Finally getting this one up here on FF dot net! (This was first posted on my Ao3 account. If you prefer the formatting of that website over this one like I do, feel free to read it over there instead!)

Haaaaaaa...boy. What can I say, this fic wasn't supposed to happen, and then suddenly it did! I...couldn't help myself. I just had to write this. Why am I such a sucker for pairings like this?! Reylo owns my soul now. Send help immediately.

This is my first SW fic. It initially started out as a oneshot but now it'll be more like a story with parts instead of set chapters. I just got the idea of these kids in a real life New York setting coupled with the Lana Del Rey song of the same name, and had to get it out of my head! It might be around 7 parts total, but that could definitely change, since I have no self control! HAH. I'm positive that this idea isn't terribly original, but it called to me anyway.

I'm also working on writing several different projects at the moment, so my apologies if updates for this are spotty.

All right, let's start this thing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Star Wars franchise.

brooklyn baby

part 1

"I can't believe that worked," Finn said, pacing quickly through the throng of rich people after his nutjob best friends Rey and Poe, who were slightly ahead of them, laughing uproariously at their plan succeeding. He turned to his girlfriend in part disbelief, part excitement, who was holding tightly onto his arm. "Can you believe that worked? I can't believe that worked. We're in! They actually let us in!"

Rose, walking faster to match his pace with her short legs, rolled her eyes. "Of course they did. Only Poe would have the balls and the unabashed ego to actually pull that off." Wary, she looked at their surroundings, at the fancy Manhattan private party that they'd managed to crash. "But do we have to stay here for long? The stench of pretentiousness in here is gonna give me a headache."

"Oh, come on, Rose. Live a little." Rey had stopped walking side-by-side with Poe and turned around, leveling a triumphant grin at all of her friends. Her outfit, an ultra casual bohemian get up with cutoff short shorts, a long, floor-brushing loose shawl with a paisley pattern on it, and grungy, dusty lace-up boots didn't exactly blend with the black-and-white dress code of the soiree.

Then again, none of them would blend in with what they had been wearing on their trek to uptown earlier—particularly Rose's red beanie on her head, and Poe's leather racing jacket with his own last name, 'DAMERON' on the back.

"Yeah, be a little grateful, would you?" Poe piped in, grinning widely. "If it weren't for my famous name, none of you would've gotten in here in the first place. So, you're welcome." His eyebrows lifted.

"Famous?" Finn echoed with a snort. "Famous for what? Crashing your race car a million times and miraculously not dying?"

"Hey now," Poe replied defensively, "I win as much as I crash. No risk, no reward. And the reward is fame. And money. And doing favors for a bunch of ungrateful moochers." Rey elbowed him in the side as Finn groaned and Rose booed. Poe laughed, dodging Rey's elbow when she came in for a second blow. "Ah, okay! Sorry, sorry! Friends! Ungrateful friends."

"That's not better," Finn said.

"Well, if you'll all excuse me," Poe said, side-stepping Finn's comment and smoothing his hair back with both hands. "I've got some lady-hunting to do."

Rose cringed. "Ew, don't say it like that."

"Too late, I already did." Poe gave his friends a wink, then spun on his heel, disappearing into the crowd to find his latest amorous conquest.

Sighing good naturedly and shaking her head, Rey stepped closer to Finn and Rose, a mischievous glint appearing in her eye. "You know what I'm gonna do here?"

The both of them frowned, not catching her meaning. Then, with a gasp of realization, Rose said, "Oh God, Rey. You wouldn't."

Rey, after digging into her dingy leather satchel, produced a zip-lock bag of brownies. Pot brownies. She held them up in front of her beaming face. "Hell yeah, I would," she said. She wiggled the bag at Finn. "You want one?"

Finn struggled between the temptation Rey waggled in front of him and the way Rose shook her head at him with a glare of death. He smiled pleadingly at his girlfriend. "Just a bite?"

Sighing heavily and throwing her head back, shutting her eyes, Rose relented. "Fine. But you're gonna regret this. Remember the last time you ate one of Rey's edibles? You were standing on the roof of our apartment building, screaming, 'I'm alive! I'm alive!' until the cops got called."

Finn eagerly took a brownie out of the bag that Rey held out in front of him. "I know, I know. It won't be like that this time. I promise. Just one bite!" To demonstrate his promise, Finn held up the brownie, took one, medium sized bite, then made a show of putting the rest of the brownie back in the bag. He finished chewing as Rose and Rey watched, then swallowed and folded his arms with pride. "See? Moderation. It's all good. I'm good."

