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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

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Love Yourself (Chapter 8)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 9.8k story words: 44k (so far) chapter: 8/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

Dan had a long, difficult day in the studio. While his producer had really liked the new song that he’d spent the past two weeks writing, he was having immense difficulty teaching the song to his guitarist and pianist.

It was partially his fault.

Growing up, Dan had been a self-taught musican. After a few awkward lessons, himself the piano, and really, he didn't have tons more formal training with the guitar. As a result, the songs he wrote on the instruments often had a bit more... character than those composed by a more classically trained musician. While Dan felt that he had gotten extremely lucky with the people the record company had paired him with, he sometimes felt that they were a bit too rigid for his rebellious nature. This song in particular had some chord pairings that Dan knew were a bit dubious, but he hoped that if everyone just trusted him, they would come together in a complementary and interesting fashion.

Dan had sat down with the musicians individually earlier in the week to teach them their pieces. Independently, both pieces were coming along well. Today, however, was the first day that Dan, the guitarist, and the pianist had started practicing together and it had been… rocky. Dan had also realized halfway through the day that he needed to start thinking about the drums for this song. He knew creating new music would be so much easier — and faster — if he was just willing to let other people have some input, to take over some aspects of of his music. But Dan was incapable of giving up creative control. He wasn’t willing to sign his name on music that he hadn’t created from start to finish, that he wasn’t completely happy with. It was the one criterion that Dan had refused to budge on when negotiating his contract: he was allowed full control over his music and would never be required to sing anything he hadn’t written himself.

By the time Dan and his team wrapped up their day at eight, Dan wasn't sure what he wanted more: a steaming cup of coffee, or a strong mixed drink. He debated between the options right up until he passed the liquor store on his way home. That’s when he realized he could have the best of both worlds: spiked coffee.

He had coffee at home, right? He was pretty sure he had a bit of beans left that morning.

Altering course slightly, Dan turned and dipped into the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Baileys. It was an alcohol he hadn't had in a long time — growing up, his parents had both really liked it, and he’d snuck it out of their liquor cabinet more than a time or two. But Isabella hated how many calories it had, so he'd slowly stopped keeping it on hand. It was a shame — Baileys made a really good nightcap.

As Dan was ringing up the Baileys, he realised he’d used his last cup of coffee beans that morning. Trying not to feel too disappointed, Dan contemplated stopping by Tesco to buy more, but was genuinely too lazy to walk the block and a half out of the way. The liquor store had been on the way, but Tesco? Dan usually just ordered groceries in.

Glancing at the time on his phone, Dan noticed that Beans and Grind was still open for another twenty minutes, and decided to just pick up a cup (or two) on his way to his flat.

He knew Phil wouldn’t be in, but he wasn’t looking for his companionship tonight. Right now, Dan was just looking for something he could pour his alcohol into.

"Hi Emmalee," Dan smiled and greeted the employee as he walked into the shop. Ever since Phil had started working at the coffee shop and Dan had started talking his ear off, Dan had tried to make more of an effort to be friendlier with the other employees there too.

Emmalee was Dan’s favorite aside from Phil, and the only other worker Dan actually saw on a regular basis.

The first few times that he’d found her during the day, not Phil, Dan had asked after him. Every time, though, she smiled and gave him this playfully smug knowing look and he found himself trying to pretend he wasn’t missing Phil.

So far, Dan had learned that Emmalee was the unofficial manager, of sorts. Her grandmother had been the one to open the coffee shop and was mostly retired, which was why Dan never saw her. Jake, the guy who smoked a lot, was probably on the verge of being fired because he had a tendency to call out of his shifts at last minute, which was something Dan had mostly overheard Emmalee complaining about to Phil.

Dan had been coming to the coffee shop so long know that he knew Phil normally worked the morning shifts, partially because no one else wanted to and partially because they fit best around his filming and BBC schedule, and Emmalee worked the night shifts. Dan was pretty happy about that, since most of his trips to Beans and Grind were in the mornings, which meant he got to spend more time with Phil. Emmalee preferred the closing shifts, mainly because she (according to Phil, at least) was a bit obsessive about counting the money and closing the register right. Jake worked... well, whenever the fuck they could get him to work, really.

Emmalee smiled at Dan when he got to the register. "What do you want tonight, Dan?"

Dan contemplated at the menu, not used to ordering anything more exciting that some amount of plain, black espresso. "Um... what usually goes best with Baileys do you think?"

Emmalee laughed. "Like the irish creme, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dan waved the brown paper bag at her. "It's been a day, okay?"

"I don't know, I don't drink much, sorry. Hang on — Phil! Come here!"

Dan's eyebrows raised in surprise.

Not only did Phil rarely work evenings, he very rarely worked at the same time as Emmalee since there were so few employees. Dan usually only saw them together when the shifts crossed over, which was rare enough as it was. True to Emmalee's words, though, Phil trotted out of the kitchen. There was a muffin half shoved in his mouth and he was trailing crumbs behind him. When he saw Dan, his eyes grew wide and his free hand reached up to brush the muffin bits away from his mouth. Dan's reaction wasn't too much more composed, really. His hand immediately rushed up to his hair, trying to arrange his mess of curls into something slightly neater after an entire day of tugging at them in frustration.

Emmalee glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk pulling at her lips.

In hindsight, Dan could have tried harder to convince Emmalee that he wasn’t interested in Phil.

"Phil," she said, breaking the weird tension that had built. "Dan here is wondering what coffee might go best with Baileys and, well, I figure you drink more than me, so you might know."

"Oh!" Phil nodded, waving at Dan. "Hey. Um, maybe a latte or macchiato? Since they both already have milk in them?"

"Yeah, you're right." He sounded awkward, even to his own ears. And then, against Dan's will, the question he'd been wondering since Emmalee had called for Phil tumbled out of his mouth. "Why are you working tonight?"

Jesus, why was he so socially awkward?

Phil and Emmalee both laughed, but they were different laughs. Phil's laugh was giggly and unsure, while Emmalee's sounded far too knowing and suspicious for Dan's taste.

"Just helping out with some inventory stuff for a little bit, thought I'd save Emmalee from having to do it after hours." Phil shrugged.

"Oh, that's nice." Dan shifted his brown bag from one hand to the other. "Um, I'll have a caramel macchiato then. That sounds like it'd go alright."

“I think that’s Phil’s favorite drink too. Maybe while I finish counting the register, you could make yourself and Dan one?”

Phil raised his eyebrows at her. "Er, yeah."

"You know, a treat, since you came in to help me when you aren't normally scheduled and all."

"Okay..." Phil smiled at Emmalee, but Dan could see the confusion in his eyes. With a small shrug, Phil set to work making their coffees.

Dan dropped a tenner next to the register, knowing he didn't technically have to pay for Phil's coffee since Emmalee had told him to make himself one, but feeling like it was the nice thing to do anyway, and slid down the counter to hover across from Phil at the espresso machine.

"So, Phil, how's your day been? You weren't here this morning."

“Yeah, I had a meeting with the BBC at ten, so I didn’t work here. I missed seeing you though. I know you’ve been busy at the studio and everything, but I feel like we haven’t had the chance to hang out the past couple of days.”

“I know, it doesn’t seem right that I’ve been working every time I’ve been here this week.”

"Actually, Phil —" Emmalee cut in. "Thanks again for coming in, but you can head out when you're done making the drinks if you want. I think I'm good to close up alone."

Dan’s gaze flickered over to Emmalee. There was a mischievous spark in her eyes and Dan wasn’t quite sure what she thought she was playing at.

“Are you sure you don’t need help closing up? I can mop the floors so you don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it. Jake’s supposed to close with me tomorrow and I’ll make him do it. He deserves it.”

“Okay, um, thanks.” Phil smiled gratefully at Emmalee before turning his attention back to Dan and their drinks. “So how has life in the studio been?”

Dan shrugged, plopping his brown bag of alcohol down on the counter. “So great that I’m planning to go home and drink alone.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m kidding, mostly. It’s been good. Productive. Just long days. I’m looking forward to relaxing with a drink.”

Phil nodded like he understood what Dan was getting at. And maybe he did. He was in the entertainment business, after all, and could relate to the pressures of creating and perfecting new content.

“Drinking alone? Louise or… Isabella aren’t around to drink with you?”

“Uh,” Dan hesitated. Isabella had been a weird subject for him to talk about with Phil since she’d accused Dan of flirting with Phil on twitter and spending too much time with him. Dan just felt… shitty about the whole thing, and he hated that Isabella was making him feel shitty about making a new friend, but he’d decided to just ignore the whole thing as best as he could and hope it would go away.

It was working.

For the most part.

Well, somewhat. A little. Oh well.

“Louise is at home with Darcy and I’ve already crashed at her house a few too many times after Darcy’s bedtime this week. I feel like she might want to see her actual boyfriend at some point. I know I would if I was her.”

“What, you don’t want to see your actual girlfriend then?”

Phil’s eyes grew wide the second the words were out of his mouth, as if he was surprised that he’d actually said them. Dan couldn’t blame him really — somehow, Phil seemed to have caught on to Dan’s reluctance to discuss Izzy with him and only acknowledged that she existed when Dan mentioned her, so it was a surprise to him too that Phil had brought her up first.

“Er…” Dan spun his phone around in between his fingers. “Not tonight. I guess I just need to destress a bit? Sometimes that’s… hard, um, with some people.”

Phil’s expression was unreadable as he sat Dan’s to-go cup of coffee in front of him. “So you’re wanting to be alone tonight then?”

Dan grabbed the cup, pushing the coffee sleeve up and down anxiously. “Not exactly, I guess I just wanted some to chill with friends, but it’s a weeknight, so it’s not like I can make Addie come hang out with me.”

"I mean, Phil doesn't have anything to do tonight either," Emmalee interrupted, her voice saccharine. "I think he said he was just gonna go home and watch Netflix."

That little shit.

“Um,” Phil’s eyes darted back and forth between Emmalee and Dan. “Yeah, actually. I don’t have much going on tonight…”

Dan and Phil made eye contact, a bit more awkward than should have been the case for two guys that Dan thought were pretty good friends. A full minute went by before Emmalee broke the silence.

“Philip, since you and Dan both have coffee and nothing to do, I bet Dan would be willing to share his Baileys with you if you invited him over to keep him company.”

Her comment seemed to startle Phil into action. “Right, yeah, I mean, I wasn’t really planning on much. We could hang out at my place if you wanted? But it’s fine if you’d prefer to just go home, I know you’ve had a really long we—”

“Hanging out at your place sounds lovely, Phil,” Dan interrupted.

Before Phil could respond, Emmalee jumped in again. “Great. Well, you lads have fun then. Phil, I’ll see you soon. I’m working the morning shift tomorrow, remember, so have a good night.”

Phil made a face and kind of shrugged before setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “Give me a second, I just need to grab my coat from the back room.”

Dan fumbled with their coffee cups, trying to figure out if he wanted to say anything about what had just happened to Emmalee. Instead, he shook the brown bag and one of the coffee cups at her. “Do you mind if I…” He mimed tipping the bottle into the cup.

“Go for it. You lads have a good night.” Emmalee sent him a wink.

For a minute, Dan debated if it was worth trying to explain to her that it wasn’t like that. That him and Phil were just friends. That he had a girlfriend and really, didn’t know anything about Phil’s love life.

In the end, though, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to explain any of that, and set about dumping their drinks into larger cups that he nicked from behind the counter, and topping the rest of the cup off with liquor. He’d just gotten the lids secured onto the larger cups when Phil popped out of the employee’s only door, all bundled up in his coat. Smiling, Dan met him halfway across the coffee shop and handed Phil his new cup.

“Ready?” Dan asked.

“Let’s go,” Phil responded, taking a sip of his drink. His eyebrows shot up and he flashed Dan a mischievous smirk. “Oh! I see you were busy while I was gone.”

Dan chuckled. “I figured I’d make use of my time. Now, how are we getting to your flat?”

“It’s a ten minute tube ride, twenty minute walk. But at this time of night they even out to the same amount of time when you consider waiting for the tube. Or we can take an uber. Up to you.”

Dan zipped his coat up the rest of the way. “Walking sounds good. Not to break my extreme-introvert image, but I haven’t been outside all day today, and I’m feeling a bit restless. We have our drinks, it’ll be fine.”

Phil quickly agreed, and motioned Dan toward the exit, holding the door open for him. Dan hovered on the pavement once outside, unsure which direction Phil lived in.

“This way,” Phil said with a nod.

Together, Dan and Phil set off down the street, heading in the opposite direction from Dan’s flat. Briefly, Dan considered suggesting they go to his place instead — it was only half a block away after all — but he quickly remembered the mess of dishes (and laundry) that were currently strewn across his flat and aborted that idea.

