This was originally intended to just be a one-shot based on a prompt from a long while back but I became rather fond of it so we'll see how this goes. Thank you for giving it a read!

And thanks to Nicole for getting in this with me. You're in for a long ride, my friend!

Her clothes are bunched on the floor in a messy pile, an uncharacteristic move for her but one she makes every time she's here. It's easier this way, to scoop them up into her arms and quickly bolt for the door.

And she does just that, the same ritualistic feeling she gets every morning as she shifts beneath the navy blue cotton sheets and swings her legs out to plant her feet onto the cold, laminate flooring. She's silent, breathing shallowly, as she makes her fairly obvious get away—Graham knows the drill. And just like that she's back in the danky, claustrophobic hallway that reeks of what was, more than likely, a mixture of booze, drugs and mold. (Graham hadn't really chosen a prime living establishment.)

Regina sets her pumps down on the floor- as she's done countless times before- and slips each foot into their respective shoe. But just as she goes to slip on her overcoat over the silky black slip that was her only cover, the door across the way creaks open as someone else is also tiptoeing their way out of a messy morning.

She recognizes him immediately; it's the same man who is here almost as often as she is now, moving his way through each of the girls on Graham's floor, probably the entire apartment complex, actually. She keeps her eyes to the ground as she continues to don her coat but she can't resist glancing up at him through her thick lashes.

His grin fleshes out in a particular grand fashion—those charming dimples make a deep indention in his face and make it rather difficult for her to restrain her own smile. "We have to stop meeting like this," he calls out.

"Well, perhaps you should stop taking an interest in girls who live on the same floor," she shoots back coolly.

"Perhaps you should stop walking out of the same guy's apartment every morning," his grin shifts into a smirk and if Regina cared to engage the bandit of women's virtue, she would inform him that she and Graham just weren't at that stage yet. Sure it'd been almost a month and a half since they'd started sleeping together, and it'd been even longer since they'd met (although not much longer, they weren't the dating type either), but they weren't yet at a point where she could stay over into the late morning and where he would cook her breakfast and they would chat about the news or something.

"What I do is none of your business," she retorts, displeased that the conversation has extended this long.

"Well neither is mine, yours," he mimics her tone precisely.

She rolls her eyes and pads over to the staircase, attempting to evade upholding anymore conversation with him but nevertheless muttering her answer as she goes, "If you didn't make it the business of everyone living on this floor, then perhaps I'd be able to neglect it—and believe me, I've tried."

"But you don't live here," he muses for a moment before adding, "or even stay here for that matter."

Regina can't help but turn around at that, displaying her irritation in its full value, but she realizes that she has neglected to create a retort and her embarrassment only furthers when he raises his right eyebrow smugly. Instead, she huffs out an aggitated sigh and turns on her heel to descend down the stairs.

"Wait," and he is reaching for her arm, turning her around as her foot goes to step down. She nearly loses her balance, which only increases her enmity to him, but still turns around, allowing him the chance to fail at redeeming himself.

"I hope I didn't upset you," his voice softer now, more sincere.

But she is unmoved by his apology and simply dismisses with a wave of her free hand while slipping the other out of his grasp.

"Let me take you to coffee," he spits out while fishing in his pants' (that had been draped over his arm) pockets, to pull out a plastic card—Starbucks.

Regina sighs. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, aggravating sure, but nevertheless charming in his own respect. And it won't hurt to go get coffee with him, she isn't exactly committed per se to Graham and heaven knows this guy hasn't been committed to a single soul in his life. But on the other hand, she doesn't know him and she's not sure why she should care to know him.

"What makes you think I want to get coffee with you?" The chill in her voice remains rather solid.

He chuckles, "Must you be so stubborn?"

If she's honest, stubbornness is one of her stronger qualities and it's rather convenient. It helps her keep everyone at bay that way she can steer clear of any drama and attachments. That's why she and Graham work so well; he allows her to be stubborn and gives her anything that she wants. She's satisfied and that's all that matters to her, and seemingly, to Graham too.

"It's not being stubborn if I just don't want to go," she crosses her arms to emphasize her denial.

But the man isn't budging and instead squints his eyes slightly to scrutinize her as if she were a difficult calculus problem. His stare is actually rather piercing and it makes her uncomfortable, how naked she feels in front of him even though she knows she's at least semi dressed. She nevertheless feels the need to skim her hands down her front side just to be sure. His stare doesn't relent for at least a minute and Regina can feel her irritation growing greater by the second.

And yet, as uncomfortable as she feels, she finds that she rather likes him looking at her, something about the way he does it makes her feel noticed like he really was trying to see her instead of through her. Graham doesn't quite look at her this way. He notices her, of course, but there's something missing; there always has been.