Rey and Rose nodded, the latter unconvinced. Rey leaned closer to Rose, whispering, "You're going to watch him, right?"

"Oh, trust me," Rose said, staring at her boyfriend with adoring exasperation, "I won't let him out of my sight."

Walking backwards, and reaching a hand into the bag to grab the rest of Finn's brownie, Rey saluted and said to the both of them, "Yeah, have fun with that. Catch you later!" She spun around, flowing shawl swirling after her as she popped the small bit of brownie into her mouth and skipped away, chewing happily and looking for some mischief to get into.

"What about you, Ben? Ben?"

Ben Solo snapped out of his reverie, staring out at the Manhattan city lights and the Empire State Building out of the nearby window as he had hundreds of times before during these parties. "What was that?" He asked.

His colleague, Armitage Hux, grinned stiffly. As usual, there was hostile contempt just beneath that smile. "I said, Mr. Solo, I think that the predictions for the next quarter are extremely promising for the company. What about you?" He gripped the scotch on the rocks in his hand a little tighter than needed.

"Yes, of course," Ben said. "Very promising. But we shouldn't let that affect our hard work. We need to remind the employees that there'll be no slacking. Schedule a company meeting Monday morning, would you?"

Hux paused, his expression dampening. Then, with the slightest bit of hesitance to his tone, he asked, "Sir, isn't Monday a holiday? The workers are supposed to have that day off."

Ben stared at Hux, his gaze becoming cold. Hux was questioning his authority once again. This was constant. "Excuse me, Hux, but I don't believe the other companies in the industry take a day off. Would you agree with that assessment?"

"Yes sir, I agree, but—"

"Then would you perhaps agree that taking a day off when it isn't needed would be a detriment to the progress we've made in just a few years?"

"Yes, sir. But the law states—"

"What does the law have to do with my company?" Ben's voice rose slightly. "Does some flimsy, meaningless law have more authority under my company than me, as CEO?"

The room had grown quiet. Everyone had stilled and silenced to witness the sight of the party host getting into yet another argument with his head employee and employee supervisor. In the long, loaded pause, in which Ben continued to stare at Hux nose-to-nose with a cold gaze in a steely, impassive face, Hux swallowed hard, and the ice cubes rattled inside of his glass in his shaking grasp.

"No, sir," Hux finally answered, voice uneven. "It doesn't."

Ben lifted his chin, his poker face unchanging even in his quiet victory. One day Hux would learn not to cross him. "Schedule the meeting. Mandatory. Bright and early. Fire anyone who doesn't attend." With that, Ben walked away, leaving the room with shoulders squared, already knowing without sparing another glance that Hux was scowling daggers into his retreating back.

He ignored the whispers as he continued on through the party venue, Chartreuse Penthouse. He also ignored the stares. He was used to them. Rather, he enjoyed them. They fed him, empowered him. Of course, there was the unfortunate side effect of throwing these events regularly and being the center of attention—the forced socializing.

Yes, he, Ben Solo, CEO of Kylo Enterprises, hated parties.

Yes, he knew that putting on airs was part of his lifestyle. He had been putting on airs since he was a kid, since he was forced to go to his grandmother Padme's bi-annual garden parties and interact with old, rich strangers in an itchy, too-tight bow tie and too-long coattails. He knew how to force a laugh that sounded believable at stilted, corny, un-funny jokes. He knew exactly how to shake their hands—firm, forceful, but not too scary. He'd had his introduction sentence well rehearsed for ages, and his arsenal of strategic conversational topics perfected.

He had played this song and dance for as long as he could remember. He was born into money, and now he had his own money.

And now, to maintain that money with this company he built up from the ground, inspired by his grandfather Anakin's company before him, he had to continue this song and dance. Throw big, fancy parties mostly meant to maintain his network of important people, which helped maintain the foundation of his very company.

Investors, mostly. But also promoters, and sponsors. And caterers. Not to mention using it as a convenient means to maintain his image in the public eye via his public relations team. He'd already had several 'attitude' controversies in the past, where he had flown off the handle with some paparazzi rats present. It had taken this long to repair the damage his reputation had endured, and now it was mostly neutral instead of positive.

