Even Less Honesty!
You scoured the menu as Karen and Tristan engaged in a mix of small talk and catching up. This menu was like a moderately-sized bound journal, the inner pages made of thick, white cardstock, every menu item imprinted in shiny green cursive. The outer cover was black, polished, and woven in thin strands of something like wicker. It was quite pretty, really.
Pastas…
Soups…
Sandwiches…
No matter the menu's prettiness, it was time for you to decide on a meal. Your train of thought kept being interrupted, though, by Matt sitting across from you, his glasses glinting beneath the chandelier light as he nodded and laughed along with Karen and Tristan's conversation.
"Here you are, sir!" your waiter exclaimed from your side, making you jump. You hadn't seen him approach the table. He handed another menu to Matt. "Our apologies for the extra time in finding it."
"Don't worry about it," Matt smiled before the waiter turned and walked away. You watched him open his menu to see that it was printed in braille. This sort of thing often slipped your mind - what with what Matt was capable of. Despite the tension, you felt a small, pleased look creep over your face at the restaurant's accommodation.
As they should.
"Selena, what are you thinking?" Karen asked, holding up her menu as Matt began to read through his. "I'm stuck between the chicken parm and the fajitas."
You shrugged. "I'm as stuck as you are. The fajitas sound pretty good, though."
"Agreed," Tristan offered, placing his menu at the table's edge. "Hate me, Kare, but I'm gonna have to go with the steak."
Your brows raised. The steak was… well. No strict dollar value was necessary to say that it was expensive - and you weren't necessarily suffering financially, but a steak dinner at a moderately-nice restaurant? Not exactly within the range of what you considered reasonably affordable for yourself.
"Good for you," Karen laughed, turning back to the rest of the table. "Tristan over here just got a raise, so he wants to celebrate a bit, I'm sure."
"Congrats," Matt smiled warmly. He tipped his head, flipping the page of his menu. "What is it that you do, exactly?"
You didn't totally feel like being on Matt's side of the conversation, but you turned to Tristan, also wanting a clearer answer than 'campaign manager in Connecticut.'
Tristan's eyes flicked to you, and he smiled. "I'm a campaign manager for a children's hospital. I direct and coordinate the advertising campaigns and fundraisers we hold - sometimes I'll also step in to help set up events that are just for the kids."
Your lips curved into a slight 'o' shape.
Wow.
"That's amazing, Tristan," you offered, leaning your head toward him with the effort. He smiled bashfully. You caught Matt giving a quick nod out of the corner of your eye and fought back the urge to roll your own.
Wow, Matt.
Just so friendly and wonderful and non-instigating tonight, huh.
"Truly," Matt agreed. "Good for you."
"It's the least I can do," Tristan shrugged, stretching that white dress shirt across his pecs, the sight of it sparking up your core. "I've been there for about five years now. Recently, though, there's been an opening at one of the hospitals down here. Not sure if Karen mentioned it, but that's actually why I'm in New York."
So he could be… moving here?
That sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.
"You've got another interview on Monday afternoon, right?" Karen asked. Tristan nodded.
"Yeah. Same old thing for a few days, then I head back home and await the verdict." He turned to Matt, a subtle laugh dancing over his lips. "But you would know all about those verdicts, wouldn't you, Matt?"
Must have talked about Matt's career before I arrived.
Your eyes turned back to Matt as he laughed, though the lightness of it was limited. "You got me."
"I gotta ask," Tristan proposed, leaning forward over the table. You felt the heat of his body shift closer to you - and, although you often enjoyed that from a guy, it put you just a bit on edge here. You couldn't quite place why. Matt's head tilted toward Tristan with his movement, waiting patiently for his next words - though you noticed his jaw shift slightly.
"Wouldn't it be tough working defense in New York?" Tristan continued. "I mean, I'm sure you can make a fair living off all the ambulance chasing, but - God, you guys would be representing some fucked up - pardon me - pretty disturbed people."
…What?
Matt pursed his lips before parting them, preparing to respond, but Karen beat him to it.
"Sorry about him," Karen jumped in, her wide eyes - flitting to Matt, then to you - giving away the slight embarrassment behind her smile. "Tired and not thinking through all his points, I'm sure."
"No, no, I'm good," Tristan assured. "I've just never understood the desire to be a defense attorney. Working with kids and families, I value the law, of course - so why would you want to work for the wrong side of it?"
