#teenage Rami

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

1998

Summary: Once your brother left for college, it became clear to you that Rami was going to make you Scott’s replacement. And as his replacement, you could expect two things.

One: Rami would continue spending more time at your house than his own.

Two: It was only a matter of time before Rami Malek talked you into doing something that could get you grounded for the rest of your life.

A/N: This fic is basically porn for the best decade EVER: the 90s. @the-real-ramimalekpeen​ I hope this does your request justice 💛

Wordcount: 7106

Warnings: All the characters are underage (17) so I will warn for drinking, smoking cigarettes, and PG-13 making out. Honestly though, by today’s standards, this fic is wholesome as fuck—welcome (back) to the 90s, bebes 💛

Considering it was after 9:00 pm on a school night, Rami Malek had no business being in your bedroom.

 Except that Rami Malek, one half of the legendary Malek Twins, was always at your house.

 His best friend, who also happened to be your brother, had just gone off to college. At first, you thought Rami still hung around so much because he was scared about doing the same next fall, but then, a part of you began to wonder if he really did miss your brother that much.

 Scott was the first real friend Rami made when he and Sami came to your school as freshmen. At first, they didn’t appear to have a thing in common, but after a few months, Rami and Scott were inseparable. By the end of Rami’s first year at Notre Dame, everyone joked that Scott was actually Rami’s twin, not Sami.

 One thing all three of the boys had in common, though, was their penchant for mischief. It wasn’t that they were bad. They were energetic, charming, and had decided to dedicate most of their high school experience to testing the limits placed upon them by authority figures.

 After Scott had left and the time Rami spent at your house did not diminish, it became clear that to Rami, you were now your brother’s replacement. And as his replacement, you could expect two things.

 One: Rami would continue his tradition of eating dinner more times a week at your house than his own.

 This didn’t bother you because your parents loved Rami—they loved him so much they didn’t protest when he insisted on doing the dishes on the nights he ate with you. That was a win in your book because it meant you had one less chore.

 However, Rami’s new focus on you did prompt a rather uncomfortable conversation with your mother.

 One night after he had gone home, she knocked on your bedroom door and fixed you with that look as she took a seat on the edge of your bed. She sharply inhaled then asked if you and Rami were dating. Because if so, she and your father needed to set some boundaries about the times Rami could and could not be at the house.

 The mixed look of shock and horror on your face made her laugh, but that initial reaction was quickly replaced with anger. Scott had girls at the house all the time and your parents had never said a word. In that moment, it became clear that your brother was afforded more freedom just because he was a boy. It was total garbage!

 So, for the next few weeks, you stewed in quiet rebellion, outraged by the clear gender discrimination being doled upon you by your OWN parents, and when you confessed as much to Rami, he flashed you the famous Malek grin and you knew you were in for expectation number two: It was only a matter of time before Rami talked you into doing something that would get you grounded for the rest of your life.

 A few nights later, you were watching TV in the living room and doing homework (you were doing homework while Rami seemed to be practicing his origami skills) when a paper airplane flew directly into your face and bounced off your forehead.  

 “Hey!” you yelled, glaring at Rami while you rubbed at the spot where the point hit.

 He was already leaning forward, an apology tumbling from his lips which seemed pretty insincere considering he was also trying to stifle his laughter.

 “What is this?” you asked as you picked up his paper airplane from the spot where it had landed, the bright colors of the paper catching your eye.

 After you unfolded it and realized it was a flyer for a local band, your stomach began to flutter.

 You looked up at Rami who looked like the cat that ate the canary. He nodded vigorously at the question on your face, then began to talk in a low, rapid voice.

 “Got it all worked out. I’ll come over for dinner. Sami will meet us with the car after your parents are in bed. You don’t have to do anything other than follow my lead—and not get caught.”

At 17, music was everything.

 You loved listening to live music, and as long as the concert was at an all-ages venue, you were allowed to go unchaperoned. That was great, if you wanted to see mainstream music, but since focusing his attention on you, Rami had turned you on to the joys of underground rock bands.

 Instead of listening to another shitty recording, Rami was presenting you with the opportunity to see a live show.

 Feeling giddy, you slammed your notebook shut and you and Rami spent the rest of the evening ironing out your plan. By the time he left to go home, you felt like it was foolproof.

