Riff was never one to admit that he had fallen head over heels. The Jets would have his head, especially if they knew he'd hadn't even been out with you yet. Riff had crossed paths with you at parties, one of your girls was dating one of his boys, meaning your circles became intertwined quickly. You caught his eye the second he saw you, sat up on the kitchen counter, eyes crinkled as you laughed your way through whatever liquor was in your cup.

He'd tried to keep his distance, he'd sworn he wasn't going to get involved with anyone after Graziella - God, he can barely think of her name without grimacing. Riff had promised himself his focus was on the Jets, he wasn't fooling around with another girl until he knew the Sharks were good and buried. That's what he told himself anyway, until you and your pretty face came along. Riff could stare at you for hours and never get bored, he swears. There'd been times where he'd forgotten to answer you, too caught up in staring at you to acknowledge what you said.

He'd never been so grateful for Diesel for throwing a party, knowing you'd be there, on account of your best gal being Diesel's new girl. He'd worked up the courage, not that he ever had to do that before, to come over to you. "Come have a drink with me, doll." That cheeky smile on his face as he looked down to you sat on one of the sofas. "Girlie girl," Riff raises his eyebrow, his hand still out stretched in front of you, waiting. "I ain't gonna ask you again."