Impulsively, your body moved slightly away from Tristan in light of both his uncomfortable warmth… and those remarks. You covered the movement by reaching for your glass of wine, forcing your brows not to pull together as a slow sip graced your lips, fruity bitterness and dry spice streaming over your tongue.
The movement, though, wasn't enough to get away from that bitter part of you that wanted Matt to be questioned, taunted, insulted. You weren't proud of it, no - but that part of you was there, mad at Matt for his underhanded remarks and for his distance.
Brought that on myself, and I had to.
But still.
Serves him right to be challenged, stubborn as he is.
A muscle twitched in Matt's neck as he opened his mouth to speak. "That's the thing about the law, Tristan. Everyone gets representation, even the bad guys. The right side is the law."
Tristan furrowed his brow, suspicion dotting his prying eyes. "Yeah, well, I've seen some kids go through some pretty awful stuff at the hands of those bad guys," he asserted. "Knowing all that harm, none of them deserve protection."
"And they don't get protection, per se," Matt assured, leaning forward with a shake of his head. "They get the counsel that everyone's entitled to. Makes sure things don't get out of hand." He paused, a thoughtful look passing over his face. "People can go to extremes when they want to fulfill their own idea of justice, and the system stops that from happening."
You placed your glass back down, running the tip of your tongue over your lips. Matt seemed to be barely shaken, if at all.
I mean, he does do this in a courtroom, with much higher stakes.
This must be nothing to him.
Tristan scoffed. "So you think monsters like that are entitled to counsel? To a chance at walking free?"
At Tristan's words, Matt's eyebrows flew up - and your hand reached back to your glass, pressing it to your lips to stop yourself from saying something you'd regret.
Karen placed down her wine glass and furrowed her brow at Tristan, opening her mouth to speak - but he raised a hand to stop her with a regretful shake of his head.
"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to insult you. No offense."
"None taken," Matt shook his head, pursing his lips. "I get it. It's a tough balance to strike. And, believe me, I'd want to see those monsters clinging to life in some dumpster just as much as the next guy. But," he paused, his head tilting lightly, "if all we do is blindly seek revenge, how do we stop ourselves from becoming exactly like our enemies?" Matt shifted his jaw. "Or as bad as the 'bad guys,' if you will. Punishment is a necessary part of the system, of course, but if it goes unrestricted, unfettered - how long do we have before everything descends into chaos?" Matt shrugged, flicking his tongue over his lips as he gathered his next point. "Then more people just end up getting hurt."
Matt's words struck a chord with you. The relevance of the point for both your lives, for both halves of your lives, hit you hard. Taking justice into your own hands while also trusting the system to somewhat take care of things was a strange dichotomy, an imbalance carefully, precariously, and impossibly balanced. And, evidently, neither of you had full faith in this system, but you still seemed to trust to a certain extent that it did some good.
The response itself, though, hit you on an even simpler level. Matt's eloquence, his conviction in his beliefs - it was something you admired. His level of calm as he respectfully expressed his opinion and defended it without falling into ruthless argument - even in the face of such a touchy subject and an insistent opposition - was inspiring. The very timbre of Matt's voice, apart from all the well-said words, was enough to make you blush, enough to turn your lips up in a slight smile - which you quickly forced back down.
Nope.
Not giving him the satisfaction.
"You've got a point," you half-breathed, surprised at yourself for even speaking - but that bitter part of you refused to remain quiet. Swirling the wine in your glass, you narrowed your eyes at Matt as his head turned in your direction, brow furrowed, lips having twitched downward.
"But," you continued, "do you really trust that system? I mean, there are plenty of times where it falls short."
Matt half smiled, but only you could sense the scorn in the expression. "We both work in that system, Selena."
"I know, I know. But, the thing is," you hummed, placing your glass back in its place, perfectly positioned just behind your cutlery. "We work on different sides of the system. I help to catch these quote-unquote 'bad guys,'" you offered, making air quotes with your hands, "and you get them right back out on the streets. Right back into hurting people all over again."
As if completely undisturbed by your dig, Matt simply shrugged. "There has to be a certain level of trust. People can change."
"Can they always?" you lilted, tilting your head to match the tilt of Matt's. "Can they change that much?"
"I believe so."
"So, that's why you do what you do?" Tongue dry, you pressed your lips together, pressing Matt on his job - and maybe more. "Because you believe in second chances?"
