tightrope across the table
Summary: Abandoned at the bar and left to your own devices, what's the worst that could happen?
Pairing: e.m. x fem! reader
WC: 1.4k
Warnings: NSFW 18+, drinking, cursing, & the perils of dating in the 21st century
A/N: For my beloved Luna, @abibliophobiaa - I love you and I hope this brings a smile to your beautiful face! Reblogs, likes & feedback are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜
What had begun as a promising New Year's Eve out with your best girl was quickly devolving. Nursing your now lukewarm beer, you watched as your friend laughed with the latest acquisition to her horde. She really was the worst kind of fag hag. Sipping the last dregs of beer from the glass, you tap through your phone and open the app that’s been taunting you all evening.
It’s not that you enjoyed being on the apps, because who in their right mind would? It was, unfortunately, a necessity now because meeting someone at a bookstore or your local coffee joint just didn’t happen anymore, not with everyone’s nose buried in their phone.
Much like yours was now.
The messages were the exact same as the last time you’d checked— nothing new. You sighed and tried to push back the swell of disappointment. This guy you’d been chatting with seemed decent but not eager to continue the line of conversation. You forced yourself to close out of the app, but before you could, a notification popped up: ‘New Message.’
Looking around to see where your friend had gotten to, you let out a sigh of relief finding her at the bar ordering another round. She sends you a wink and mouths something unintelligible. You shrug back with a smile and glace back down to your phone.
Not to be *that guy* but you wouldn’t happen to be at the bar right now, would you?
Heart kicking up and pulse racing, you calmly scan the immediate area trying not to draw attention to yourself. Finding nothing of concern, you prop your elbow on the table and hold the phone aloft in an attempt to stay alert to your surroundings.
Meant that in a totally not creepy way, fyi!
Despite yourself, you were smiling. You’d had a few conversations with this guy before and always found yourself grinning and laughing in equal measure. It was you who’d initially asked him to a movie a week or so ago, deeming the chemistry enough to warrant an in-person meeting. But he’d regretfully had to decline because of work or some other bullshit excuse, you couldn’t recall.
Things had understandably cooled off since then.
It wasn’t as if he’d stood you up or anything, he’d given ample notice, but it hurt all the same. And there was no shortage of hurt in your life at present.
If it wasn’t an engagement or bachelorette party, it was a wedding or christening. All your friends had apparently gotten the memo and paired up accordingly, while your invite to the Grown-Ups party was apparently lost in the mail.
Why is it that they were all married or already parents and you couldn’t even get a second date? Was something wrong with you? How had you become the designated single friend?
You were happy for your friends, of course you were, it’s exciting moving through the high points of life! But you could still be overjoyed for them and throw a pity party for yourself, the two weren’t mutually exclusive. And sure, people tried to get you out of the house with trivia nights and dinner dates with the girls but it inevitably wound up with them talking about their spouses or babies, cooing over pictures as phones were passed around.
And sure, they celebrated your milestones too. But was a graduate degree going to keep you warm at night? Was a promotion going to cuddle with you on the couch as you fell asleep to Gilmore Girls for the millionth time?
But things were fine, things were good even, if you could just forget the apps and failed first dates. Besides, you had your Emily Henry books and pints of Ben & Jerry’s— things could be worse.
Okay, so I def creeped you out. Just gonna go back to my cave, pls forget this ever happened.
He then sends a gif of Harry from Harry and the Hendersons sadly sulking off. Again, you find yourself smiling.
Mayybeeee a little creeped. You type back, Just caught me off guard is all.
There’s a minute or two before he responds.
You sure? I can totally fuck off, just say the word.
Crossing your feet beneath your chair, you weigh your options. It was you who asked him out after all, so clearly some part of you was interested. And he’s still talking to you now, even while he’s apparently out at a bar.
Potentially the same bar you’re at now…
Okay, fuck it.
After sending a quick text to your friend explaining the situation and asking her to standby, you toss your hair behind your shoulder and take another look around.
The bar is pretty packed, the weather is decent so the picnic tables outside are quickly filling up too. It’s loud but not deafening and from your current location, you’re within sight of the door for a getaway if needed.
You hoped you wouldn’t need it.
Sparkly boots.
And with that, you lock your phone and set it to the side. You figure, if this guy is worth his salt he’ll figure it out and find you. If not, oh well, at least you tried.
The waiting is torturous. Minutes trickle by and you’re about to pack it in for the night when there’s the jangle of a chain against the metal chair and a man swathed in black denim and leather all but pours himself into it.
“Fucking christ, d’you know how many people are wearing boots tonight?”
For a moment there, you’re speechless— eyes wide and pretty lips opening to say:
“Okay, but how many were wearing sparkly boots.”
His lips, pink and full, pull into a winning smile.
“Just you sugar, but I think you already knew that.” He leans back in the chair, fingers locked behind his head as he stretches back.
His shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of skin at his hip. You try not to lick your lips.
“I’m Eddie, by the way,” He says offering you his hand to shake, fingers bejeweled with silver rings.
He’s warm to the touch as you palm slots against his. His lips part to in a soft gasp as your thumb grazes a knuckle and shake his hand, introducing yourself. His brown eyes flit from your hand to your face and back again, as if he can hardly believe you’re real.
Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his grasp.
His fingers trail after yours, drumming along the tabletop. Your hand rests mere inches from his, close enough to reach out and touch.
You cock your head to the side assessing him. Eddie’s not all that different from his pictures on the app— scruffy in that attractive masculine way. Long hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, a few errant curls falling to frame his face.
A vibration to your left breaks the moment.
You mutter an apology and check to your messages:
How we feelin?
This from your friend by the bar who's standing steadfast with her retinue, keys swinging from her fingers if you need her.
Another swoosh sound signalling a response. You glance down once more, this time it’s a photo of you and Eddie taken just after his arrival. You’re looking down, lips rolled between your teeth even though it’s clear as day you’d rather be smiling and he’s looking at you like… Well, like you hung the moon.
“So, uh,” He ducks his head to cough and clear his throat. “Have I passed the test?”
“What’s that?”
“Y’know, the test verifying that I’m not gonna abscond with you to an undisclosed location or whatever.”
“How did you—”
“Your friend’s not very subtle.” He nods in her direction and follows it up with a wave.
“Well, Edward, if you must know—”
“It’s Eddie.”
“Shut up, you know it all!”
His laugh and your retort takes him by surprise, it’s loud and probably the best thing you’ve ever heard.
“As I was saying, that all depends.”
Eddie leans across the table, all loose limbs and big doe eyes.
“Depends on what, sugar?”
You give a subtle nod to your friend at the bar who flags down the bartender and places an order.
“If you’ll let me buy you a drink.”
He smiles and the rest of the world could drop dead for all you care. For a night that was beginning to look a bit disastrous, with the arrival of Eddie it was starting to have some possibilities.
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