[C] Unattainable

The first few drinks Willow spent at the bar, sitting, looking beautiful, and ignoring everyone that didn't interest her.

It was the way she made nights alone interesting. Getting noticed, but staying perfectly unattainable until she deemed someone interesting enough to give her time to.

The tip of her index finger ran slowly around the rim of the glass of whiskey she had sat next to her as her eyes swept over the crowd of dancers. There were some familiar faces there, but not many yet that she would show any interest in.

Maybe the Russian. She remembered him being fun a few months ago. She wouldn't mind a second ride.

She smacked her painted red lips and gave a woman eyeing her a a flirty smile. She was a pretty thing. Perhaps she would get her attention tonight.

Ciro was abandoned.

It was only the start of the night for him, with only a couple of shots in his system. His friend - someone he knew from the rink - were already wasted when he arrived and left without a goodbye. So now he was on his own, in a bar, not even drunk.

He did debate on leaving. His legs and feet still hurt from training today, and he could enjoy tomorrow not hungover.

Then he saw her with her red hair, red dress, red 'fuck me' heels. She looked unattainable. Untouchable.

But he was used to untouchable.

"Willow!" He called out, making his way over to the woman. His face split into a gleaming smile, showing off both of his dimples.

He hadn't seen her since the beach and hadn't gotten her out of his head since. Or Nicola rubbing suncream on her. Or when Maddox slipped his arm around his waist.

It had been a very frustrating past couple of months. Especially without any competitions or routines to throw himself into.

Willow's eyes turned up at the sound of her name.

Her eyes swept over Ciro, admiring his tall build, and the way his dimples lit up his handsome face.

Her own lips curled into a little smile.

"Ciro," she greeted in reply, rolling the r a little more exaggeratedly than she needed to.

She lifted her glass and took a sip. She didn't leave any lipstick residue on the glass. Her lipstick was expensive. She was paying for quality.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

The term of endearment pleased him - even if he partly certain she used it for everybody.

"Tired." He didn't look tired. His entire neverending frame seemed to buzz with newfound energy. "And as Nicola would say: 'Not pissed enough.'"

He leant casually against the bar into front of Willow.

"How have you been? Are you still doing the show... what was it? Heathers? They hadn't even revealed the cast if I remember right."

Not that Willow and Maddox seemed nervous or concerned about it.

"Another round is in order, then. Your treat."

When he leaned against the bar besides her, she turned in her chair, relaxing against the bar herself, facing him. One elbow rested on the bar, and her chin rested in delicately extended fingers.

"We're still-" Her brow arched in condescension and her icy eyes turned on a man approaching the two of them with intent. Her sharp gaze made him freeze in place, and open his mouth to speak. 

"Move along," She insisted before he could get even a breath out. Her tone brokered no room for argument, and a little dejectedly, the man slumped off to try his luck with a number closer to home. "Fours have no business talking to tens like us."

She shook her head a little sadly, turning her eyes back to Ciro. Her expression melted back into its previously friendly air. "We're still in preliminary practising at the moment. Getting a feel for our characters."

Ciro watched the exchange, face dropping. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the man who received an icy rejection but also pleased that he didn't have to share Willow's attention. Even more so when her face warmed back up in his direction.

He nodded along to what she had to say.

"I see. So still a little while until I get to see you both perform on stage." He didn't know much about the theatre, but he did ballet as a child. He supposed it was somewhat similar. With ballet, you were still telling a story, even if there were no words involved.

There was a pause.

"Do you really think I am a ten?"

The dimples showed themselves again.

"Months." Her eyes rolled. She was ready to hit the stage now. She knew every word of Heathers.

But others had to learn their lines and practise. So it'd take months before they were ready for the stage. It'd be a long process.

His bright smile was answered with a small one of her own. Her free hand raised, her long red-painted nails teasing over the skin of his strong jaw. "Perhaps a strong nine and a half," she teased, running the tip of her index nail over his full lower lip.

"Now where's my drink, sweetheart?"

Ciro jerked his head just slightly in surprise when he felt nails tease his jaw. Then he shifted his weight forwards, closer to her.

He was happy with a strong nine and a half. Very happy. Especially when he felt the tip of her red nail tickle his lower lip. His tongue darted over the tingling trail she left.

Dumbfounded for a moment, with his grin still in place and dark eyes lit in excitement, it took him a second to respond.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks. You drink whisky, right? Any brand in particular?"

The dark eyes caught the attention of a bartender and he was served instantly. He was a well-paying customer and was a regular in the expensive bar.

He was sweet and eager. She liked that about him.

"They know what I like." Her eyes turned to the bartender when he approached the two of them.

She turned a pointed gaze to another man approaching them, a strong two with the whiskey in her system and waved him away with a swish of her hand. Though this one wasn't about to be dismissed.

"Hey there, doll."

Her lips pressed together and her gaze turned pointedly back to Ciro. She was silent.

"Aww baby, don't ignore me. I just want to talk." He planted himself in the slim space between herself and Ciro. "Get to know you." His eyes dropped to her tits. "Real well."

Ciro met Willow's eyes. He knew that look.

The other man was a wider than him - a mix of both muscle and fat. But he had an extra foot on him and his body made of compact muscle, he supposed they were about the same weight.

He rested a heavy hand on the stranger's shoulder.

"She doesn't want to get to know you."

He wasn't a particular hostile person. Competitive, yes. But not hostile. Nicola once commented he was the most docile person she knew.