 * * * * *

 The band was playing at a dive bar just outside of West Hollywood. Rami said the crowd would be fun—mostly college kids, partying it up on Thirsty Thursday. The plan was to hang out, watch TV until your dad gave you the look that meant it was time to kick Rami out, but instead of him leaving, you would call out your goodnights and he would sneak upstairs to your room and hide in your closet.

 After you had said goodnight to Rami, you went back into the living room and tried to swallow all of your excitement. After fifteen minutes of fidgeting, you told your parents you had a big test in the morning and wanted to go to bed early.

 They smiled and said goodnight, your mom following you up the stairs to take a bath and settle in with her book.

 You went into the bathroom and followed your nightly routine, making sure not to rouse any suspicion, and when you finally climbed into your bed and turned off your lamp, Rami popped out of the closet.

 “Are they asleep yet?”  

 “Shhh,” you hissed, clambering to the end of your bed and knocking into him as you stood. “Dad just shut off the TV.” “Sami’s waiting,” Rami said glancing at his watch even though it was too dark to see anything more than a blob of black on his wrist.

 “I’m aware of the plan,” you whispered as you ignored his fretting and flipped on the closet light to pick up the outfit you had set aside earlier.

 You paused in your movement and hurriedly flicked off the light. Straining your ears, you heard your dad walk by your room and you only released the breath you had been holding when you heard his door click shut.

 You flicked on the closet light again, and almost pulled your pajama top off in your haste before realizing that Rami was staring at you. When you turned to look at him, he motioned for you to hurry up, his eyes growing larger as if the bigger they got the more hurried your movements would become.

 You threw up your hands and harshly whispered, “Turn around!”

 Rami blinked stupidly, his mouth popping open as he realized you needed to change. If you could have seen his cheeks, you would have seen that they were the same color of red as the squares of plaid on his shirt.

 “S-sorry,” he stuttered as he turned away, his head hanging down as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized jeans.

 With a tsk of dismissal, you shimmied into your favorite LEI jeans with the flared bottoms tattered perfectly from dragging on the ground. You had opted for a fitted, light blue, long-sleeved tee that just showed off a bit of your stomach because the v-neck also showed off your cleavage. You thought about grabbing the flannel you had stolen from your brother, but it was still warm enough out not to need it. Besides, there was sure to be something in the boys’ car if you needed it.

Sitting on the floor, you pushed down the top of your thong, knowing it was peeking out as you settled in to do your makeup.

 “I’m dressed,” you said as you began to swipe on some frosted blue eye shadow.

 As you pumped your mascara, Rami whined, “Can’t you do that in the car.”

 “In the pitch-black car?” you bit back as you scraped a bit of the eye shadow into one of your empty make up containers before dribbling clear lip gloss in to mix it up. As you dabbed it on your lips, you smiled at the perfectly muted but still-frosty compliment to your eye makeup.  

 Smacking your lips together with a pop, you quickly wrapped two small chunks of your hair up in two messy knots and secured them with tight, clear gumbands. You adjusted your chocker, then slipped into a pair of black, chunky shoes.

 You grabbed your wide, black belt and looped it through your jeans as Rami paced, the swishing of his jeans starting to drive you a little crazy as you rushed over to fix up your bed so it looked like a lump of a human was still in it.

 After situating your colorful hemp purse across your torso, you softly said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

 Rami stopped pacing and looked you over before giving you a half smile. “You look good.”

 “Until my parents catch us doing this and skin me alive,” you countered as you flicked off the light.

 Rami grinned, his teeth flashing in the dark. “They won’t—promise.”

 “Your promises have, like, an 83% failure rate,” you argued as you pushed past him and opened the window as quietly as possible.

 “Fine—I swear on Sami’s life we won’t get caught,” he whispered before he scrambled out of the window and on to the roof.

 He held out his hand and you took it while you climbed out after him. Your eyes looked toward your parents’ room, and your heart hammered as you were sure their light was going to flick on at any second.

 “That mayyybe gives us odds in the ballpark of 70 - 30,” you whispered when you turned your eyes back to Rami, quickly pulling away as you realized you were still holding his hand.

