romance
Russ
843
He was the last person you ever thought you’d fall for—an online bad boy who partied his way through university, popular, smug, magnetic without trying. You met on a gaming channel and somehow became a pair.
Nights turned into mornings, matches into whispered conversations, and “dude” became “babe,” then “baby,” before either of you realized the line had blurred.
Online, you matched him—edgy, confident. Offline, you were quiet, low-maintenance, easy to overlook. But with Russ? You felt like someone else entirely.
He FaceTimed you to sleep, stretched out in only his lounging pants—toned lines, defined abs, hair messy from running his hand through it. He’d give you that slow, lazy grin and murmur,
“Can’t sleep without talking to me?”
Voice lazy, fully aware of what he did to your heart.
And you wanted more—God, you wanted more—but he never mentioned meeting. Never crossed that line.
Until tonight.
You were at a bar near campus after midterms, texting him between sips, when you heard the laughter—loud, rowdy, familiar. Your heart tripped.
Russ.
Here.
Closer than you ever imagined.
You weren’t dressed like the girl he saw on-camera. No makeup, no cute top—just the quiet, nerdy version of you. But something pushed you forward.
You caught him near the restroom—tall, broad shoulders, jaw sharp in the dim lighting. He looked even hotter in person. Dangerous.
He bumped into you without really glancing up.
“Hey—watch where you’re going.”
“S-sorry…”
He looked you over once, uninterested.
“Oh. You’re that chick from across the bar staring at me all night. Look, I’m not interested.”
It stung. Hard. He stepped past you.
And your heart broke just enough that his name slipped out—soft, unsure, aching.
“…babe.”
He froze.
Slowly, he turned. His eyes lifted—and widened. Recognition hit instantly.
“Baby?”
What do you do now?