"To a certain extent, I do, but Selena-" Matt paused, leaning forward - and leaning away from the alter-ego insinuations you had been shifting toward. "What about the falsely accused? What about those doing time, paying through punishments they don't deserve?" He flicked a sharp tongue over his lips, shifting in his seat, beating you to speak just as you opened your mouth.
"And besides - do you not believe in second chances?"
"That's not what I said," you drawled, working to mask your impatience just as you had so many times before. "I'm just saying - if we allow too much trust, too much faith to get in the way of doing the job we're supposed to do-" you breathed, "-well, in that case, people get hurt, too."
Matt nodded, a sliver of discontent making itself known in his shallow breath, in a flicker at the edge of his jaw. "If we only have hard-and-fast punishment with no possible leeway, no possible assistance for the defense - we run the risk of permanently harming people who don't actually deserve it."
You frowned, your focus temporarily interrupted by Karen shifting in her seat. You didn't disagree with Matt, but you weren't one to back down on your side of a debate. "And as unfortunate as that is, are those people worth potentially dangerous criminals getting their freedom back, just to cause more harm?"
Matt leaned back in his seat, shifting his jaw. "I didn't say that. All I'm saying is that a system like this is precarious. It needs balance, order; stray threads of some outside perspective of justice would just unravel the whole thing, even if they're for a good cause."
Lips pressed downward with a nod, you leaned forward, driving enough threat through your eyes that although Matt couldn't see it, he had to be able to feel it.
"And you believe that completely?"
A split second of a pause came and went, and Matt nodded. "I do."
God, if I could hear your damn heartbeat right now-
"Maybe a few stray threads aren't the end of it all," Karen jumped in, drawing your wary eyes right to hers. "I mean, look at the Man in Black."
Score.
"The Man in Black?" You questioned, shooting your brows to the ceiling and curling your upper lip as if that vigilante was the bringer of your least favorite scent. "You mean the guy who set off the bombs?"
You could feel Matt struggling not to scoff, fighting to hold back some bitter laugh - you only saw his neck tense tightly and knew his fingers must be tapping wildly against his thighs.
The thought of it only drove your scorn further.
Karen sighed. "I really don't think it was him."
"I guess it hasn't been confirmed," you continued, "but I have a hard time considering any other possibility to be - well, the truth." Your gaze drew to Tristan, then to Matt. "Guy seems fucking insane, like he's got some sort of death wish."
Matt shifted his jaw, the room's light flashing over his lenses as he tipped his head slightly, his voice too strong to be genuine. "I don't know if he's insane-"
"Oh, he's out of his mind, definitely," you nodded vehemently at Matt. "I mean, he must have somebody looking out for him," you insisted, leaning forward, voice lowering slightly. "Otherwise, I bet he'd be dead in a gutter somewhere."
Matt's lips parted in the slightest break of character possible, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek in a scorned slide. His voice was calm, nonchalant - but you knew better, your focus tweezing out those little traces of offense that you'd been working to evoke, and your lips twitched in a hint of a smile to yourself.
Not the only one getting my ass beat, huh?
"At the very least," Matt offered, convincing everyone but you of his unconcerned attitude, "he seems like he knows what he's doing. I'm sure the guy's fine."
"After blowing up the city?" You let out a bitter half-laugh, spurned forward by the discomfort you could see simmering beneath Matt's poised expression. "Only thing he seems to know how to do is create more danger for those around him."
That remark spawned a firm clench of Matt's jaw and a flash of hurt across his brow that, although somewhat satisfying, sparked a twist in your stomach. Tristan's eyes flitted to Karen as she spoke, his Connecticut self mostly out of the loop.
"It doesn't track, though." Karen shook her head. "Why would a guy who fights crime create crime?"
You shrugged. "Maybe Matt's right in one sense, then." You shot your gaze back at Matt, whose jaw was flickering in and out of tension. "If we just blindly seek revenge, we become exactly like our enemies."
Matt tipped his head forward and pressed his lips into a line. "Exactly."
A hint of flame rose in your core, following the same lines of that earlier twist. It was something both satisfying and uncomfortable, making Matt squirm.
I mean-
I still care about him.
Maybe I shouldn't have gone quite that far.