She can't take it any longer so she huffs out angrily, "What are you doing?"

"Listening."

That throws her off. Of all the things she was expecting, this was not one of them. But she says nothing and merely furrows her brow.

"For the ocean."

Again, she gives a nonverbal push for him to finish his thought.

He smirks and she realizes immediately how much she hates it. It's so smug and self assured, like he knows he has her right where he wants her. She isn't about to play games with some stupid man slut who probably tramped his way through countless girls' lives. She can already tell he's probably not the brightest of his kind and probably too daft to realize it. He's a smug little shit, though. That is for certain.

"Must be hollow in that chest of yours," he finally finishes.

Regina is taken aback. For a guy who was just apologizing for fear of offending her, he's sure quick to do it again.

She thinks to walk away, to just ignore what he said and move on with her day. After all, she does have such a lavish life to attend to. But something stops her from turning around and going on her way. Perhaps it's his piercing stare, or maybe the insult itself and her need to defend herself- either way, she doesn't move.

"Why worry about hearing the ocean from my chest when the sound is roaring between your ears in that empty head of yours," she fires back.

He's the one stunted this time but he seems impressed, pursing his lips and giving a gentle nod, "Ah seems the bite is as bad as the bark. "

"Yes and I could gut you easily."

"It would be an honor to be gutted by you m'lady." His smirk is back but, this time, with a sultrier undertone that has Regina's stomach doing a single somersault. It also didn't help that he's sliding on his pants at the moment.

Her better judgment is still saying walk away but she stays stagnant and doesn't move again until he does, walking past her to begin his descent down the stairs.

After about the fourth or fifth step he glances back up at her, "You coming?" And then he continues to clobber down the stairs before she can answer.

Part of her begs her not to move a muscle, not until he's down in the street and realizes she hadn't followed him and he goes to get his coffee alone. But then there's that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach to join him. She never has fun anymore and she's always the adult in her relationship with Graham.

She looks down at her watch. She has time to spare…

Oh this is a bad idea.

But she begins to move anyway, scurrying quickly down the stairs to catch her hallway friend before he gets away.

When she gets to the street though, he's not outside the door and she's sure she's missed him. Damn.

"Took you long enough," she hears behind her.

He's standing there, leaning against the building with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk plastered across his face.

Had she noticed before how nice his arms are? Nicely toned, the perfect type to be held in.

This is a mistake and she thinks he sees that on her face because he steps to her then, his brow furrowed.

"Look, if you really don't want to go, just say so and I'll leave you be." His voice is frantic and Regina finds it endearing how concerned he is over this.

But she wishes to soothe his worry, she can feel it as her heart lurches when she takes in his sort of down trodden pout. This isn't going to go well, she knows this; she keeps telling herself this. But she has to, she just does.

"Well I suppose it would be stupid for me to turn down free coffee," she turns her nose in the air, careful to not look at him as his sly smile creeps back onto his face. Great, she's done it now.

"Wonderful," he answers and he moves to her, terribly close to her personal space but nevertheless inviting. And god does he smell fantastic, especially for a dirty "sleeps with 15 different women a week" type of guy. The smell doesn't linger though because he is moving to the street, walking towards his car or, at least, she hopes it's his.

Here goes nothing.

Starbucks is packed with the morning rush, of course, and Regina can already sense the pounding in her head that will result from this but she goes in anyway, in tow of her coffee date. Although, this isn't a date—under no circumstances would this ever be a date.

After all, he isn't dating material, that much she knows. He's sloppy, sleeps around, and is probably some aspiring (and failing) musician, who tried to make it big in LA and wound up here instead, two states away, in Albuquerque. His job is irrelevant though because this is a onetime thing. She'd go out on one cordial coffee rendezvous and then she would go home, hopefully never to come across the man again. She thinks to ask his name too but perhaps it was better this way, easier to keep him at a distance if there were no names involved. No attachment whatsoever.

They finally make it to the counter and he orders himself a caffé Americano and "whatever the lady wishes" which is a caramel macchiato, no whip cream, small caramel drizzle and a double shot.

He clicks his tongue then, which elicits a terse what from her.

"Nothing," he grins sheepishly.

She narrows her eyes so that her lids can prevent them from rolling straight out of her head. "No, what?" she demands again.

"It's just you are that type of girl."

"I beg your pardon," her voice rises with incredulity.

"Look nothing wrong with it, it's just who you are," he shrugs.

"Then why do you say it with such disdain?"

"Not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?"

He gets closer to her, until his face is mere centimeters from hers and she sucks in her breath and holdig it firmly. She can smell his scent again but she tries to maintain her composure because she wasn't going to falter to some ridiculous need to breathe him in. He's not even that cute.

But when his voice drops low, she can feel her knees nearly give out, "I suppose that's for you to try and find out."