Ben Solo had multiple more over the top parties to throw, and multiple more figurative babies to kiss. Only then would he have any hope of Kylo Enterprises being at the top.

Then he would have everything that he wanted.

Rey had never seen a party that was so over the top.

Never. Not even that time in high school that she had crashed the big end-of-the-year party being thrown by one of the popular girls. And that party had a chocolate fountain, cocktail shrimp, sparklers, and an ice sculpture.

This party had multiple ice sculptures—she was starting to feel high, but sure was pretty sure she had correctly counted 30 of them. It also had 3 open bars, one for each floor that the party took place in—the main floor, the loft, and the rooftop. Each floor had different buffet tables: the main floor of the party had a Korean BBQ buffet table, the rooftop had a Mediterranean buffet and a dessert buffet with fancy desserts from countries around the world, and the loft had a surf and turf buffet with gourmet crab legs, lobster tails, and a custom steak station where party goers could ask the gourmet chef to make their steak just as they like. Rey made a mental note to return to that particular buffet when her munchies inevitably kicked in.

In the venue, there was a floor-to-ceiling fish tank, full of fish of all colors and sizes. On the main floor there were performers of different kinds that seemingly changed every hour—from a band, to a high profile DJ, to dancers from the New York Ballet. There were also tons of celebrities, and Rey barely resisted the urge to ask for their autographs.

This was not just a party. This was freakin' Disneyland. And just by being there and absorbing it all, Rey was having the time of her life.

She had decided to stop at the loft open bar for a glass of bubbly, and one glass turned to three as she continued snacking on her brownie on her bar stool.

"I'm cutting you off," the bartender told her as she ordered her fourth plume.

"What?" Rey laughed in disbelief, throwing herself onto the bar with outstretched arms. "Come on, man. Don't be like that. We're best friends, you and me. Just one more! For your best friend!" She folded her hands together in a pleading gesture.

"We're not best friends," the woman told her, though she was barely restraining a grin. "Go eat something else besides that brownie you were eating earlier and sober up, then maybe I'll give you that fourth glass."

"All right, all right." Rey sighed, grabbed her bag of brownies off the bar, and slid off her barstool, pointing at the bartender with a wink. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

She stumbled away, making her way around the corner from the open bar—then spotted a waiter carrying glasses of expensive-looking red wine near the gourmet steak station. Rey made a beeline for him and picked up one of the glasses from his tray. "Thanks!" she said, hurrying away from him before he could stop her.

As soon as she was a good distance away from him, glancing behind her to make sure no one had followed her to confiscate the glass, she grinned lasciviously. "Hah!" She tipped the glass and took a sip. Super dry, so dry it almost hurt to swallow. It was definitely expensive. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, savoring.

While she savored the warm burn of the wine, she realized that her edible was definitely kicking in now, and that she was hungry. And the heavenly scent of searing steaks was calling her name.

Abruptly, Rey spun to head back toward the steak station—then proceeded to slam hard into a tall, wide body.

Ben hardly had time to register the girl abruptly turning around in front of him before she ran straight into him, her expensive glass of Cabernet Sauvignon splashing all over him.

All over his expensive, sponsored, white clothes. Head to toe. Obliterated.

The both of them froze in shock, then registered what happened a few seconds too late. Ben stared down at himself in abject horror and low simmering rage. The girl stared at his face, then at his clothes, then covered her mouth with her free hand.

"Oh my God," she said, slowly shifting into panic mode. "Oh, no, no, no."

Ben said nothing, just heaved a long sigh. His eyes shut slowly, painfully.

"Hang on! Wait right there!" She set her now completely empty wine glass down on the hardwood floor. Which was foolish, because it would inevitably get kicked or stepped on. She turned and jogged toward the buffet tables, and Ben, still in shock, remained where he was, hands held up away from his body where the giant burgundy splotch along the front of his clothes drew both gazes of sympathy and barely-disguised amusement.

The girl returned a few moments later, her arms full of red cloth napkins. Frantic, she held several in each hand and started rubbing the wine stain with both hands. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry." She began scrubbing harder, not seeming to care that she did not know the individual she was vigorously touching. "Your clothes are so—so fancy and expensive. God, it's not working. No. Look what I did!" Suddenly she stopped. "Shit, I said shit to a stranger. I don't even know you. Oh shit, I just said it again!" Her scrubbing resumed. "God, sorry! I'm sorry!"