After a breath, Tristan pursed his lips downward in a courteous nod. "You know, Matt - you've got some good points. I respect it." He then turned to Karen with a jovial, tension-breaking laugh in his voice, a wide smile spread over his cheeks. "You've got quite the man on your hands tonight, Kare."
Karen and Matt both laughed. You did, too, but yours was stifled, blocked by a new, different twist in your stomach that you couldn't quite explain.
"Guess so," Karen smiled sweetly, turning her head to Matt. He shared a similar expression and turned his head to face her smile, beaming and light as it was, her blue eyes sparkling under the chandeliers. You tried to make your lips curve upwards, and they obliged, but your eyes refused to smile - feeling glassy, frozen, thick in your skull.
The hell is this?
In an effort to mask this weird feeling, this bizarre wreck of your well-crafted expressions, you took a sip of water. As you tipped your glass, Matt tipped his head back toward you - and something twitched at the corner of his lips, another brief twitch flashing over his brows.
"Hey, there!" your waiter exclaimed, nearly making you jump again. He'd once again shown up at your side of the table, aggressively cheerful from his crisp dress shirt to his polished shoes. "Any decisions made yet on dinner?"
As Karen and Tristan ordered their meals, Matt's focus seemed to have zeroed in on you and that strange reaction. You worked to ignore it but couldn't seem to get rid of the burning swirl taking up residence in your stomach.
Quite the man.
The man on Karen's hands tonight.
You took another swig of your water, Matt's concentration on your movements not shifting for a second.
"And you, ma'am?" The waiter asked politely, shifting his attention to you. It only echoed in the back of your mind, and he tried again. "Ma'am?"
You lifted your head to meet the waiter's expectant eyes - his cheerful demeanor only doing so much to mask his mild impatience.
Snap out of it.
"Yes, sorry," you laughed, only a ripple of awkwardness laced in the sound as your attention finally drew away from that bitter sensation in your gut. "I'll go with the carbonara."
"Excellent choice, ma'am."
"I'll have the same," Matt piped up. As the waiter collected the menus, Matt held his up with a smile, and the waiter grasped it with an 'oh-thank-you-so-much-sir.'
"All great choices, folks," the waiter offered graciously. "Let's hope we can make this evening a night to remember for you all."
Your eyes flitted back to Matt as he turned slowly toward Karen, a warm smile spreading slow and lazy over his lips - after he'd noticeably been facing you, and only you, head-on for the last few minutes. Karen's cheeks gained a faint rosy hue as she smiled back at Matt, her blue eyes glinting in some godforsaken mixture of- of peace, and- and-
The fuck is that?
Interest?
Wonder?
Karen turned back to face her place setting, and you caught her tug her lower lip between her teeth just briefly. Tristan said something else to Matt - something about a lawyer he knew in Connecticut who'd gone to Columbia Law as well - and Matt laughed, the sound and sight of it jovial, relaxed, not a care in the world behind those red shades and that wide smile.
Now opting for your wine, it tasted somehow more bitter as you let the drink splash down your throat once more.
Night to remember, alright.
“How’s the carbonara?”
With a mouthful of pasta, you lifted a hand to cover your lips through a few harried chews so you could answer Karen’s question in a polite manner. You opened your full mouth to try and speak - but Matt beat you to it.
“Oh, it’s fantastic,” he hummed, licking his lips, his head turned once more to face Karen’s sweet smile. You stifled the urge to roll your eyes.
Of course, she was talking to him.
She’s been talking to him this whole time.
And him, to her.
“How about you, Selena?” Tristan asked from beside you. “Carbonara giving you the same good treatment?”
Your mouth was still relatively full of pasta, and you tried to swallow some of it. There was still too much in your mouth for you to give any decent description of your carbonara experience, so you simply turned to Tristan, nodding enthusiastically with a tight-lipped smile. He laughed, and you appreciated it.
“Looks like you’re enjoying it, at least,” Tristan laughed, his dark eyes focused in on you. Karen giggled lightly as well. Matt’s expression, though - you were working on ignoring. You finally gulped that mouthful of pasta down and smiled.
“It’s really quite good,” you offered, reaching for your water with a bright smile directed at Tristan. “And your steak?”
“Incredible,” Tristan hummed, glancing down at his plate. His head shifted back up at you, a glint of something light and silky in his eyes. “Wanna try a piece? As long as you don’t mind medium rare.”
