My name is "No"
My sign is "No"
My number is "No"

"No"- Meghan Trainor

Cassian is in love, well not exactly love, because Cassian doesn't believe in silly things like love at first sight. It's a trite and juvenile concept that preys on the weak of mind, and even if Cassian's strengths lie in the more physical side of life, he'd be damned if anyone even insinuated that the graduate student couldn't hold his own mentally.

Maybe he is damned though.

Because the sight before him— the heaven sent angel sitting at the bar. The one whose golden-brown hair glistens in an iridescent waterfall down her back, catching the lights off the dance floor. The ones that twinkle like fairies in some savage dance. The deep purple crop top somehow accents the narrowness of her waist and emphasizes other certain appealing qualities, qualities he'd very much like to get to know. Legs that look like they've been poured into the black leather leggings and are begging to be wrapped around him.— has him questioning everything he knows about love, lust, and the female species.

It's the thump of the bass syncing up to the beating of his heart and that kaleidoscopic cacophony of lights. The crowd seems to part and the beat drops when he sees her for the first time, and it feels like his heart has come to a screeching halt along with it.

Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's divine intervention. Because he knows he's never seen the likes of her before. Even if The Night Court, the club that he and his friends frequent, is their usual Friday night haunt, and even if he can't see her face, he's definitely never seen her before. He'd remember those sinful curves, the delicate swaying of her hips as they subconsciously sway to the pounding beat.

They haven't been at the club long, just long enough to establish themselves at a table and so with drink orders on hand— or typed into his phone because he's lost yet another bet so the first round was on him, not that he would need them. Everyone just wants their usual and the bartender knows them.— he strides through the sea of bodies to the bar.

He's all swagger as he approaches the bar and stops next to her. The bar is crowded with revelers vying for drink, and maybe the bartenders number if they're lucky enough to catch his eye. She's close enough to touch and he can feel the warmth radiating from her bare flesh. Cassian is gripped with the sudden urge to stroke a finger down that arm to see if it's as soft as it looks in the dim light. But he resists, waiting to get the feel of the girl before he'll make his advances.

Finally the bartender makes eye contact with him and gives him a quick nod, letting him know his order will be right up. Satisfaction rolls through him at not having to flag the man down and riding that high he turns toward the vision beside him.

Cassian leans on an elbow, cocky smirk written on his face and clears his throat just loud enough to get her attention over the din of the music. She looks up from where she's been scrolling through her phone and oh, those eyes. One look in those blue-grey eyes that seems so familiar and yet he can't recall where he might have seen them and he's gone. So very gone.

She rakes those eyes over him, up and down. Twice.

Then without letting him get a word in edgewise, and with as much contempt as she could muster says just loud enough to be heard,

"No."