Ben, finally coming down from his horror and anger induced frozen state, finally managed to open his eyes again and say something to put an end to this deeply humiliating moment. "You're making it worse." His voice was calm. Deceivingly so. "Stop."

The girl continued to scrub, frowning up at him. "Just wait. I think it's starting to budge—maybe just a little more—"

"It's red wine," interrupted Ben impatiently. "It's not coming out. Red wine stains don't come out. Don't you know that?" This girl, with her off-dress-code hippy-dippy outfit, glinting nose stud, bloodshot eyes and un-distinguished personality had clearly not been invited. Ben had never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing her before.

She sighed, looking both guilty and irritated. "Look, I'm trying to help. Just let me help. Okay? You must've paid a fortune for this, to come to this pretentious, ridiculous party."

She was definitely not invited, Ben decided. Because she clearly didn't know who he was. She was possibly one of the only people in New York City who didn't know who he was.

She continued, "Now I've ruined it for you. I ruined your good time. And my good time." Finally, she stopped scrubbing at the stain. Just as he'd said, it hadn't made any difference. One of her hands flew up to cradle her forehead. "God. I can't even think straight right now. My mind is racing. Sorry, I'm stoned. I think I ate too much brownie."

"You don't say." Ben had thought it fairly obvious that she was a pot head. Her clothing had practically screamed it.

"I also might be drunk," she said.

"Might be?"

Ben didn't know whether it was the foolish but admittedly endearing way she'd valiantly tried to rescue his doomed Armani, or if he were just taking pity on this confused stoned drunk girl, or if he was hyper-aware of all of the eyes on the two of them, but what he did know was that he needed to clean this up. And fast. He sighed again, looking down at her. She was staring, in wide-eyed awe, at their surroundings. At least she seemed harmless. "What's your name?" He asked her.

Her attention snapping back to him, wary, she said, "Rey."

He frowned slightly. Peculiar name. It fit her perfectly. "Rey," he said, shifting his weight and gesturing her to follow. "Come with me."

Rey squinted at him, suspicious. "Why?"

"You're drunk and stoned. I'm not leaving you by yourself. Come on." Ben took a step away. She made no move to follow.

Stubborn, Rey folded her arms and shook her head. "I'm not by myself. My friends are here with me."

"Really?" Ben lifted an eyebrow. "Where are they, then?"

She whipped around, searching the crowd around them. Then she turned the other way, standing up on tip-toes and searching more. Coming up empty, she slowly turned back to Ben, shrugging a shoulder. "They're just…not on this floor. But they are here, you know. And if anything happened to me, they'd come looking for you. And one of them is Poe Dameron, the renowned race car driver Poe Dameron, and he would destroy you. On social media."

Taken aback, Ben couldn't help it. He cracked a dry scoff. This girl was friends with a professional racer? He hadn't seen that coming, that was for sure. He thought she'd have been friends with other shady-looking characters, like ones that lurk in vans and stink up music festivals. "You can take it easy," he told her. "I just want to look out for you, make sure no one takes advantage of you in your current state."

Rey narrowed her eyes at him. "You can save your attempts at being a 'gentleman', or whatever. I don't need to be watched, like some pet or something. You think this is the first time I've done this?" She laughed, like such a thought was hilarious. "And how do I know you wouldn't try to take advantage of me? I mean, I don't even know your name."

"Ben." He extended his hand. "Ben Solo."

His straightforward answer seemed to catch Rey off guard, and after glancing down at his hand, hesitant, she took his hand, shaking it.

He released her hand. "And for the record, I know you don't need to be watched. I thought you could use some company, is all. As I get rid of this stain and try to save face." Ben wasn't sure about that first part, but he'd meant the second part, mostly. Except maybe he also could use someone to talk to. And he was getting exhausted from putting on his CEO clown-dance for everyone else at this party—it would be a relief to get a break for a short while.

At this, Rey softened. "I really am sorry about your clothes." She sighed, then she followed him as he began to leave, knowing that she was behind him. "At least let me help pay for a replacement. How much were those?"

Ben, gaze-trained ahead of them, trying his best to ignore the silent gawks and jeers of everyone they passed by, said point-blank, "You couldn't afford it." Instantly regretting how this sounded, he rushed to add, "They're super expensive. I couldn't ask you to pay for even half. It…wouldn't feel right." He glanced down at her dusty, worn boots, looking like they'd been worn perhaps everyday for years, and knew that what he'd said hadn't been a lie.