The first few minutes of their walk were spent in silence. A compatible, comfortable silence. Or, at least, Dan thought it was. He hoped Phil found it comfortable and not awkward, too. Dan risked a quick glance at Phil’s face to find him smiling softly, sipping at his liquor infused coffee. The expression was comforting to Dan.

As they walked to Phil’s, Dan contemplated their… friendship.

The past week or so had been a bit of a change of dynamic for them — not in a bad way. They still talked and joked around every chance they got, but Dan had also spent a couple of mornings actually doing work at Beans and Grind and they’d learned how to just… coexist. It was nice.

It was nice having someone that Dan felt like he didn’t have to try around, or fish for conversation to fill the silence.

While he had worked, Phil had kept himself busy with his own stuff, particularly when the store went dead in the mid-mornings. At one point, Phil’d edited a video, propped up on the employee’s stool behind the counter. Dan had begged him for a sneak peek at new AmazingPhil content, but it wasn’t until Dan reminded Phil that he’d sent him an unedited, shitty clip of a song that he’d only half composed that Phil relented.

Rather than showing Dan any of the proper, edited video though, Phil had queued up a few of the outtakes for Dan to watch. Phil had smiled mischievously when he’d done this, as though he was playing an evil trick on Dan. But what Phil didn’t realize was that Dan would much rather see the silly behind-the-scenes bloopers than a proper preview anyway.

Things were good between them.

Phil took a long sip of his coffee before finally speaking. “So, Daniel, how has your time in the studio been this week? Or do you not want to talk about work?”

Dan snuck a glance at Phil. He looked interested, in a different way than Louise or Isabella ever did.

Louise cared about how his days were — obviously she did, they were best friends — but when she asked him about work, there were always the I’m your manager undertones, and Dan felt a bit of pressure to make his days sounded as productive as possible. Isabella, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to care about his answer half the time. Recently, Dan had gotten the impression that she cared more and more about whether or not whatever he was doing was something public that she could potentially be a part of, than if he was enjoying whatever he was filling his days with.

But maybe he was just being oversensitive.

Whatever it was though, he decided to ignore it. He’d rather just enjoy this moment, this cold, brisk walk, this (hopefully) drunken evening with Phil.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now, honestly. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed today and would rather just… relax.”

“Relaxing sounds good, I can do that.” Phil bumped his shoulder into Dan’s lightly. “Come on, this way.”

Phil led Dan down a side street. The traffic had dissipated and the street lights were less bright here. Everything felt calmer. Dan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Maybe he really could relax tonight. Phil seemed to notice the shift in Dan’s attitude — maybe he even understood that Dan needed a few minutes of silence. Studio days were always so loud.

The rest of the walk was spent in an easy silence. Dan occupied his mind by taking in his surroundings. Every time he looked over to Phil, their gazes caught and they exchanged soft smiles.

When they got to Phil’s flat, Phil shoved his key into his lock, jostling the door until it opened.

“Sorry, it’s not very neat. I wasn’t planning on having company over today.” Phil pushed the door open, motioning for Dan to enter ahead of him. Always the perfect gentlemen.

“Don’t worry, I was going to suggest my flat because it was closer until I remembered how much of a mess it is. Trust me, yours can’t be any worse than mine.”

“Oh, thanks, let me be the one that’s humiliated then,” Phil laughed.

Inside, Dan followed Phil’s lead and kicked his shoes off by the door. Phil sat his coffee down on the entryway table; Dan started to set his down too before realizing that the table was too small to hold both cups. As a result, he was left trying to tuck his cup between his neck and shoulder, and the bottle of alcohol between his elbow and side in attempt to be able to use both hands to work at his zipper.

Phil’s hands reached out towards Dan. Dan expected Phil to take the precarious coffee cup or bottle from his grip, but instead Phil’s hands landed on Dan’s zipper.

“Hold on to your belongings, silly,” Phil said with a lopsided grin. His tongue peeked out slightly, tucked between his teeth. Dan’s hands scrambled for a more secure purchase on the drinks. Luckily, he secured them seconds before Phil’s hands grazed his neck as he grasped Dan’s zipper.

It took every ounce of self control Dan possesed for him to bite back his gasp.

His neck had always been his most sensitive area — enough so that he usually made it an off-limits zone with his partners. But Phil’s fingers brushing against it —

Jesus christ, it had been too long since Dan had gotten laid.

For better or worse, Dan functioned best with sex in his life. It was one of the things that made him happy — both physically and emotionally. But in the two weeks since his fight with Isabella, they’d only seen each other for dinner or drinks, always out at restaurants or bars.

If he’d wanted to, if he’d tried, he probably could have gone out with Isabella. If he put in the effort, treated her to whatever she wanted tonight, she’d probably have finally let him come home with her. He’d thought about it, earlier that day when she’d texted him. It had just seemed… like a lot of effort.

So instead, here he was in Phil’s flat. Isabella would probably murder him if she knew he’d ignored her text messages and come here, but. Oh well.

Phil’s hands were steady as they pulled Dan’s zipper down his front slowly. When his jacket was fully unzipped, Phil shifted his coffee to Dan’s other hand, and helped him shimmy his arm out of the sleeve. Once Dan’s arm was free, Phil passed the objects back, and worked to take his other hand out of the coat.

The entire time, Dan wasn’t sure where to look. Despite Phil’s goofy smile, his gaze was intense, and Dan found himself needing to avert his eyes. He looked downward, watching Phil’s hands dance across his upper body as he took his coat off for him.

He wasn’t used to people taking care of him like this. Not even something as simple as helping him out of his jacket.

For lack of something better to do with himself, Dan drank a long swig of his coffee while Phil first hung up Dan’s coat, then his own. He took advantage of Phil’s distracted attention by taking a few deep steadying breaths.

Why the hell had that affected him so much?

“There you go. Your coffee almost empty too?”

Phil’s question pulled Dan out of his thoughts. He shook his cup. “Yeah, just a few drops left.”

Phil nodded, unzipping his own coat. “Lounge is the first door on the right, make yourself comfortable. I’ll put a pot of coffee on for us so we can have another round?”

“Sounds great.” Dan trotted in the direction that Phil had pointed, finding his way into the lounge. Just like Phil, the room was loud and vibrant. It seemed to perfectly capture everything that Dan knew Phil loved. Beneath the tv was a complete mess of wires, all running to different gaming systems. The bookcases were overflowing with boxed collections, board games, and knick knacks.

Dan knew it was probably rude to rifle through someone else’s possessions, but, well, Phil had told him to make himself comfortable. Without questioning his actions any further, Dan sat his nearly-empty cup on the coffee table and made his way to the bookcase, wanting to get a closer look at what Phil owned.

From all the long conversations at Beans and Grind, Dan knew that he and Phil had similar interests in movies and tv, but it wasn’t until he was looking at Phil’s collection that he realized just how similar their tastes were. He’d seen almost everything that Phil owned. The one’s he hadn’t see, were on his mental to-watch list. There were only a handful of movies and shows that Phil owned that Dan had never heard of.

He turned his attention to the other objects on the bookcase. The cute knick knacks were all very Phil, a fun combination of nerdy and grown-up-child. He liked it. It was a lot different than Dan’s own monochrome aesthetic. The bookcase was also littered with pictures, some in frames, some just simple polaroids leaned up against other objects. Dan was just bending over to get a closer look at the pictures when he heard Phil enter the room behind him. Dan shot up straight, trying to look like he hadn’t been snooping.

Even though he totally had been.

If Phil cared, he didn’t show it.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked.

“I thought I’d see if you had any really embarrassing guilty pleasures.”

Phil laughed, setting a bowl of popcorn down on the table and picking up Dan’s cup. “I know better than to keep anything I’d be embarrassed about out in my lounge. As you know, I do liveshows in here.” Phil sent him an awkward attempt at a wink. It looked silly, and in no way should a squinty, forced blink with both eyes be attractive.

But it was.

“The coffee will be ready in a minute. I made some popcorn — I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner yet?”

“I had a late lunch. Popcorn sounds great, thanks.” Dan was acutely aware that he should probably have something more substantial than popcorn, but he didn’t want to put Phil out. He’d already crashed his evening, he didn’t need to eat his food too.

Slightly self conscious at being caught going through Phil’s belongings, Dan migrated to the couch. As soon as he was seated, he realized just how great it was to be off his feet. He always spent most of his day standing up when he was at the studio. It was harder to properly sing sitting down.

Without any consideration for what Phil’s household rules might be, Dan swung his legs onto the couch, back against the armrest, effectively taking up the full length of it. The back of the couch was soft and plush against his temple. He let his eyes drift close as he waited for Phil. He wasn’t tipsy — not yet — but he could feel the warmth of the alcohol enveloping his body, the slight blurring of the sharp edges of his mind. It was nice.

He heard Phil plod into the room, heard the thump of cups being sat on the table, but he let his eyes stay closed for another moment, relishing the moment of peace.

“Tired already, Howell?”

Dan lifted his head at Phil’s teasing tone. He had a cheeky smile on his face and was holding out a mug to Dan.

“Just relaxing,” Dan responding, taking the mug from Phil’s outstretched hand.

“Well relax in a position that lets me sit on the couch, too.” Phil nudged at Dan’s ankles.

With a needlessly dramatic huff, Dan pulled his legs in towards his body, curling them in front of himself so that Phil had room to sit. Phil sat down almost in the middle of the couch, just inches away from Dan’s toes. He was tempted to kick his foot out and poke Phil in the thigh, but fought the urge. Instead, he brought the mug up to his lips and tested the temperature of the drink with the tip of his tongue.

Dan perked up, taking a full taste of the drink in curiosity. “What’s this, Philip?”

Phil chuckled, taking a drink from his own mug. “I had some whiskey on hand so I added a splash. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You’re a good lad. Cheers,” Dan raised his cup up, clinking it against Phil’s.

“So, do you always make yourself so comfortable in people’s homes the first time you visit?”

A warm heat spread up through Dan’s cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Phil nodded back to his bookcase and then motioned towards Dan on the couch. “First I catch you going through my stuff, and now you’re curled up on my couch like it’s yours. What if I was against feet on the couch, hmm?”

For a split second, Dan panicked and thought Phil was serious — that he was actually annoyed that Dan was looking at his things, that it was actually not okay for him to be in this casual of a position on Phil’s couch. But Phil’s tone was light, his mouth pulled into a wide smile, and his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Fuck off, you spoon. I didn’t realize I was being awkward, okay?” Dan teased back, taking another long drink from his mug. Despite being crappier, store bought coffee, this drink was better — stronger. The combination of Baileys and whiskey was delicious, electrifying his body and soothing his mind.

“So what? Did you find anything interesting?” Phil cocked an eyebrow.

“Actually,” Dan said, intentionally taunting, “I know you said you kept the embarrassing stuff out of site, but I couldn’t help but noticing you owned The Notebook. Care to explain, Philip?”

Phil sputtered, swallowing just in time to not dribble coffee out of his mouth. “Look, sometimes you just need a good cry, okay? I’m sure you own something just as bad. Come on, Howell, what’s the worst thing on your bookshelf?”

Dan narrowed his eyes, stalling by taking another drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lester.”

Phil held his gaze of the brim of his cup. “Bullshit, Howell. Tell me.”

Dan tucked his mug between his knees, letting his legs slip further across the couch a bit until his toes made contact with Phil’s leg. “Look, I would like to say in my defense that some movies are automatically less shit when they have pretty people in them, okay?”

“Oh my god,” Phil’s hand reached out and shook Dan’s knee. “What it is? What do you own?”

“Um,” Dan swirled the contents of his cup. “All of the High School Musical movies.”

Phil’s hand tightened on his knee, accidentally tickling Dan and causing him to let out a high-pitched squeal. Dan batted at Phil’s hand on impulse, but was disappointed when his movement made Phil withdraw his hand from Dan’s knee entirely.

Shit.

Was he tipsy?

Phil’s hand fell onto the sofa, brushing close to the underside of Dan’s ankle. It wasn’t the same as his knee, but it was still a soft and gentle touch. Reassuring. Warm.

Relaxing.

“All of them? Really? They were all babies when those movies were filmed!”

“So was I!” Dan batted at Phil’s shoulder indignantly.

“Oh, did little Dan have a crush? There are a lot of pretty faces to gawk at there. Who was cute baby Dan into?”

Dan downed the rest of his drink. “Leave cute baby Dan’s sexual awakening alone, okay?”

Without warning, Dan swung his feet off the couch, accidentally slightly kicking Phil in the process. He stood up abruptly and could feel the alcohol making him slightly unsteady on his feet. That didn’t stop him from holding his hand out towards Phil.

