light passed across the figure, throwing his features into striking detail for a split second. My heart leapt to my throat as I realized that for once, Will had been right. 

I stopped in my tracks, my immediate response urging me to leave as soon as I could. Before I could act on that impulse, however, his eyes met mine and my entire existence seemed to be rooted in the irises that looked inky black under the lights. Their intoxication was infectious. 

"It's rude to stare," he said suddenly, snapping me out of my reverie as I realized with a jolt that I had been staring at him. I gulped, taking a steadying breath and struggling to keep myself from fanboying as I walked over to him.

"Mind if I sit here?" I leaned into him so he could hear me clearly and in the process got a whiff of a cologne I couldn't recognize. It was alluring, sexy and seemed to disappear after a split second. Almost, as if I had imagined it. Elusive, as its wearer. 

He was quiet for a while, his eyes narrowed as he seemed to study me in a way that made tingles travel down my spine. Just this morning I was struggling to complete my Genetic Diseases and Personalized Medicine exam paper in time, and now here I was, getting checked out by one of the most famous authors today.

He shrugged finally, turning to stare at his half-empty glass of drink again. I took a seat, taking a note of his features which looked much more different than I remembered. While in tabloids, he appeared to be...happier somehow. His grey eyes sparkling, flushed skin. He looked like someone who took care of himself. Here, however, he looked positively woebegone. Or maybe he was just drunk.

"Am I tripping, or are you actually F. F Riley?" I asked finally, feeling my cheeks heating up at the childlike question.

He didn't say anything for a while as the music in the bar finally toned down to a more soulful, romantic one. Finally, he nodded. I glanced at the several empty glasses on the counter in front of him, and was mildly impressed by the coherence he was showing even at this stage of drunkenness. 

"My friend said it's you but...well I didn't expect to see you here," I gushed, my ears getting warmer by the second as the fanboy inside me started hopping at his place.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," he said drily, reaching for the glass and taking another sip. I noticed the way his lips clasped gently around the rim of the glass. 

"Uh- that's...not what I-" I stuttered, cursing my decision to talk to him at all when he spoke up suddenly.

"Do you wanna come back to my place?"

I gaped at him, wondering if this was some twisted joke of his. "Pardon?"

He turned to look at me and smirked. "You're really bad at small talk. I hope you're better at fucking."

I stared at him some more, my heart suddenly rampaging in my chest. "I...I didn't expect you to be so forward."

He didn't say anything, finishing his drink and placing it on the counter before turning to face me. "Isn't that why you're here? What's the point in wasting time?" He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips as he spoke, "You've gotta hit the spot you know?"

I wasn't really used to anyone being so forward with me. It was usually I who initiated anything at all, and in a much more subtle way than he was.

"Well, I...I guess I can't really argue with that," I said finally, struggling to keep a smile off my face.

He rose to his feet. "Come with me."

I rose up and followed him through the many intertwined, gyrating bodies in the packed night club. The slow music was soon replaced by an upbeat, loud one that made me glad that we were leaving. We made our way towards the exit and stepped out as he shut the door behind him and his features came to light under the dim yellow glow in the hallway. I recognized the grey eyes I had seen numerous times in tabloids, the dark, wavy hair, the chiselled jaw that had made me wonder if he could be as good of a model as he was a writer.

He didn't say anything and much to my surprise, grabbed my hand, leading me towards the elevator. I was stunned into silence. I couldn't think of any reason why the author whom I had admired for years now was so into my advances. It almost felt false. Feigned. But why?

He staggered into the elevator, pulling me in with him as his hands clumsily roamed over the button marked as 'zero'. A few moments later, the elevator door opened into the basement, where the parking lot was, and he pulled me outside.

I followed him, studying his unsteady gait and realizing that he was extremely drunk.

"I thought you'd have... a valet parking," I said, partly out of curiosity and partly to make the silence less strange.

"No, I love driving," he answered in a monotone as we walked through the sparsely lit basement surrounded by various cars. We walked over to the pillar marked as '3C' and I was mildly impressed that he had remembered where he had parked his car. He reached into his pocket and fished out the car keys as I heard a distinct beep a few seconds later. It was coming from a sleek, black car that my limited knowledge of motor vehicles didn't let me recognize.

He sauntered over to the car, pulling the driver's seat door open as he slid inside and beeped the horn impatiently for me to join. I was a little uneasy about the situation but entered the car nonetheless.

"Are you sure...you can drive?" I asked, noticing the drunken way his hands gripped the steering wheel.

"Yep," he said as he put the key in the ignition. A gentle hum signalled the car had started and he slowly started driving through the narrow parking lot and towards where I could see the glow in the dark red arrow marks leading towards the exit.

"You didn't even ask me my name," I said after a while as the car emerged into the blinding lights of the city.

"What's your name?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Er- Maverick."

"That's good to know, Maverick," he said before taking a deep breath.

"Are you always this trusting?" I asked. "Just...picking up random strangers from the bar and taking them to your place?"

"Are you a robber?" he asked.

"Er-" I began, wondering how he hadn't been robbed if this was his only level of security. "Not usually, no."

He chuckled and the sound was so strange to me that for a second, my nervousness turned to fascination.

"Are you a murderer?" he asked, leaning back against the headrest as I watched, mesmerized in the way the street lights glittered in his eyes.

"What would you do if I said yes?" I asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows as if thinking. "You got me," he admitted finally. 

I bit my lip and turned away from him, looking at the cars zooming past with glamorous lights that littered the roads. I still remembered the day I had moved to the big city, hoping to break out of my small town bubble. But even in my wildest dreams, I didn't think I would get to meet the guy I so admired, let alone be on the way to his home with him. 

"You live around here...um...?" he trailed off suddenly, squinting his eyes as if thinking. I grit my teeth, realizing he had already forgotten my name. 