"But I feel so bad," she replied.

He cast a glance down toward her over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Rey really didn't know who he was. She thought he was just…a normal person. Not the CEO of Kylo Ent., one of the youngest CEOs in the world. Just a guy named Ben, who she'd spilled wine all over. She was sassy and sarcastic towards him, and not kissing his ass. She'd even wanted to reimburse him for his ruined clothes. Like an equal. This had never happened to Ben before.

It was strange. And not entirely unpleasant. And enthralling, if he were being honest with himself.

He wished he could maintain this strange experience for just a bit longer. But he knew that wouldn't be possible. There were too many people at this party that knew who he was—everyone. Everyone except for her. She would find out eventually. It was best not to hide his identity.

But maybe he wouldn't give it up so quickly, either. For the sake of this interesting experiment.

"So where are we going, anyway?" Rey asked, still taking in everything around them with a look of barely restrained awe. She was really happy to be there. At least Ben knew the tediousness of planning this party with his party planner hadn't been a waste. "You aren't going to kidnap me, are you?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous." He continued walking until they reached an elevator, and he pressed the button to hail it to their floor.

Ben was interesting, Rey thought as they stood in the elevator. Even compared to how interesting this party was, he was interesting. She couldn't make heads or tails of him.

He was tall, and wide—a huge human being, truly—but really young looking in the face. His facial expression was dark, and cold, but young. His clothes were expensive and crisp, and clean before she'd gone and ruined them. He wore white head-to-toe, and while it was obvious that black and white was the dress code of this party, his all-white clothes made him look…important, somehow. They made him look expensive, though she was sure he was just another party guest like anyone else there.

He had long tangled dark hair pulled away from his long face in an elastic, but it didn't make him look douchey. It made him look even more distinguished—rare for the guy-bun. She didn't know how he pulled that off, but he did. He really, really did.

When he looked at her, it was like he was studying her. Almost like he could see straight into her mind. It wasn't unwelcome, but something about it made Rey…nervous, was it? She didn't know if that was quite the right word for it. Good nervous or bad nervous, she couldn't quite tell. But it wasn't enough to drive her away either.

And when he'd shaken her hand earlier, she'd thought that his handshake was overly firm. Almost showy. It was the handshake of someone who cared about what people thought of him.

When the elevator opened on the third floor, Ben immediately stepped out, and Rey had to rush to catch up with his long strides.

Just as she was about to ask him why they were going out to the roof portion of the party, he made a sharp left turn, not walking out through the door to the roof at all. Instead, he opened another inconspicuous door on the wall and glanced back at her. "Be right back," he told her, then entered the mysterious room and shut the door behind him.

Rey was feeling weirder and weirder about this. Where the hell did he go? Was that the bathroom? And if it was, why did he want her to follow him here?

As she waited, though she wasn't sure why she was at this point, she glanced out the large door that lead to the roof. After just a few seconds of looking through it, she had already caught sight of Poe sitting on one of the modern, sleek outdoor couches, surrounded by five girls all equally thrilled to be in his presence. Rey rolled her eyes and shook her head, though she couldn't help but smile.

Suddenly, the mysterious door opened back up, and Ben reappeared—wearing a completely new set of clothes.

Rey blinked. She was stoned, for sure, and bewildered by everything at this party because of her current state, but she was almost positive she wasn't high enough to hallucinate the new clothes. She pointed at what he was wearing now, a simple black long-sleeved shirt, black tie and black pants. "Where'd you get those new clothes?"

Without missing a beat, Ben said with a straight face, "What new clothes?"

She floundered for a moment, stuttering, before she realized that he'd been joking. She groaned in annoyance as he turned back toward the elevator, hiding a smug glint in his eyes. "No, but seriously, where did you find those? Did someone leave some clothes just lying around, or something? And they just happened to be perfectly your size?"

"I know a guy. He hooked me up," said Ben dismissively, pushing the elevator button again. He turned to her, shoving back a lock of hair that had fallen out of his hair elastic. "You hungry?"

All of Rey's suspicions and questions were immediately forgotten, wholly giving way to the munchie-fueled steak craving she'd had fifteen minutes ago. "God, yes."

"For?"