“Finish your drink. I’ll refill us, yeah?”

Obediently, Phil chugged the remaining few swallows from his cup, handing his mug over to Dan. Dan took the cup, turning on his heel and leaving the room to find Phil’s kitchen on his own.

“Add a spoonful of sugar to mine!” Phil yelled from the lounge.

“OKAY!” Dan yelled back.

On the walk to Phil’s, Dan had briefly feared that their friendship, their easy banter, their common interests might not hold up outside the confines of Beans and Grind, but five minutes on Phil’s couch proved that to be a foolish worry. Everything about being with Phil, about being in his space was easy. The only person he’d ever felt a similar kind of efortlessness with before was Louise — but the atmosphere was different with Phil. Dan didn’t want to focus too much on how it was different. He wasn’t allowed to think about that.

He found his way to the kitchen and poured more coffee into each of their mugs. He wasn’t sure what the ratio of booze to coffee Phil had used earlier was, so he filled the mugs half full, leaving the rest of the room free for alcohol. Glancing around, Dan looked for a shot glass, but gave up almost immediately. Instead, he split the remaining half of the glass between the Baileys and the Jameson, which Phil had fortunately left on the counter. Tentatively, Dan brought one of the mugs to his lips to taste the concoction.

Holy fuck that was strong.

Somewhat desperately, Dan dumped a bit more than a spoonful of sugar into each of their drinks, hoping to disguise the potent taste of the whiskey.

It’s fine. Whatever.

Dan was looking to let loose tonight anyways.

Dan teetered back into the living room, thrusting Phil’s mug at him with a bit more momentum than strictly necessary. Hesitantly, Dan stared at the couch for a moment before shoving his mug in Phil’s direction, too, hoping he’d catch on. Luckily, he did. Phil reached out and grasped Dan’s mug, holding it high in the air so Dan could settle into the couch.

With absolutely no grace, Dan collapsed onto the sofa, letting his back rest against the armrest like he was earlier. For a split second, he mentally debated what to do about his legs, but let them swing up, resting in Phil’s lap before he could overthink it.

If Phil was caught off guard by his actions, his face didn’t show it. He waited until Dan was situated before handing back his drink.

Dan reached out and grasped his mug, his fingers briefly overlapping with Phil’s. Again, Phil didn’t react to their contact, but his hand fell from the handle of Dan’s mug to his ankle. His ankle that was spread all the way across Phil’s lap.

Was this okay?

Maybe. Maybe not.

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure where the lines fell.

Well, maybe he had an idea where lines were supposed to fall.

The scary part was, he wasn’t sure how much he cared.

Instead, Dan let his upper body fall forward slightly. Not completely into Phil’s space — not touching his shoulder or anything — but a little bit. Dan was crouched forward, leaning away from the armrest, his head only a few inches from Phil’s shoulder. Without anything better to do, Dan took a long sip from his mug.

“How about you? How’s your week been?” Dan poked his chin at Phil’s shoulder. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you the past couple of days.”

Phil cocked his head slightly. “You were in the coffeeshop for an hour and a half yesterday,” he said over the brim of his cup before he took another drink.

“I know,” Dan whined. “But you were working and I was trying to fucking finalize the details of my trip to Germany. Tell me how you’ve been.”

Phil chuckled, his arm coming up to rest across the length of his couch as he drank more of his coffee. The tips of his fingers grazed Dan’s shoulder. Despite being hyper aware of the sensation, Dan pretended not to notice. He shoved his mug into his face and took a long drink to cover up the shock that the touch had sent up his spine.

“I’ve been fine. I filmed two collabs this week, which means I’m set with uploading for a while.”

Dan slipped his chin off Phil’s shoulder blade, letting his temple rest on the boney limb instead, allowing himself to take another drink. “Who did you collab with?”

“My friend PJ and his girlfriend. They live down in Brighton but they came to visit for a few days. I filmed a video with each of them for my channel and a video with PJ for his.”

“That’s nice. How long have you known PJ?”

“God,” Phil’s head tipped backwards, and Dan was graced with a perfect view of the long, pale expanse of his neck. ”I think since I was… eighteen, maybe? We met during the first days of youtube and have been best friends ever since.”

“That’s amazing, that youtube brought you good friends.” Unwittingly, Dan’s eyes fell from Phil’s eyes further down his face, landing on his lips. He let himself hover there for a moment before tearing his eyes away, looking everywhere, anywhere, but there.

Fuck.

He could definitely feel the alcohol loosening his bones, his mind, his inhibitions at this point.

He knew he should care. He knew he should straighten up, brush Phil’s fingertips away from his shoulder, put some proper distance between them.

Instead, he looked for a reason for them to fall closer together.

His eyes fell on the fancy looking camera on the coffee table in front of him. He lunged forward, sweeping it off the table and falling back onto the couch, his shoulder tucking into the crook of Phil’s arm.

Inspecting the camera, Dan asked, “so is this it? Is this how the magic happens?”

“You make it sound gross when you say it that way, but, yes, that’s what I film with.”

Dan punched a few buttons, trying to figure out how to power it up. The screen lit up after four or five random jabs. Clumsily, Dan held it out in front of them, trying to take a selfie. The camera was heavier than he’d anticipated, though, and he was fairly certain that he ended up taking a picture of their laps, not their faces.

With a high pitched laugh, Phil grabbed the camera from Dan’s hands, using his free hand to pull Dan closer into his side. “If you want a picture, Dan, you just have to ask. Not take a picture of our crotches.”

Against his will, Dan’s cheeks blushed pink. “Shut up. I tried my best, okay?”

Phil laughed again. “Yeah, and this is why I’m the one that works with cameras and you’re the one that works with music.”

Dan poked Phil in the side of his ribs. “Come on, teach me me how it works then.”

The camera made a few clicking noises as Phil played with the buttons. “Here, I put it on auto mode, so really all you have to do is aim and —” Phil placed Dan’s hands on the camera properly, wrapping his large hand over Dan’s fingers. Together, Phil made their fingers press the shutter, camera aimed nowhere in particular.

Click.

The picture flashed up on his screen. It was their laps again, but it wasn’t the awkward shot of their folded hips that Dan had likely accidentally taken earlier.

It looked more intentional, even though Phil hadn’t put any effort into the camera angle. Dan’s legs had shifted so that now it was his thighs that were splayed across Phil’s. In the corner of the picture, Dan could see the soft curve of his lower torso leaning in towards Phil. It was a nice picture. Gentle.

Relaxed.

“Come here, then,” Dan urged Phil, even though they were plenty close already. “Let’s take a proper photo.” Phil’s arm returned to the back of the couch, his hand landing on Dan’s back. Like earlier, he pulled Dan in close. Now, Dan’s side was nearly flush with Phil’s front.

Smiling, Dan smushed his cheek against Phil’s and held the camera out in front of him.

Click.

He brought the camera back down, turning it so they could both see the picture.

It was cute.

They were close. So close. Their smiles were wide, pulling at the corners of their mouths. Dan’s dimple was out, a deep canyon in his cheek.

It had been awhile since he’d seen it so prominently.

Contently, Dan relaxed further into Phil, letting his chin drop back onto Phil’s bony shoulder. He studied the picture.

“It’s good. You should send it to me.” Dan murmured.

“I will, I’ll upload it later.”

“To twitter?” Dan asked.

“No silly, to the computer. I’m not sure if you want… that on twitter, yeah?”

In the picture, Dan’s legs were clearly draped across Phil, their bodies noticeably as close as possible.

“I guess. I like it though. We look… happy.”

“We do,” Phil agreed, his voice soft. Phil’s hand traced up and down Dan’s spine, so lightly that Dan wondered if he was imagining it. “Are you?”

“Happy?” Dan hummed, chewing over the word. “Yeah. I’m glad we’re actually hanging out. You know, for real.”

“Me too,” A small smile graced Phil’s lips. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

For a moment, Phil didn’t speak and Dan didn’t elaborate. Instead, Dan let his head slip so his forehead laid on Phil’s shoulder, sinking further into his body.

“Well?” Phil prompted eventually.

Dan sighed.

“In some ways.”

“Hmm.” Phil’s fingers were on his back again. Gentle. Affectionate. “How so?”

“This week has been okay. The first few days of working on a song with the whole team are always the hardest. I think I probably annoy everyone with my control freak tendencies, but, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you don’t. It’s nice — that you’re so passionate about what you do.”

“I suppose. Sometimes I feel like I’m a burden for the record company. I’m like this weird eccentric musician who comes in after weeks of disappearing and freaks out if anyone tries to mess with their music and won’t let anyone change anything. And god tomorrow I have to sit down with the drummer to talk about what I want for the song. And I just — it’s always my least favorite part because it’s the only instrument I don’t know well enough to just do what I want and show him, so it’s just hours of no, faster, no, slower, now louder and it’s infuriating. For all of us.”

Phil was quiet for a moment, seeming to actually contemplate what Dan had said. That was nice — Louise was usually quick to try to resolve his work complaints. Do you want me to speak with the company? Are they putting too much pressure on you to do what they want? Are you sure the drummer is a good fit? And Isabella — well, he rarely talked for this long about himself with Isabella and held her attention.

“I’m sure you’re not a burden. The company — they signed you, yeah? They let you negotiate a contract that gave you complete creative freedom? So sure, maybe things don’t happen the way they are used to them happening, maybe not as fast or exactly their way, but you’ve got such a great track record of creating amazing, unique music and I’m sure whatever you’re working on won’t be an exception.”

Dan’s fingers played with the hole in his jeans. “I’ll feel better about it when everyone knows their piece at least. Then we can play it together for real and — well, I can prove that I’ve done something worthwhile this month.”

Sometime during Dan’s speech, the camera screen had turned dark. He tapped at it and the screen jumped back to life, their faces smiling up brightly at Dan again.

“How about outside of work?” Phil asked, drawing Dan back to the present. He wanted to live inside the fairy tale of the picture.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, outside of work?”

Dan’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it.

“In some ways.”

Beneath his cheek, Dan could feel Phil huff a small laugh. “Is that just your stock answer?”

“Well, it’s true.”

Phil hummed. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong question then. What’s making you not happy?”

“I don’t know.” The words were out of Dan’s mouth immediately, a quick defense. The truth was, Dan had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what the problem in his life was.

“I doubt that,” Phil whispered knowingly.

“How do you know me so well, Phil Lester?”

“That’s beside the point, Dan Howell. Now, what’s making you not happy?”

Dan’s fingers started picking at the fabric of his jeans. He felt his phone vibrate again. “Do I have to say it?” His voice was small, pleading.

Phil was quiet a long moment. “I guess not.”

Dan looked up, wanting to thank Phil for listening, for letting him talk, for letting him not talk.

Phil’s face — it was right there. His eyes were tender, his hair pushed up off his forehead.

Dan could imagine leaning in. He could imagine closing the distance between them, pressing his own chapped lips against Phil’s soft looking ones. He could imagine what Phil might be like to kiss — he would probably be just as slow and patient of a kisser as he was a person. Dan could imagine other things, too. He could imagine spending more nights like this, maybe even on his own couch. He could imagine finding the courage to get here, to exist in this moment without the aid of alcohol.

But he coudn’t.

He couldn’t let himself give into those imaginations.

His love life — it was in shambles. He knew it. Louise had pointed it out enough, and he’d finally felt just how much of a wreck it was. But still.

The only way it could get worse was if he leaned in and pressed his lips to Phil’s.

Instead, he reached his hand out, carding it through Phil’s hair. It wasn’t the touch he was craving in that moment, but it was a touch all the same.

“I like your hair like this, brushed up off your face. You should do it more often.” Dan suggested quietly, fiddling with the soft black hair, sweeping further up and back.

“Yeah?” Phil’s voice was as hushed as Dan’s, not breaking the maudlin mood. “I’ve been thinking about it, giving in to the quiff.”

“You should. Not that you don’t look cute with the fringe. But, with your hair pulled back like this — it brings out your eyes. You look more… mature. In a good way.”

“Maybe I will,” Phil agreed. Dan’s phone went off again, the vibration a loud contrast to how quiet it had become between them. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s arse, where his phone was tucked, and back up to Dan, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you going to get that?”

“Not right now,” Dan replied, resting his head back on Phil’s shoulder. Dan’s hand fell from Phil’s hair, landing in his lap.

Whoever was texting him, wanting him, needing him — they could wait. He wanted a bit more of this moment.

Louise was right about a lot of things. She was right when she’d told him he shouldn’t go to law school and should give music a shot. She was right when she’d told him that he’d never be happy singing songs that someone else had written and he needed to do it himself. She was right when she’d told him that he’d needed to quit working shitty jobs and focus on what made him happy.

And she was right now.