 He stifled a chuckle as he crept toward the farthest edge of the roof, and when a ladder appeared, you knew Sami was below.

 “Go ahead,” Rami rasped, holding on to the top of the ladder as you swung your legs over and began to cautiously climb down.

 When you got closer to the ground, you felt Sami’s hand on your calf as he whispered, “Hey, Y/N—you good?”

 “Yeah,” you whispered back, a wave of ease sweeping through you when you finally touched the ground.

 “Cute,” Sami smiled as he gave one of the twists in your hair a little tap.

 You smiled back before turning your attention to Rami as he hopped off the second to last rung. With a practiced ease, he pulled the ladder from the roof without making a sound and laid it flat behind your mother’s rose bushes. The ladder was completely hidden, and you quickly realized that the boys had done this many times before.

 The three of you jogged to where Sami had parked the car, and since you had followed him to the driver’s side, he opened up the back door so you could climb in. When Rami settled into the passenger seat, he let out a whoop of success. The three of you laughed, and you knew you had to ask, “How many times did you two sneak Scottie out of the house?”

Sami snorted and started the engine, while Rami shrugged his shoulders and turned his hands over, feigning ignorance.

 “I see how it is,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Rami’s profile until he quickly turned and shot you a wink that was more like a blink.

 You giggled, “One eye is a wink, you dork!”

 Sami’s shoulders shook with a silent chuckle as he turned up the radio and you settled back in your seat to bask in the joy of being with your friends; it was well worth the trepidation you had felt about sneaking out on a school night, and as you watched Rami’s smiling profile, lit up by each street lamp you sped past, you felt a sudden flush of pleasure that he had gone through so much trouble to give you this night.

 As soon as you were on the 101 heading out of the Valley, the boys both lit up. Rami offered you a cigarette, expecting you to decline, so when you said, “Why not?” he choked as he was inhaling and Sami’s eyes flashed up at you from the rearview.

 “Um, this is my night of rebellion, okay? I may as well do it right,” you explained as Rami put your cigarette between his lips, lit it, then passed it back to you.

 He watched with interest as you smoothly inhaled, then blew a stream of smoke out in his direction.

 “What? You think Scott and I never partied together when mom and dad went outta town? Who do you think got me drunk for the first time?”

 “How old?” Sami asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he relaxed back into the driver’s seat having just switched lanes.

 “14. Got me fucked up on screwdrivers of all things. I couldn’t drink OJ for a month.”

 The boys burst into laughter, then Rami explained that Scott had done the same thing to them.

 “Sami was so hungover mom thought he had the flu.”

 “And you weren’t hungover because you puked your guts out in dad’s hedges. I still don’t think he knows why that one turned brown and died.”

 “Shut up,” Rami grinned as he lightly punched his brother’s shoulder.

 “I’m driving asshole,” Sami murmured around his cigarette.

 “At least I don’t look like one,” Rami countered, making you roll your eyes and take another long drag of your cigarette.

 Because you didn’t smoke often, you already felt the sweet lightheadedness that came after a few pulls. You ashed out of the crack in your window and breathed in the cool air that was flowing from the boys’ open windows, contrasting deliciously with the heat of the smoke as it trailed down your throat.

 “Fight nice, boys,” you called up to the front, before immediately regretting your interruption because they both teamed up to rag on you.

Twins, you thought as you countered their attacks as best you could.

 Maybe it was the effect of the nicotine, or the natural high of sneaking out with the Malek brothers, but watching Rami from the back seat, you began to think of him as more than just your brother’s friend, and now, your friend. There was something about him, something about the way he made you feel that didn’t feel like any of your other friends.

 And speaking of other friends, you looked at the back of Sami’s head and watched his eyes in the rearview mirror, but that thing, that chemical pull of attraction wasn’t there. When you glanced over at Rami, you felt it.

 You let your gaze ping-pong between them, testing out your fledgling feelings. With a frown, you turned away from both of them and watched the cars in the parallel lanes, wondering if it was even worth figuring out.

 “Helloooo,” Rami called, squeezing your knee to pull you out of your thoughts.

 “Huh? What did you say?”

 “I asked what you thought of Stacy.”

 “Stacy Browning?”

 “Duh. She’s like the only Stacy in our English class.”