She pulls her head back an inch or two so that he can see her face in its entirety. "I don't care to try and find out anything from you."

He pulls away completely now with a, "Fair enough," and turns to face the barista who was staring at them, mouth slightly open in confusion. But she manages to get herself together enough to take the card and charge it, telling them that their drinks would be out momentarily.

He takes her to a high top table—she hates those—but he does pull out her chair which is at least civil enough, so she takes her seat and darts her eyes quickly over the room. Why had she agreed to this? Painfully awkward small talk with a total stranger (and one she's already not fond of) is not exactly her forte. This is exactly why she doesn't do blind dates; they always turn into a nightmare and she's left to do damage control because the guy always manages to stick his foot in his mouth and she runs out of pleasantries so she has to come up with some bogus excuse to get out. And that's what she does now, skims her brain for a good exit strategy just in case. So she reaches in her bag to pull out her cell. Perhaps she could fake a work call, although it isn't exactly helpful since she's out for the summer but she could lie her way out of that one.

Damn. Dead.

Of course, she forgot to charge it while she was at Graham's.

"So," he clears his throat, "you from here?"

"No," she answers shortly.

"Then where're you from?"

"I was born and raised in Phoenix and I decided to move."

"Why?"

"That's none of your business."

Like hell she'd ever tell him how she wound up here after leaving Phoenix. She and Graham hadn't even had that discussion yet. He'd asked once but she'd shut him down so quickly that he didn't bother bringing it up again. That's the way she likes it, uncomplicated and drama free. She never wants to think about Phoenix unless she absolutely has to.

"Where are you from?" she dodges. "Clearly not from here, unless there's an entire underground English community that I'm not aware of."

He chuckles at that and she likes it. It's warm and soft and inviting. "Oh you haven't heard about that? You been livin' under a rock? No, I'm from a lovely place called Colchester. Then I moved to London for a couple of years only to wind up in the states."

She doesn't want to ask because she swore to herself not to get invested but it comes tumbling out of her mouth anyway, "So did you start out in Albuquerque or?"

"No I was in New York for a couple of months, then Florida for a few more, then LA and now here."

LA. She called it.

"Oh why'd you bounce around so much?"

"Well I thought I'd like the big city but then when I moved out to LA I loved it, it wasn't as fast paced as New York, but finding work as a teacher and trying to accommodate just became too stressful. Plus the city was still far too large for me."

Regina nearly chokes on her coffee when she hears his occupation. "You're a teacher?"

Crazy enough, so is she, but he does not need to know that. That's all she needs- to have something in common with him. Then he may never leave her alone.

"Yep."

"Let me guess… middle school English teacher?"

"Oh," he sucks in a breath between his teeth, "close but I'm actually a kindergarten teacher."

"You teach kindergarten?"

"Mhm."

She purses her lips, mulling the idea over, "Hmph, seems fitting for you."

"Yeah?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Well, yes, of course. Your natural habitat. A child with more children."

He's chuckling again and it exacerbates Regina's irritation once more. It's as if he's laughing at her and she isn't terribly fond of being the butt end of someone's joke but she can't help but find the whole thing intoxicating.

"You wouldn't last a day," he surmises.

"You think I couldn't?" Given she knew how difficult it is to be a kindergarten teacher. Covering once for Mary Margaret Blanchard had been enough to last a lifetime. But Regina teaches second grade so it's not like there's a vast difference and, not to mention, she totally can handle kindergarteners, but it just isn't her favorite thing to do.

He shakes his head, "Not a chance. Your princess behavior would have you squirming and running out the door in seconds."

"I'm not a princess," she grumbles.

"Yeah okay," he returns sarcastically.

She shifts forward into his personal space now, "If anything, I would be a queen."

He immediately threw up his hands in innocence, "Oh yes, forgive me, Your Majesty."

"I'll spare you your head today."

And there goes his laugh again. The more it kept happening the more desperate she became to make it happen again. His laughter could light up the whole room.

Silence takes its place then, enveloping them. She has no idea what to say next so she places the teaspoon in her coffee and swirls it mindlessly while propping the side of her face into her palm.

"What do you do?"

She leans back up to look at him and when she gets a good look at his face, she thinks to just be honest and tell him. She wants to be honest with him. How can she lie to those beautiful blue eyes? It'd be like lying to the sky itself.

But she can't bring herself to tell him. She doesn't want to relate or connect.

"Doesn't matter, I'm no Saint Kindergarten Teacher," she says teasingly.