She was right that intimacy felt better with someone… good. She was right, because just sitting here, relaxing in Phil’s armsl was better, more satisfying than anything — even sex — was with Isabella.

Dan felt like he was standing at the end of a long, narrow, one way street and he didn’t really know how he’d got there. He knew it was the wrong street, he could even imagine the street he wanted to be on.

He just didn’t know how to leave.

The buzzing in Dan’s pocket returned, pulsing in the steady rhythm of a phone call. Reluctantly, he leaned forward a bit, forcing himself to dig it out of the tight pocket of his jeans.

“Sorry, hang on, jesus,” Dan said, answering the phone call without processing who was ringing.

“There you are Danny!” Isabella’s shrill voice was dripping with forced niceness.

“Izzy — hi,” Dan stammered.

The calm, warm atmosphere that had settled in the room snapped.

Fuck.

“I’m at Nitro and I was hoping you could come meet me, babe.”

Dan’s eyes flickered up to meet Phil’s. They were both a little tipsy — well, okay maybe Dan was more than a little tipsy — but everything about this moment had been perfect. He wasn’t keen to give it up to go to a club. This night, this easy evening in with Phil, was exactly what he needed after two weeks of long days in the studio.

“Thanks for asking, but not tonight.”

“Why not, Danny?” Izzy whined.

“I’m just tired from work, that’s all.” Dan stared down at his drink, not wanting to meet Phil’s eyes. It wasn’t a lie per say — he was tired from work. It just wasn’t so much a physical tired as an emotional tired. And, well, recently he’d started realizing how much emotional energy being around Isabella took sometimes.

“That’s the third time this week that you’ve blown me off! I can’t —”

“I didn’t blow you off, we didn’t have plans!”

“I am your girlfriend, Danny, you’re supposed to do things with me!”

“We’ve gone to dinner twice this this week already.” Dan could sense where this was going — exactly where half of their conversations since their blow up had gone — another fight. “Can you hang on a sec, Iz?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling the phone away and muttering to Phil, “I’ll be right back, sorry.”

He clambered off of Phil and stepped out of the lounge, toward the kitchen where he’d gotten the drinks earlier in the evening. When he put the phone back to his ear, Isabella was on the edge of screaming.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me you’re out somewhere right now? You’re awake enough to be doing something with someone else but you won’t come meet me at Nitro?”

Dan let his head thump into the wall of Phil’s hallway. Fuck, he should have been more careful and not let her overhear what he’d said to Phil.

“I’m just having a lazy night in, okay, Izzy? I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight.”

“Danny,” Isabella shrieked, “you’re a famous musician, it’s basically part of your job to be seen out at night, being a part of the music scene. Just like it’s part of my job, as a model, to be seen out at clubs. So whatever the fuck you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“NO!” Dan was startled by the ferocity of his own voice. “I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

“Where are you, Danny?”

“What?” Dan asked, perplexed.

“I asked where you are. Where are you that you can’t come here, pendejo?

“I’m, um… at…” Dan debated whether or not he should lie.

Apparently his hesitation was enough to make Isabella suspicious.

“Daniel James Howell, where are you?” Her voice was venomous.

“I’m not doing anything, I swear.” He tried his best to articulate his words perfectly, to sound as innocent as possible. But he was just sober enough to realize that even over the phone, even when he was trying, he still probably sounded drunk. “I’m just at Phil’s. It’s fine.”

“Phil’s! You’re at Phil’s? I thought I told you that you need to spend less time with that carajo!”

“He’s not a dick, Isabella! Can you leave him out of this?” His words were definitely slurring now. “Look, I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

Isabella huffed. Dan could tell she had more to say — there was a full Isabella de la Renta rant brewing. But when she spoke next, the rage had surprisingly dissipated.

“Fine, Danny. If you aren’t going to come out tonight, then the least you can do is talk to the bouncer so he’ll let me into Nitro.”

What?

Dan was shocked. Was that why she was so adamant about him coming out tonight? She wanted to use his name to get into a fucking club?

Dan took a deep breath in and out. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that. For the moment, though, all he wanted was to stop this… small argument from turning into a heated fight.

“Fine, Izzy. If that’s what will make you happy. Just had the phone over.”

Isabella didn’t respond.

“Who is this?” A gruff voice barked at Dan.

“Hi, um, this is Dan �� Daniel Howell? The musician? I think my girlfriend is there and, well, I can’t make it tonight, but um, do you think you could let her in?”

“Huh,” the bouncer grunted. “Manager says I’m not supposed to let people not on the list in. At least, not if the aren’t famous on their own.”

Dan sighed. Undoubtedly Isabella heard that, and it was only pissing her off more. “Look, you may not know her very well, but she is, um, famous. She’s a model? I’m sure if you let her in she’ll be happy to post a picture on instagram or something.”

The bouncer laughed without any real humor. “I don't think that’s good enough.” The man seemed to recognize the power he had in this situation. Isabella must be giving him disgusted looks.

Dan rolled around so his back was to the wall, and slid down onto his bum. “What will be good enough?”

“You can post a picture online from here. This weekend. And you’d better look like you’re having fun, too.”

“Fine! Fine. Sure, I’ll be there Friday night, okay? You can put me on the list. Now can you please just let my girlfriend in?”

The bouncer didn’t respond to him, but he heard a faint you’re in, sweetcheeks.

Dan’s head fell forward between his knees. When did things get this fucked up?

Spending time with Phil was easy. Particularly with new people, Dan always felt like he was fending off questions about his job or his music or what it was like being famous. He’d gotten accustomed to having to dance around details of upcoming music releases. He’d developed stock answers for questions about being famous that were mostly honest but didn’t make him seem like an ungrateful ass (Being famous has its drawbacks, but I’m so lucky to be able to make the music I want to for a living. Or, alternatively, my fans are all so amazing and they make all the hard work worth it. I couldn’t do it without them.).

But Phil. Phil never asked which famous people he knew, or if he had any hot parties on the horizon. He never tried to get Dan to give him a private performance or write a song for him, just with my name, please? Phil didn’t hint that he wanted to meet his famous friends or fish for an invitation to events. Phil never slipped Dan a homemade cd and begged him to ask his record label to listen to it.

Instead, Phil asked about what he liked to do in his free time (scroll through tumblr on his couch) and how he found inspiration for his music (currently, there wasn’t as much as Dan wanted there to be). Phil bonded with him over Studio Ghibli and anime. Phil traded tv and music recommendations and always insisted on fully discussing their impressions the next time Dan came for coffee.

Talking to Phil was different than talking to Louise. Dan had been best friends with Louise as long as he could remember. She could tell within five seconds if Dan was having a bad day and could see through every lie he’d ever tried to tell her. But also, Louise wouldn’t geek out with him over the newest video game or episode of a show. And since she’d become his manager, they actually had to have conversations (and sometimes disagreements) about work. Louise would always be Dan’s best friend, but something about Phil made Dan hope that he could be that close with another person.

Even though Phil encouraged Dan to bring Louise by the coffee shop, Dan hesitated. Phil wanted to meet her because he thought she sounded hilarious from the stories Dan had told him about their shenanigans. Dan knew the two of them would get along great. Louise would adore Phil’s random knowledge about animals and Phil would love Louise’s blunt and humorous personality. But still, Dan never invited her. Right now, time with Phil was like time spent in a whole separate world — and Dan wasn’t sure he was ready to give that up yet. He knew that Phil would inevitably learn infinitely new, embarrassing stories about him when he met Louise, and he knew that when Louise met Phil —

Well, he’d rather not think about how Louise would react to their fast, close friendship. She’d rarely been wrong about his relationships with other people, and now wasn’t really a moment he could afford for her to be right.

So, instead, Dan just kept going to the coffee shop for his caffeine fix. He started waking up earlier on Saturdays so he could see Phil before his shift ended. He started coming a bit later on Mondays because Phil tended to come in later on those days because he had morning meetings at the BBC. Catching up with Phil, whether it was for five minutes or two hours, was always the highlight of Dan’s day. So he ignored Louise’s teasing and Isabella’s annoyed complaints and spent enough money and time at Beans and Grind that the owner should build him a statue.

a/n: apparently my chapters just keep getting longer and longer oops

i love @auroraphilealis with everything in my heart. she completely put her evening on hold because i really really wanted to upload tonight but was in a weird mindset and literally just followed behind me on my google doc and encouraged me and helped me stay on track.

she's the best writing buddy and friend that a girl could ask for <3

[next chapter]

#slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #iminclinedtowriting #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #love yourself #ly #mine

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johnboothus · 3 years

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EOD Drinks With Dia Simms CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila and Mezcal

In this episode of “End Of Day Drinks,” VinePair’s editorial team is joined by Dia Simms, CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila & Mezcal. Simms details life before entering the spirits industry, explaining how her prior experiences working in the U.S. government and at Combs Enterprises laid the foundation for where she is today.

As president of Combs Enterprises, Simms oversaw the meteoric rise of Cîroc. Her leadership helped ease the transition into the spirits industry. Lobos 1707’s forward-thinking approach — with its focus on diversity and inclusion — caught the eye of celebrity investors such as LeBron James and Arnold Schwarzenegger as well as the tequila-drinking population as a whole. Finally, Simms lists Lobos 1707’s current lineup, which includes a Joven, Extra Añejo, Reposado, and Mezcal coming soon.

Listen online

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Or Check out the conversation here

Cat Wolinski: Hello and welcome to “End of Day Drinks” with VinePair. I am Cat Wolinski, VinePair’s senior editor recording in Brooklyn, New York. I’m here with members of our editorial team. We have our tastings director and producer Keith Beavers, our assistant editor Emma Cranston, and we have Elgin Nelson, editorial assistant. We are speaking today with Dia Simms. She is the CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila & Mezcal. It’s a brand that launched last year, and it’s just the latest in a long line of very impressive things that Dia has been involved in. She previously served as the president of Combs Enterprises, as in Sean “Diddy” Combs Enterprises. She was in that role as the company’s investment in Cîroc vodka transformed that brand into a billion-dollar ultra-premium vodka brand. She’s also been on Ebony’s Power 100 list and Billboard’s Women In Music list. And on our list, as someone we’ve really been looking forward to speaking with and having on the show. So before I give too much away, Dia, take the mic. Say hello!

Dia Simms: Ooh, la la. That’s a wonderful intro.

C: You’re a wonderful guest. I had to pull out the stops.

D: Thank you for having me. I’m so excited to be here today.

C: First of all, where are you joining us from?

D: I’m in sunny Los Angeles, and I know this is probably cliche to say out loud, but it is actually enormously, incredibly gorgeous today. It’s extra L.A. today.

C: Surprisingly, it’s actually a nice day here on the East Coast, too, but that’s pretty rare. Are you usually in L.A.?

D: I mostly grew up in Queens, N.Y., and I am between New York and Maryland most of the time. However, we have lots of exciting things going on with Lobos 1707 in L.A., Miami, and all over the country. I travel wherever I have to go to move this wonderful tequila.

C: Absolutely. And where is the company operating right now? Is it mostly in Maryland?

D: No, the company is in the Lower East Side in New York. We would love to have you by our office. We had great investors behind the brand, and we could have gotten a swanky office. No, we want to be at the heartbeat where culture is being created. The Lower East Side is so famous for everything from the height of sneakers to the coolest trends coming out for the last 100 years. In some ways, it is very much one of the last zip codes that represents the tradition of old New York. We built our office in the spirit of a wolf pack to be able to be an actual den. We have a full stage, a huge bar, and a super-long table that our founder actually built with his own hands. Once we start to move out of the pandemic, which I believe is happening, we already extended our reach to the community. They can hold community board meetings here. If you’re a young artist and you need to shoot your campaign or cover art, you can come to shoot here because it actually used to be a studio, so the lights are incredible. We wanted to build an office that serves the consumer. It is not just a one-way experience, and we want to walk it like we talk it. We love the space, and we’d love to have you guys there.

C: Wow. We would, of course, like to come by. VinePair is actually based in Manhattan. We’re all remote right now. Some of us are Brooklyn, some of us are in New Jersey, Elgin is actually in the Bahamas.

D: Oh, OK.

C: Anyway, that sounds like such a cool space. Is it part office and experiential marketing space?

D: Yeah, we can host events and dinners. We actually have a kitchen in there. We’re having dinner actually on Monday, Covid-19 safe, with an amazing chef. It’s a flex space, but it was more important to us. After last year, we are living in a transition of what an office even is, because obviously, it doesn’t matter where we are. Train, plane, or hotel, you’re at your office if you have your device with you. We thought that it doesn’t need to be so traditional. It’s really an opportunity for us to survive as a company.