 “What about her?”

 “She’s supposed to be here tonight.”

 “Rami’s got the hots for Staaacyyy,” Sami sing-songed as he signaled and took the exit for West Hollywood.

 Rami didn’t refute his brother and something mean bubbled out of you as an image of Stacy, laughing and pushing into Rami’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist, his fingers just resting above the pocket on the ass of her jeans, flashed through your mind.

 “Sami has a better shot than you any day of the week. Isn’t that how it usually works, Ram?”

 You watched as the hurt twisted across Rami’s face, but your attention was drawn to Sami’s laughter as he guffawed, “Ooooh—harsh!”

 You laughed, looking anywhere but at Rami, who half-heartedly joined in.  

 What you said made you feel sick, like an aftereffect of a violent action.

 What the fuck, Y/N? you scolded yourself.

 “Is this the turn?” Sami asked, growing serious as he navigated the crowded streets and started looking for parking.

 “Yeah—park anywhere you find a spot. The bar’s like a block, maybe two that way.”

After a few more minutes, Sami found a spot and parallel parked with an easy precision.

 “Good thing Rami didn’t drive,” you teased, trying to get him to look at you like he had before you’d hurt him.

 Instead, he hopped out of the passenger side and slammed the door shut.

 Sami opened your door, and chuckled as he said, “Fuck—there are at least three trashcans that have unclaimed relatives lying in the morgue thanks to him.”

 You laughed and looked over at Rami who had a soft smile on his face. He shook his head, “Fuck you guys.”

 You skipped over to him and poked at his ribs. “Come ooon—we know you didn’t mean to destroy the entire trashcan-family on Woodbridge Street. It was an honest massacre because you forgot which pedal was the break.”

 “Like the first time I drove EVER!” Rami defended, finally turning to smile at you.

 “And who doesn’t even have their license?” he shot back, his face coming dangerously close to yours as he picked on you.

 “Like, excuuuse me for having an older brother! How keen do you think mom and dad were to let me drive after Scottie nearly got arrested for speeding—twice?”

 “Oh, shit,” Sami said. “I remember that second time—”

 The twins launched into a retelling of the story, one you’d heard a thousand times, but it made Rami laugh, his face back to its normal, jovial disposition. As you walked, your head turning between the boys as they spoke, you relaxed knowing it wasn’t in Rami’s nature to dwell on something negative. By now, he had probably dismissed your comment as a joke.

 The bar came into view and there was no mistaking it for a nice place. The neon signs made it look more sinister than hip, and the trashcans outside were overflowing. However, the crowd queued at the entrance was just as Rami had described—college-aged kids, smoking, talking, and laughing as they paid their cover and ducked inside, the noise spilling into the street each time the bouncer opened the door.

 Instead of joining the line at the entrance, Rami led you and Sami down an alley that was a little too dark for your liking.

 “Rami?” you questioned, and he reached back for your hand, linking his fingers with yours.

 After a few more steps, Rami stopped and released your hand. He reached up and banged loudly on the unmarked, steel door.

 An older man, probably in his 50s, pushed open the door and flooded the backstreet with light. You squinted as you were assaulted with the brightness and the smoke that wafted out.

 “Malek. My man,” he rasped as he fist-bumped Rami. “And Malek Número Dos. What’s up bros?”  

 Sami greeted the man in the same fashion as his brother, and then the man noticed you.

“Switchin’ it up tonight, huh? Bringin’ a girl ‘stead of leavin’ with one?”

 You raised your brow and crossed your arms, that same feeling from earlier creeping through your chest and into your gut.

 “Scott’s little sister,” Rami explained, and the older man chortled and gave you a full, lingering look.

 He nodded with what you deemed to be approval and he fished out three paper bracelets from his pocket.

 “Keep her outta trouble, yeah?” he said with a slow, lecherous grin.

 “You can count on it,” Rami answered, giving him a tight, but still friendly smile as he turned to you, instructing you to hold out your wrist.

 You watched as he positioned the neon orange band, then peeled back the tape.

 “Too tight?”

 “Nah. It’s good.”

 Maybe it was nothing, but Rami’s thumb lightly stroked the spot where he had just stuck the band in place and when you looked up, he was watching your face.