"Steaks. And steak fries. And lobster. And butter to dip the lobster in." Now that this had materialized in her mind, she would think of nothing else until she was eating.

He didn't laugh, but the light in his eyes changed like he almost wanted to. The elevator arrived, and they stepped into it once again. "Let's remedy that."

When they got off the elevator, they went straight to the the surf and turf buffet. Rey made good on all her munchie cravings, piling all of it up onto two separate plates, and Ben sat across from her at the table she chose. And he watched, chin leaned on folded hands, as she ate. And ate. And ate. Weirdly, though, it felt natural for them to sit together like this. Not at all awkward. Almost like they had met before tonight, and had known each other for a long time.

"So this special brownie you ate earlier this evening," he said eventually, breaking Rey's food-contentment trance, "you bought it from someone, I assume?"

Rey picked up four fries at once, wolfing them down together. "No, I made it," she said after she swallowed. "I make lots of them."

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "You make pot brownies?"

Rey picked up her fork, dipping more lobster meat into the small cup of melted butter on her plate. She was pleased at his shock. She had always loved destroying people's preconceived notions of her. "Not just brownies. Cookies, too. And chocolate. And lollipops. Sometimes cakes. I did a birthday cake, once."

Ben blinked at her, staggered. "Do you…eat all of them?"

She snorted. "Nope. Sell 'em."

"Really?" He was fascinated. Rey wondered if this was his first time meeting a dealer—or in her case, an edible maker. "Is that what you do for a living?"

"I work in tech retail. The Apple Store," she said. Shrugged. "I'm a part-timer. Pay isn't bad, but it's not great either. Not for living in Brooklyn these days. Especially with no roommates. I pretty much lived off instant noodles and microwave burritos for a few years. So I started making the edibles and selling them to neighbors just to get by. Soon I had a business going, and it makes a lot more than my day job. I'm hoping to be able to do it full time one day."

"Unless you get arrested," Ben pointed out.

Rey shrugged. All her customers were people she had known for years, or friends of those people, and for every bit of dirt they could scrounge up about her, she had ten times as much dirt on them. It wasn't quite blackmail. Really, it was an exchange of dirty little secrets. Something that ensured her own safety. So something like getting turned in to law enforcement wasn't remotely a big concern for her. She ate some more fries. "I could sell you one, too. For my normal price."

Slow, Ben shook his head. "No interest in that. Whatsoever."

She laughed, unbothered. She said in a sing-songy voice, "All right, whatever you say. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me." She swallowed hugely, washing it all down with two giant gulps from her cup of water, then picked up the empty plate that had once held her fries and licked it clean. Ben continued to watch, looking as if he hadn't seen a woman eat this way before in his entire life, and that he wasn't sure what to make of it. "So what about you?" she asked him, realizing she was being rude by monopolizing the conversation.

There was a long pause. Long enough to be noticeable to Rey, even through her buzz. Ben shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. Finally, he said, "It's not important."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I guess. But I mean, you've asked me about my life. It's only fair I get to know about yours, too."

He sighed, so subtly it was almost undetectable. "I suppose you're right," he said. Paused again. He asked as if it pained him, "What do you want to know?"

"You know. Like, what do you do?" Rey asked, then she dunked the last bit of her lobster tail into the melted butter.

Ben really didn't seem to want to answer her question. He stalled for a while, continuing to watch her eat. She lifted her eyebrows at him again, wondering what all of this dramatic pausing was about. She nearly decided to change the subject, seeing how stubborn he was being about this.

Then, slowly, with an odd tone to his voice, he finally answered, "I…own a company."

Rey set down her fork. Now she was the surprised one. "No shit? Wow, Ben. That's cool as hell. Seriously, I'm impressed. Have I heard of it?"

"Probably," he said with a shrug. It was the kind of shrug that someone does when they try to convince someone that whatever they're speaking about isn't worth prying into.

She couldn't help but notice. All night, he'd been nothing but ego and arrogance. What about this topic was so uncomfortable for him? It made her even more curious. "Well, come on. Tell me!" She picked up her napkin, brushing off her hands. It was the same as the napkins she had tried to clean up her wine with earlier, red with a logo on them.

He sighed, seemingly giving in. He sat up straighter. "It's called Kylo Enterprises."