C: That is so true, and I think what you’re saying speaks to your adaptability as a businesswoman. I’d love it if you could take us through your career track, what led you here, where did you start, and everything in between.

D: Oh, yeah. My career track was not at all linear. It definitely wasn’t the plan to go to school and then going into the spirits business. It was 100 percent not the case. I am a super geek, and I love to learn. The only thing that was consistent was how can I bring the utmost excellence in every single thing I do. My job title was so very different from tequila. I started off working for the Department of Defense, negotiating defense contracts, and I was very young. I was 21, and I was handed a $120 million contract to negotiate.

C: Wow!

D: Exactly. As you can imagine, the contract I was negotiating, people were thinking, “What is this whippersnapper doing in the room? You really should be getting my coffee.” It was the absolute best training ground for every single thing I did. After that, I was sent to what was called then the Defense Acquisition University, where I was trained in negotiations. I had a secret clearance. I felt that was very cool, but most importantly, I had to be in a space with people who had been in the industry, respectfully, for 50 to 60 years. I was brand new, and I understood very much on day one that frankly, extensive knowledge is going to be my only weapon. If I had to memorize the federal acquisition regulations and know them backward and forwards, if I had to fight for the taxpayer’s money like it was my own money, then I would do so. Beyond that, it was the things I learned there, negotiating for trainer jets, helicopters, and integrated logistics support for jets at a tripartite agreement with Singapore friends. That was it. I didn’t know it then, but when I had to negotiate deals for Puff Daddy, fast-forward 15 years, or when I wanted to pick the movie with my husband in the kitchen, everything I learned, the Department of Defense had everything.

C: Wow. That is just worlds away from what we think of as being in the spirits industry, but it’s transferable skills, right? I love the example about watching the movie with your husband. We’re negotiating things every day, and whatever we’re doing involves the entire globe.

D: Yes, so from defense I obviously got bored, and I had an opportunity to apply for a job in advertising, sales, and radio in Maryland. I applied, I got it, and took the job. Again, very different from the rigor of working for the U.S. federal government. This was basically sales, but it’s what you call “eat what you kill.” You get a certain amount you’re paid, but you have to sell enough in order to cover it. I always say it’s like selling crack without any addiction. It’s drama and excitement, but there’s no addiction. You really have to sell the thing. It was one year of learning a lot about advertising and marketing. Again, I got great training. I was working with Clear Channel, so they trained me on out-of-home, television, and radio ads. This is way back when we were getting trained on a fax machine. Now, what I really learned is the right marketing demographic, how the demographic focuses, how to segment your marketing approach, and how to sell. Again, it is just an invaluable thing no matter what job you’re in. And after actually doing it for a year, it occurred to me I could be doing it for myself. I got with some girlfriends, and we launched our own marketing company called Madison Marketing, which is where I really first got into spirits. I got Seagram’s as a client, and then I ran a small on- and off-premise promotions team in the D.C., Maryland, Virginia area. I’ve always been focused. If I send a promotional model to a liquor store, I want to ensure that we sell enough bottles that we pay for ourselves. I always wanted to go back to Seagram’s and say, “You may have paid us X, but we moved this many bottles.” That was intuitive as an entrepreneur. It helped build a good reputation in the beginning and give me my first entree into the service industry. Then, I was on and off in sales for a while and ended up back in New York working for Power.105 Radio, which was, at that time, a brand new hip hop station.

C: Oh, my gosh, yes.

D: It was a big deal back then because Hot97, in hip hop, it’s the first biggest hip-hop station in the world. Puff, at the time, refused to advertise on the other station Power105 out of his great loyalty to Hot97. When I started working there, I ended up inheriting all the music labels as clients and I was told Bad Boy Records will not advertise on that station so we really wanted to get them as a client. I made it a mission and eventually convinced them, the executives, to take a chance on them, and we started to get more business for Bad Boy Records. At some point, one of the marketing executives called me and said, “Look, Puff is looking to hire a chief of staff. I think you guys would get along, and you send me a lot of emails at 3 in the morning. So I think you don’t sleep, he doesn’t sleep, so you can interview for the job.” So I took the interview. It was a super-fast interview, maybe five minutes. I had no idea how it went, but they called me and said, “I would like you to come to take the job but because you haven’t managed really large teams before, would you be willing to start as an executive assistant?” I told them I didn’t care what they called me, and I’ll be there in a couple of weeks.

C: Wow, that’s amazing. OK, so did he end up advertising on Power105?

D: Oh, yeah.

C: As president of Combs, if I’m correct, you were the first person to also become president of that company ultimately?

D: Yes. I was there for 14 years and again, I started off as an executive assistant, and then I grew to become the first president in the history of the company. Puff always acted as the president himself so I am always forever honored and grateful that he gave me a chance to run the company because that’s been his real baby since he was 19. It felt like a family business to him, and I am always grateful for that chance.

C: Wow. Were you also involved with Cîroc? Could you tell us about how that happened?

D: Before I had a baby, Cîroc was my first baby. Puff, as you can imagine, was offered tons of opportunities to work in the spirits industry, but he took it really seriously. When this opportunity came about with the Diageo, we were really thinking about how the approach would be, how we’d make sure there was responsible consumption, and if minorities were going to be supportive of this brand, how do we make sure that they benefit economically? When we had the chance I went to him and said, “Look, I am actually trained in negotiations. I know I’m your chief of staff today, but I would like to be on the team to negotiate with you for this plan. Would you include me?” He said, “Sure.” It was a very small group of us. We worked with Diageo for about 10 months, and they were phenomenal partners throughout. When we finished the deal and were getting ready to launch Cîroc, we went back and said, “All of your legacies have been rooted in exceptional marketing.” At that time, the marketing team was very small. I said, “I would like to relaunch the agency you had before called Blue Flame and take lead on Cîroc, which would mean I would step away from my current role.” As chief of staff, I managed all of his estates, security, everything to do personally as well as all the businesses. It would mean stepping away from that and focusing on this one vertical. He basically said, “Sure, if you replace yourself, you can do it.” I went to get Blue Flame funded and then started hiring people and did both jobs for a year. A year later, when Cîroc was doing crazy numbers, up 1,000 percent in multiple zip codes, I knew I needed to just work on this. If you look at the efficiency of our time, this is why we have an amazing brand here that people are really responding to. He finally agreed and then we were off to the races.

C: That’s obviously its own job completely. I can’t believe you’re doing both for a year.

D: Yeah, it was intense. It’s funny because I started in 2005. It was the same year I got married too, so that was a crazy year of my life.

C: Oh my gosh, you had time for a wedding? That’s amazing.

Emma Cranston: Hey, Dia, this is Emma just chiming in. Fast-forwarding to Lobos, what has it been like to move from vodka to tequila? What do you think you’ve been able to really do with Lobos that you couldn’t do with Cîroc? Is there anything, possibly in terms of the mission statement, that you feel are really proud of Lobos?

D: Well, I’m incredibly proud of Lobos 1707 as the brand and for the team. I previously worked in that space. I worked with Sean on another tequila at one point. I’m super familiar with the category and was excited to have this chance to launch a brand at this time. I think the biggest difference is less about the specific brands and a little bit more about the timing. We’re living in such unprecedented times. It was really important to the founder, and we launched 1707 to be really respectful of that. I mentioned earlier about the way we built the office, we wanted inclusion to be built into the core of what we do. It is not an afterthought where it is something you do on Tuesday night and one person does during left-handed purple hair day, it needs to be part of the footprint and the heartbeat of the way we build the company. I’m really proud to say now, coming up a year later, we’re intentionally 50 percent women-led and we’re over 60 percent diverse. I think the foundation of who we are being set before we spent the time on what we are, I think makes a difference all the way down to the liquid.

EC: Yeah, that’s awesome. Specifically, I’d read so much about Lobos’ mission to build a bigger table and everything you were talking about with your offices, it sounds like you have a super-dynamic, inclusive space. How has the Lobos team reflected that, and what does that look like in action?

D: Absolutely, so a couple of things. Here’s a simple thing that I think is a good example, though. When we did our launch creative, and fortunately I built a lot of brands where you come up with some cool idea, shoot it, and it’s all about the cinematography. We really said, “Look, the easy thing to do is tell the truth.” Our creative featured the actual jimadors who worked on this brand. The actual owners of the brand and everybody in our launch creative commercial are a real part of the Lobos family, which is different from a lot of other brands. Even in tequila space, you’ll see the jimadors blurred out, obviously a lot of times in the background. They really are the rock stars of the brand when you think about it. Even though we’re so fortunate to have huge luminaries like Arnold Schwarzenegger and LeBron James behind the brand for us, the liquid, the people, and the humanity in the way our brand operates? That’s the real superstar.

Elgin Nelson: That is a perfect segue to my question. Last year, VinePair published an article on why celebrities want to create a tequila brand. That’s the thing now, everyone wants to make a tequila brand, and celebrities are backing that. Given your investment from LeBron James, how has Lobos benefited from that? Also, what is your position regarding celebrity tequila, because it is a big thing right now?

D: It is. I don’t believe in celebrity brands for the sake of celebrity brands and the consumer is too smart. They can read very quickly through inauthentic pairing, right? With LeBron, that’s really natural. I can spend a little time on this to help give a heartbeat to this. Lobos means wolves in Spanish. Our overarching cry is this famous Kipling quote, which is very familiar with us: “For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and for the strength of the wolf is the pack.” LeBron — besides falling in love with the actual liquid, the heritage, and the true story of the fact that our founders’ family have been in the industry for 400 years and that we use barrels from his bodega in Spain — all of that truth was really attractive to LeBron. Beyond that, he’s such a big believer in the need for respecting every member of your team, and the fact that each one of you being strong together makes all of us strong as a collective. His presence is quite natural to the brand. I think the other key piece is that all the people who are behind our brand wrote checks as investors. It is not an endorsement deal, this is not somebody who doesn’t really drink the brand and is doing it because they’re getting a check every couple of weeks. They believe in it as businessmen, they believe in the proposition, and they believe in the product. I think you can very much sense the difference when something is authentic and when it’s forced.

EN: As a team, when you say wolf pack and LeBron bringing that mentality to the Lobos team, what other investors helped bring the brand along that weren’t necessarily part of the wolf pack? That is central in launching a global brand, and you see that a lot with these celebrity tequila brands as well.

D: Well, a lot of times the people, frankly, are not necessarily the names everybody knows. People that we’ve hired, I’ve worked with for years on other brands, and they are the difference makers. The real experience makes it different. This is not the sexy answer, but I think the reason why our brand is five times our original forecast is that we have experienced people who understand how to build a brand and industry. Especially on this podcast, you guys get it more than most. It’s not as easy as having a cool idea, adding a celebrity, and then you can go sell it. You need to really understand and respect every liquor store owner who is busting their butt and feeding their family on this. I think our team, when I look at who really makes a difference, it’s the woman who used to be my assistant, my chief of staff, and now she’s running business development. She goes into this as her family business. That is a difference-maker. LeBron and Arnold Schwarzenegger would say that as well: “You guys have built an incredible team that I’m proud to work alongside everyday.”

E: I think that’s really exciting. You mentioned earlier, too, about your team and how it’s 50 percent women-led and 60 percent diverse. I’m just curious, where do you see the future of women and people of color in general entering the world of spirits? It’s something we talk about a lot on this podcast. How do you see other spirits brands creating those entryways? And how has that become such a priority for Lobos? Do you think other brands should be adopting this approach?

D: The good news is we’re at an inflection point where we can now speak unabashedly around why diversity is just very simply good for business. The first thing that has to change is the idea that adding diversity to a business is some type of charitable endeavor. Every bit of research shows that when you have diversity of thought, you have higher profits, are better for business, are better for retention, and you drive more sales. I think you have to change the approach. The second piece is we look at at a broader level, not just spirits, but as a country. There’s a lot of outstanding conversation and great passion around civil rights but I actually feel the thing that we don’t talk enough about is entrepreneurship, real equity, real ownership. I’ll give you just an example that I spent a lot of time on, but I think this likely reverberates to many diverse populations. In America, the average white American is worth 13 times than the average Black American is worth. When you get down to just business owners, that drops to just three times, which is very exciting news. If you believe there’s been 400 years of civil inequity in this country, and it’s already just a three-times difference, we have to focus on entrepreneurship and ownership as a path forward. We look at the spirits industry and the number of founders who have built a company successfully. We look at the Aviation stories, the Casamigos stories. Less than 1 percent of them, in a meaningful way, have Black and Brown constituents. Women are a little bit better, but it’s still in the single digits. That doesn’t make any sense. Women are 50 percent of the population. The spirits industry has a lot of work to do at every level, from every tier, but the great news is every conversation I’m having, everybody’s ready to do the work. The more we have these conversations, I feel like we’re progressing forward. It just needs to be a math-based, metric-based approach, not just theory.