He laughs again (thankfully!) but doesn't press the matter any further, which makes her think that he doesn't care to get to know her either. Perhaps, he's just making small talk to waste time. Regina can't help but feel disheartened by it, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. Yeah, she wants avoidance too but, suddenly, it doesn't feel like such a great idea. She likes being wanted. Maybe that's selfish but it's ridiculous to think that others don't feel the same way. The whole world revolves around attention. Every person thinks the sun shines out of their ass and they spend their days finding someone who will remind them of that.

"Yes it's difficult to amount to my superiority." She notices his chest swell.

Don't look.

Damn it.

He had a large chest, broad and muscled. His t-shirt carefully outlined each curvature of it and Regina tries to think of anything else because she can feel the heat rising to her face as it tries to consume her thoughts.

He's not that cute.

He's dirty.

He sleeps around.

She needs to get a grip. She just got laid last night and now, the next day, she's hot for this mysterious, elusive teacher.

Except, she's not hot for him because she's a respectable lady who doesn't just jump at any man and she sure as hell isn't gonna let some random guy jump at her. So what if he has muscles? Big whoop, so does Graham. But Graham is "stay the night" material whereas this guy is totally, only, a one night stand kind of guy.

"How do you do it?" she blurts out.

"Do what?"

"Sleep around like you do and then go care for children?"

"How do you do it?"

She is affronted, "Mine's not the same thing. You know that."

He waves it off, "It's virtually the same thing. Yours is just with one person. Mine is with a few."

"So because I won't commit wholly to Graham, you and I are one in the same?"

"Are you allowed to see other people?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, we are one in the same."

She grows bitter with each passing second. Who is he to tell her how her relationship is. Yes, they aren't exclusive but Regina has been exclusive and as much as she stays over now, she feels that Graham has been too. (Although, she isn't naïve so she wouldn't be surprised if he isn't.) So they don't label their relationship, how does that make her like the scoundrel in front of her?

She guesses he can tell she's still perplexed because he tacks on a further explanation. "I use my non-commitment to extend to multiple people; you use it to manipulate one. But essentially no different."

"That's bullshit."

"But not false," he postulates.

She has no answer. One because she knows that he's too stubborn to listen—ironic how the tables have turned on her—and two because she's not sure that she disagrees. However, there's no way she'll tell him that. So she tells him that it's so ridiculous that she can't dignify that with an answer.

He's quick to see right through that though, "Whatever you say princess."

"Not a princess."

"Right. My apologies, Your Majesty."

"Better," she sighs.

Silence again takes control and she lets it so she can assess the man across from her and she's sure he's doing the same since he's reclined backwards and his eyes are pinched into scrutiny.

"You know that Graham guy is a lucky bastard. You're fairly attractive." He finally says.

"Fairly?"

"Mmm…" But he has a growing smirk again and she can't tell if he's serious.

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Look, this was… nice," she grimaces, "but I have to go."

"Off to your big illustrious life, Your Majesty?"

Yes, if he considers illustrious as a huge, empty apartment with nothing but a mewing cat and spic 'n spanned rooms. God, she needs a life.

"Yes," she answers airily. "And big and illustrious does not involve dirty hallway boys."

"That's quite true," he nods acceptingly.

"Yes well, I must get to it so—"

"Right, of course," He stands and hops down from his chair, walking over to her to extend a hand to assist her, which she takes humbly.

His hand lingers on hers, for a moment, once she gets down and she almost says something until he shifts her hand in his. He shakes it then, cordially and respectfully. But his eyes tell a different story; they are warm and friendly, as well as piercing right through her.

"Thank you for doing this with me. I had a great time." His soft smile makes her crazy and she could turn into a puddle right in front of him.

She should thank him and tell him that she had a good time. Honestly, it wasn't as dreadful as she worried that it would be. She should show her appreciation that he was an intriguing conversationalist and didn't make for a horrible experience. But none of that comes out. Instead, she's shaking his hand and smiling just as formally as the handshake is.

This is it. After this moment, the hallway sex bandit would be out of her life. He's nearly slept with every girl in the rooms around Graham so she'd probably never see him again. The thought creates a small pang in her stomach that she can't shake. But she has to ignore it. Getting tied up in a life like his is just a cry for trouble.

"Well I must be off. Thanks for the coffee." Her voice is really soft now.

"Don't thank me, thank Ruby."

"What?" she asks even though she knows what he meant. He stole that gift card! Unbelievable. And yet, it has her grinning like an idiot.

"I'll be sure to send her a muffin basket," she calls behind her as she walks away, mostly to conceal her smile.

"Hey wait!" He calls after her and she turns back to face him with an inquisitive smirk. "I didn't catch your name."

Her smirk only grows bigger as she paces closer to him. She doesn't know what possesses her to do it but once she's close, she looks him dead in the eyes and says, "That's for the second hallway rendezvous."

And then she's gone, blending into the streets of Albuquerque, hoping to find her way back to that hallway soon.