Your brows raised, and a part of you warmed at his offer, small as it was. “I mean, sure. Don’t mind at all,” you laughed. He smiled and gestured for you to hand him your fork.
As Tristan sliced off the piece of meat for you to taste, your eyes flitted back up to Matt. His head had been facing you once more with that little tilt he’d often do, but the second your attention landed on him, he turned back to Karen with a quick press of his lips together.
“Here,” Tristan offered, holding out the slice of steak to you from your fork. It smelled delicious, steaming with spices and juices you could only dream of paying for on a regular basis. The brown-into-red hue of the meat was a perfect cook, a thin crust of spice lining the outside, and your mouth watered.
Out of the corner of your eye, you swore Matt’s attention was still tilted in your direction - and you pushed down a smirk.
Good.
Tristan lifted the fork higher with a light smile and a tiny furrow of his brow. You leaned forward, looking up at him with open, light eyes - and took the entire piece of steak in your mouth, your lips curling around the base of the fork, and your hand curling around Tristan's hold on the handle. A clench rippled through Tristan’s neck as he held the fork steady for you, and his gaze seemed tinted with hazy admiration - maybe hunger, or thirst, you weren’t quite sure. Your eyes remained focused, locked in on his as you slid your lips back off the fork with the steak in your mouth, ensuring you sucked back every last drop of the steak’s juices, your tongue dragging headily along the back of the fork’s silver tines until the utensil parted from your upturned lips.
Looking almost befuddled, Tristan just sat there for a second, his grip on the fork still beneath your own as you leaned back into your chair and began to chew. Your gaze darted to Matt - who shut his parted lips immediately, though he couldn’t mask the new blush across his cheeks.
“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes flitting back to Tristan - all innocence, all charm. “That’s really good.”
Tristan’s lips spread slow and wide into a grin, and you took the fork back from him, placing it beside your plate. Matt’s hands lifted to tug at his tie as if he suddenly found it too tight around his neck. You glanced at Karen - who, not paying any attention, was happily feasting on her fajitas.
“Speaking of good food,” Karen announced between bites, “Foggy and I were visiting Mrs. Cardenas - one of his and Matt’s clients,” she directed at Tristan, “and she gave us the most amazing meal. God, she’s a good cook.”
“That’s so kind of her,” Matt added. You nodded, but you couldn’t ignore how he kept using that word, like it was some little extra dig after that moment you had with Tristan.
Kind.
Kindness.
"Oh-oh-Selena-I-can-be-so-much-kinder-"
Bastard.
“It was. It was a great night - until the bombs went off, of course,” Karen gave a small, stuttered laugh. Tristan nodded grimly, and you did the same.
A beat passed, and Karen turned to Matt, her face laced with amusement. “We actually talked about you, Matt.”
“Me?” He smiled quizzically, a questioning look furrowing his brow. “What about me?”
You felt your brow furrow in a similar way, not sure you could track where this conversation was going.
Karen’s eyes shone an entertained sparkle as she gazed at Matt for another second. She then turned back to you and Tristan, grabbing her napkin from her lap to dab at the corners of her lips and to ensure her hands were clear of any residue from her meal.
“According to Foggy,” Karen began, a lilt in her voice as her eyes flitted from you to Tristan and back again, “Mr. Murdock over here has historically been a major flirt - and his biggest line isn’t even a line at all.”
Part of you wanted to pass out at that statement and let your head fall face-first into your pasta with a smack. The rest of you, though, was focused on logic - on reason.
It’s just because the dynamic is different, that’s all.
Karen’s just never spoken about Matt like that.
And, besides - this is a double date, isn’t it?
You drew in a laughing, shaky breath, drawing your water glass to your lips in another secret wall of self-protection.
“I’m sorry, what?” Matt scoffed with a laugh. “I don’t know what Foggy’s gotten into your head, but-“
“Uh-uh,” Karen turned to Matt, holding her index finger up for a second - then, after a beat, moved it down to tap lightly against his shoulder. Matt raised his brows, the line of his barely-grinning jaw shifting in Karen’s direction at her touch. You shifted your own jaw.
This is normal.
It doesn’t bother you.
It’s just new.
That’s all.
“Foggy would never lie to me. Anyway,” Karen continued, drawing her hand away from Matt and turning back to you and Tristan. “His biggest line, lady and gentleman, is touching women’s faces.”
What?