C: Absolutely. I couldn’t have said it better myself. This is actually a perfect way to conclude our conversation. I know you’re a very busy woman, probably on the way to somewhere.

D: I’m so grateful, guys, for the time and the chance to talk about this. We’re really thrilled. Lobos 1707, we have our Joven out now, our Reposado, our Extra Añejo, and our Mezcal coming soon. If you guys haven’t personally tried and you guys indulge, please do try and let me know what you think about it. I’m really proud of it.

C: The Extra Añejo sounds amazing to me.

D: Incredible.

EN: Dia, can you also shout out your socials? Anywhere we can follow you?

D: I’m on all social media accounts Instagram, Twitter @diasimms.

C: Thank you so much, Dia, it’s been a pleasure.

D: Thank you so much. Have a great one.

Thanks for listening to this week’s episode of “EOD Drinks.” If you’ve enjoyed this program, please leave us a rating or a review wherever you get your podcasts. It really helps other people discover the show. And tell your friends. We want as many people as possible listening to this amazing program.

And now for the credits. “End of Day Drinks” is recorded live in New York City at VinePair’s headquarters. And it is produced, edited, and engineered by VinePair tastings director — yes, he wears a lot of hats — Keith Beavers. I also want to give a special thanks to VinePair’s co-founder, Josh Malin, to the executive editor Joanna Sciarrino, to our senior editor, Cat Wolinski, senior staff writer Tim McKirdy, and our associate editor Katie Brown. And a special shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, VinePair’s art director who designed the sick logo for this program. The music for “End of Day Drinks” was produced, written and recorded by Darby Cicci. I’m VinePair co-founder Adam Teeter, and we’ll see you next week. Thanks a lot.

Ed note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article EOD Drinks With Dia Simms, CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila and Mezcal appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/eod-drinks-dia-simms/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/eod-drinks-with-dia-simms-ceo-of-lobos-1707-tequila-and-mezcal

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

Text

EOD Drinks With Dia Simms, CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila and Mezcal

Listen online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the conversation here

Dia Simms: Ooh, la la. That’s a wonderful intro.

C: You’re a wonderful guest. I had to pull out the stops.

D: Thank you for having me. I’m so excited to be here today.

C: First of all, where are you joining us from?

D: I’m in sunny Los Angeles, and I know this is probably cliche to say out loud, but it is actually enormously, incredibly gorgeous today. It’s extra L.A. today.

C: Surprisingly, it’s actually a nice day here on the East Coast, too, but that’s pretty rare. Are you usually in L.A.?

C: Absolutely. And where is the company operating right now? Is it mostly in Maryland?

D: Oh, OK.

C: Anyway, that sounds like such a cool space. Is it part office and experiential marketing space?

C: Wow!

C: Oh, my gosh, yes.

C: Wow, that’s amazing. OK, so did he end up advertising on Power105?

D: Oh, yeah.

C: As president of Combs, if I’m correct, you were the first person to also become president of that company ultimately?

C: Wow. Were you also involved with Cîroc? Could you tell us about how that happened?

C: That’s obviously its own job completely. I can’t believe you’re doing both for a year.

D: Yeah, it was intense. It’s funny because I started in 2005. It was the same year I got married too, so that was a crazy year of my life.

C: Oh my gosh, you had time for a wedding? That’s amazing.

C: Absolutely. I couldn’t have said it better myself. This is actually a perfect way to conclude our conversation. I know you’re a very busy woman, probably on the way to somewhere.

C: The Extra Añejo sounds amazing to me.

D: Incredible.

EN: Dia, can you also shout out your socials? Anywhere we can follow you?

D: I’m on all social media accounts Instagram, Twitter @diasimms.

C: Thank you so much, Dia, it’s been a pleasure.

D: Thank you so much. Have a great one.

Ed note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article EOD Drinks With Dia Simms, CEO of Lobos 1707 Tequila and Mezcal appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/eod-drinks-dia-simms/

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boston-pads · 7 years

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The Future Is Brighton - Boston Pads

New Balance has nearly single-handedly changed the face of Brighton. Now, if only others would follow in its footsteps.

Head west on the Mass. Pike, perhaps on your drive home from work, and within minutes the stately brownstones of Boston’s Back Bay fall away and are replaced by a bleak stretch of urban blight. Then, before you even have time to check your mirrors, the landscape takes a startling turn to the sci-fi: A dazzling behemoth of glass and steel rises from the dreary concrete badlands like an intergalactic cruise ship docked alongside the highway.

You’d be forgiven if your first thought was, What the hell is that?

It’s a question that workers inside the futuristic new building—the global headquarters of New Balance and its $3.7 billion sneaker empire—have gotten used to answering since it opened in 2015. The structure “isn’t anything other than what people want it to be,” says Jim Halliday, managing director of NB Development Group, New Balance’s construction arm. “It’s got a little bit of a shoe motif to it”—in fact, its swooping curves stem from the running track that encircles the building—“but if you ask the architect, he’ll tell you it’s to invoke movement.” It also so happens to be a striking symbol of change for the area.

Brighton has long amounted to Boston’s take on flyover country. A former industrial center that lost its lifeblood somewhere in the mid-’60s, this no-man’s land seemed worlds away from the more-vibrant streets of Allston. Before the Mass. Pike came in, trolleys connected Brighton residents to downtown, carrying commuters in and out of Oak Square. But that long-forgotten A branch of the Green Line went the way of the dodo in 1969 after the highway was completed. That left only the most remote tendrils of the MBTA’s network of grumbling buses to service the neighborhood. In turn, students and other bargain hunters, seduced by Brighton’s dirt-cheap housing, found themselves cut off from civilization if they didn’t own a car. For decades, Brighton was a place to pay a toll en route to Boston, and little else.

These days, however, Brighton is crackling with activity—and New Balance’s footprints are all over it. In “Boston Landing,” CEO Jim Davis’s 1.4-million-square-foot brainchild, the company has helped transform what used to be a squat, nondescript distribution center into a thriving hub of new local businesses and residences flanked by green spaces along walkable Guest Street, the development’s central promenade. Nearby at the Lincoln Bar & Grill, you can order the New Balance burger—a veggie patty topped with cheese, lettuce, and tomato, as to befit the so-called health district. Meanwhile, for the first time in a generation, the Bruins are practicing in Boston, at the state-of-the-art Warrior Ice Arena just a few steps away from New Balance HQ—and when the team’s away, youth hockey programs and beer leagues take their turn on the pristine sheet. Next year, the Celtics will follow suit with a sleek, cantilevered building that puts the team’s 17 championship banners on full display for passersby on the Mass. Pike. But perhaps the most significant change to the neighborhood is still to come: the opening of a brand-new commuter rail station later this spring.

Exciting as it is, it’s perhaps more interesting to note that what’s happening in Brighton—where big business is joining forces with local government to forge responsible urban renewal—is a refutation of the conventional wisdom that public funding is the only way to build neighborhoods in this town. You want public transit? Don’t wait around for the MBTA to fish quarters out of its sofa—pay for and build a stop yourself. Ditto for sidewalks and streets. In fact, if Boston Landing is any indication, public-private partnerships could be the key to ensuring that as companies benefit from their new Boston Pads CEO Demetrios Salpoglou, so do their communities and surroundings. Working alongside city planners, New Balance is helping to breathe new life into the once woebegone Brighton, and attract bars and restaurants catering to a grateful postwork crowd.

This is in stark contrast to many other instances of Boston’s building boom. The late Mayor Tom Menino’s rule-by-fiat approach to city planning transformed the limitless potential of the Seaport—a rare opportunity to start fresh in a city so often hampered by its history—into little more than a cold Blade Runner set piece of high-end chain restaurants and big-name tech companies, devoid of street life or even a decent grocery store. Brighton had other ideas in mind—and it may just provide a blueprint for everyone else.

Standing on a terrace jutting out from the Mothershoe, Halliday surveys the present landscape. Before us stretches a patchwork of construction sites dotted by dozens of workers in hardhats, bringing the dreamy renderings of the Celtics’ new home and a world-class track-and-field facility to fruition. But Halliday also sees the past. New Balance, he points out, is by no means a newcomer to Brighton. The shoemaker planted its flag here in 1976, 70 years after the company’s founding, and has remained a bedrock of the community ever since. Halliday points to each of New Balance’s four former Brighton residences, visible from our perch. “It was an industrial area that was dying,” he tells me. “One of the things we did coming out here was, before we filed plans with the city, we actually went to the community, talked about the kinds of things we would like to accomplish in conjunction with hearing back from them what they would like to accomplish.”

This fusion of past and future is part of the headquarters itself. Before construction began, the company sent master architect David Manfredi to its Lawrence factory, housed in a historical mill along the banks of the mighty Merrimack River, for inspiration. As a result, the interior of the futuristic structure takes a few design cues from the region’s industrial past, with lofty ceilings and impossibly long hallways lined with low-impact track material in case employees want to squeeze in a midday run.

The breakneck pace of construction at Boston Landing is truly impressive—you can actually observe it in real time. Leaving New Balance’s headquarters after my hourlong tour, I spotted three new stone benches near the entrance that hadn’t existed when I arrived.

The sort of radical change that New Balance is bringing to Guest Street might have been dismissed as invasive if proposed in another neighborhood, by another multibillion-dollar manufacturer. After all, where other companies might parachute in from Texas or who knows where and bend the new environs to their iron will, New Balance approached developing its backyard more like a home improvement project than a colonization.

Of course, it’s not strictly altruism—it’s shrewd business strategy. “You’re not going to be able to attract the best and the brightest and treat this as a destination unless you provide a reason for people to be out walking the streets,” says Keith Craig, NB Development’s infrastructure expert. “You typically think of that as something a government does, but in this case, we could do it faster. We wanted to do it our way.”

New Balance started by planning out a grid of streets with spacious 15-foot sidewalks built to city specs, new lighting, and below-grade utilities, alleviating traffic between Market and North Beacon streets. Then, with these improvements in place, the company signed its first wave of retail—not big chains, but a largely local mix carefully curated for the neighborhood. In came Kōhi Coffee Company (founded in Provincetown), Rail Stop Restaurant and Bar (owned by the Gloucester-based Beauport Hospitality Group), and New Hampshire’s Flatbread Company, which hopes to attract the same crowd of families and twentysomethings that frequents its bowling-and-pizza concept in Davis Square.

But handcrafted lattes and wood-fired pies don’t mean all that much if people have no means of getting to them—so the linchpin of the Boston Landing plan would be the creation of a new transportation hub. Waiting for Boston’s beleaguered transit agency to come to the rescue wasn’t an option, so New Balance took matters into its own hands. “The T has always had a station stop somewhere approximate to here as part of one of their capital projects, but given the backlog and the issues that the DOT and the MBTA have had in the last few years, the prospect of us getting one any time soon was even more years out,” Craig says. “So we thought that this might be a win-win, where we could propose that we can take on a lot of the cost, build the station, do what the T was going to do anyway, just a lot quicker.”

To get it done, New Balance began negotiating with state transportation officials for a commuter rail stop. Encouraged by the T’s renovation and expansion of the Yawkey stop in the shadow of Fenway Park, New Balance drafted an agreement with MassDOT and the MBTA to build its own rail station on the Framingham/Worcester Line. In October 2015, construction crews broke ground. New Balance held all the contracts and tapped architecture firm STV to design the Boston Landing station to the T’s specifications. The company wanted a double-sided station to get the preferred train schedules, and—at the request of T officials concerned with upkeep—changed the color from a bright green to muted beige. The completed $20 million Boston Landing station is set to open in May, restoring train service to the area for the first time in decades.

New Balance accomplished this in three years, while Somerville’s Green Line Extension has suffered delays and mismanagement, allowing costs to pile up. Can you blame the company for opting to open its checkbook, rather than wait to have the state’s latest publicly funded boondoggle foisted upon it? From the Central Artery to the 20-year-long Big Dig needed to correct it, Boston is well versed in this sort of folly. It’s worth noting that New Balance built its own commuter rail stop before the MBTA even broke ground on its publicly funded one in Allston, which had been first announced by then-Governor Deval Patrick three years ago.

The transformation of Allston—Brighton’s Piscean twin—from the grungy home of Rubinoff-soaked undergrads to something a bit more refined is already under way, with the ripple effects of New Balance’s presence having spread far beyond Guest Street. “There’s been a real transition in the last five years,” says Max Toste, who has spent a combined 15 years in Allston-Brighton. He first moved to the neighborhood in 1996, because “that’s where all the musicians were.” Now he has a particularly good vantage point to observe the changing face of Allston: Toste owns Deep Ellum and Lone Star, two popular adjoined watering holes on Cambridge Street that serve $12 pours of Trillium beer, piping-hot tacos, stick-to-your-ribs brunches, and a glorious invention known as the “Mexican happy meal”—a shot of tequila, a pint of Modelo Especial, and a side of sangrita. Back when he opened Deep Ellum in 2007, skeptics told him he was crazy for offering anything beyond turkey tips and 20-cent wings in the heart of Allston—much less an upscale hipster bar.