"Maverick," I said firmly. 

He sighed, shaking his head. "Can you just be Bob or something? It's much easier to remember."

"Like the builder?" I asked, making another half-assed attempt at a joke. 

"Builder...what?" he asked, glancing at me. 

I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair and stopping myself before my nervousness made me ramble like an idiot. "Nothing. Also no, I'll like to stay Maverick."

"What about...Paul or like...Joe? They're easier to remember," he said. 

I grit my teeth, realizing why people always said it's best not to meet celebrities you admire lest they turn out to be someone who wants to name you Bob. 

"What about you?" I asked. "Do people call you F. F all the time? Or do you have a full form for that?"

He didn't say anything, his gaze fixed ahead of him. "You can just call me Riley if you must."

"Riley?" I asked in disbelief. "Alright, I guess."

An awkward silence fell and I was glad when the car finally slowed down and I realized we were probably close to his place. Throwing caution to the wind, I asked, "Are we there?"

"Yep," he said and much to my surprise took a sharp turn left before he pulled up in what looked like a parking lot of a residential complex. I gazed at the tall, nondescript building around me, taken aback by the utter simplicity. It looked like an apartment even my broke ass could rent. 

"Come on," he said as he slipped out of the car and I followed in tow. He led me towards a plain, white brick building on the right. We entered the narrow hallway with nothing except a tiny room on our right with a glass window. A middle-aged man sat in a chair behind it, reading a newspaper with a disgruntled expression. He didn't react to us entering and stepping into the small elevator. 

Riley's apartment was on the eleventh floor, the topmost floor in the building. We stepped out into an empty, dimly lit hallway with doors on either side as he grabbed my hand and started leading me to the very end of the hallway. I was still surprised that he lived in such a low key place. I waited as he reached into his pocket and fished out a key which he clumsily put into the lock and swung the door open. He reached into the dark house and switched on the lights, bathing the narrow foyer in a gentle glow. He led me inside and I came across a few couches on the right with a television set up in front of it. On my left stood a kitchen that seemed unnaturally clean. I could see another corridor at the far end of the apartment which I assume led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. 

"What's wrong, Bob?" Riley asked as he turned to look at me, his eyes narrowed. 

"I  guess I...expected you to live in a more...grand mansion or something. Like a huge penthouse maybe," I shrugged. 

He was quiet for a while before his face broke in a smile that was like nothing I had ever seen. It was a heartbreaking smile, his eyes seemed to burn within themselves and turn to the colour of ashes. 

"Bigger houses feel emptier," he said as he took off his shoes and clumsily kicked them to the side of the corridor, leading me to do the same. 

I stared at him, a strange feeling in my heart. And although a completely sober Maverick would kick my drunk ass for going into a virtual stranger's home with absolutely no knowledge about them, I couldn't bring myself to be wary of Riley. 

"Um, can I use your bathroom?" I asked nervously, realizing if we were actually going through with this, I needed a little time to prepare. 

He nodded and slurred, "Yes."

He turned and taking the cue, I followed him to the opposite corridor where he opened the door to the right and swung it open. He reached inside and switched on the lights, revealing a decently sized bedroom. 

"There," he said, pointing to a door on the wall opposite where we were standing. I nodded and thanked him, making my way over to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, relieved. 

It was a simple, impulsively clean bathroom. Something that seemed to be kind of like a running theme. I wondered if he maybe had house help to clean the apartment. 

A sink with a mirror attached to the wall stood in front of me. On my right was a bath enclosure and the toilet on the left. I made my way to the sink and leaned over it, washing my face repeatedly to hopefully get some of the drowsiness away. I wasn't exactly new to meeting up with strange people in stranger places, but this wasn't just a random stranger. It was F. F Riley, the guy I had been a massive admirer of for a few years now. Not to mention that since he was just four years older than me, I had spent hours fantasising about possible situations that would result in us being together. And now, it was actually happening. 

And all I wanted to do was run away. 

What the hell was I thinking? I couldn't imagine getting naked in front of him. And yet here I was like a fucking moron. It wasn't even the fact that I thought I wasn't attractive enough. I would give myself a solid seven out of ten, which could work for most one-night stands. What if I got over-excited and some 'accident' happens? Or I get so nervous that nothing happens at all?

I took a deep breath and washed my face again, raking a hand through my hair and cursing myself again and again. Was it possible to just get Will or Alan to call me with some emergency? I could just get out easily then. 

Why had Riley been so insistent on this anyway? He was Famous. Rich. Drop-dead gorgeous. He probably had people of all genders throwing them at him all the time. Was he just a nymphomaniac maybe? Was that why he had just agreed to me even though I wasn't his best bet?

I wasn't sure how long I was in the bathroom hyperventilating. By the end of it, I decided to just be honest with him. I would most definitely hate myself for passing up this once in a lifetime opportunity, but it was better to leave with my dignity. 

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, noticing that the bright lights in the bedroom were now replaced by a dim yellow glow. I saw Riley lying on the bed and my heart fluttered irrationally. 

He lay on his side, his arm tucked under the pillow, his eyes shut. I walked closer to him, noticing the dark shadows his long lashes cast on his pale cheeks. His hair uncooperatively drooping onto his forehead. His shoulders rising and falling gently as he slept. 

I stood still for a while, gazing at him and struck by the contrast between an awake and an asleep Riley. I wondered if it would be better to just leave, but considering the fact that it was really late and I didn't know what part of the town I was in, maybe it was better to just sleep here for the night. 

I tiptoed my way out of the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind me as I made my way to the couch and lay down on it, staring at the unfamiliar, white ceiling. The couch felt soft, warm and comfortable. It wasn't long before my drunken brain dozed off into a comforting, dreamless sleep. 

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