But he wasn't about to be docile and passive towards this pushy stranger. He wasn't going to stand aside and let him bother Willow.

Willow's eyes turned between Ciro and the drunken stranger, a little impressed that the docile puppy dog had stood up for her.

The guy brushed Ciro's hand off his shoulder, sparing him a glance. Then double taking when instead of seeing face, he'd seen throat. His eyes turned slowly over the tall man.

"This your girl?" 

Willow gave a delicate little sigh, wanting to stay out of dramatic bar fights. She got enough of it at work.

There wasn't any hesitancy when he answersered the stranger's question.

"She is. And your standing between us."

There wasn't that much space between them. He could smell the alcohol reaked off him. It was even worst when he spoke in his direction.

He looked down his nose at the stranger, brows pinched together. With his height, he hoped he looked intimidating enough. Like Willow, he didn't want a fight. It wasn't exactly his expertise.

"Right, man." He held up one hand and stepped back.

He didn't want a fight with someone as tall as this guy. He had his muscle, but this guy was tall, man. Ciro could easily get an advantage over him.

When the man disappeared into the crowd, Willow's hand snagged the front of Ciro's shirt, pulling him down. She planted a single sweet little kiss to his lips. 

"Thank you, boyfriend."

Ciro relaxed as he watched the man walked away. He silently thanked his mother and her genetics.

A small noise of surprise left him as he was dragged down. His cheeks warmed as lips pressed against his as she kissed. It was soft and sweet. Completely unexpected.

He blinked as she pulled back. Then grinned.

"Anytime."

He rested a hand tentatively on her hip.

"Incase another not-ten tries to hit on you?"

They would look more like boyfriend and girlfriend that way. Men are less inclined to hit on a woman with another man's arm wrapped around her. It was ridiculous, really.

Her smile stayed on her lips when he pulled back and grinned. Such a charming little grin.

"Perhaps, then, you could sort out the nine and a half?" Her brow arched and her smile stretched into a little smirk.

She happily leaned into his hold, though.

She picked up her glass and took a healthy sip.

His heart was a beat faster, and his skin was still warm from when she kissed him. But he wasn't going to push it... too much.

The hand on Willow's hip slid around so it was on the base of her back as he stood straight again.

"So, as a perfect ten, how do you suggest I sort it out?"

He took a sip from his own drink; tequila and coke. His questioning gaze didn't leave her.

"As a perfect ten, I don't do my own dirty work."

She swished her whiskey, dropping her eyes to the amber liquid, then raising them to look up at the tall man through her lashes coyly.

"I would have my boyfriend sort out that nine and a half."

Her lips parted over white teeth in another coy smile.

"My boyfriend should probably stake his claim. Scare that nine and a half off."

Stake his claim.

He turned the words over in his head. In the space of five minutes, he was dumbfounded, again.

Even over the music, he could hear his pulse.

He licked his top lip.

With the same tentative way her placed a hand on her hip, he leant back down to kiss her. The same soft and sweet kiss she gave him only moments ago.

Her gaze stayed firmly on Ciro's face as he hesitated, then his dark eyes slid shut.

Her lips parted in a smile under his initially, but a moment later they pressed firmly against Ciro's.

Willow set the glass in her hand down, then her hand found the nape of Ciro's neck, fingers brushing the short, soft hair there as she captured Ciro's lower lip, sucking it gently.

A very soft sigh was drowned out by the music as his lip was sucked.

It was a little awkward to be bent over like this. He rested his other hand on the chair to brace his weight and his legs pressed against hers.

He was very, very glad - extremely glad - that his friend had abandoned him. He had been craving to kiss her since he met her. While he did have hopes for this tonight, he certainly didn't expect it so soon.

The tip of his tongue ran along the seam of where their lips met to try and coax her to let him deepen the kiss.

Request denied. Willow pulled back, lips curled upwards teasingly.

She drained her glass then set it down with a clink. She stood. Standing, she was only an inch smaller than Ciro. Her heels boosted her a good five inches.

"Come dance with me, nine and a half."

Her fingers found the waistband of his jeans tugging him along as she walked backwards towards the dance floor.

Ciro pouted as the kiss was broken. The slight lift in the corner of his mouth betraying how much he liked the playful tease.

His hand didn't leave her lower back as she stood. Now she was standing, he had a whole new appreciation for the dress and the heels, and who was wearing them.

He didn't have time to drain his own drink as fingers looped into his waistband and tugged him forward. It had his blood pumping south.

The pout was replaced with his signature grin.

"My pleasure, ten."

The dance floor wasn't too busy, giving them room to dance. There would only be the occasional elbow in his back.

His hands found her hips, his own moved to the beat. The music had a steadily increasing rhythm to it as it built up to the drop.

She was developing a love for that grin. It was so bright and real. It suited him down to the ground.

Even with the room to dance, she pressed close to him as they dance.

Her hands rested on his shoulders and her hips swayed. Her dancing was loose, fluid, not hindered at all by the stilettos she wore. She was beyond graceful no matter what shoes she wore. It came with a lot of practise.

Ciro didn't pay much attention to her feet, it was all on the fact that she can dance. Very well. Her whole body moving sensational.

A moment later he realised that of course, she could dance.It was part of her job description.

He didn't pull or push them closer together until the next song. It was slower, steadier. He recognised it as an American song.

Feeling daring, he tugged her closer. They were hip to hip as he encouraged her to sway them together.

He leaned down again as if to kiss her. Their foreheads pressed together and their noses bumped. He was looking at her through his set of thick lashes.