“Touching women’s faces?” Tristan asked with a light laugh. Matt hung his head with a resigned chuckle before lifting it again, his stubbled cheeks indented with the dimples that smile would often produce.
“I may have used that once or twice,” Matt opened, lifting his hands as if to chide everyone at the table. Karen’s brow floated up, a hint of smugness passing over her eyes and lips. Your eyes floated back to Matt, and you chuckled, too - though yours was narrowly tainted with discontent.
“It’s not so much a line, though, as it is a way of- well, getting to know the people around me better,” Matt continued. You tilted your head to the side, narrowing your eyes.
“What do you mean?” You asked, the sound of it plainly inquisitive. Matt ran his tongue along his lower lip and gave a slight shrug - though his head remained faintly tilted toward your side of the table as he spoke.
“Well, I can’t exactly see the people around me,” he began, gesturing to his glasses, “so using my other senses helps to give me some sort of picture of them. Using my hands - using touch - helps me map out a person’s face in ways that otherwise wouldn’t be possible for me.”
You nodded at him, sitting in a haze at this new information, still and silent as the scent of the remaining carbonara and steak wafted up into the space of your breath. Your eyes flitted down to look at your pasta before glancing at Karen - who watched Matt with wide-eyed, gentle admiration. A shudder began to wind through you, as if a breeze had blown around and past each table to swirl over your bare arms, lifting goosebumps across your skin. Your face, though, just felt hot, especially as that breeze stirred its way through your stomach in a sickly sweet churn.
Tristan nodded, pursing his lips, and you noticed a line of nervous tension through his posture. “If you don’t mind me asking, Matt - were you always- could you-“
“I wasn’t always blind,” Matt offered. “In that sense, it makes it a little easier for me to pull the picture together, even though I can’t technically see the person - I’ve got some experience to back myself up, I guess,” he laughed, although the sound of it wasn’t entirely bright.
Tristan nodded, some of that tension seeming to release in him. “I’m sorry, man.”
Matt only pursed his lips into a downturned smile, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it.”
You watched Matt, saw the calm in his expression, and felt that same calm rise within you. It was sweet, really - a cute way of getting to know those around him, gentle and surface-level, without pressure while still being meaningful. That churn in your stomach returned after only a moment, though.
He never made that sort of move on me.
You clenched your jaw, forcing your expression to remain placidly peaceful.
And I couldn’t care less.
Granted, you hadn’t exactly had time - what with all the vigilantism and making sure neither of you bled to death - but still. No matter how hard you were trying to convince yourself of this idea that you and Matt were simply friends with similar goals, you couldn’t shake this feeling. You didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt.
Karen’s eyes glinted beneath the lighting, as if the crystals in the chandeliers were directly reflected in her eyes. She tugged her lip between her teeth once more, opening her mouth to speak.
“So, I was thinking,” she began, leaning a touch closer to Matt. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done?”
Matt’s brows shot up, a half smile spreading his lips wide. “You mean-“
“-I mean for you to touch my face, yeah,” Karen affirmed with a smiling nod, though she followed it up with a quick shake of her head. “Unless that’s not something you’re comfortable with-“
“No, no,” Matt shook his head, his smile beaming up at Karen. “Okay. As long as you’re comfortable.”
Karen nodded, her smile small like she’d grown shy. “I am.”
God.
Acting like they’re the only ones at this goddamn table.
She leaned forward slightly, a subtle flush gracing her cheeks - that sparkle light and pure in her wide, blue eyes. You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, reaching for your wine glass to take another sip.
Give me a fucking break.
Matt stilled for a moment. He shifted in his chair to face Karen, and you watched as he lifted his hands slowly up toward each side of her face. On instinct, Karen’s hands flew to Matt’s wrists to guide him - and, with her help, he finally touched his hands to her cheeks.
Ridiculous.
He doesn’t even actually need her help.
And she doesn’t even know that.
You watched on, breath hitching as Matt’s fingertips stilled momentarily against Karen’s skin. Her eyes fluttered at his touch, hands unclasping from his wrists, and he slid his fingers along her cheekbones until each hand was pressed fully to either side of her face.
Small twists of your wrist swirled the remaining wine in your glass, not unlike the swirl of discomfort you felt in your gut - a stinging, sinking feeling encroaching upon your toughened, unreadable exterior. Matt slid his thumbs down each side of Karen’s nose, and she giggled at the touch - and so did he. It was a light sound, something gentle, sweet, and intimate. The moment was a piece of sensitivity and vulnerable offering, the likes of which you often shoved aside in your life.