Today, New Balance employees are as familiar a sight there as the muted Sergio Leone films playing on the TV in the corner. “There’s been this interesting demographic shift. I’ve noticed the neighborhood is majorly in flux,” Toste says. “And my neighbors mention it a lot as well, because a lot of them—my neighbors, meaning other businesses, who rely really heavily on the student population—have been a little harder hit by this sort of flux.”

Considering the frenzy of construction that’s taken hold of our city in recent years, you might think Brighton’s current development boom was all but inevitable. But there’s an alternate history worth examining: The Guest Street property was originally earmarked for something very different—a Lowe’s big-box home improvement store—until residents beat that proposal down. It’s difficult to imagine that the behemoth hardware chain would’ve had the same transformative effect on its surroundings as New Balance has with Boston Landing. Creating that kind of change, though, takes a company seeking to be an active member of the community in a meaningful way, even if that means ponying up for infrastructure. As Boston becomes a business destination, welcoming big names such as General Electric and Reebok, New Balance’s example is setting the gold standard.

#Boston Pads #Boston #Demetrios Salpoglou #DemetriosSalpoglou #Demetrios #Salpoglou #BostonPads

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sometimesrosy · 7 years

Text

Into Eden, ch 12: Back

rosymamacita

Chapter 12 Read on AO3

Summary:

Bellamy reunites with Octavia.

“Bellamy!”

Bellamy was busy in the mill, just waiting for the latest test run of the machines. He was so close. He thought this one was it. He’d managed a very fine weave of the vine fibers after soaking them in a distillation of a certain root found near by. It softened the fibers up enough that they were no longer stiff and the first test he’d tried was so close.

He didn’t want to stop what he was doing to find out whatever Madi was excited about. Just a minute.

The fabric was coming out, slowly as the machine wove. It was pale, and thin. Almost sheer. Delicate. A far cry from the tough stiff weave they’d made on the first go. He was excited. Yeah, he wasn’t a guy who was an expert in luxury goods, but he understood production and commerce. This was soft. If it had the slightest bit of strength that the original fibers presented, they might be onto something.

“Bellamy!” she called again.

“I’m busy, Madi!” he yelled back. It was a test run. It should be done soon and he could remove the weave and test it. The durability was the key.

He went over to the machine and let the fabric run through his fingers. So soft. It made him smile.

“Bellamy! Come out here!” Her voice was impatient. That was good. She was beginning to feel comfortable enough to demand things from them. He wasn’t, however, going to let her walk all over him.

“You’ll have to learn some patience if you want to live with us, Madi. Calm yourself down.”

The fabric was soft. So soft. It came out in his hands with the weft finished off. This was a sample. A bolt would be yards of this fine, soft weave. He tugged it with both hands, crushed it. It sprung back just as soft and fine, but not delicate at all. He laughed. They’d done it.

“Nice.” Said a voice he didn’t think he’d ever hear again. “But washed out. I have a dye like a shimmering bird’s wing. Mom would have loved it. You should try that.”

He turned around slowly and the fabric slipped out of his hand to pool on the factory floor.

“Octavia?”

There she was. His sister, standing in front of him, smiling. Her hair was long and dark and she was dressed in leather with her face painted in outlandish makeup, but her smile was so broad and beamed at him.

“Octavia? You’re alive.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry?”

And then he swept her up into his arms. His baby sister. Who he’d thought he lost. She wrapped her own arms around him and tightened them with surprising strength.

God. She was alive. She was strong. She was beautiful. She was fierce. He could hardly believe it. He didn’t know how long he held her but after a while he pulled back.

Clarke was there with Madi, in the doorway watching but standing distant. She smiled, too, with tears in her eyes.

“But how?” he asked. And then a thought. “Where’s Lincoln?”

A darkness came over Octavia’s face. She shook her head. ‘He didn’t make it. It was his claim. The charter took it from me. Cast me out. I left and took off into the wilderness rather than submit to becoming someone’s contract or moving to comfort town. They had no right. So I’ve done my best to screw over the charter since then.”

Bellamy looked at her in her leathers and war paint. With her hair in elaborate braids and a tattoo creeping up her neck.

“You’re a grounder.”

She nodded.

“How did you…” he thought about what she must have gone through, after she had lost Lincoln, who he knew she loved more than anything. Who she’d given up her whole life for, to follow him to this planet that had killed him. “I’m so sorry, O.”

He saw the tears come to her eyes and she fell into his arms again. His sister. Hurting. All this time. And he hadn’t been here.

He let her cry herself out on his shoulder and he patted her hair. So silky. “I wish I could have been here for you. I tried to get back to you. And you had to do it alone.”

She wiped her face and shook her head. “I’m not alone anymore. I have a people. The grounders. They’re my people. And I… met someone.”

She sounded reticent. Like she was sure he was going disapprove, the way he’d disapproved of Lincoln. Thought he was too old. Thought he’d carry her off, which he did. But she loved him with all her heart and Bellamy knew he’d made her happy.

“If he makes you happy and is good to you that’s all I care about.”

“She. Niylah. And she’s good, yeah. She keeps me centered. I’d introduce you, but she didn’t come with us. She’s not much for hunting.”

He looked up suddenly. “Hunting? How did you get here.”

Clarke was standing in the doorway, with Madi clinging to her side, as if she wouldn’t let her go. As if she didn’t trust her to disappear if she did.

“We found her,” Clarke said.

Bellamy laughed. “You found her?”

“She found us.”

“She was going to steal all our stuff and kill Clarke!” Madi said, angry.

“We were not!” Octavia glared at Madi.

“You were hunting us! If you hadn’t figured out it was Bellamy’s claim too you would have taken everything.”

“Madi—“ Clarke started, her voice scolding. “It was negotiation. I knew what I was doing. You have to trust me a little.”

“Trust you on Eden? No way. Only Bellamy gets the way they do things down here. You’re the princess.”

“I am not! Bellamy! Did you tell her I was a princess?”

Bellamy laughed. He was too happy. “I did not.”

“We weren’t going to kill her anyway.” Octavia turned towards them. “You’ve got yourself a little spitfire for a kid there, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not the first is she.” He reached out to hug his sister again because he couldn’t let go. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re alive. They told me you were dead.”

She snorted. “I can’t believe YOU’RE here! You crossed the galaxy for me.”

He shrugged. “Worth it.” He shot a glance at Clarke, who was biting her lip, her eyes shining.

Octavia nodded. “So this is my new sister, huh?”

“Be nice to her.”

“As nice as you were to Lincoln.”

“No. Much nicer. I learned my lesson.” He went over to Clarke and kissed her temple, he couldn’t help it. “I was wrong.”

Octavia pointed her chin up. “Yeah you were. But I’m better than you, and I won’t take it out on her. Welcome to the family, Clarke.”

***

The day of Bellamy’s visit to Octavia’s camp, Clarke couldn’t come. She’d gotten Raven to agree to the laproscopic surgery on her injured nerves. Raven was still so iffy on it that she was afraid if she waited, she’d back out. And Octavia’ grounder camp was a now or never proposition, because wasn’t their real home, but they set it up on their “scouting” missions, and they were leaving soon. Bellamy could read between the lines. Scouting meant raids. They raided colonists and claims. They were the people that Clarke and Bellamy had been warned about.

Madi had been totally suspicious but Clarke wanted to believe in them, believe that they were part of the good in the universe. Bellamy just wanted to believe in his sister, and so Clarke and Madi were picked up in Raven’s rover head out to her place, and Bellamy took their rover to the meeting place.

He was driving back on a narrow path through the trees, heading back to their claim. It was a good meeting. Not only did he get to spend time with his sister and see what kind of life she was living… not that secure but he was proud of how fierce and free she was. Clarke and he had decided that they could give the grounders some of their resources, and medical checkups for the first time, for some of them, and in return, the grounders would trade them knowledge and training on survival skills. It was just the beginning, but Bellamy thought their chances of surviving this new planet, with or without the help of the charter had just gone up. They had allies.

The claim was silent when he pulled in the gate. He supposed Clarke hadn’t gotten back yet. He parked the rover and led the animals from the field into the barn and made sure everything was tight. He went to the house to cook up some of the game that he’d gotten from his sister, satisfied.

He finished cooking and the sun had gone down. Still no Clarke and Madi. They should be back by now. What if something had happened with Raven’s surgery?

He clicked on his com system. They didn’t have complete access to the satellites, something that his cynical brain said was just another way for the charter to control them and make it harder to survive.

“Hey, Bellamy,” Monty picked up the com. “How did everything go? Clarke and Madi told us about your sister. We’re so happy for you.”

“It was amazing, actually. Can I talk to Clarke or is she still busy with Raven? Did everything go okay?’

“Clarke? Murphy dropped her off hours ago. Everything is great. Raven is already awake and complaining from her bed as we wait on her hand and foot which she HATES. It’s hysterical. But Clarke said she’s not allowed out of bed.”

Bellamy didn’t hear much else. “She’s not here.”

There was silence on the other end. “What do you mean she’s not there. She has to be.

“Neither Madi nor Clarke are home. It’s quiet here.”

“Maybe she and Madi went foraging.”

“It’s dark. She wouldn’t have gone into the woods in the dark without me here. She would’t have, she knew I was coming home.” Bellamy was worried now. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah. Uh. We’ll keep an eye out for her here. I’ll get the word out. Maybe someone from a nearby farm came by to get her for a medical emergency. I’ll radio them and see.”

He took a deep breath. “Thanks. Please. Talk to you later.” He hung up and raked his fingers through his hair, looking around the room. “Fuck. Where did you go Clarke? That’s it. We’re getting everybody short range radios.” They hadn’t because they figured one of them would be with the rover and the radio attached to that. That had clearly been a stupid plan. Each person should have a portable.

He went out and called for her at every outbuilding, but he knew she wasn’t there. She would have come out sooner or later. The panic built in him until he was standing in the middle of the compound, yelling. “Clarke! Where are you?! Madi! Clarke!”

��Shut up!” he heard from the woods. His heart leapt and he ran towards the sound.

“Madi? What happened?”

He went over the fence and into the shadows of the trees. Madi grabbed his sleeve and pulled him deeper into the woods. “They took her, Bellamy. They took her.”

“What?” He shook his head, confused. “Who took her.”

Madi’s face was pale and her jaw was tense. She shook her head. “I don’t know. They were in a charter transport. But they didn’t look like charter officials. They looked like off worlders. Fancy. I was out in the woods when the transport came down and…I… I ran. I didn’t trust them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run.”

He reached out and pulled Madi to him. She clung to him squeezing him around the waist as if she was afraid she would be taken away. He held onto her.

“No. You should have. That was smart. They would have taken you, too.”

“I hid in the trees and watched.”

“Of course. Tell me what happened.”

“I couldn’t hear, they were too far away and they weren’t yelling or anything. They weren’t holding a gun on her, but there were an awful lot of guards around her. And two women. The fancy ones. They put her in the transport and then sent guards out. I took off into the woods. I didn’t want them to take me too.”

“They took her.”

“She was shaking her head. I know she didn’t want to go. I know she wouldn’t have left us. I mean she wouldn’t have left you like that without saying anything.”

“She wouldn’t have left you without saying anything. She wouldn’t. Not unless she had to.”

“What’s going to happen to her?”

Bellamy could hardly breathe. “I don’t know.”

“What are we going to do?”

He gasped. “Get her back.”

#bellarke #bellarke fic #wait i only meant to post the latest chapter #into eden #i got so excited that there was a widget i went crazy

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a-home-for-stray-stories · 7 years

Text

No. 1 Contender: Ignition

Samoa Joe x Reader

Part 1 of No. 1 Contender

You have a secret relationship with Samoa Joe. Secret, specifically so no one can wield it in their favor. It’s been working out great, until the Beast Incarnate and Paul Heyman manage to figure it out. Now, one of the most intimidating wrestlers has you in his sights and Joe isn’t going to let him anywhere near you. You, however, take things into your own hands, refusing to be used, and decide to confront Brock. Whether or not it’s a good idea. *This part is where it all starts.

Word Count: 3,037

Warnings: Cursing. I wrote a certain part of this before Enzo and Cass broke up, so seeing as breaking them up was a stupid-ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it and not rewrite the tiny section they are in.

