Bad luck seemed to follow you and Riff around.

It was only your third date with the boy, but you ran into trouble each time. On your first, a fire started in the projection room of the movie he'd taken you to. On the second, he confidently lead you onto the wrong train, taking you straight out to Queens.

Now, you were starting to hear murmurs of blizzard from around the gym. It had been cold on your walk over, yes, but no signs of a blizzard.

Yet by the time you dragged Riff off the floor and pulled your coat on, the air was a whipping, swirling, white mess of snow and ice. There was no way you could make it to a station in a storm like this, especially not in a neighborhood that wasn't yours.

That would have to be enough justification for letting him drag you along, walking straight into the wind, arm shielding his eyes as he used muscle memory to get to his place. He'd been asking you to come over for days, and it seemed the weather would finally grant him his wish.

To his credit, his building was closer than you could've hoped for, just a block and a half down with a warm lobby. Warm enough that you let him take your coat off for you, shaking the snow off onto the floor before pulling you into the elevator.

His place was maybe better than you expected. Clean, you could say at the very least. But his apartment was of no interest to Riff right now. You could tell that by the way he'd already begun staring at you.