Rey froze. That sounded so familiar. Why did that sound so familiar? Why did she feel as if she'd seen something like that recently, very recently, almost as recently as—

The realization hitting her, she unfolded her napkin. Stared down at it. Her napkin which said 'Catering for Kylo Enterprises provided by:' on it, with the local restaurant's logo.

Very slow, Rey looked back up at Ben. She turned the napkin around so that the logo faced him. "You mean this Kylo Enterprises?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

She stopped again, dropping the napkin to the table's surface. Dread was creeping in on her. "As in, this is your party?"

Ben paused. Then nodded. "Yes."

Silence pulsed between them as the full realization washed over her: She'd spilled wine on a CEO at his own party. She'd been hanging out with a CEO at his own party. Ben Solo was a CEO.

And he had thrown this entire, ridiculous, over the top, expensive and amazing party. With his tons of money. Oh no.

What had she done?!

Panic coursing through her, she jumped up from the table, barely able to mumble to him through her astonishment before she darted away, "Gotta go."

Far behind her, she heard Ben getting up from the table. "Rey! Hey, wait!"

She ran for the stairs, thanking her lucky stars that she wasn't that tipsy anymore, and took them upstairs two at a time. She flew through the door to the roof terrace, marched straight over to Poe, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket before he could protest and yanked him to his feet. "We're leaving. Now."

Poe's face, at first concerned, fell flat. "What'd you do this time?" he asked, wry.

"No time. Tell you later." She leaned around him, looking at all his lady friends. "Sorry, girls." Then she grabbed Poe's elbow and tore away back into the building and towards the stairs. She hauled him all the way down them.

"I thought you were gonna get stoned!" Poe yelled at her over the music. A band had taken the stage on the main level, and their music flooded the building.

"Change of plans!" She answered as they arrived on the main floor. She turned to him. "We need to find Finn. He had one of my brownies."

Poe's jaw dropped. "What? No. You're joking. After last time?"

"I know!" She forcefully turned him around, facing him out toward the party crowd. "Start looking!"

"Uh, Rey," he said immediately. There was something to his voice, too—like he was trying to hold in a laugh. "I found him."

Rey looked in the direction he was pointing in. Her jaw dropped. There, on the stage with the band, was Finn. Dancing wildly and wearing his pants as a hat. A very flustered and embarrassed Rose was at the edge of the stage, frantic, trying to beckon him to come down. Poe burst out into hysterical laughter.

Barely resisting the urge to laugh herself, Rey pushed him toward the stage. "For God's sake, go get him! He's never going to live this down!" Poe complied, making his way over to the stage, cackling loudly the entire way.

She was about to follow when she heard from behind her, in a familiar deep voice, "Just let me explain."

Rey spun, and for the second time that night, Ben was behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, now knowing who he was. She couldn't decide if she was embarrassed, or angry, or repulsed. Or all of the above. But, as she thought about it again, he definitely made her nervous. And she still didn't know what kind of nervous he made her—all she knew was that she had to get away from him.

"Just forget it, Ben." She backed away, shaking her head. "I don't know what kind of game you were playing at, lying to me like that, but I think it's best for both of us if you just fuck off."

She watched the impression of her words spread across his face. He regarded her like he had when she'd spilled her drink all over him, as if she were nothing more than a momentary nuisance. "Hey, now," he said. His voice had no inflection in it. It had become frigid. "That wasn't very nice. Is that what I deserve for being so nice to you?"

Rey didn't waste a second. "What you're saying, then, is that your being nice was part of the lie? Okay, good. So glad we cleared that up." She couldn't believe that, for those few minutes sitting at that table together, and walking around the party together, she thought she might be making a new friend tonight. Or whatever she'd thought. She couldn't believe she'd been so naive.

Ben's eyes narrowed, hardening. His voice rose. "Why else would I waste my time humoring some nobody stoner?"

The words came out in a heated rush, driven by the sting from that singular word. 'Nobody.' "Because maybe you don't have any actual friends." The sentence had left her mouth with the perfect amount of venom. The sound of it had lashed into him. She continued backing away. "I need to get my friend home. And I'm sure you have some super fucking rich guys to get back to impressing. Have a nice life. Or don't."

His eyes, dark in his cold face, had shifted—there was a different darkness to them. Almost as if there was something vulnerable there.

With that, she turned away. And, along with Rose and Poe, she towed a stoned Finn out of the venue into the dark clear night, out into the lamp-lit street and into a taxi, forcing herself not to look back.