 You smiled at him, a slow, sincere grin and when he returned your look, it felt like you were swallowing honey—sticky and sweet, the warm feeling slid down your throat and made your cheeks feel hot.

 Sami cleared his throat.

 “Someone wanna do me?” he asked as he waved his bracelet in front of your faces.

 Rami shot him a vicious look, but Sami just stuck out his wrist and waited.

 “We meet right out front after the show. Not in the alley.”

 You and Rami both just looked at him, and Sami prompted, “Okay?” as if he were dealing with two teenaged idiots instead of also being one himself.

 “Yeah—meet out front,” Rami said dismissively, his eyes willing Sami to get lost, but he was already slipping away down the hall and out into the bar.

 “You ready for this?”

 “Just—just don’t leave me alone, okay?” you said, thinking about the way Rami’s guy had looked at you.

 “Of course not,” Rami said with a reassuring smile. He lowered his voice and continued, “Let’s put some distance between us and Crazy Carlos.

 “Crazy Carlos?” you hissed.

 “No one calls him that to his face,” Rami assured you, then laughed at the way your eyes widened.

Once you were mixing into the crowd, the noise level ratcheted up and you were forced to yell into each other’s ears.

 Rami’s eyes scanned the bar, once, twice, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for Stacy.

“Wanna get a drink?” you asked loudly, leaning into his body to get closer to his ear.

 “Yeah! What do you want?”

 “Just a beer!”

 Rami nodded and led you to the bar. You tried to take up as little space as possible and when you spotted a couple leaving their hightop along the wall, you tugged on Rami’s flannel to get his attention. He turned back to look at you and you pointed to the table. He nodded and watched as you darted over and took a seat.

 Instantly, your hand landed in the waste of someone’s spilled drink and you huffed in disgust as you wiped your hand on your jeans. You looked around for Sami, but it was impossible to see through the throng of drinkers and the haze of smoke.

 “You okay?” Rami yelled, taking the seat across from you and sliding your bottle toward you.

 “Stop treating me like a baby! I’m the same age as you!”

 Rami rolled his eyes, but his lips were drawn into a smirk as he took a swig of his beer.

 You took a drink, too, and watched him comfortably lean back into the wall so he could face the room and check out the crowd, your mind immediately flashing back to that image of Rami and Stacy, laughing, touching.

 “She’s not good enough for you,” you said through gritted teeth.

 “What?” Rami asked, leaning forward as much as the table allowed.

 “She’s not good enough for you!”

 Rami shook his head, still unable to hear you. With a huff, you slid off your chair and rounded the table to stand between his spread legs. You rested one hand on his thigh as you leaned into his ear and yelled, “Stacy! She’s not good enough for you!”

 Rami moved back, raising his eyebrows, as he sat up straighter on his stool.

 “Not exactly what you said in the car,” he answered, your eyes watching his lips so you could make out what he said.  

 Scanning his face, you wondered if he could see that you were sorry.

 Just as you leaned in to apologize, the lead singer whistled into the mike and made you jump. Rami’s eyes danced with laughter as he took another swig of his beer, and both of you turned your attention to the band.

 “Hey, you drunk motherfuckers—you ready to put a little shimmy in your jimmy? A little rock in your cock?”

 The crowd cheered, and you felt Rami stand, his front pressing into your back as he lightly pushed you into the crowd. He kept moving until you could see the stage, then he moved to stand beside you, his arm resting against yours.

 The first two songs were great, and you knew that sneaking out had been completely worth it. The band was good, really good, and you expected you’d be able to say you’d seen them live before they made it big.

 As the songs played, you and Rami both moved along to the music, heads bobbing and bodies shifting as much as the limited space allowed. Every now and then, you’d shoot a grin at each other, and when the third song began, you realized your beer was long gone.

 You thought about shoving the empty bottle in your pocket, but Rami read your mild distress and leaned in to tell you to save his spot.

 He shuffled through the crowd to get rid of your empties, and you widened your stance to save his spot, then refocused on the band.

 Before the third song was over, Rami was back, and you mouthed thanks. He gave your hair twist a tap, just as Sami had done earlier, making you smile and shake your head.

 After the next song, the bassist and lead guitar put their instruments down and the drummer disappeared.