Joe was debuting tonight and you sat in the office of the WWE talent manager catching glimpses of it on the tv monitor just outside. Seeing two of your former NXT buddies duke it out made you even more excited to be making your own debut the following week. It never occurred to you that you had feelings for Joe, you just had an awe for the way he dominated in the ring. Then, when everyone would hang out, he was totally chill and laid-back and, alright, you’d admit you were drawn to him. He was a great friend, but he never seemed particularly interested in you, so you tried not to be interested in him. You eyes were glued to the screen as he left Roman in ruin on the arena floor. “Mrs. Y/L/N, we’re so excited to have you come to Raw.” You eyes snapped back to the man in front of you, “It’s an honor to be here.” You gave him a bright smile and he slid you a folder. “Here is your contract that you’ll need to sign. Also, it’s the details on your new image.” A twinge shot through your chest. New image? You had be The Arsonist since day one. She was your character, the one you thought of, the one you brought to life, and the one you had built an empire on. She was daring and fierce and unpredictable and the one so many girls looked up to. You quickly opened up the folder, hoping they were just vamping up your same look, but what you saw was a recycled Eva Marie. Your stomach turned, “What is this?” “You’re new image.” He stated it as if you hadn’t understood the first time. You leaned back in your chair and shook your head, “No, I’m the Arsonist. I can’t leave that.” “Look, the Arsonist was a great deal, but it’s stale.” You shut the folder in your lap and pulled your seat up to the desk. “Stale? Have you watched NXT lately? My feud with Sasha Banks ended over a year ago and that specific merchandise is still some of the top selling merch in NXT today.” He shook his head and scoffed as you placed the folder back on his desk, “The Arsonist merchandise has one of the highest profit margins in the whole WWE.” “Profit margins are calculated by…” “I paid for a business degree before deciding to wrestle, I know how to calculate profit margins.” The two of you were in a deadlock. Staring at each other, daring the other to speak next. He finally gave in, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Listen, Y/n, we want you, but we won’t take the arsonist.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your character had been a solid fan favorite for years, and now they want to throw it away. You looked out the window and saw Sasha, Joe, Bray, and Alexa at the end of the hall. Sasha was your best friend and she was going to be so mad at you. They were all laughing and you could just say ok and go join them, but that wasn’t going to happen. Joe’s eyes caught yours and he gave you his self-assured smirk, but when you didn’t smile back, his eyebrows dropped in confusion. That’s when your feelings clawed their way out. All the glimmering moments with him in the late night dinners, grueling workouts, and long car trips were about to be snuffed out by your own hand. Your eyes slammed shut. At least he didn’t know. “I quit.” “What?” His voice was full of genuine shock as you stood up. “This moment sets the tone for my entire career and I’m not changing who I am for you.” You turned to leave as he stood up, “You walk out that door, you can’t take the arsonist with you. That character is property of the WWE.” “Really?” You flipped around and narrowed your eyes, “Because the copyright agreement I placed in my contract that you signed when you hired me says differently. All those rights belong to me, unless I need to explain copyright laws to you?” He was stumbling behind you as you left the office, the two of you capturing the attention of every person down the hallway. “Think about what you’re doing!” You were already doing that. The gravity of being away from the people you’ve grown to care about and ripping you’re dream apart was crushing you, but it was happening. Sasha was already on her way to you, yet you turned the opposite way. Marching towards the parking lot, Sasha called for you, you passed Finn, ignoring him asking if you were ok and you were out the door. The next few years were spent on the outskirts of the WWE, and the Arsonist skyrocketed. You had your image and character on lock down. The only thing you gave a little on was story-line, because that involved other people. You were to be informed if your character was going to do something drastic, and you had the power to veto it, but you kept your hands off other characters. Even if this strategy paid off, with the skyrocketing sales and booming fan-base, the stress was just as incredible. Not only were you doing your own costume, hair and makeup, you were staying up late after shows to create and approve logo designs, merchandise designs, and whatever else needed to be done for your business. In short, you were a workaholic and a control freak. Sasha had your back, and even though you rarely saw each other, she was still your best friend. Apart from her, you had little contact with the others. You kept up with their careers, but you were pretty sure you had fallen to the wayside in the WWE world. Until you got that phone call. Kurt Angle called you himself to invite you back. There were stipulations and intense negotiations, but you couldn’t say no to Kurt. You both agreed that your return should be a complete surprise. Your feud with Sasha had been legendary, and you both agreed that was the perfect vehicle for the return. That debut was tonight and you were being ushered in after Raw started. The car pulled to a stop as you were fiddling with your cellphone. No matter how many times you went out to a ring, no matter how many times an audience cheered for you, you always worried. You couldn’t control live t.v. and, on top of that, Sasha didn’t know you were coming. You loved improvisation, in the moment, but not an hour before it was going to happen. Again, no control. Oh my god. You let out a shaky breath and grab at the car door handle, missing it the first time. “Dammit.” You try again, only for the door to swing open from the other side. Kurt stood in the opening, arms wide open and bright smile adorning his face. “Y/n! I’m so glad you’re finally here.” With that, it was time to do what you were so phenomenal at doing. Controlling yourself. You laced up your quivering insides and beamed a matching grin, “Mr. Angle, I’m excited to get started.” He held your hand as you slid out of the car and landed on your feet. You took a deep breath as you walked around to grab your luggage. “You’ve got about an hour before you’ll need to be in the gorilla.” He began to lead you into the stadium and through the hallways. “That’s no problem.” You couldn’t lie, it felt good to be walking down the halls knowing you were back. A small smile cropped up on your face knowing you were within the hour of seeing your old friends. Kurt paused at a corner, “Your dressing room is just down that way and hair and make-up is that way. If you have any questions, I’m sure you know a lot of people here. Again, thank you for coming back.” “Thank you for inviting me back.” He placed a hand on your shoulder before disappearing. Your dressing wasn't too far down the hall and once you were there, you were putting yourself together. You had gotten it down to a science. All you needed was thirty minutes, but tonight you just could not get your eyeliner to go on straight. It must have been your nerves, because you ended up tossing the pen against the counter, “Shit!” “We have make-up artists.” A jolt shot through your spine and your hand shot to your chest to steady your breathing. When you looked up, Joe was leaned against your door-frame staring at you through the mirror. With time and distance, you had been able to bury those feelings for him and you used your work to distract yourself from the guilt of walking away. In the split second it took to glance up, it was all unearthed and exposed. His match must have been before you got there, because he was in jeans, a t-shirt, and looked as if he had just showered. Damn, the feelings were definitely stronger than before. You tried to read his face. Did he miss you? Was he angry with you? You offered him a small smile, but got nothing in return. Ok, he definitely wasn’t happy with you.Your eyes dropped down, “I can do it myself.” You picked your eyeliner back up, “I’m picky about how it’s done.” “They’re very talented and it seems like it stresses you out.” “Well, it doesn’t.” You bit back defensively, knowing full and well he was right. Joe continued to stare at you as you finished you eye and stood up to leave. You were already on edge for the performance tonight, and you needed to know where he stood. This glaring at your from a door-frame left too much open, so you decided you needed to force it out of him, “No, “hey, it’s been awhile” or “how are you”. You just go straight to standing there all pissy in my doorway. So, if you have something to say spit it out otherwise I need to be at the gorilla in ten minutes. Ya know, make my debut.” Unfazed, he crossed his arms, “Your debut should have been three years ago, but you ran out on us.” “Ran out? I stood up for myself. They didn’t ask any of you to completely change who you were, but for some reason I wasn’t good enough, so ya, I walked.” You stepped into the doorway with a challenging glare, “I proved my worth a hundred times over and I did it my way. I will never let anyone try to control of me again.” Aside from a slight ripple through his jaw, he remained as stoic as he was when he came in. You found disappointment seeping through you again. This was one of the sacrifices you had made and it made your chest burn, but of course, you couldn’t let him see that. He was so close though. You were putting on a good show, but if he dared to touch you it would all fall apart. Before your conversation could continue, Enzo came bounding down the hallway with Cass in tow, “Oh, shit! Look who’s back.” Thankful for the distraction and barely holding it together, you left Joe in the doorway and Enzo pounced onto you with a big hug, “The Boss just took the stage, please tell me she’s about to get burned.” You took a minute to give Cass an embrace, “You bet she is!” With that, you had to leave the three of them in the hall. Joe kept quiet as you walked away. The crowd lit up as your music hit. After trading a few good quips, the two of you had a nice bout in the ring. By the time the both of you made it backstage, most everyone had caught news of your return and were there to greet you, if Sasha would let them. She had her arms latched around your neck. The rest of the night went by in a blur. Answering the same questions for different people had your mind numb, but, nonetheless, you agreed to meet everyone in the hotel bar. You spent the entire time trying your hardest to keep into the conversation, but it was all so overwhelming. The whole day had been. All of that and you were pretty sure Joe was the only one who hated you for leaving. You were exhausted, but you brain couldn’t leave it alone. His presence ate at your conscience. He ended up sitting at the end of the booth, right next to you. The warmth of his body searing into your side. You needed to get this situation back under control. While everyone wandered into other conversations, you managed to slip into the darkness of the booth. Joe was set back in the corner with his arm propped along the back of the booth, just behind you, and you leaned back, placing your head against the wall, and looking him in the eyes, “They wanted me to be the new Eva Maria and I couldn’t do it. He called me stale, so I did what I did and, while it sucked, it worked. But, ya, I had to walk out and I’m sorry for that.” You thought the words would burn your pride, but they ended up falling out like a balm. He took a deep breath and sat up so he was right close to you. “Nah, you’re right. It’s a shame it took them this long to see how incredible you are. How do you do it?” Relief washed over you and you twisted around to be in a better position to have a conversation. A slight smile draped onto his face as you settled in and he let his fingers toy with your hair. The fact that he had his hand in your hair had your mind scrambling for what it was supposed to be saying. “Well, uh, I manage myself. I’m in charge of everything.” You showed him your phone screen covered with notifications and alerts. His eyebrows shot up, “By yourself?” “Ya.” “When do you have time to do that?” You leaned forward, placing your phone on the table. Doing so caused your body to slide, ever so slightly, closer to him. It may have been the tiniest of shifts, but it sent a flush throughout your body. “After shows, days off. I’m pretty much constantly working.” “That’s not healthy. Not to mention the stress..” “I know. My mom is already on my case, but I can’t let up. The minute I do they’ll try to pull the same crap they did last time.” “No, they won’t. You said it yourself, you’ve proven your worth a hundred times over. There is no way they’ll risk losing you again.” You dropped your head and nodded, but you needed to make sure one thing was clear, “You know, I didn’t…” His hand slid up the nape of your neck, sending a chill down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing as his fingers traced your skin and you tried to finish your thought, “I walked out on the WWE. I didn’t walk out on you.” Your eyes flickered up to his to gauge his response. He gave a small nod, “I understand that. It was just…” His hand engulfed the back of your neck drawing a small gasp from you. “All I got was one look through a window and then you were gone. No explanation, nothing for three years.” Stunned at the sudden contact, you hand grabbed onto the closest thing to steady you. His bicep. Which was a mistake, because it was just as strong and warm and electric as the hand on the back of your neck, but there was no way in hell you were letting go. The best you could do was stutter out, “I- I didn’t think you would care.” He tightened his grip, pulling your head closer. Your eyes knew exactly what they wanted when they locked onto his lips. “What?” A raggedy breath fell out of you and your eyes rose back up to meet his, “I didn’t think you cared.” He could have bored holes in your head with his glare. Releasing your neck, he told you to follow him. You let him say his goodbyes and walk away before you announced your exit. It took you a little longer to get away from the group, but eventually you found yourself beside him again. When you arrived, he pressed the button for an elevator before addressing you. “What floor are you on?” “Two.” “We get into that elevator, you can either pick two or four. If you pick four, you hand over all control to me.” The elevator doors slid open with a ping and your eyes shot over to him. Joe cocked an eyebrow at you as he sauntered in. No one had ever been so bold and it threw you off. There was no denying that you wanted him, but he wanted complete control? That thought had your anxiety spiking and your knees trembling at the same time. The two of you hadn’t been reunited for five hours and he already knew your weakness. You could still feel the burn of where his hand had been as you walked into the elevator. The doors were sliding shut as he inched closer, pulling your hair off your shoulder. Joe let his fingers drag around the curves of your neck and your heart dropped. “You need to choose.” His voice was just above a whisper and his lips were gracing the shell of your ear. Breathing was hard enough, let alone coordinating your muscles to press a button. You blinked a couple of times in an attempt to clear the haze in your head long enough to manage picking a floor. Your fingers slid down the panel and, finally, a two inch square lit up.

#wwe imagine #samoa joe x reader #samoa joe imagine #samoa joe

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