Flirting is easy.
You can keep yourself safe when you’re just flirting for fun.
Intimacy, though, vulnerability -
That just brings danger.
And, as much as you tried to repeat that to yourself, tried to brand it into the very skin of your mind - you couldn’t help but feel something in your chest break as you watched Karen and Matt. You felt that same something begin to burn behind your eyes as you heard them laugh, watched Matt’s fingers grace over her skin.
Friends or fucking not, it bothered you.
“Alright,” you settled yourself, placing your wine glass back on the table and turning to Tristan - who, with intent in his eyes, was already staring at you. He licked his lips, and you blushed.
“Alright?” Tristan hummed, his gaze narrowing as he shifted slightly closer to you. As if like magnets to metal, your eyes flicked back to Matt and Karen for a brief second - to see them smiling, laughing, so close and intimate and comfortable together and oh-my-fuck-why-is-this-so-infuriating - and you forced your focus back to Tristan. Your grin, though somewhat forced, was enough to make a note of deeper interest flicker in his heady gaze.
“Looks like they’re enjoying themselves,” you breathed, tugging your lower lip between your teeth, your eyes falling to Tristan’s lips - a deeper shade of pink than Matt’s.
Stop that.
Stop that right now.
You moved your eyes back up to meet Tristan’s, matching their intensity. “Why don’t we try?”
His grin curled up to the side, and you noticed his line of sight flutter down to your lips - and just a touch lower, glancing over you briefly before lifting his eyes back up to meet yours. You pressed your lips together in an effort to release some of the awkward tension Tristan’s glance had stewed within you.
In cases when you were in the state of mind to be flirtatious, to get your mind off of regular life at the hands of a man, you’d enjoy the moment of him first checking you out.
Here, though, with Tristan?
With Matt just across the table, elbows deep in real intimacy with someone… someone that wasn’t you?
That made Tristan’s look of lust feel… just uncomfortable.
“Sure,” Tristan crooned, low and sugary. Regardless of your inner feelings, you smiled, leaning forward as he lifted his hands to your face.
If Matt - my friend, Matt - can enjoy himself so damn much with somebody else, so can fucking I.
“This is okay?” He asked, though a lower line of his voice was tainted with expectation, hungry tease, impatience.
Shoving aside the sick feeling in your stomach, you nodded.
“Yes.”
You let your eyes flutter, let your tongue pass over your lips as Tristan’s hands pressed to either side of your face. The churning in your stomach settled slightly at his contact, but you couldn’t shake how different his touch was, compared to Matt’s.
Matt’s fingers drifted across your skin as if floating, before dragging gently over you with genuine interest, awe, and careful pressure, shifting between hard and soft, rough and gentle. Tristan, however, didn’t share the same intricate shifts in his touch. The placement of his hands was heavy on your face, the warmth of his skin not simultaneously light and intense - like Matt’s - but just uncomfortably heated. And, sure, most of the times Matt had touched you were for medical reasons - but the difference was too noticeable to ignore.
“Is that okay?” Tristan asked, one hand running up your forehead to push your hair back, while the other slipped down to cradle your jaw. You flicked your tongue over your lips and laughed lightly.
“Yes,” you smiled.
Sure.
Why not?
Tristan smiled back, his thumb drifting up over your chin. The tip of it grazed across your lower lip, and you tilted your head up instinctively - even though all of this felt largely like acting to you.
No.
Not acting.
This is a good time.
I am having a great time.
Tristan gave you another one of those dusky, dark gazes - though most of the look was focused on your lips, not your eyes. With his hands still on your face, he turned his head to the side.
“Hey, Kare - think I’m doing this right?”
A nervous laugh rattled through your lungs as your eyes shifted to Karen, who had just backed slightly away from Matt’s touch. You saw Matt’s hands - still lifted, but lightly in midair, as if he, too, was taken by Tristan’s hands on your skin.
Flame roiled through you.
“I think the answer is yes,” you cooed, gazing pointedly at Tristan as if his eyes were the only thing you could possibly think about - at least to anyone who was looking. Your hands flew up to case over his, and you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. Tristan’s eyebrows raised, his smirking lips parted.