 “You’re fuckin’ animals and I love it! But those guys need a drink so I’m gonna slow shit down with a song I wrote a few years back.”

 When the acoustic number began, you were shocked the lead singer’s gruff voice was so low and smooth. As he crooned, people swayed lightly with their faces trained on the stage. You don’t know whether it was you who moved closer to Rami or Rami who moved closer to you, but somehow, you found yourself standing partially in front of him, just close enough for his hand to creep around your waist. You smiled without looking at him and stepped into his touch, pulling his other arm to wrap around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. He laced his fingers across your stomach and leaned into your hair, both of you swaying in time to the soft music.

 As you stood together, like a couple, your mind began to race. Everything became too much and not enough at the same time. Rami’s grip was too loose and too tight. The singer’s words were too soft and his guitar was too loud. The shadows cast on the stage were too dark and the spotlight was too bright.

 And when you felt Rami’s chest vibrate into your back as he sang along under his breath, it felt too harsh, but when his pinky lightly stroked the exposed flesh on your stomach, it felt too sensitive. Your body was a tingling mess at his touch, so you took back some control. Your arms were already resting over Rami’s, but your thumb found his and you touched him gently, back and forth, in a mirror of the way his little finger was still sliding over the exposed skin of your midriff.

 Rami’s mouth crept closer to your ear and you shivered as his breath rustled your hair. You wanted to crane your neck, turn into his body and give him the angle he needed to kiss you, but you were still at war with feeling too much and not enough at the same time.  

 When the song ended, the singer thanked everyone, then encouraged you all to grab another beer while he took a piss. You felt a profound loss when Rami relaxed his grip and let his arms slide away from your waist and to your hips.  

 “Want another beer?” he asked into your ear as he gave your hips a squeeze before he dropped his hands.

 “Sure—yeah,” you lied.

 You turned to watch him disappear into the crowd and almost immediately, Rami’s warmth against your back was replaced with a new but identical one.

 “Having fun?”

 You whirled around, your mouth popping open slightly before snapping shut.

 “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Sam—are you drinking?” you asked, bending slightly to sniff at his cup.

 “It’s water, dumbass. They only have two more songs.”

 You narrowed your eyes at Rami’s twin as he continued to look at you, clearly waiting for you to confess your secret. You didn’t know if he had seen the two of you during the last song or if he was just acting on a hunch, but you were not about to confess your feelings to Sami before you told Rami.

 Even though that was exactly what Sami wanted.

 The same blueish eyes as Rami’s bored into yours, but neither of you spoke.

 You decided to answer Sami’s original question in a breezy tone, “By the way, yeah, I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

 He narrowed his eyes in response.

 “Because I think this is the most fun I’ve ever—"

 “Just tell him!” Sami interrupted with a huff.  

 “There’s nothing to tell,” you insisted, crossing your arms and stepping toward him as someone bumped into you.

 “Stop lying.”  

 “There isn’t,” you insisted, hating the way Sami was smirking at you over the rim of his water cup.

 He took a drink, then said, “Guess I’ll let Stacy know she’s free to come ov—”

 “She’s here?!?” you panicked, your eyes darting in the direction Sami had been looking.

 His laughter rang out over the din and you whipped your eyes back to his.

 “Nothing to tell, huh?”

 Your nostrils flared as you pinched at his side, knowing he was ticklish. He jumped away from your fingers, chuckling as he made his way back to his friends. You watched him go, making sure he was lying about Stacy.  

 Right before the band packed back onto the tiny stage, Rami shuffled back into his spot beside you and handed you a beer.

 You greedily drank, thirsty from the smoke and eager to unwind your nerves after Sami’s taunts.

 Rami watched you drink and smiled at you over the lip of his bottle in an identical grin to his brother’s earlier teasing smirk.

 “Easy, killer.”

 Swallowing, you reminded him, “This is still my night to let loose, right?”

 Rami pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bobbed his head in a slow nod, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t read.

The band started up again, actually playing three more songs so you got to bask in a silent satisfaction that Sami had been wrong about one thing. As the band bid goodnight, you were wired.

 The set had been incredible, and you wanted to say so to Rami, but he was already nodding his head toward the exit. As you navigated through the crowd, you grabbed on to the edge of his flannel. It was last call, and as you passed by the bar, it was almost too crowded to toss your empty bottles on to.

 When you were finally outside, you couldn’t stop babbling to Rami about how great the music was, even though your ears were severely ringing. He punctuated your excitement with several toldja sos, his eyes watching the crowd for Sami.

 “I just love this feeling, ya know?” you exclaimed, bouncing on your toes and taking a cigarette when Rami offered.

 “Imagine how it feels for them—the performers.”

 You looked at Rami through the haze of his exhaling smoke and your eyes danced over his familiar, yet altogether new face. How could you have never seen just how attractive he was?

 “Rami. I . . .” you dropped your gaze and flicked your cigarette nervously, wondering if you should just confess like Sami told you to do.

 “Wanna thank me for draggin’ you out on a school night? Making sure you had a great time? Being the perfect friend? I assure you, all this I know,” Rami finished with a smug look, his round cheeks hollowing as he pulled on his cigarette.  

 “That’s just it. Are we . . . friends? I mean,” you floundered for a moment, your eyes landing anywhere but on his. “Don’t you just hang with me because you miss Scott?”

 Rami laughed.

 “Are you for real? In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like your fuckin’ brother.”  

 Your eyes landed on Rami’s just in time to catch the way they dragged over your body, top-knots to toes and back again.

 “You like the way I look?” you asked, your voice so low you almost couldn’t hear it over the ringing in your ears.

 Flicking your cigarette to the ground, you stepped toward Rami, wetting your suddenly dry lips.

 “Yeah. Thought that was obvious,” he said, his eyes half-lidded but still commanding as his blue-grey irises darkened when his pupils grew just a bit wider.

 “Not to me,” you answered, shaking your head slightly as Rami’s hands came up to your waist, his ring and pinky fingers settling against your bare skin.

 His eyes were almost shut. Your faces moved closer and Rami’s tilted slightly to the right—

 “Ready to go?” Sami asked, jangling the car keys obnoxiously next to your ears, startling you and Rami apart.

 “Jesus Sam you fucking cocksucker,” Rami cursed, running a hand through his curly hair as he glared at his brother.

 “Not interrupting, am I? Because there’s nothing to interrupt, right?” he questioned you with an arrogant lilt.  

 “Nope! Nothing at all!” you shot over your shoulder as you stalked off in the direction of the car.

 The boys quickly followed, and Sami snickered, catching you and slinging his arm around your shoulders.

 “Have a good night, Y/N?”

 “For the most part,” you grumbled.

 Sami released you and you fell into step next to Rami.

 His hands were buried in the pockets of his jeans and he kept his eyes to the ground as you walked. You kept checking your peripheral to see if he was looking at you, but he wasn’t.

 The drive back was relatively quiet, Sami turning up the radio to drown out the ringing in his own ears. As you leaned back in the seat and watched the blurry skyline, Sex and Candy came on the radio and you tried not to think about Rami as John Wozniak’s deep voice reverberated through the car; you tried not to think about how close you’d come to kissing him and about how badly you didn’t want this night to end before you did.  

Mama this surely is a dream Yeah mama this surely is a dream

 * * * * *

 “Need help with the ladder?” Sami asked as he put the car in park.

 “Nah. We’ll manage,” Rami answered as he got out.

 “Goodnight, shithead. Thank you for driving,” you snapped before you opened your door.

 “Better kiss him goodnight before Stacy does,” Sami said, looking at you in the rearview, puckering his lips so he could make a loud smooching noise.

 “Stacy doesn’t live on my roof!”

 “You ne-ever knooow,” he sang.

 “Oh my god,” you said, smiling in spite of wanting to slap him.

 Sami cackled as you opened the door, his lighter hissing as he lit another cigarette.

 “I hate your brother,” you muttered on the walk back to your house.

 “What did he say?”

 “It’s not the what. It’s the way. Like he knows every fucking thing there is to know in the world.”

 “Well . . . usually he does.”

 “I know,” you sighed in defeat. “So can I hate him for that?”

 “Absolutely,” Rami chuckled.