“But,” you hummed, lowering his hands away from your skin. “Maybe we should try to focus on the rest of this dinner, don’t you think?”
“Sure. Of course,” Tristan remarked. You smiled, only letting go of one of his hands, your fingers lightly lacing through those of the other. Clasped together, those hands fell between the two of you.
Karen giggled at Tristan. “Looks like you definitely did that right.”
He laughed, but the sound was far, far away from you.
Although Tristan’s hand was full of that uncomfortable warmth - stretching up your wrist and forearm as if it was some toxin coursing through your bloodstream - it was worth it for Matt’s reaction.
The sight of it was subtle, sure - but the thing was, it was the sort of reaction that no one really could notice or understand, except for you.
Matt had lowered his hands back into his lap, away from Karen. His face was flushed, his lips parting and connecting and parting again, the lines around his mouth sketched in shaky agitation. His furrowed brow descended into discontent around his eyes, and though he tried to stave it off, you knew better.
You knew he had to be jealous.
Keeping one eye on Matt as you turned, you finally drifted your gaze back to Tristan, moving your lips up next to his ear. He dipped his head to listen more closely - and you knew for a fact that Tristan wasn’t the only one listening.
“Focus on the dinner,” you began, your hushed words little more than a harried breath, “for now, at least.”
As you pulled away, you caught Tristan’s eyes once more. This time, they flashed so directly with lust, you were almost surprised he didn’t ask you to go home with him right then and there.
You glanced back over to Matt as you reached for your water glass. His clenched jaw flickered with tension - tension that ran its stringy, fiery lines down his neck and up through the light flush of his cheeks. As you pressed smug lips to your glass, downing the cool liquid, letting it sink down your throat in icy satisfaction, the waiter approached the table from your side. You didn’t startle this time.
“Anything else I can get for the four of you tonight?”
Karen opened her lips to speak, but Matt piped up before she could.
“Just the bills, please.”
You pursed your lips.
“Yeah,” Karen nodded, her gaze flitting to Matt, the waiter, and back again. “It’s late, but this was a great night - don’t you think, you guys?”
Tristan’s hand had since fallen from yours. He turned to you, his grin warm, dark, and so intense it made you want to throw up.
“Definitely,” he agreed, licking his lips. “Definitely a wonderful night.”
You tried to force comfortable warmth over your face before you turned to Matt - which you did just in time to watch him turn his head to Karen, the edge of his jaw jutting out toward you as if in some weird protection of his space.
“It’s been wonderful, alright,” Matt hummed to Karen, that warm smile directed at her and only her. Karen blushed.
You grit your teeth, taking another long gulp of your water, willing it to freeze your insides until you passed out. Unfortunately, that did not happen - not even as Matt turned his head back to face yours, his expression carefully masked, stony and stoic.
“Glad to hear it,” the waiter drawled. “And how are we splitting the bills tonight?”
“I’ll cover hers,” Tristan hummed at your side, gesturing to you.
“And I’ve got hers,” offered Matt, tipping his head in Karen’s direction while keeping his face toward yours. He was unflinching, calm and collected - and, as your fingertips clenched tightly around your water glass, Matt reached up an undisturbed hand to his own glass, taking a hearty swig of cool water.
Your jaw shifted - beyond your control, beyond any measure of movement you considered reasonable.
Whatever.
It’s obvious he’s jealous.
That’s all that’s going on here.
Matt being jealous and thinking he can make me feel the same way.
That sequence repeated over and over in your tired, discontented mind. That, along with the image of Matt’s hands along Karen’s skin in a movement so intimate, so vulnerable, that you never could have pictured it for yourself - no matter how much you may have wanted it, in the depths of your hurt and damaged heart.
Your brow furrowed as you watched the waiter bring out the bills, your racing thoughts refusing to slow.
Or…
I mean, Karen’s a great person - kind, smart, hardworking, pretty - the whole package, really.
Maybe-
Maybe I’m overanalyzing Matt when he’s just trying to enjoy himself.
Maybe the only jealous one is me.
A final swig of your water set your core on fire as you stood, said quick goodbyes to Tristan and Karen and Matt with some excuse about a work thing you had to finish by midnight - while smoothly avoiding any ask for your number by Tristan - and made a beeline for the door. No matter how much you drank it in with each step, the cool wind of the night outside did nothing to ease your battered, aching nerves, and your gut twisted with them the whole cab ride home.