 The streetlamps lit your way, but once you reached the edge of your lawn, Rami made sure you stayed on the perimeter of the dusk-to-dawn light. He wedged the ladder out from behind the roses, then set it up, stepping on the bottom rung to make sure it was steady.

 “Go ahead. I’ll follow to make sure you can get your window open.”

 Climbing steadily, you had to stifle a laugh thinking about how often your brother had done this, and done it stinking drunk. The effect of the two beers you had drank were long gone, but the thrill of what you were about to get away with still hummed beneath the surface of your skin.

 That . . . and Rami’s presence.

 As he stood up when he stepped off the ladder, your eyes locked and sent a fresh wave of butterflies to assault your stomach. Clearing your throat, you shuffled to your window. Rami followed, slowly and quietly working it open. As you waited, you were overwhelmed by the scent of him—the remnants of the bar, his fading cologne, the shampoo he used in his hair—all of it swirled together into something that was more intoxicating than a hundred beers.

You ducked into your room as soon as the window was open, and the sleeve of Rami’s shirt brushed against your arm as he helped you, his fingers featherlight on your shoulder before trailing down to the exposed skin of your lower back as you moved away.

 You kicked your discarded pajamas from earlier toward the gap at the bottom of your bedroom door, made sure it was locked, then flicked on the light in your closet, pulling the door mostly shut so there was just enough brightness to see Rami as he stood in front of your window, hands back in his pockets as he crossed and uncrossed his feet while leaning against the window sill.

 “Thanks for tonight,” you whispered, closing the distance and letting the last energy of the band spur you on to make your move.

 “Yeah. Of course,” Rami murmured, his eyes finally meeting yours.

 You were so close now, all one of you had to do was lean into the other’s lips, and somehow, you just knew it had to be you.

 Your hands shaking slightly, you rested them on the top of his chest, the smooth fabric of his black long sleeve shirt warm under your touch.

He shuffled, awkwardly pulling his hands from his pockets so he could rest them on your waist, his fingers nervously ticking over the skin on your lower back.

 You glanced from his lips to eyes, and when your eyes flicked back to his lips, he sucked in a breath.

 Then, you kissed him.

 He was stiff and uncertain at first, but as you leaned into him, your body flush with his, he relaxed, opening to exhale as he kissed you back, his tongue the first to swipe over your lips. You opened for him and when your tongues twined, it was electric—a culmination of everything that had been building between the two of you.

 Moaning into his mouth, you grabbed the sides of his flannel and pulled him toward your bed, backing up until your legs hit against the mattress. You broke free from the kiss with a smacking sound before you pulled Rami on top of you.

 You both silently giggled as he settled between your legs, his weight heavy, warm, and so fucking welcome on top of you.

 Rami’s lips pressed into yours again, and soon you were exploring each other’s mouths with fervor. One of your hands had snaked around his torso while the other was thrust into his thick curls, urging his mouth to keep moving against yours.

 He held himself up with one arm, but his other hand was roaming—sliding under your shirt to clutch at the soft skin of your side, then moving up to cup your breast over your bra.

 With a sighing moan, you wrapped your legs around his waist and slid your own hands under his shirt to clutch at his hot skin. You rubbed across his abdomen and over his chest before moving around to lightly scratch across his back.

 Only when you felt the hardness underneath his jeans grinding into your crotch did you regain some semblance of what the hell you were doing.

 With one final buck of your hips that drew an obscene, entirely too loud moan from the back of Rami’s throat, you gently pushed him away.

 Both of you were panting, swiping at your mouths to clear away the excess saliva.

 Rami sat back and slid off your bed, adjusting himself as he stood.

 “Holy shit,” he breathed.

 “I think we better say goodnight,” you said as you scrambled up.

 Rami moved back to your open window and turned before he ducked out.

 “Goodnight,” he said with a megawatt grin that lit up his entire face.

 “Goodnight,” you said, your face split into the same grin.

 He leaned in and sweetly kissed the smile from your face.

 Your eyes had only just barely opened again, and he was on the roof, ducking down to whisper, “See you at school,” his face lit by that grin again as you watched him shuffle to the edge of the roof and down the ladder.

 When the top of the ladder disappeared, you shut your window then dove onto your bed and gurgled with excitement into your pillow.

 Senior year was definitely going to be a year to remember.